Yes, these tags for Earthbreaker just keep on coming! I must thank my great friend, Champion The Wonder Snail, for giving my plot bunnies this irresistible idea.

I don't think we've ever seen Scott so angry as he was after The Mechanic's attack on Thunderbird Two. And since he's having such a hard time handling it, I think the family peacemaker needs to help out with a little bit of 'bro time.'

So with thanks again to you, Champ, here are my thoughts on how Angry!Scott and Unflappable!Virgil might have recovered after such a stressful day.

This is definitely a standalone piece, not connected at all to either Cometh The Hour, or Of Forts And Foes. Oh, and any resemblance Team Tracy might have to my other favourite superheroes is purely intentional ;o)

Tracys:Assemble!

When Virgil needed to find one of his brothers, he'd use whichever sense suited its urgency. For an emergency, he'd either yell if they were in range, or use his comm-link when they weren't. For everything else, he'd alternate between his eyes, his voice, and his ears, until the brother in question responded.

Tonight, though, he was relying mostly on his hearing. The acrid smoke that had filled Two's cockpit had left his throat painfully dry, and his voice equally hoarse. And yes, he could have just called Scott up to find out where he was, but... no. That would only make this little 'situation' even harder to resolve. Scott would just insist he was fine, and move on before his brother could reach him.

Yes, a Scott Tracy who didn't want to be found was an elusive beast, best left alone. A Scott Tracy who needed to be found made all that irrelevant.

Even if he'd been rather occupied at the time, Virgil had still heard Scott's reaction to their new enemy's attack on him. Once the dust had settled, and Scott had returned home, the worry for how shaky that 'thank God you're all right' hug had felt, then how quickly he'd shot upstairs to 'hit the paperwork' had only increased. Because Scott Carpenter Tracy hated paperwork.

He was also tired. Stressed out. And still angry. Really, really, angry. He hadn't eaten either. So Virgil had paired up his ears with his instincts, following them in turn to Scott's room, the kitchen, and One's hangar, quickly followed by Two's. When all that failed, he finally tried the location where, in hindsight, he should have checked in the first place.

Still, in his defence, he'd had one hell of a day too. All that smoke, Virgil told himself, had left that super keen Scooter-Sense a little bit - off. And all that stress had left Scott - well, by the sounds of it, just about ready to confront their new enemy again, and kick his ass into the middle of next year.

"...God..."

*crash*

"...damn..."

*bang*

"...bastard..."

*wallop*

Scratch that. The middle of next century wouldn't cover it either. Even the next millennium would still be a stretch.

The gym door was closed too. Another sign that Scott needed to thrash out the worst of his temper without any interruptions. Their cushion-fighting tinies had nothing on their eldest brother - especially when he was as livid with fury as this.

For several more moments, Virgil stood in the hallway outside - debating on the wisdom of opening the door in front of him, and risking his already endangered neck to the Hell that was raging beyond it.

"...damn near..."

*crash*

"...killed my..."

*bang*

"...BROTHER!"

That final yell tied in perfectly with enough of an impact against the door to make him flinch. As quickly as his hand lifted away from it, though, so it settled straight back again, and eased the door open.

By his calculations, the dummies they used for their defence training were in enough pieces now for him to poke his head around it, without the risk of it being ripped off. And besides, he'd faced far worse today. Compared to bringing his 'bird down in choking smoke and flames, his butt-kicking brother would be a walk in the park.

He hoped.

For several seconds, Scott remained oblivious to his presence. The sight of him prowling along the opposite wall reminded him of a childhood trip to the circus. To the child he'd been then, all those animals in their cages had been utterly captivating. The adult he was now, though, could appreciate the greater truth.

Watching Scott pace and seethe around his own, if more luxurious enclosure, Virgil could sense the same helplessness that still simmered inside. All of which made what happened when he finally noticed him all the more perverse - and even more comical.

"Gyaaahhh!"

"Jeez, Scott!"

"Damn it, Virgil!"

As their heart rates, if not their dignity, returned to normal, so it was an equally dead heat as to who looked the more embarrassed. With the greater need to be, it was Scott who finally broke the still strained silence between them.

"Sorry, Virg, I... uh... just needed to clear my head a bit."

An eyebrow rose now, partly in disbelief, but mostly amusement, while Virgil surveyed the carnage around him. While two of them had somehow survived, another of their training mannequins had truly given everything for its cause. Its body and legs lay at one end of the gym, its head and arms at the other.

To himself, Virgil wondered how Kayo would react to finding her training room reduced to a crash dummy murder scene. Vowing that he'd be far elsewhere at the time, he kept his vocal response to just three, carefully neutral words.

"So I see."

Maybe it was all the effort of his exertions, or the tone in Virgil's voice, or just the sight of seeing him standing there, real and alive against all the odds he'd called otherwise, but all of Scott's anger just fell out of him. Much of his strength went with it, leaving him to brace his hands against his knees. Breathing hard, fighting to regain the control that took more quiet words, the blessing of a comforting hug, to finally complete.

"Come on, let's clear this up and get outta here, before you start bursting out of your shirt."

That won him a smile, in recognition for where this suggestion would lead. Via the kitchen to Virgil's room, for a uniquely private movie night. Not just any movie, either, but the one that never failed to cheer him up. As Scott would call it, the guys they'd call to save the world when International Rescue had to take a day off.

By the time he'd showered and changed, Virgil had everything set. Popcorn, pretzels and marshmallowed hot chocolate, all good to go for this much special, much needed treat. A pricelessly calming smile, as Scott stretched out beside him, did the rest.

So then, movie cued in. Living, breathing brother safe and sound at his side, and a mini banquet of munchies between them.

Showtime.

Slouched on his bed, with Virgil's legs resting on top of his, he felt almost human again, which was kinda weird - because there was really nothing human about the blur of bellowing green, that now prompted a huff of wry laughter.

"Now there's a guy with anger issues."

"Yeah, I wonder how many mannequins he's trashed in his time."

"Shut up."

If not for the broad grin on Scott's face, Virgil might have taken him seriously. Instead, he snatched up another blueberry muffin and lopped it into his mouth - ignoring the growl that suggested his brother had laid dibs on it first.

Well, no matter. Scott certainly wouldn't want it now. Besides, there were still enough of a feast on his brother's lap to keep either him or the Hulk fed for a week.

Something else they had in common, Virgil thought through a silent grin. If they could have met in real life, with stacks of muffins and apple pies between them - yeah, things would have been interesting. And what Bruce Banner was to Scott Tracy, so Clint Barton was to his ruefully envious brother.

"See, there's a guy who always hits his target first time."

Another favourite, long running joke between them - met this time with an incredulous stare, and another snort of laughter.

"Yeah, like I'd ever let you loose with a bow and arrows."

"Shut up, Hulk Boy, and quit hogging those pretzels."

To mutual hogging of said pretzels, both then turned their critic's critical eye back to where Team Stark were roundly kicking HYDRA's ass. After doing the same thing to all those defenceless dummies, it was Scott who finally found his peace, and laid his own demons of the day to rest.

"So, how'd you think Hawkeye would deal with this Mechanic?"

Glancing across at him, Virgil then grinned, in recognition for this moment stood for. If he was asking how an albeit fictional ex assassin would handle such a dangerous enemy as the one they'd faced today - well, there was really only one answer that would do that question justice.

"Well, I'd like to think he'd shoot one of his exploding arrows right up his -"

"Language!"

"Jeez, Captain Cranky, I didn't even say it!"

"No, but you were so going to, and that's just as bad."

"Is not."

"Is too."

Settling this debate with a popcorn fight, and yet another bout of toe-wrestling, both then settled back against the pillows behind them. After such an emotionally draining day, this was just what both of them needed - the simple pleasure of being safe, alive, and kicking back with their uniquely special movie.

Between mouthfuls of popcorn, pretzels, and Virgil's special hot chocolate, both of them were thoroughly enjoying it too - right until the moment when their very own Black Widow appeared in the doorway, tossing a battered head between her hands.

"So, either of you wannabe ninjas know anything about this?!"