New game
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except my ideas, i guess.
Rules changed again. Just like the day Mom died. Like the day Dad dropped a bombshell that was International Rescue on our laps. Like when he himself disappeared.
A loss, a gain, loss again. And today we lost something precious again – and i could only be thankful it wasn't Gordon's life. His Thunderbird though... we left her dead, crushed and alone in the depths of Mariana Trench. No way to recover the wreckage until replacement for the Four is assembled and operational.
We could do it quite fast actually. After the loss of TV-21 Dad and Brains made sure all our future crafts were built of modular sections – easy and fast to replace. Just take out damaged section, plug in replacement, connect all wires and cables and you'd be good to go. And in worst case of a total loss, a new craft could be put together immediately, like one of those old LEGO toys. Four, being the smallest and arguably simplest of our Thunderbirds (Gordon would rip my head off if i'd say it out loud.) could be reassembled from spare modules in few days.
Her pilot though... Gordon wasn't fooling anyone with his smiles, devil-may-care attitude and „I'm fine, guys" assurances. I, for one only needed to notice his white-knuckled grip on Dad's old hat to knew what was going on in his head. What if i would do that...What if i could... I could do this...that... Why i didn't...
I knew those thoughts well. They were running through 'my' head right now, as i stood under my One, gripping one of her tail stabilisers like a lost and scared child. Until this day, i couldn't even imagine her being destroyed. Shattered, lifeless...unrecoverable. Not my 'Bird.
Now i knew better – it was a whole new game. A vicious, relentless attack intended to destroy one of our key vehicles, and potentially her pilot as well.
Gordon... If not for Brains's new suit he would be dead too. Dead and crushed and lost in the icy darkness. And those two cartographers? They would most likely be dead too – pair of innocents, caught in the barrage aimed at us. Wrong time, wrong place – but i would blame myself for their deaths nonetheless.
Without releasing my grip on the smooth, silver metal i craned my head to look up at my Thunderbird. So bright, sleek... beautiful. Kayo once half-jokingly called One „Angel of Salvation".
Because when you could see her, you were about to be rescued from any and all dangers. But like the angels, she could be a warrior too. Avenging Angel. One module swap, and she would carry a sword for me to use. I never wanted it. Never liked it. I argued against it from the moment i learned about Dad's plans. We were International Rescue – we saved lives. We rescued, not injured.
But now rules changed. Mechanic attacked one of us directly. He tried to kill my brother. Not just sabotage, not incapacitate, not distract from pursuing him – it was to murder my loud, reckless, passionate little brother. And i would not stand for it. I understood my father now, and his insistence of designing and building weapons for our Thunderbirds. It was a gamechanger...and it was ours to use. Mine to use.
Next time we would met... i would be ready to play the game of violence with you, Mechanic. I had enough anger in me...and the will too. I just needed to draw my sword.