ScoutPilot

Heat clung to every atom of existence as the sun hung in the awful position that depicted afternoon. Summer in Australia was no joke, and the sweat had accumulated to the point that Scott could slick back his hair and it would stay stuck, even with the lack of hair gel he had time to put on in the morning before he was off to rescue. His body felt like a giant oven, and with another swig of electrolyte, Scott stared ahead at the disaster zone. The collapsed skyscraper looked relatively small from where Scott sat within the concrete jungle, somehow peaceful even if lives had been stolen. A deep sadness hung over the city, or, some sort of sorrowful gloom that seemed to brew within Scott’s stomach. Perhaps, it was due to the amount of loss he had seen today, or the fact his stomach was simply empty. 

He slowly climbed back into his silver-grey ‘bird after he bid his farewells to the rescue teams that still would work tirelessly into the evening. As the holographic display slowly flickered into life, Scott transferred his grips to control the dart-shaped craft. A sonic boom and pilot and ship would be back to Tracy island in mere moments. The unsettled churn in his stomach didn’t seem to cease, not for post-flight checks and neither for his shower. Scott appeared from his bathroom with a clean set of clothes and a tired smile.

‘Scott!’ A chorus of 3 voices woke the older brother just a tad more as he walked out to the sunken lounge.

‘You want to watch a movie?’ Alan grinned, ‘we’re trying to get John down but he refuses.’

‘Sure, I’m down. What movie?’ Scott settled into his usual position beside Virgil, his younger brother looped an arm around his shoulders and a sigh released tension he didn’t even know he carried. 

‘Star Wars,’ Alan grinned. Made nearly over 100 years ago, Alan sure liked the old movies and it wasn’t something Scott would say no to. Who was he kidding, he’d probably fall asleep before they’d even been introduced to Luke. 

‘Is this just another attempt to get me down?’ John asked, clearly a little apprehensive of one of his favourite pieces of old fictional media being shown when he wasn’t down.

‘Well, you’ll miss out!’ Alan sighed dramatically.

Virgil’s fingers drummed a steady pattern onto Scott’s shoulder with his fingers, a cheek stuck out in thought as John and Alan bickered about something, Scott was slightly too tired to care. Though, Virgil held a tight expression.

‘What’s wrong?’ Scott whispered, his voice lost amongst the two astronauts. If he listened enough he could tell it was something about watching the movies via release date or chronological order. 

‘Something feels… I don’t know, off?’ Virgil shrugged, worry danced within brown eyes.

‘I feel it too,’ Scott mumbled, a tired nod.

‘It’s okay, it’s probably nothing,’ Virgil mentioned, his thumb rubbed over Scott’s shoulder, ‘you sleep. I’ll keep an eye on this lot.’ ‘Thanks,’ Scott mumbled, though he didn’t plan to sleep. Well, as his father would say, sometimes things just never go to plan.

-*-

Scott was awoken by a jab in the ribs and some horrible klaxon which sounded nothing of what they were usually woken by for a rescue. His eyes blinked as he watched the holographic TV turn from something about Anakin Skywalker to a bright blue screen that made Scott wish he was still asleep. ‘This is an emergency GDF broadcast, please do not turn your device off.’

He sat straighter at this, eyebrows buried themselves into each-other and what Gordon dubbed his ‘brother lines’ deepened upon his expression. ‘What's going on?’

‘Don’t know,’ Gordon crossed his arms, ‘they better hurry we got to the good part.’

‘This is not a drill. This is an emergency GDF broadcast. A bioweapon has escaped GDF labs containment. This has the potential to destroy lives. Spreadable like a virus, this bioweapon has the ability to cause people to go mad. Currently, extreme measures are being put in place to ensure your utmost safety. The weapon is drawn to light and sound, especially at night when there is not a lot of it around. Please refrain from light and sound after 6pm until the GDF are able to get this back within containment.’ The message was mechanical, the deep unsettled feeling in Scott’s gut returned as it repeated a couple of times, before it finally shut off.

‘Did you get that John?’ Scott had stood up, when? He didn’t know. His heart drummed in his ears and his body screamed at him that something was wrong. The GDF had not warned International Rescue on anything about this, it felt weird. Perhaps even untouched with reality. His hand balled into a fist and found it sweaty again, despite the much cooler environment of the villa with the aircon on.

‘Affirmative, Tracy Island. I have tried to contact Colonel Casey now, but that doesn’t sound good.’

‘What, is this like, turning people into zombies or something? Why such a big deal?’ Gordon frowned.

‘I thought the GDF went against biological warfare. It would be too devestating. Dad told them not too ages ago when the question was raised,’ Scott ran a hand through his hair. 

Colonel Casey’s holographic projection flickered onto life in the lounge, ‘Colonel Casey!’

‘John I really don’t have the time-,’ Casey began.

‘I know, it must be hectic but what is going on? A bioweapon?’ John pressed, his face neutral but Scott knew enough about John to see the wariness of his younger brother.

‘Yes, a bioweapon has been released from containment. It’s.. bad, people go crazy when vulnerable to it, it’s like a virus that takes control of the brain, and slowly eats away at it. People become feral… it’s a big deal. I advise you to listen to the requirements we’ve put in place,’ Colonel Casey said all too quickly.

‘We’re in the middle of nowhere, on an island. Surely the light and sound rule doesn’t apply to us? We still have a rescue organisation to run,’ Scott countered.

‘Yes, and you can still do that, but we wish you to not do a rescue anywhere past 6pm for the timezone the rescue is in, you must understand this is very dangerous, Scott.’ 

‘I understand, but people still need our help.’

‘And you can help them, but please keep the lights out. While we don’t mind obviously, you are in the middle of nowhere and one of our closest allies, but we have automated GDF fliers who will strike down places with light past 6pm local time.’

Scott’s eyes narrowed, ‘but can’t you just make an exception-’

‘Look Scott I have so much on my hands I will have no time, so the answer is no,’ Colonel Casey shot back as the holographic projection flickered out.

‘Well that's not creepy at all,’ Alan mumbled.

‘Something feels off about it,’ John admitted, ‘but let's not stir up anything. Let’s just listen to them.’

‘For now, yes. But there are people out there that could need our help,’ Scott frowned, ‘we don’t get to choose if we risk our lives to some virus, we have to help.’

‘We do have a choice though,’ John mumbled.

‘Dad would have wanted us to continue on!’ Scott took another step forward to his younger brother's hologram.

‘Yes, but we need to see the strength of this thing before we actually act, Scott.’

‘F.A.B,’ Scott finally resigned, he took a step back in defeat.

‘Speaking of, we have a situation that may be brewing. A GDF bridge to a secret facility is currently under immense stress and is falling apart. A GDF soldier is stuck in the armoured van, and is in a fine balance before he falls.’

‘Alright, Virgil, Gordon, Alan, you’re in Two. We’ll need the pods to stabilize that bridge. I’ll double time it to your location and get the soldier safe,’ Scott ran towards his launch chute, a chorus of F.A.B’s ran throughout the villa, ‘thunderbirds are go!’

-*-

The roar of engines felt reassuring against the pressure that clasped tightly over Scott’s head and the tight clench of his hands to One’s controls to gain a tad of reality. The broken bridge finally showed up underneath his feet, barely intact, the soldier hung off the side of the truck. It was now that Scott realised it was raining. The sky suffocated from the thick fog; rain berated the bridge like it personally wished it to fall. ‘Thunderbird Two, stabilise that bridge, Alan, Gordon, in the pods. I’m going after that worker.’ Scott let his ‘bird hover in the air with her VTOL’s as he got the harness for the soldier and jet-packed himself down. 

The weather was on full display now, fat droplets obscured the vision upon Scott’s helmet, as he fitted the harness on the rescuee, the bridge gave an awful groan from underneath them. Before the bridge could give away from Virgil’s grasp, Scott managed to clear him and the soldier before the bridge toppled to the ground.

‘Eeesh, the GDF are not having a good day,’ Gordon commented that Scott was very lucky the soldier he had rescued didn’t hear. Silence felt like it wrapped around his neck and pulled it in a tight grasp, the sense of oncoming dread he had felt all day returned as Thunderbird One landed on the side of the bridge and let the worker go. 

The hackles on Scott’s neck rose as Colonel Casey walked towards him with a look of utter disgust. ‘I’m sorry about your bridge,’ Scott gave a weak smile.

‘International Rescue,’ Casey’s mouth twitched, ‘I told you not to respond to rescue’s beyond 6pm local time.’

The rain repetitively threw fists at the ground, thunder rumbled in the background as if it too sensed the tension.

‘It wasn’t 6pm when we got here,’ Scott countered.

‘That shipment was highly classified,’ Casey beared her teeth.

‘We were not aware of that, it was declared a rescue. John asked if we could help and the worker said yes.’

‘International Rescue can’t continue in these times. You’ve clearly already pushed boundaries, Scott,’ the Colonel’s gaze was like daggers. Though the rain couldn’t get to the pair under the cover of the nose of his Thunderbird, Scott felt a shiver electrify his spine.

‘What? You’re grounding us?’ 

‘Yes. You work at the will of the GDF and I feel that boundary has never been set for you boys. Your father would agree with me when I say this, Scott. This bioweapon is way too dangerous, we aren’t sure what it’s fully capable of, but its mortality rate is,’ Casey wrinkled her nose and put her palms out in a motion that said ‘don’t know.’

‘Permanently?’ Scott took a stride forward.

‘No, not permanently, but until further notice. Now get back to the island and shut the lights off so that the GDF doesn’t lose our best ally,’ Casey’s smile was sweet as she patted Scott on the shoulder, ‘listen you don’t want to hear it as much as I don’t. This is for your safety. Your little brother's safety.’

‘Fine,’ Scott bit back his snarl, ‘F.A.B Colonel.’

‘Good, now go home,’ she waved and Scott felt a sink in his gut. He slowly clambered into Thunderbird One and punched it home.

-*-

‘They’ve shut us down?’ Virgil blinked in uttermost belief.

‘I guess the question now is,’ Scott said as he looked at all of his brothers which included John who’d come down for the news, ‘do we want International Rescue to continue?’

The lack of light over the island felt odd, unnatural. There was always a dull holographic glow from something that required a rescue, a brother up and about or even a family movie. Far away from civilisation, light pollution was non-existent, the room was barely visible, darkness coated them in a thick cloth.

‘What if they’re right, we’ll just stop for a bit then start up again?’ Alan asked, a slight tremble in his voice as he clung to Virgil’s arm.

‘While I think they’re right, when have we ever cared for our lives when it comes to helping others?’ Gordon tilted his head.

‘We haven’t,’ John agreed, ‘but I’m with Alan, this may be dangerous, we need to see how it goes.’

‘International Rescue hasn’t backed down from a fight, we need more information on this bioweapon which Kayo and Lady P are investigating but I think we should continue. We can’t back down now, not when the world needs us,’ Scott gave a shrug.

‘I think we continue, imagine all the scared terrified people,’ Virgil whispered. 

‘We continue then,’ John whispered as if he didn’t believe what he said himself.

‘We continue,’ 5 voices agreed in the dark.

Virgil specifically has connections from the gloves to his helmet in which gives him a fake voice when he puts in certain tap patterns to the watch.

Alan has the most advanced suit being the youngest and last made

Specifically Gordon’s and Scott’s more finalised versions of their suits (pictured above) differ from the original suit designs when they went to avenge Virgil

Each helmet has a voice modulator

Helmets have a 'mask' design which spans across their eyes like a band. Mouth and some warpaint designs are still identifiable

Helmets when in the 'mask' have a green ‘target’ symbol over the right eye. This turns to red if one of the vital readings within their suit aren’t normal. Quick and efficient way for the other Tracy’s to know who’s down without outsiders knowing

Where any ‘IR’ branding would have sat upon helmets is their alias. E.g, Scott’s would read Turbo instead of IR.

Examples of the helmets and the mask feature

-✈️-----------------------------------------------------------------------🪶-

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.

-✈️-

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.’