A scene
Attempted to write some fic tonight. Unfortunately I have no brain, so it isn’t great.
The original idea was sparked by the lovely @idontknowreallywhy whose cat is very fond of Scott Tracy. How that relates to this scrappy bit of fic is debatable, but that was the spark and this was the beginning of what I wrote…I have more, but it isn’t working very well…I need to revise it once I find my brain.
I’m posting this bit because I haven’t posted fic in over a week.
I hope you like these few words.
Gordon yelped and John dove as the stream of flame shot out at them, his brain calculating exactly how much their uniforms could take when tackled by a flamethrower.
He held his breath, curled up on the dirty concrete, waiting for the heat to hit.
He cracked an eye open to find Virgil still standing but wobbling unsteadily. The makeshift flamethrower, still dropping sparks, hung in his hands, limp but easily ready.
“Leave him alone!” Virgil screamed at them.
“Okay, okay.” Gordon uncurled slowly, holding up both his hands as if in surrender.
“You’re not hurting him anymore.” The words were almost whimpered. Virgil turned to look at the crumpled body behind him. “No one! No one! No one is going to hurt him anymore.”
John eyed his unconscious eldest brother, sprawled against the wall of the ancient warehouse. His face was a mess of bruises, his uniform torn, and it was obvious Virgil had done his best to bind an injured arm at some point. Dirt and grim blurred the blue of his uniform.
Virgil himself was clearly only barely on his feet. He was swaying where he stood, blood dripping down the side of his face. The flamethrower was a makeshift mass of steel canister and pipes, very much slapped together in a hurry.
His brother’s engineer brains in every line.
Gordon was looking at John for direction - he had command.
“Virgil?” John’s kept his voice quiet and gentle. “Virgil, we want to help. I want to help.”
Virgil turned towards John and peered at him as if he was trying to see through smoke. “Johnny?”
“Yes. You’re safe now. I-“
“No! No! Not again. Not again!” And John had to throw himself to the ground again as the flamethrower lit up, Virgil yelling incoherently at the top of his lungs.