This story was written in response to the Tracy Island Writers Forum 2005 Picture Challenge and I'm making no profit off it.Thanks again to my two wonderful betas, LMC and Sam.

Rendezvous

There was no way. No sir, never, and he would tell you so himself. If you ever caught Scott Tracy setting foot in a disco again, it would be over his dead body. That's just the way it was. Especially after that last time...oh, well, no point going into all that. Suffice it to say, it hadn't been one of his most shining moments.

How then was it on this night, he found himself shouting over the relentless, pulsating beat of a DJs latest and not so greatest selection? Shouting...he was shouting for that brother of his. You know, the youngest one, the one that insisted that just because Tin Tin had completed her tenth mission as a member of International Rescue, it was time to take her to the mainland to celebrate. That kid. He would find any excuse to get away from Base for a night. Thank God that's all it usually was, a night, since all of the Tracys' private aircraft, as well as the ones they used on rescues, could easily make the trip in about the same time it took to order a pizza the old fashioned way.

Mmmmm, pizza. Scott's mouth watered at the prospect, but a snack would have to wait for now. It might have been Tin Tin's night to shine, but the eldest Tracy son's dislike of all things mirror-balled had led him to leave the nightclubbing to the youngsters and arrange to meet his father elsewhere, at a quaint old pub, which curiously enough was situated just down the street from the dance club. Jeff had been on the way back from his corporation's New York offices and thought it might be nice to meet up with them all and help celebrate Tin Tin's milestone. A quick glance at his chronometer told him that the designated hour was fast approaching. If he could just slip out unnoticed...

"Scott! Hey Scott, where're you going?"

Shit. "Uh, gotta go, Sparky. I promised Dad I'd meet him at Schlotskie's down the street in about 15 minutes."

It used to annoy Alan to no end whenever his big brother referred to him with that rather dubious nickname. He'd gotten enough ribbing from Gordon already, not to mention thorough chewing outs from his father regarding his tendency to engage in campus experiments that resulted in the blowing up of nearby objects that were normally not combustible. Over the years though, it had grown on him and he now regarded it as a somewhat convoluted expression of Scott's affection.

"Do you really have to leave now, Scott?" Tin Tin chimed in. Kevorkian and the Euthan-Atheists are due on stage any minute now. You'll miss them and this is their only performance on the continent."

"The Euthan...what? Aw, that's a shame. Well, you two be sure to give me the blow by blow on their performance. Dad's waiting for me. We'll see you two tomorrow for brunch."

As he made his way down the block to the structure resembling a rustic old cottage, his mood was tense. The scenery around him was becoming surreal and seemed to pop out into view around him. It was as if he had donned a pair of those old 3-D glasses that they used to give out at the cinema before a movie. His senses seemed heightened, on full alert, although he couldn't figure out exactly why. This was supposed to be an enjoyable evening off for him, a respite from the usual high adrenaline roller coaster ride he had become accustomed to while out on duty. He found himself taking in everything, down to the last detail; the grating sound a piece of cardboard made as it skidded along down the street, powered only by the wafting summer breeze, the rustling of trees in the nearby park. He began thinking of his family back on the island and wondering if Virgil would have been busting his chops right now for not taking this opportunity to relax. He wouldn't have minded though if his oldest brother and best friend were there to harass him. Somehow, everything always seemed more enjoyable when he had Virgil there to share it with.

His thoughts were interrupted and his nose nearly broken when he was almost whacked in the face with the etched glass of the pub's front door. Whoever was behind it was in a hell of a hurry, and Scott was so busy employing his fighter-pilot reflexes to avoid the hinged missile as it swung open that he never saw the culprit's face, let alone had time to reprimand him for his carelessness.

He took one look at the blur of a figure hurrying down the street and shook his head. It was curious, he thought, that the man was wearing a quilted jacket even though the city was in the middle of a heat wave. But, as he wasn't one to dwell on such things, he shrugged it off and continued inside. There, sitting at a table in the far corner, was the patriarch of his family. They greeted each other with a handshake as was the Tracy way, but Jeff's eyes were warm and welcoming.

"Sit down, son. What's your pleasure? They have some really good aged single malts in the back that Sean over there at the bar would be willing to blow the dust off for us."

"That sounds great, Dad. How was New York?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. I was glad to have an excuse to get out of there. You know how it is...I can only take so much of having to make small talk with that bunch of insufferable stuffed shirts."

"Better you than me, Dad. Those guys are sharks -- they'd stab you in the back any day of the week if they could get away with it. I don't know how you do it."

"Well, someday, all of it will be yours, and you're going to have to learn how to at least pretend to be tolerant of those people, son...if you want the benefit of their cooperation."

"Well, by that time," Scott leaned forward in his seat, "and I know it won't be anytime soon, let's hope a miracle happens and when I have to take over the reins, I won't have to deal with people like that any more."

"I hope you're right, son. Sometimes it just makes me ill to have grin and bear it."

"Well, try and forget about all that, Father. Tonight we relax and catch our breaths and tomorrow morning we'll be meeting Alan and Tin Tin for a celebration champagne brunch."

"Tomorrow? What's wrong with celebrating tonight?"

Scott gave his father a meaningful look. Jeff caught it and cleared his throat, nodding. "Ah, yes. Quite. I hope they're being careful."

"Dad."

"Like I said, son, quite." Jeff caught the bartender's eye and waved him over to their table. "What do you say we get us some dinner, I'm starved."

A huge grin spread over the eldest Tracy son's face. "Now that sounds like a plan."

> > > > > > > > > >

After the concert, Alan and Tin Tin decided to call it a night, at least a far as clubbing was concerned. As they made their way to the exit, Alan suddenly became aware that something wasn't quite right. A quick glance up toward the rafters of the building revealed the silhouette of a man shimmying down a rope over by where the emergency exit and the restrooms were located. Tin Tin followed his line of sight and saw the man too. He was wearing a bulky jacket that was zipped all the way up to his neck. Unusual attire for a dance club to say the least.

"What do you suppose that's all about?"

"I don't know, Tin Tin, but I don't think it's part of the show."

Tin Tin's intuition was on full alert. "This is a bit strange, Alan. Let's find the manager and ask him about it. You can never be too careful."

Between them, she and Alan had witnessed enough rescues that could have been prevented to know that last statement was a motto to be lived by. It was then she noticed that Alan's face had gone completely pale. "Alan, what is it?"

The man on the rope had hit the ground running, but not towards an exit. Instead, he was headed for what was currently the most densely populated area of the club, the dance floor. His back was to them, but Alan saw him rip his shirt off, revealing a harness that covered his torso and was laden with what looked like plastic explosives, something he never would have gotten past security had he entered the building in the traditional manner. Tin Tin and Alan took one look at each other before each shouting a single command...

"RUN!"

They bolted for an emergency exit but were too late. Just as they arrived and got the door opened, the man detonated the device. All hell broke loose as the force of the explosion sent shockwaves throughout the entire structure, literally disintegrating whatever was closest to the center of the blast. The last thing Alan remembered was losing his grip on Tin Tin's hand as he was being blown out the door.