#thunderangst

Sunday 9 May 2066, 1900hrs New York Monday 10 May, 0000hrs Creighton-Ward Manor Monday 10 May, 1100hrs Tracy Island Monday 10 May, 1100hrs Cloudbase

Secure in his private office, Jeff sipped his morning coffee and listened attentively as his campaign manager, Tobias Ghent, went over the latest updates on his work towards Jeff’s presidential ambitions. 

The little hologram of Tobias, a svelte man in his thirties, was perched on the corner of his own desk in Tracy Tower New York, tablet in hand as he began the briefing. “I've gotta say Mr Tracy, with the platform you've already got built with TI and iR, polling has been a cinch.” Tobias smiled broadly as he brought up a set of brightly coloured graphs. “You're averaging fifteen percent above all of your rivals across the board on all the standard polls. I'll forward you the raw data and stats of course, but I'm confident that with the plan we've got together we can bring that up to twenty, if not better.”   

“Good, that's good work Tobias.” Jeff allowed himself a satisfied smile. Literal decades of work were paying off and the dividends were going to be huge. “So what's the plan?”  

“We're looking to start the meet and greets in the US, that'll be your biggest and easiest voting base. We'll kick off in Houston, remind everyone that you're the first man on Mars, the pioneer of Shadow Alpha One, and the man who survived eight years alone in deep space. Then we’ll swing through the Heartlands, visit New York and finish in Washington. After that we'll go to your neighbours in Oceania.”   

Here Tobias paused to frown. “This'll require a smooth gear shift. In the USA we'll play up the ‘good ol’ Kansas farm boy’ who built his company from the ground up and made it big. The American on the street will eat that up, but in Australia, New Zealand, and the Pacific that's not going to work as well. Our research and test audiences have shown that while they’re largely positive towards you, there's still a lot of suspicion there about Americans in power in general, they hate ‘tall poppies’ and like the humble hero. The ‘big, bright, loud American’ is an instant turn off for the bulk of the voting population. We can bounce off the good work you've already done in the area and use that as a segue into all the other good you will do when you’re World President.”  

Jeff nodded as he listened, being everything to everyone had been his modus operandi for so long he barely had to think about it.  

“Now, I know you said your boys were off limits, but it'd be a big help if we can get one or two of them to walk around with you in the Pacific region, they're very big on family and family values there and your family man image will go down well.”

“No can do, Tobias.” Jeff was a little irritated with having to make this point yet again. “My boys are far too busy with International Rescue.”   

“Understood, but that brings us to the next point,” Tobias took the instruction and neatly rolled with it. “We're already getting questions on socials and in the pre-list for the interviews: people need some concrete information about the future of International Rescue and who'll be helming Tracy Industries. The question over iR is a new one, no candidate has had a private rescue organisation before, but people are leery about enriching the world's richest man by giving him the ability to hand plum contracts to his own company.”  

“I'll be turning iR over to Lee as the Commander and Wayne as the Field Commander,” Jeff had had this answer ready for weeks now, “as for TI, that's still being sorted out with the lawyers, but I’ll be divesting my shares and it'll be in the hands of the board with a new CEO at the helm, I’m working on recruitment now. We're already preparing to drop the World Government and military contracts when I take office to prevent any impressions of partiality.” He kept his other plans to himself. Dropping the contracts would sound impressive to the average voter, but in reality the process would take years, in fact more than enough time for his term to run, and Tobias didn't need to know he'd be keeping his fingers on the pulse at TI through his handpicked proxy, he needed his best people developing everything he needed for Elysium Base. As soon as he’d done what he needed to as WP and the ink was dry on his resignation, he’d be taking his company back and launching into the final preparations for Elysium. “I'll of course be donating the salary from being the World President, I don't exactly need it.” Jeff finished his little spiel with a conspiratorial smile. “We'll make a talking point out of that.”   

“Naturally.” Tobias made a note.  

Jeff was about to ask who was on the line up for interviews when an alert from the Island’s systems caught his eye. He almost dismissed it, then he saw the text summary. “Tobias, I'll have to call you back, something just came up.”   

“Gotcha, I'll get our notes written up,” Tobias replied, well used to the demands of rescue work on his boss’ time.  

Jeff dismissed the call with a flick of his hand and opened up the alert: the internet filters had caught something.   

When he'd finished inventorying everything that'd been done in his absence, he'd found a series of increasingly complicated parental controls on the Island's internet. They were titled ‘No, Alan’ and ran the gamut of V1.1 all the way through to V36.9.2. He'd quietly reactivated the latest version, modified it to filter out the things that weren't necessary for the others to know, and programmed it to send an alert to his personal tablet or holoscreen whenever certain keywords were used.   

When he finally got into the alert, what he saw made his blood run cold: a reporter had somehow found the Bastard and gotten her claws into him. ‘This… this could torpedo everything, years of work gone… no. Hell no. That Bastard isn’t ruining my life again!’

He immediately went for the concealed drawer in his desk, the one where he kept the notebooks with the intel passed on by his moles at various news stations, information that was far too dangerous to store anywhere that John could get at it. He flipped through the sections, found the one for Kat Cavernaugh’s station, skimmed through it, then snarled when he found nothing of value. ‘My mole said Cavanaugh was working on something big, that idiot should have warned me it was something like this!’ Jeff angrily threw everything back into concealment, pushed himself away from his desk and started pacing. ‘Okay, throttle down Tracy, work the problem. This is the only story that’s broken and my moles at the other media stations haven’t said anything like this is in the works, so this is an isolated problem. I need lawyers on this, as of yesterday. It's already out in public so I need Tobias and his team prepping a denouncement, I need to keep the others out of the way and in the dark, and I need my boys away from any other reporters and somewhere I can get my hands on them when I need them. Scott and Alan are the easy ones, Virgil will do what he’s told, so will John, but Gordon’s going to be the problem, as usual.’   

A glance out the window, then at the wall of screens beside him with different feeds, including a live stream of the weather in the area, gave him an idea. He needed to take control of the narrative and he needed time and zero distractions to do it.   

‘Okay. We're probably going to be hit by that weather system coming off Australia, so that plus catching up on deferred maintenance on the Thunderbirds will ground the fleet and keep ‘em all here and busy. I need to manage this in person, so I'm getting parts at the New York facilities. On the way I can call Charles to get Scott sent to me and I’ve already got a team prepped to find and bring in Alan. But where the hell is Gordon!? My people should have tracked him down by now! I’ll contact them along the way and get them to step up the hunt. Even if they can’t find him, if I can get two out of three, that’ll do for now and probably scare him into lying low. Should I take Lee? No, he needs to stay put and keep a lid on things here. Okay,’ he nodded to himself, pleased, ‘plan's made, go time.’   

A quick email scribbled out to Tobias alerted his campaign manager to the threat, then three button clicks sent a long-prepared message to the men he'd organised to pick up Alan from Yale - that it was nighttime and Sunday there would make it easier for them to find him. He was about to summon Wayne and Lee to give out their orders when another thought stopped him. ‘Penelope has to be involved in this. Odds are if I go to her, I'll find Gordon or at least clues to where he is, and my men can secure TBS at the same time.’ He quickly sent an email to the team he'd readied for the moment when his former London agent crossed the line from ‘ignorable’ to ‘threat’, then reached out to make his summons.  

T H U N D E R F A L L  

"It looks like that atmospheric river is going to slam right into New Zealand. Projections show -  

((JOHN!!)) 

- that it should head south and bypass the Island altogether, but better safe than sorry Wayne." John didn't react to EOS's shout in his mind, even if Wayne and Dosela knew about 'Dawn', he wasn't going to give anything away. 

(Yes, EOS?)  

In answer a window popped up in the hologram from Tracy Island showing the advert for The Kat Cavanaugh Show that was going to air on Monday, followed by emails that had been sent by UnNamed. John stilled for a moment and ran through the contingencies that had been set up, while Wayne went on about storm prep. 

(Understood. Please start the Thunderfall protocol.) "That sounds good Wayne, just make sure that the storm shutters are in good shape. We don't want another thunderfall."

Wayne's eyes got very big for a moment at the mention of the code word, then he gave a brisk nod. "Copy that, Five. I'll get the others on that right away. Tracy Island out."  

John was moving even before the image fully vanished. "Time to Cloudbase?" He launched out of the comm hub and hit the gravity ring running. Around him he felt more than heard the rumble as Thunderbird Five’s thrusters fired and she started to move.   

From our 'known' position, four hours. From our actual, one hour.  EOS's voice was the epitome of calm as her camera glided alongside him. They are still holding station over New Caledonia.  

Reaching his bedroom, John shoved the last few things into his space-proof go bag; he'd kept one ready ever since he'd come back 'upstairs'. "Excellent. Are you going to take Five over the South Pole?" Hiding Five Actual was important for a lot of reasons; not the least of which was to keep Jeff from destroying it out of spite. He and EOS had been fudging Five’s actual location for weeks now, keeping her as close to Cloudbase’s location as they could get in preparation for this day.

No. Once you are safely away, I'll take Five to the Southern Magnetic Anomaly. Between the optical camouflage and the Hall Effect of cahelium, finding Five Actual will be nearly impossible.  

John froze, then turned to face her camera. "EOS, if you do that, I can't bridge you to my location."  

We've discussed this, John. This is the best plan, you know this.  

John took a slow deep breath and the now-repaired link flared to life with the rush of warmth that had become their version of a hug. 

I’ll be fine.

(You've never jumped from the Anomaly.) The switch to internal communication was habit. This was too big of a concept for mere words. Using the link, he could show her all his fears and concerns, everything raw, unfiltered and unlimited by abstract concepts like words that sometimes could communicate so much, but also so little.

((I will be fine. We designed this. We built this. It's been tested and I trust us.))  

John took on her words, her faith in him and what they could do together lending him courage. (F.A.B.) He nodded sharply, then headed to the space elevator to make his final preparations for the jump.  

T H U N D E R F A L L    

Standing in Jeff’s office at parade rest, Wayne chewed on the inside of his lip while Jeff laid out how they were finally getting to the deferred maintenance on the 'Birds and going off-line since it looked like the weather front was going to pass right over them. ‘Perfect timing and the world can do without iR for a couple of days’, Jeff had drawled - a statement that only years of military service kept Wayne from reacting to. As far as he could tell, Jeff could no more let the world survive without him and iR anymore than the sun could stop fusing hydrogen. Not knowing where Jeff was going or what he was actually doing wasn't good. Especially with John calling for Thunderfall, which he still hadn't been able to tell the others about!  

“It'll be good to catch up on maintenance,” Lee commented from his position at Jeff’s shoulder, once again the yes-man marching in lock step to the tune Jeff piped. “One's bein’ a fussy girl again and Three's thrusters are sluggish.”   

‘That's because you fly a Thunderbird like you're flying a brick.’ Wayne kept a very straight face and said nothing. Lee piloted with a proverbial lead foot, to the point they were deep in the double digits tallying the number of times he’d brought back a Thunderbird with engine trouble because of it.  

"Make sure that everything is locked down as tight as you can, Rigby." Jeff pushed off his desk and started toward the hangers, motioning for Wayne to follow and leaving Lee behind. “I don’t want that weather getting in. Lee, you go tell Casey what the plan is.”  

“You got it, Jeff.”

Wayne switched to chewing on the other side of his mouth and fell in behind Jeff, two steps back and one to the right, and followed him into the elevator. "Yes, sir."

"I want you to keep an eye on Virgil for me." Jeff sent the elevator down. "He's not been getting enough rest and looks it."

"Yes, sir." ‘Of course he's not getting enough rest! You're running him ragged, you jackwagon.’ But he kept that thought strictly to himself. "Anything else you want us to cover, sir?"  

"Not right now. But if any of my other sons contact the base, let me know right away. Especially Gordon."  

 “Yessir,” Wayne replied as they entered the civilian hangar, his mind racing. If they could get Jeff off the Island, he could start warning the rest as soon as the jet hit the runway and they'd be ready to bail as soon as their evac arrived. Lee was good, but he was just one guy. If he caused any issues, they could deal with him.   

A buzz from Jeff's watch interrupted his planning.   

“Jeff,” Lee's voice issued from the device. “I just had a thought, why don't ya take Brian with you? He's fussy about how they do the CNC and machining of the parts, if you take him there he can supervise an’ we'll be done quicker.”   

For a split second Wayne was certain that Jeff would refuse, he was extremely reluctant for Brains to leave the Island, then his heart sank as Jeff nodded. “That's not a bad idea, Lee.” He turned to go back towards the elevator and down to Brains’ lab in the heart of the Island. “Come along, Wayne.”   

Falling into step behind Jeff, Wayne discreetly contacted John on his own watch and tapped a message in Morse: EVAC. While they’d all preferred to do this on the quiet, without the mass alert, he knew with absolute certainty that if Brains left the Island with Jeff and they escaped without him, they'd never see the engineer again. ‘Time for Plan B for Bug-out.’ He knew of three escape routes he, Brains and MAX could use from this level, and there was another one two levels up. ‘I just hope I got the warning out in time for Brains and MAX to get moving...’ 

Jeff led the way as he detoured to Brains’ lab, marshaling the orders he needed to make and how to phrase them to keep Brains from bringing MAX along. The stupid robot wouldn't fit in Tracy One and Jeff was very leery of robots ever since the mess at the Viseu plant. Even the one that Brains had built and programmed, he just didn't trust them. 

He paused outside of the lab, this was the one place that he didn't just barge into. Delicate experiments, things flying around (or crawling, walking, slithering) or that damn robot all posed a danger to life and limb. He rapped on the door twice before pulling it open and entering. "Brains! I want you to come with me…" 

He halted just inside the doorway, the lab was empty! No Brains leaping up to greet him, no MAX rolling about, no nothing. It was completely still and quiet. "What the Hell? Rigby!" Jeff twisted around, "Do you kno - " The one time GDF Captain and now Pilot of Thunderbird One was gone. "What the HELL?!?" He darted out into the hall, looking up and down it and seeing no one. 

‘They know, somehow those treacherous bastards KNOW!’ "LEE!" Jeff roared into his comm, "Lock the Island down! Lock EVERYTHING down!!" 

T H U N D E R F A L L 

Still in Jeff’s office, Lee lunged for the security panel by the desk and started the lock down procedure. "Jeff? Lock down started. What's going on?"

"That Bastard, that's what! Get ahold of Virgil. Dosela too if you see her! It's all hands on deck!"  

Lee didn't question how Steven could be involved with this, he just raced for the residential level. If Vinny wasn’t working on his 'Bird, he’d usually be sleeping in his rooms. Which was damn lazy if you asked Lee, but no one had, so he kept that to himself. He pounded through the open door. "Hey Vincent! Yer' dad…" It clicked in Lee's head that he'd gone through the open door. Vern never left his door open. He triggered his comm again. “Jeff, he’s gone!” A few running steps and he was throwing Suzie’s door open, the emptiness telling him louder than words could that she’d already rabbited too. “So’s Sara!”   

“FIND THEM!” Jeff roared down the link, his rarely shown fury exploding in a way that Lee had never seen before. “I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO, JUST FUCKING FIND THEM!”   

His attempt was thwarted a second time by a confident, broad shouldered man who could give Virgil a run for his money. Scott wasn’t particularly distracted by the shirt and tie which gave more of a lawyer vibe than medic but when the ID badge waved in his face introduced the man as an orthopaedic surgeon an eyebrow raised marginally. Given he and his colleagues had probably just saved Gordon’s life, it was highly irrational and probably desperately unfair but…

“A moment, if you would.”

Scott hated the guy on sight.

He nodded with as polite an expression as he could manage given he was quite sure the next thing to come between him and his little brother would be steamrollered. Even, perhaps especially, if that thing was a brick wall.

“I wasn’t the lead surgeon attending to your brother, he sends his apologies but his expertise was required elsewhere. I was, however, present.”

Scott tore his attention back from peering through the door trying to figure out where his brother would be. Time was ticking and he had to be there when Gordon came round from the anaesthetic. Scott had never claimed to have a power equivalent to Gordon’s Squid Sense but if he had he would say it was screaming at him by now.

“What do I need to know?”

“Mr Tracy, I don’t believe it is fair to beat about the bush in such situations - the surgical team were not unanimous in their agreement with the leader’s decision to operate at all. The injuries your brother has suffered were, no, are catastrophic.”

Somehow the last hours of running through worst case scenario after worst case scenario had failed to prepare Scott for that word and he pressed his lips together to hold back the whimper that flooded his chest.

“The absolute best case scenario is lifelong paraplegia, more likely quad. If he does regain feeling, it is likely he will be in near constant pain. And I’m afraid that is still a faint hope at this stage. The volume of blood lost, the level of multiple-system trauma and the fact we have no idea how long he had been pulseless before the recovery team began compressions - it is very much more than likely if he regains consciousness his mental capacity will be severely affected.

“The next few hours will be pivotal but I do need you to consider your instructions for what should be done if…”

“No.” The snarled objection slipped out before Scott could prevent it. The man continued his speech undeterred:

“… for what should be done if he should arrest again before he regains consciousness. A resuscitation is brutal, traumatic for an uninjured body - for one such as your brother’s - it may well cause even more permanent damage if he survives it. It may be kinder to spare him that ordeal when there is so little to gain.”

Scott realised he was repeatedly shaking his head and in his horror that this might be misinterpreted, near shouted his assertion that there would be two Tracy bodies for the hospital to deal with before he would ever give up on his baby brother. The kind nurse from before moved to his side and wrapped an arm around his back, seamlessly producing a tissue with the other.

Dr Doom seemed unmoved.

“If that eventuality does not present itself, well. He is on maximum support - there is no further option to progress or enhance his care other than by increasing the pain relief he is receiving such that the natural course of things is eased along. So that he could pass with some dignity, you understand?”

Scott’s only response was a genuine attempt to vaporise the man with his eyeballs.

“I’ll leave this paperwork with you. I believe he is settled on the ward and would advise you head in to pass what time he has left with him.”

Of course, it never used to be that difficult a concept. Way back in the beginning home was actually very simple: wheat fields, a dirt track, a farmhouse painted blue. Roses in the yard, cookies warm from the oven, an apron-wrapped hug. Laughter, joy, love.

But that sense of home had disappeared far too quickly.

Home was somewhere else now. Right now his family were all safely back on Tracy Island, tucked up in their beds, rescues complete and flight hours exhausted for the next… - he checked his watch - ten hours at least. By that time the sun would be high in the sky over the villa, and the petrels would be chitting and charping up there with it. But for now there were only snores and the sound of breaking waves drifting softly in through the windows: the island’s own heartbeat.

By rights John should be asleep now too - he’d been up just as long as they had - but he couldn’t feel less like sleeping at the moment.

He took another sip of his cocoa, ignoring the small knot that grew in his chest every time he looked out of the window. 

Instead he began idly calculating the exact distance between him and Tracy Island right now, incorporating the gap between Thunderbird Five and Earth of course, but also estimated distances from his current position above the Kaloo Desert back round to the South Pacific, reckoned both circumferentially and directly through the planet itself… Was that cheating? If a direct path wasn’t actually travelable, did it still count?

He frowned. Like so many things, how far he was from home was very much a matter of perspective. Miles and kilometers obviously, but also time. After all, the journey from Thunderbird Five to planetside took only twenty minutes by space elevator; fifteen at a push. Factor in the time it took to reposition Five and by that measure he really wasn't very far away at all.

The knot in his chest twisted.

It was never just a matter of measurement.

The fact was that despite the communications links, the regular care packages, the day-to-day check-ins and obviously the rescues, up here he was still a world away from everything down there. In every practical way he existed in an entirely different realm to the rest of his family, and the rest of humanity pretty much. He breathed a different atmosphere, he experienced a different gravity, night and day were rendered practically alien concepts to him. It wasn’t just a different landscape up here - there was no landscape!

When he’d first moved to Five he’d missed movement more than anything else. There was no cool morning breeze in space, nor the swish of leafy trees. There were no plants, no animals, no other living being of any description that wasn’t either computer-based or tin can-enclosed. Everything here was metal and glass; cold and sterile and still.

But even that didn’t fully describe it.

He sighed and set his half-drunk cocoa on the side table and sat back on his bunk, eyes closed.

The feeling of detachment was far more profound than the things he missed or the sensations that space lacked. It was more than just the distances. It wasn’t quantifiable. Wasn’t explainable. It was barely comprehensible. And it was all-encompassing.

Everything he was, everything that identified him as a person, as a human, was down there. His family, his history… Every concept of personhood, every aspect that had made him who he was and everyone whose existence in turn determined the shape of his own was now separate from him. The whole world - the whole of civilization past, present and future - could implode tomorrow into a single speck, and he would still remain, a final monument to the existence of the human race, drifting in his man-made cocoon until the end of time. Just him, alone, endlessly floating until the last star blinked out.

It was a lonely thought.

And yet…

He sat there for what seemed like an age, listening to the whirs and creaks and hums of Thunderbird Five, as familiar to him now as any home he’d ever known planetside. He knew every nut, every bolt, every corner and every cranny. He’d memorised the layout the same day Dad had first showed him the initial plans. He’d even personally had a hand in designing some of the systems. This was the sanctuary his father had custom-built just for him: his dreams made real in cahelium and silica.

He thought of Tracy Island once more, and all his family: seven people in one house, clattering and talking and bumping and tripping over each other, teasing each other, borrowing each other’s stuff, stubbed toes, hurt feelings, arguments, jokes, noise…

He loved his family. Of course he did. And he believed they loved him too.

And yet…

Home is somewhere you’re comfortable, right? Somewhere you belonged. Somewhere you wanted to be. 

His chest ached.

What did he want? Where did he belong?

The world kept turning. His mind drifted.

One foot in one world and one in another, he thought just as sleep finally pulled on him, dragging him under.

The electronic voice was causing Virgil’s head to spin, but it was the sudden burst of eerie synthesised laughter that had him shaking and he would have crumpled had the detective not already insisted he sit down. He barely noticed Flinn force him down into a chair as the unseen man on the screen continued to scream abuse at their Dad. 

Focussing on his Dad gave Virgil strength, and he pulled himself together. The man was getting paler by the second, and, while Virgil couldn’t help but wince and blush at the threats issuing from the laptop, he was pleased they had all insisted he stay hidden.

Jeff watched in horror as the masked assailant punctuated some of his ravings – and the man (at least he assumed it was a man although finding out that it wasn’t Cowlishaw meant Jeff was not ruling out anyone) was definitely losing control of himself – by kicking his unconscious son several times.

Biting his lip and discretely hiding that his hand was tightly holding Gordon’s leg to keep his son from jumping up again, Jeff waited for the person to pull himself together. It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually the man stood tall, took a deep breath and turned back to the camera.

‘I would have thought that he would have learnt from last time. Apparently not.’

‘Jeff Tracy.’

‘What do you want?’

The man laughed again and Jeff had a hard time keeping his eyes on the screen and not betraying Virgil’s presence by looking over at him. His son looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

‘I want to be rich. I want to have it all. But most of all I want to see you suffer.’

‘How much do you want?’

Jeff asked the question with a dry mouth. The last time he’d asked that question he was left hanging for days as Cowlishaw kept him waiting, not giving an answer but torturing him with repeated videos with a Virgil who was visibly worse with every showing. 

‘How much are you prepared to pay for your son’s life? I don’t think you yourself know the answer to that. Not yet, at least.’

With deliberate slowness and ignoring Jeff’s shouts, the man turned the laptop off.

The room erupted into sound and movement. Gordon began angrily pacing back and forth, muttering curses and a list of things he’d like to do that had even Jeff blushing. Virgil just shrank in on himself, torn by memories that had taken years to even come to terms with now tormenting him all over again. 

Harry Flinn looked like a man defeated. It had been the making of the detective all those years ago, but now he looked around the conference room looking for help. But none of the techs had been able to work their magic on tracing the origin of the call, and Jeff once more faced the face that his son had been kidnapped and they had no leads.

With a nudge Jeff pointed Gordon at Virgil, stopping the younger man in his tracks as he took in the state of his co-pilot. He wasted no time pulling Virgil into a hug before getting him upright and heading for the door. Pausing, Gordon announced his attention to the room.

‘We’re going for coffee and burgers.’

‘Get enough for everyone, Gordon.’

‘Sure thing, Dad.’

Jeff returned to staring at the now blank laptop, missing the arrival of his two other boys and his Ma.

John didn’t wait for a moment, dumping his bag down beside the desk, snatching the laptop and folding himself onto the floor. Flinn and Jeff watched as he pulled cables and an assortment of electronics both men would have been hard pressed to identify. He plugged in the laptop and, slipping on a pair of large headphones, John sat down to watch what had happened to Scott.

A shudder ran through Jeff and he turned slightly so that he didn’t have to see the recording. All he could think about was how Cowlishaw had tortured Virgil for days.

Scott was already in a bad way, and it was only the first day…could Scott cope having to go through similar? Those first words returned to haunt Jeff, reminding him that this time there was no holding back.