ScoutPilot

Smooth, yellow countertop rolled underneath his fingers. The faint smell of salt from the churned up ocean was overpowered by the faint waft of pancakes that somehow appealed his stomach rather then made it recoil, in which it had been for the past week. Outside was bleak, the sky grey with agitated clouds that seemed to reflect the Island's inhabitants. There was a pause, the burn increased in the back of Scott's throat as he turned from the kitchen sink. His younger brother sat still, hands clasped around holographic pieces of information.

'I believe it would be best if we shut 5 down,' John finally said, an awkward swallow followed his statement. Eyes drifted up towards Scott, worry expressed between his pinched eyebrows. 'I mean, then I'll be with you all, to help Virgil. I can bring EOS down here. I'll go back up eventually but, just for now.'

Scott gave a slow nod of approval, eyes drifted to the holograms, 'I think it would be best. Alan and I can take you up in 3? So you can fit all of EOS' housing? If that's what you plan to do.'

'I guess so, yeah. I'm sure I could take it in the space elevator?' John gave a look translated so much as 'stop smothering'.

'It'll be Alan's last trip up to space for a while I can imagine.. and with the GDF with unclear motives I'd like us to go up to get extra,' Scott's eyes trained to John's.

'Scott, seriously. I'll be fine,' John pulled his best aggregated younger brother face, 'fine, fine! We can go up in Three.'

Scott gave a satisfied hum of acknowledgement, his thumb rolled around in a circle on the wooden chair, 'it's a good call, John.'

'I figured,' a pause, 'Virgil was up all last night in pain again.'

Scott settled into the chair beside John, hands gripped the dining table with force. 'I know.'

Silence wafted into the air again, both brothers sat on their watch out towards the sea and pool. Ripples pulled and pushed off the pools surface at the heavy wind threw the water at the sides that wished to contain it. It would be days like this he would hope that it would calm down before he even thought to launch his silver child from her bay- not in worry that the water would cascade down upon them- but more so with the fact that his sensitive and fussy rocket plane would not enjoy the heavy winds; nor would he enjoy the decreased visibility.

'Whoa! Who cooked pancakes without telling me?' A sleepy Alan wondered about the kitchen, dumping about a dozen cold pancakes onto a spare plate before he settled lazily into a chair opposite his older brothers. A yawn was the loudest thing in the villa for a long moment, 'gee you guys look like you've seen the end of the world.'

John gave a lopsided grin, 'it nearly seems that way with all of this.'

'Surely it can't be,' Alan said through a mouthful, 'I mean surely the world council will call the GDF out on this?'

'We can only hope. Anyway, John's shutting down 5,' there was a look of utter protest from Alan and Scott silenced him with a hand, 'only temporarily, don't worry. But, we're going to bring all the important stuff down here. Figured you and 3 would like to assist us?'

Alan seemed to wake up a little more as he shoved another pancake into his mouth and gave a definite nod.

'Thunderbirds are go!'

-*-

Past the thick clouds and out of earth's atmosphere, the world looked hardly unchanged from Thunderbird 3 as they neared the white space station. Thunderbird 5, too, was unchanged. Of course nothing had, the only thing that seemed to have changed was the GDF's morals and the fact now his little brother couldn't speak. It physically seemed to carve a hole into Scott's heart, anger always bubbled just under his skin, and he wasn't so sure he could keep it in for that long. Why they had taken his brother and physically removed his voice was still at a loss to Scott. Something prickled at the back of his neck, his gut swirled with an uneasiness that hadn't left since the day of the broadcast. As the hiss of airlocks sounded, Scott found himself mechanically floating around the gravity ring of 5, the world underneath his feet. He took a deep breath.

'Alright, just grab things that are important and load them up,' John said as he tucked EOS' portable drive underneath his arm.

'F.A.B,' Scott acknowledged as he pried his eye away from earth, slowly he collected physical files and personal belongings John kept. While he wasn't much the reader, he too took some of John's books down for him to keep himself busy. A bored John was rarely a happy John. There was a slow frown as a warning light popped up on Thunderbird 5's dash. Curious, Scott pushed himself towards the light that blinked rapidly.

His blood froze.

'OUT, everyone OUT, right now,' Scott tensed as he pushed Alan out as fast as he could, sirens started to wail and Scott's throat pulled to a close. The safety protocols were followed to a T on-board the station, safety shutters closed off the gravity ring from it's usual view of the infinite universe. Brains would have been proud. That was, if Thunderbird 5 didn't have a full on warhead about to obliterate it's very being. The destruction would push the remaining parts of the station- if any- into atmosphere where they would burn up on re-entry.

Scott tucked the last parts of the station into 3 as he gripped one of her seats with such a force the metal might as well have crumbled beneath his fingers, 'where's John?'

Followed by a curse, Scott pushed himself back into 5, 'Alan, as soon as that warhead comes onto 3's scanners I need you out of there. Us on board or not.'

'I can't just leave you here?' Alan yelped, 'Scott I can't do that!'

'You can and you will,' Scott pulled his helmet on, 'I count on you to. For Virgil, for Grandma.'

'Scott!' Alan's eyes were glassy as he watched his older brother.

'We'll get back in time,' Scott threw the promise he wasn't sure he could truly guarantee into the air. He stepped back into the station with Alan's small conformation.

Sirens yelled and screamed at Scott as he pushed himself through the station, he called out to John like someone would when they tried to find their lost dog. Time seemed to slow, almost as if he was in a dream state. He couldn't push himself fast enough before he found his brother huddled over EOS' housing. The siren's seemed to drown out.

'We have to go,' Scott felt out of his body, the only grounding sensation was the sweat that stuck his palms to his gloves.

'Wait,' John hissed before he snapped EOS' processors, 'okay okay lets go.'

Scott pulled his brother with a mighty tug. His heart became the main feature of his hearing, probably a better sound then the sirens that would make him deaf by 40. He head the clunk of Thunderbird 3's arms that detached from 5, the warhead was on his scanners. Pride swelled in Scott's chest for a moment as he threw John into the airlock that was on its way closed. Even if they didn't make it out, at least Alan did.

There was a hiss of an airlock, pain rolled up from Scott's lower spine to his head, his ears rung at a high pitched whine, the ground beneath him shuttered. An earthquake, Scott mused, a little confused where he had managed to get himself into this predicament once more. He was in uniform, the bounce of his helmet against his skull told him that much. His eyes cracked open but the bright whites and yellows streaked across his vision allowed no other visual feedback to enter. An explosion? Okay, that was new.

Someone yelled his name, they seemed worried. Time was a funny thing, it slipped through his fingers, sometimes he heard yells, others the world laid silent. His hearing started to cooperate and now he could fully hear the deafening 'SCOTT' thrown at him over and over again. It felt like the words split through his skull and forced it open. 'Scott are you with me? Scott please!' It was a younger brothers voice, that much he could tell. Younger then John, definitely. That concerned him.

A groan fell from his lips, pain radiated through his skull as he forced himself upright. Upon a couple of blinks he could see the black floors of his youngest brothers Thunderbird. After even more inspection, there was Alan by his side, not-so-quietly he fussed over Scott's shoulder. John sat a little away, green eyes haunted as if the world had just crumbled around him. Then it hit.

The explosion.

'John, you okay?' his voice was strained, rusty even. How long had he been out? The Thunderbird was still in space, but earth seemed further away then what he had seen before. They were out of orbit, 'what's happened?'

'That was an idiot move,' John snapped, he refused to make eye contact.

'What did I do?' Scott blinked.

'Threw me in before you, you barely made it into 3, you got hit against the deck by shrapnel. You're injured,' Alan explained.

'Gathered,' Scott mumbled as a sticky sensation apparently made itself known down his forehead.

'Your helmet shattered,' Alan continued to explain and pointed to the pile of glass a little while off.

Scott gave a nod, 'and Thunderbird 5?'

'Obliterated. We're waiting for the shrapnel to go around before we can re-enter,' John finally said. Pain thick in his throat as he swallowed.

'John I'm so sorry,' Scott thanked Alan as he swiped at his face.

'Guess I'm not returning to her,' John sighed, 'least EOS is safe.'

Scott gave a slow nod at the mechanical look to his brother. He ground his teeth, 'do we know who sent the missile?'

'The GDF,' John answered his worst fears.

'But how did they know we were up there?' Scott frowned, eyebrows creased his forehead.

'The sound detector,' John said, his eyes finally met Scott's, 'they were listening all along.'

Grey, suffocating fog hugged the island as if it itself was a bad omen; the sky only identifiable with the fact it was a couple of shades darker than the rest of the place. A gentle rain, the type that cools the place down rather than makes things wet, came in sideways due to the wind. If Scott squinted from his position at the balcony, he could watch as the ocean angrily ate at the sides of the island. His hand clenched around the rail as he ran a hand through his hair to push it back into its slick-back. Any and all information still holographically projected in the dining room of any hopes of Virgil’s whereabouts. Any calls to the GDF went unanswered, and Kayo and Lady Penelope were at a no-contact point of their mission. He’d hate them to come back, to find Virgil missing. For the 100th time, Scott cursed himself that he wasn’t there for his younger brother. He should have insisted more that someone went with him, that he went with him. Though, maybe then there would be more of his brothers stuck. Maybe he should have shut International Rescue down after all. 

Footsteps drew his head up slightly from where it hung, a soft shuffle indicated his visitor's identity. ‘Scott. Stop beating yourself up for this,’ Grandma Tracy lent on the rail beside him, her head tilted towards him as the rain gently fell upon them both.

‘I shouldn’t have let him go,’ Scott mumbled, hands scrubbed his face in frustration.

‘Even if you said no, do you think Virgil would have let those people without a way off of that rig?’ Grandma put a hand on his back.

‘No,’ Scott admitted. Virgil wasn’t one to disobey direct command, but when he did it was usually to save someone. He would throw caution to the wind if it was to help someone out, really, all of them would. Virgil just had that extra care factor that would eat at him until he did something about it.

‘Then that settles that, it wasn’t your fault,’ his grandmother tilted her head up in victory.

‘I just need to find him,’ Scott sighed, his hand balled into a fist and tapped itself against the railing a couple of times.

‘John is doing everything he can, we will find him, he will be okay,’ she smiled. Her honest, gentle blue eyes left Scott to nod slowly.

As if the universe wished to answer the question before Scott even spoke it, the villa shook with a roar of engines so powerful only one ship in the entire world would ever be able to create such a stir within the Tracy's. The 4 VTOL’s fired as she drew closer to the island, a simple silhouette in the fog.

‘Thunderbird 2!’ The yell from Gordon seemed to kick Scott into gear, his feet took him faster than possible through the lounge, then down his uniform chute with the simple explanation of faster. Explanations rushed to Scott’s conscious, ideas formed and panic caused sweat to accumulate on his brow and chest. Virgil could be hurt, incapacitated. Worse even, Thunderbird 2 may just be empty, her cockpit drowned in nothingness but an autopilot home. He held his breath as her struts lifted, the pod left on the ground.

His heart sank as blue armoured uniforms came into view as the pod descended. Large growls of engines outside told him that GDF fliers awaited their soldiers' return. Silence found itself hung over the hangar like a threat, the soldiers slowly moved forwards with perfect precision. The faint thuds of boots against concrete echoed into the hollowed cave systems the hangars sat in. It felt as if metal had been dropped into Scott’s mouth when he finally lay eyes on the man they escorted within their centre. Metallic swirled around his tongue in a frenzy of fear, his breath got caught in his lungs and left him there. It felt bad to stare. Sloppy stitch work lined his younger brothers neck, tired, scared eyes shone within the lights. He was barely upright, being held up by the soldiers beside him, disorientated, Scott felt the word bound over in his mind like it echoed.

‘Your brother here, has learnt a valuable lesson,’ a man from the back strode forward, Colonel Janis, Scott could recall his fathers mention of him once or twice. The man’s snarl seemed to plague Scott’s mind's eye even when his gaze settled back to his little brother. Small was never a word to describe Virgil Tracy, but currently, the man looked about half the size of the soldiers that held him up. His head hung, breathing sounded strained as if it was an effort.

‘What did you do to him,’ Scott grit his teeth, the air had a thick feel to it, as if to move through it was to move through liquid. A ghost of a smile passed over Janis’ face.

‘We gave International Rescue a direct demand to stay grounded. You have disobeyed our command directly- and now you must face the consequences,’ Janis motioned to Virgil briefly before he strode closer to Scott, a cold finger came to his jaw and tilted it up, a grin on his face, ‘that being your little brother’s punishment here, and… hmm, the noise detector.’

‘Noise detector?’ Scott shook Janis’ hand off of him, hands balled into fists.

‘You seem unaware of how dangerous this bioweapon truly is, Scott. You are a danger to the entire world, along with your brothers, of course. Until you can learn to listen to what we do, you shall have a noise detector installed into the villa,’ Janis paused for epic effect, hands tucked behind his back. He had paced a moment away from Scott, but he turned his head back to make eye contact. ‘Too much noise, and we will send our fliers here. We have 4 more brothers to punish. Oh, and the engineer and old lady,’ Janis motioned to both Brains and Grandma Tracy who took a step back at the suggestion.

‘I propose you listen,’ Janis shrugged. Scott took a deep breath.

‘This is too far, Colonel. I understand the bioweapon is a threa-’

‘A-ba-ba-ba,’ Janis cooed, ‘Scott. You do not understand. You haven’t understood. Maybe you will now.’

‘You said only no-noise past 6pm. Not no noise what-so-ever.’

‘Yes, the noise detector will only be on then. 6pm-5am. Then you are free to go about as much noise as you wish,’ Janis gave a shrug.

‘Would the bioweapon not be drawn to noise all day long?’ 

‘Yes, but in daylight there is much more noise, less ability for them to find their next victims.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Do you want the noise detector on all day? You forget I have your brother on the tip of my fingers, a slight motion of my hand, my GDF soldiers fire.’

‘Fine,’ Scott took a step back as he looked over to his little brother. The worry sparkled in his eyes, yet somehow he seemed distant. In pain, potentially, with the way he held his body, as if he braced himself not to fall over, ‘tell me one thing. What you did to my brother.’

‘Ah, he was silenced. Don’t fear, the drugs will wear off soon. He was quite… how to say, stressed,’ Janis pushed Virgil forward towards Scott.

Virgil was pushed into Scott’s arms and all Scott could do was hold him. Not that he wanted to be anywhere else, but the lack of movement from his younger brother sent a cold shiver down his spine. He just held Virgil, wiped the stray tears as he ignored the sound detector being moved into the villa. He ignored the faint plea from Gordon for Scott, he just let Virgil melt in his arms. Heavy, gasped breaths came from the younger Tracy, a slight shake in his hands from either the remains of the drugs or the fear. 

‘They operated on you,’ Scott whispered as he motioned to the stitches that even Gordon not paying attention could have done a better job off. Around them was red and inflamed, Scott winced at the angry site on his brother's neck. There was a faint nod from Virgil.

‘Come on, lets go upstairs,’ Scott whispered, unable to take his eyes off of his little brother, ‘Grandma. They’ve operated on him.. What.. what did they do?’ Virgil’s lack of words scared him. Scott pulled Virgil’s arm around his shoulder to support him.

-*-

Holograms eerily illuminated the dull lounge. Scott’s hands ran through his hair, dark circles pulled at his eyes as he attempted to be as discrete as possible. Past 6pm, the holograms he stared at in the darkness of the villa was not something he was supposed to do, however, he needed answers. Specifically, answers for what they did to his little brother. Virgil hadn’t uttered a word since his return, and though there could be assumptions for what had happened, Scott didn’t wish to wait around. John sat beside him, he had come down from the return of Virgil and the current spiral Tracy Island seemed to slowly sink into.

A point of John’s finger made Scott’s hairs stand up on his arms as he finally settled on the plans. To literally silence their brother, specifically, a laryngectomy. It must have been partial, seeing the fact their brother could breathe without a stoma. Heat bubbled from Scott's chest, teeth bared in a painful scowl. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his fathers chair. Hastily, he grabbed a pen and the notepad that John and him had used to communicate for the past hours they spent huddled behind their fathers desk.

In theory it should wear off, right? Will he be able to speak again? Scott passed the pad to John when he wiggled his fingers for it.

In theory, perhaps. But we don’t know how much they… messed up. These doctors' credentials don’t match up. Pen against paper scratched before John motioned to the holograms again.

You’re telling me they just had.. A random guy off the street operate on my little brother? Scott passed the pad back after writing his response, his stomach churned when he looked back at the approved signature for Virgil's surgery.

Yes. Yes I am. John gave a glance to Scott. There was a shaky breath between them, a hand went to Scott's tensed shoulder.

I can’t let this go. I need to do something. Scott’s eyes pierced John’s. An agitated crinkle of his nose, throat tightened along with his fists. It took everything within his being not to go grab a weapon out of the hangar, march into Thunderbird One and bring justice to all of the people who even laid a hand on his little brother. A deep breath entered Scott's lungs. Soon, he promised himself as he took one more glance at the approved document. They will pay. The GDF is no longer an ally.

Be safe, big bro. John smiled. Both exchanged more looks as the holograms powered down. Scott made sure he avoided the squeaky floorboards as he made his way to his room. Within the hall, he watched the sound detector slowly blink its red light, the horrible feeling of being watched crept up behind him. He stared at that red dot like it owed him money, the slow blink taunted him before Scott finally let it go and slipped into his room. Covers met his cheek and scratched at him as he stared blankly into the abyss outside. Barely able to make out any of the island’s features through his window. The silence was unnatural, Scott forced his eyes to close. The GDF will pay, dangerous bioweapon or not. They’ve crossed a line.

Morning light cracked through ajar curtains, and warmth seeped through covers. A toss was followed by a groan as the sun violated his eyes and insulted him as wherever he turned, the sun still directly penetrated his closed eyelids. With a huff, Virgil drew away from his warmth and sat up within the cocoon he had rolled himself into overnight. Something felt foreboding about the way the trees seemed to wave in the distance, and the breeze hummed through the window open just enough for fresh air. Though, that was perhaps a remnant of yesterday, where somehow, everything seemed to fall apart in one simple stroke. A bioweapon on the loose to kill the masses, and now International Rescue no longer was able to operate. Not that it would stop them.

Sleepy feet dragged themselves outside and soft tinks were heard in the kitchen. Scott somehow had found a way to cook bacon, an egg, all the while he talked to John over the hologram and looked at Alan’s phone. 

‘Hey sleepy head,’ Scott smiled, ‘I’ve got bacon cooking. If you want an egg I’ll throw one in for you too.’ 

‘Yeah, sure,’ Virgil nodded sleepily, ‘you went back up John?’

‘Lady P wanted me to work a couple of bumps out for her mission with Kayo. The bioweapon alleged has… hardly any information about it,’ John gave a shrug.

‘That's odd, I know it’s classified but surely they’d let the people know about it, especially if it’s breached containment,’ Virgil wondered to the coffee machine and listened to the delightful hum as it poured out steaming hot liquid to jab him awake.

‘That's what I’m saying,’ John chuckled.

‘There's a bunch of videos going viral of if it's an apocalypse or something, but no one had found evidence,’ Alan was half sat on the bench half on the chair - somehow - with his feet dangling in odd directions certainly uncomfortable.

‘I doubt it. The GDF will control it all and we’ll be fine,’ John sighed, ‘just wish they weren’t so weird about it.’

‘Everything is weird about it, I know they’re scared but shutting International Rescue down? What good will that do?’ Scott narrowed his eyes.

‘Well, not that we’ll listen. We’re independent, we don't have to run to them for help,’ Virgil chimed in, much more happy he now had his coffee that burnt his throat and the food that Scott passed to him.

‘We’ll have to run to the mainland to get more food, John. What safety procedures are they actually putting in place to make sure no one's well… about to kill us?’ Scott gave a hollow chuckle.

‘Complete lock down. No one is working,’ John swallowed.

‘So we raid a warehouse,’ Virgil mumbled through half a mouthful.

‘Guess so. I’ll take Alan and Gordon to get a stock up, we have no clue how long this lockdown may be, but we have to survive somehow,’ Scott sighed, his eyes closed for a brief second.

‘Alright, Virgil. There's been an accident on a rig, they can’t get off of it or get anywhere for safety. Easy mission just a pick up and drop off in ‘Two should do the job,’ John informed.

‘F.A.B, I’ll be on my way,’ Virgil shoved the rest of the bacon into his mouth.

‘Sure you want to go alone Virg?’ Scott looked over, ‘I could dispose of a little brother if you need it.’

There was a faint ‘hey!’ from Alan as Virgil chuckled, ‘I’ll be okay, thanks though Scott. Simply pick 'em up, drop' em off and leave.’

‘F.A.B, stay safe,’ Scott gave a wave as Virgil ran to his flight chute. 

-*-

Thunderbird Two thrummed against Virgil’s fingers. She barely made a complaint as he initiated her VTOL’s and cut rear thruster power to have a closer look at the rig. Buttons were cool to the touch as he pressed a couple to keep his ‘bird steady. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he looked for somewhere he was able to grab the people who waited patiently for his valiant appearance. He was about to flick some more switches when John’s voice stopped him cold in his tracks.

‘Virgil, you have company,’ the tone was something Virgil had never heard before, frantic, fearful even. The hologram was faint but Virgil could make out the wide green eyes that looked on in terror, as if Virgil would turn around and see a massive monster about to pounce for him. Virgil slowly looked back up, the blue and grey GDF fliers made his stomach churn.

‘International Rescue. You have directly disobeyed our order to shut down and therefore we are to take extreme measures, come with us or you will be fired upon,’ the tone was male, unfamiliar but still had the air of authority that usually sat upon Colonel Casey’s tongue.

‘What do I do?’ Virgil whispered to John, who frantically ran around Thunderbird 5 as if it was a race and he was set out to lose. 

‘Go with them… I’ll try to figure out what they want,’ John flicked out and Virgil slowly followed the lead of the GDF fliers towards their base camp.

The ride felt slow, anxiety bubbled from underneath Virgil’s skin at the horrible realisation that something was seriously wrong. He almost suffocated in his own cockpit, his knuckles clenched Thunderbird Two’s controls for life. Slowly, he lowered her down to the closest GDF facility and his eyes closed for a moment.

Hands shook and sweat made his gloves stick to his skin more and cling around each finger. ‘Hands up!’ GDF personnel flocked his very ship he felt most safe in as he rose hands to the ceiling. Dark eyes darted around the cockpit before he concluded he was surrounded. The blue armoured men drew closer, one with a large needle, a sly grin on his face as the tip buried deep into his skin. The world spun before his mind gave in to the high pitched whine that rang in his ears and the buzz of the feeling that left his body.

-*-

Brown eyes flew open, blurred lights flickered above as figures with masks moved in and out of view. Gibberish seemed to waft around him as if the words themselves floated on clouds, before the masked figures ran away like the shadows after the lights were turned on. Virgil panicked, but somehow, nothing would respond to him. Hands remained stuck by his sides as he tried to haul his body into submission. With an attempt to screw his face up, the realisation sunk deep in his gut that his face remained unaltered, the inability to feel it or his throat made him want even more to get himself out of this horror. Shadows danced in the corner of the room as he finally won the battle and hauled his body upright. The murmurs were back, distant, maybe closer. 

Another slow blink and he turned to take in the room. Covers crinkled under his fingertips as he sat on a lone gurney in the middle of a small room. The walls were painted a ghostly white, tiles an interchangeable pattern of blue and white. There was a large window that sat at the far wall of the room, and his blood chilled when he saw them. People watched, their whispers faint and the obvious reason he heard the distant mutters. 

His throat was tight, or had it always been tight? Eyes darted and tried to make out the figures through blurred vision. One caught his eye, soldierly, fierce. Grey hair and blue eyes with a face shape so similar to his own it caught him off guard for a moment. When Virgil blinked, the man was gone from the room, and the rest of the masked people only remained. A slow blink, a forced stagger as he pulled himself to his feet. Mouth opened, he went to ask what went on, but nothing came from where he expected to scream. Pain burned within his throat as if he’d just set the thing on fire with his attempts, and his hands grew sweaty as he gripped the metal bars of the gurney, his hands traveled slowly to the glass window. No one moved, not even an inch at the International Rescue operative that banged against it, brown eyes begged for help, for someone. 

He couldn’t even scream Scott’s name. 

The metal door swung open at the opposite side of the room, a person with a darkened visor over their head strode forwards, ‘Virgil. Calm down.’

Virgil’s mouth opened to speak, opened to demand why, yet not a sound came from his throat once more. A hand went to the burn sensation and was met with stitches. A flash of cold washed over Virgil from head to toe, eyes flung wide, what did you do to me?! Yet again, no sound formed from where he wished it did. 

‘Your voice has been silenced, seeing you wish not to listen to the GDF,’ the person explained, though didn’t really explain much at all. Virgil took another breath as if he was told to breathe through a straw.

‘Now, come back to your Thunderbird and we will bring you back to your brothers. Yes, you get your stupid ship back,’ there was an audible roll of eyes even if Virgil couldn’t see their face.

Virgil just nodded, still unable to breathe no matter how many times he tried to gulp more air down. The world swam as he slowly went to follow the person underneath the visor. Black swum at the edges as panic closed his chest up, his lack of air situation increased exponentially with his panic, and he didn’t even realise he had met the floor before the world rolled into darkness.

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 bared 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 disbelief.

‘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.’