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Virgil was not someone who was quick to anger.

Out of all of his brothers, he was the closest in temperament to their mother, always the furthest to be pushed and the last to break.

But at this exact moment, he was seeing red.

Gordon was out of the temple tunnels he had been trapped in with Penny and Parker, safe and sound and milling about, making sure that his companions were okay before heading back over. He was alright, and that had been his number one priority, even going so far as to stop Scott (albeit justifiably) lunging at Professor Harold, the oily, sneak of a man who was prepared to leave them all in there to rot.

But as Virgil saw Harold attempting to sneak away past Thunderbird 2, clutching his hat in his hands and looking around sheepishly, hoping to get away from the consequences of his actions, his temper flared.

Looking back to Scott who was distracted, rushing towards his brother, already shouting his name, always full of concern for his siblings, Virgil slinked around the corner of his bird in pursuit of the professor.

The older man was moving slow, trying to keep quiet and completely oblivious as Virgil caught up to him easily, just as he reached the back end of Thunderbird 2.

He reached forward, grabbing the professor by his khaki shirt and yanking hard, sending him flying as he stepped out of the way, into the back of Thunderbird 2’s fuselage.

The professor let out a surprised yelp, Virgil’s hand going across his mouth to silence him quickly as whiskey brown eyes narrowed on him, the pilot’s eyebrows furrowed.

Like this, with this rage pumping through him, the usually placid man looked terrifying, all primal rage and fury.

“You scream, shout or draw attention to yourself, there’ll be a lot worse in store for you than I have planned,” he hissed in the professor’s face, “understood?”

Tears were pricking at the older man’s eyes as he nodded frantically.

“Good,” Virgil growled, pulling his hand away. In the same movement, he bought his forearm up to the professor’s neck, holding him firmly in place against the fuselage as he struggled against him, desperate to get away.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed again, pressing harder.

“You were going to leave my brother and my friends to die in that fucking pyramid,” the pilot said, voice dripping with anger. “You were going to let them suffocate, or starve or waste away for the sake of some fucking gold. You make me sick.”

The professor struggled against him more, helpless to fight against the pure muscle that was Virgil’s frame.

“I’m… sorry,” he choked, fingers clawing at Virgil’s arm, “please, I didn’t… I didn’t think, I…”

His eyes were turning red from being so bloodshot, colour draining from his face.

With one last disgusted snarl, Virgil pulled him arm away, letting him collapse to the ground where he crumpled, heaving for breath and looking up at him with terrified eyes.

“I should take you to the most remote place on earth and leave you to die,” Virgil spat, “like you wanted to do to them.”

“Please,” Harold begged, getting onto his knees to plead with the pilot, “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Virgil growled at him, taking a step forward. The professor cowered back in fear. The pilot shook his head, disgusted at the sight.

“You are the lowest of the low,” he snarled, “you’re an fucking animal, look at you. Crawling on the ground, begging for your life after you tried to kill innocent people. And for what? Some gold that doesn’t even belong to you?”

Harold whimpered, unable to even defend himself.

“I’m giving you the most generous thing anyone could ever give you,” Virgil said, voice low and threatening as he kneeled down to look at the professor, still cowering before him. “I’m giving you your life, not that you deserve it.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” the professor replied, scrambling to move, to stand. Virgil stopped him with a large hand on his shoulder. The older man looked at him, fear in his eyes along with a question.

“Don’t thank me,” Virgil growled. “It’s more than you deserve. Much more. Just know, that if you ever, ever come near my family, my friends or any other innocent person again with the intent to harm them the way you have today, the next place you’ll be exploring is the bottom of the ocean with weights tied to you.”

The professor nodded frantically, a terror in his eyes that Virgil usually only saw when he went to the worst of disasters.

He couldn’t even feel bad for it, his mind still filled with churning fear, the same that had coursed through him when he’d arrived in search of Gordon.

“Now, get out of my sight.”

“Yes, I will, I will,” the professor cried, scrambling to his feet and taking off in a sprint.

Virgil watched him go, down the long, winding path by the river.

He wouldn’t make it far. Authorities would pick him up soon enough, but he’d said his piece.

Even if his threat didn’t hold much water, he had been so angry, he needed to get it out.

Virgil sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty; Harold had deserved it after all, but he felt dirty for letting himself sink to that level.

“Virg?” a familiar voice sounded from the corner of Thunderbird 2. He turned to face the source of the noise, finding Gordon stood there with a soft, tired smile on his face.

“Hey Gordo,” Virgil greeted him fondly, the anger he’d felt washed away by relief, “how you doing?”

“Good, now I’m out of that place,” he said with a tired smile, gesturing towards the crumbled remains of the pyramid. “That was really close, at the end,” he admitted, a little sheepishly. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Always, kiddo,” Virgil smiled, moving towards his co-pilot and grabbing him in a headlock, grinning as he protested and squirmed away. “You know the only person allowed to put you in mortal danger is me.”

“Dick,” Gordon grinned.

“You know it,” Virgil sighed, looking back down the path.