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The roar of engines and electronics screamed their protest as the rocket plane was slowly brought back from hypersonic speeds, the pilot's hands remained steady upon the controls, eyes trained to the holographic displays of the outside in-front of him. The air traffic today en route back to Tracy island required him at a slower airspeed- as for some reasons his communications in regards to the airspace he currently inhabited had gone unanswered- and he wasn’t about to go and spear into another aircraft. Subtle changes with Thunderbird One’s controls happened automatically, the pilot most as ease within his large beast of a craft. With a glance thrown beneath him, the rolls of bare hills and the border of forest flickered under his feet. A slow smile pulled at the edges of his mouth. Although a controversial country currently- Carezteah was still a thing of beauty- not that he had personally gone much. They had their own air centered search and rescue so usually the major disasters were already taken care of from their own team of first responders.

A large thud snapped Scott’s attention back to earth as the cockpit started to flash red with the holographic warnings of all kinds that blared against his ears. ‘Thunderbird Five this is Thunderbird One, I’m hit,’ Scott tilted One’s nose cone up as far as he could as her hull shuttered again with another hit, ‘I’m being shot out of the sky!’ ‘Thunderbird One this is Thunderbird Five, you’re being shot down?’ ‘No, I’m just taking a nice lil nose dive towards the countryside, yes John, I’m being shot down!’ Scott engaged the VTOL’s in an attempt to resurrect the ship. ‘Okay, can you pull her nose up? I’m going to contact Tracy Island,’ John’s worried tone bit through the comms and Scott physically felt the chill, or perhaps, that was because the ground looked awfully closer than before.

‘Yes, but we’re still heading directly towards the ground and–’ Scott’s voice cut out as Thunderbird One’s nose perfectly husked away when it came into contact with the ground, a fiery inferno ignited her wires as she crumpled into the earth. Her pilot that she desperately tried to keep safe, threw hard against the back of his seat upon impact, which let his head roll sideways as it hung from his body.

The only sound that was heard against the hungry crackle of fire that now consumed the large silver bird, was the hiss of static from the comms line.

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Dusk had fallen over the sky that gave it a purple-yellow tone, the first constellations started to show within the sky, the darker it would get the more life would appear- stories written into the cosmos displayed for the human eye in a glimmer of beauty. It would have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the deafening roar of the helicopter’s blades as she gripped the handle and dangled her legs over the edge. ‘What are we flying into boss?’ Her soldier and resident best field medic on the team crouched beside Saarc’s spot to observe the world. ‘Crash of an aircraft recently identified as Thunderbird One. Our job is a matter of security as THF can’t get out here, and CSARC doesn’t want to get their hands bloody, specially if this man is dead in there,’ Saarc stood herself up as the helicopter cleared the last hill and revealed the Thunderbird which lay nestled in a paddock. Her silver hull on fire as smoke covered the night sky Saarc had admired only moments before. Scram jets were completely beaten inwards which was clear it had taken a hit from some sort of anti-aircraft missile. Overall, the looks of this crash wasn’t good, and she highly doubted the pilot, if alive, was in any state to get himself out. ‘Is not the CSARC’s whole job rescue?’ Atlas questioned with a squint of his eyes at the crash as the helicopter slowly touched down. ‘The government's job is to protect us. They are yet to do so,’ Saarc bit back as she jumped from the chopper, gun strapped around her chest as she strode towards the crash. She looked like an injured bird, slightly rolled to the side so that the underneath of her was exposed, wing dislocated from her actual hull, the sight of such a plane that should ignite someone with hope, instead dread was the only emotion to describe seeing such a beast crippled. Saarc adjusted her helmet, thankful for the oxygen supplied from it so that she didn’t have to feel the burn of smoke within her lungs. ‘The moment I come in contact with the pilot I need Olsen with the med kit and Willson to alert the forces,’ Saarc barked as she pried open the pilot's window- oddly placed underneath his feet. As the glass shattered, air sucked into the cockpit as if the window was the only thing to keep the seal, and the fire glowed just that bit brighter. Enough to make Saarc feel more than a little worried. Rescue and recovery wasn’t unusual for the special ops team in which had had to pull a lot of other teams from their demise in combat. Though, it was rare for something like this to be what they were tasked with. In Saarc’s brutally honest opinion, they shouldn’t be the ones doing this. This was a breach of policy and the CSARC or the GDF even should actually do their job. Though, job description or not, a complaint to higher authorities wouldn’t save this man’s life. If he still had one to live. He sat perfectly still within his pilot’s seat. Hair slicked back with such a sick amount of hair gel that Saarc for one moment considered a fire hazard. A cut ran from his temple to his ear and weeped blood that ash stuck to and dusted his blood over. Saarc pushed the shoulder restraints upwards with a clunk and caught the pilot before he fell from the chair. With a brief glance, his chest still rose and fell, and that was good enough as she scooped him into her arms. ‘Get ready, I've got him,’ Saarc barked briefly into comms, stoic tone sure to make those outside scramble just the tiniest bit faster. As she burst out of the bird she felt the heat that felt like it melted her bones into her uniform. The air didn’t clear up once she came clear of the crash site either, smoke now gave a haze that painted visors grey and made the forest line merely meters away unrecognisable. Saarc hauled the weight she’d thrown over her shoulder down to the gurney which awaited for its patient. Her eyes drifted back to his ship when it groaned, consumed by the fire and crumpled more into itself. Though, for a moment, it was like the ship itself yearned for the pilot taken from it.

-✈️-

Eyes flickered open to be met with unadorned walls and the potent smell of sanitiser. It didn’t take longer than a second for Scott to figure out he was within some form of infirmary or medical centre. He sat himself up and took stock of his situation. His uniform had been removed, it was carefully placed over the end of the bed he inhabited, however the baldric was nowhere to be seen. He was dressed in a hospital looking gown, a bandage wrapped around his arm in which he could assume was cut open. A wince and the headache he sported indicated the potential of a concussion. Scott slowly dragged himself to his feet, a hand gripped the side of the bed for support as he glanced around the room. ‘Wondered when you’d be awake,’ the female voice rattled Scott as he snapped his gaze to the woman. Dark brown eyes stared with intensity at him, a neck gator pulled over her mouth and nose which made her deep eyes pop. Black hair sat neatly down upon her shoulders with feathers that were entwined into her hair; the glimmer in her eyes told him she was amused. ‘Who are you,’ Scott said cautiously, his eyes trained to the doorways, military brain kicked itself into gear and tensed Scott’s muscles; ready to run. ‘Hawk,’ the woman answered in full honesty that Scott didn’t know whether to believe her or not, ‘yourself?’ ‘I’d assume you’d already know about me,’ Scott hissed as he fought the woozy feeling that rattled his brain. ‘While I would love, all I’ve got is… You pilot Thunderbird One,’ she shuffled within her chair. Her accent was thick and hard to understand, though one could best describe it as honey and baritone, but spartanness hung off every syllable. Scott blinked a couple of times to register. Scott glanced around, as he didn’t wish to answer the question just yet to the strange woman that while didn’t give off a bad vibe about her, she was guarded, and foreign. The whole place was foreign. ‘Where am I?’

‘Carezteah, Solver. You’re currently at military base in Solver, infirmary,’ Hawk tilted her head backwards towards the wall.

‘That makes sense,’ Scott mumbled, jumbled memories slowly worked through his brain. The crash checked out, and Solver would have been the closest town to where he had crashed, ‘why the military infirmary?’

‘It was a misjudge of an anti-aircraft missile that put you here, and you’re needed to answer a couple of questions. Don’t worry, Tracy, they don’t bite.’ The lack of visibility for Hawk’s mouth made it hard to understand.

‘So you know my name,’ Scott probed.

‘Doesn’t particularly take a genius to know that Tracy pilot the Thunderbird. Do I know what brother you are? No,’ Hawk gave a shrug.

‘Scott,’ he extended a hand, finally under the impression there was at least some trust that could be had. If they looked into it hard enough they would find him anyways, there was no point to hide his identity. 

‘Nice to meet,’ Hawk shook his hand firmly, ‘get in your uniform, it is patched. Call me back in, we see you to your home after these questions.’