Thunderbirds are property of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson.
Alan Tracy was running like he had never run before.
The rough terrain of the jungle that covered most of the island made the going tough, but thankfully the sound of his pursuers behind him seemed to be trailing off.
He crashed through a thick wall of branches, desperate to lose them completely, cursing as he tripped over a hidden root and found himself tumbling into a small clearing, catching the back of his hand on a sharp thorn as he went. His gun skittered across the dirt as lay moaning in the dirt.
He lay there for a while, trying to calm his rising panic as well as listening out for any sound of his pursuers. After a few moments, satisfied that he had lost the three that were chasing him, he hauled himself back onto his feet, carefully checking his ankle before getting up.
Satisfied he hadn't sustained anything major, he did a quick check on his hand. A long gash stood out against his skin, blood oozing slowly from it. Nothing a bandage wouldn't fix, nothing urgent.
Flexing his fingers experimentally, he looked around for his gun, shielding his eyes against the sun, and spotted it at the base of a large tree on the other side of the clearing.
Aware he may not be in the clear, he listened carefully for any strange noises, before breaking cover and creeping as silently as possible towards the weapon on the ground.
He had almost reached it when a black silhouette jumped from the tree, knocking him back into the ground and winding him. The sun in his eyes, Alan couldn't make out any features on the person's face, but there was no denying it was one of his pursuers.
Gasping for breath, Alan's heart dropped as the other two assailants emerged from the jungle and surrounded him, before all three levelled their bulky weapons straight at him.
The youngest Tracy raised his hands in surrender, and the shadowy figure in front of him shifted slightly, allowing Alan to catch sight of wide grin spreading across his attacker's face as he slowly pulled the trigger.
~#~
Jeff Tracy was sitting by the pool with Brains, going over a blueprint, when he heard a commotion coming from the main approach to the house.
He smiled at the familiar voices of his sons, rising to his feet and stepping over a conspicuous, knee-height box next to him as his third and fourth sons came barrelling out of the jungle, laughing and jostling, both trying desperately to chuck each other in the pool, closely followed by the oldest son, arms full of equipment and clothing, who was just shaking his head in despair at his younger brothers antics.
"Hey boys."
Virgil and Gordon momentarily stopped messing around at the sound of his voice, Virgil still holding his younger brother in a headlock, until Gordon took advantage of the distraction and turned the tables, wrestling his older brother to the ground and eventually sitting on him.
"Hey Dad!" It was Scott who answered, hastily dumping his armfuls of equipment into the waiting hands of Brains as he did so, including what looked similar to three small fire extinguishers, with with clear tubes attached to them that tangled with the rest of the equipment, making the whole pile an indistinguishable mess of plastic, metal and fabric.
Jeff watched the scientist scurry back to the lab, balancing his precarious load, before turning his attention back to his eldest.
"So, I'm assuming the tests went well?" He asked.
"Brilliantly!" Scott beamed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "The prototype Fire Ants seemed to work as planned, but I did notice that the primary hose connecting the canister wasn't as secure as it could have been, and the pressure of the foam did drop at ti-"
Scott's report was drowned out by a large splash as two bodies hit the water to the side of them. The two senior Tracy's turned to find that Virgil had managed get Gordon into a bear-hug and roll both of them into the pool, where they were now yelling and dunking each other.
Jeff rolled his eyes skywards and Scott laughed, before turning back to finish his report.
"All in all, a great bit of kit. I'll have a chat to Brains about my concerns but I'm sure it's nothing he can't fix."
"Good, good. Oh, and what about the other thing you boys were taking care of?"
A mischievous smile crept onto the eldest brother's face, an expression mirrored on the faces of the two currently pulling themselves back onto dry land.
"I believe Alan is the one you would want to talk to that about." Scott said.
"Where is he anyway?" Asked Virgil, who was currently scraping his wet hand out of his eyes. "I haven't seen him for a while."
"Probably sulking." Remarked Gordon, taking off and wringing his t-shirt out. "He didn't seem to happy when we left him behind."
"You could have at least told me." Jeff started slightly at the sound of the unusually soft voice behind him. "I would have armed myself better if I knew what was in store."
As soon as he set eyes on the source of the voice, Jeff couldn't stop the laughter from escaping. Limping towards him was his youngest son, dripping a trail of green foam, a battered super soaker in one hand and a gash across the other. A quick glance assured Jeff it was nothing major.
"Well Alan, looks like you lost fair and square." Commented Jeff as his youngest came to a halt in front of him. "Looks like this is all yours."
He bent down and picked up the package by his feet, and chucked it the short distance to Alan, who fumbled slightly in catching it, his super soaker clattering to the floor. The youngest Tracy turned it over to read the label stuck on the side.
"'Super Jumbo Sponges. Box of 50...'" Alan scowled. "Oh, very funny guys!" He added sarcastically.
"Hey, Sprout, you knew the rules!" Gordon noted, going over and swinging an arm around his sibling's shoulders, despite the lingering foam. "He who goes down first, ends up with Thunderbird scrub-down duty. It's the Classic Tracy Water War!"
"It's not meant to be 3 against 1." Pouted Alan. "And, technically, what you used was not water!"
Gordon shrugged. "Meh, it's got water in it. There was never anything in the rules about what weapons could be used? And Dad did say the Fire Ants needed testing."
Jeff couldn't help but smirk slightly at the deathly glare Alan was giving his older brother, before switching back into Commander mode. "Right. Anyway. Scott, head to the lab and tell Brains about those tweaks that need to be done. He needs something to do. Gordon, Virgil. Go dry yourselves off and change. If we do get a call, I don't want you two looking like a pair of drowned rats."
The three brothers nodded their understanding and disappeared into the house.
"And Alan," He continued. "Once you've showered and had Virgil bandage your hand, I want Thunderbird 3 spotless. It's filthy! More grey than red at the moment. You'll find a barrel of shampoo down in the silo. And don't forget to take your box!" Alan didn't move, and Jeff gave him an encouraging poke. "Get a shift on then, otherwise you won't be finished in time for dinner!"
Alan stalked off towards the bathroom, grumbling under his breath about traitorous brothers ganging up on him and how he was going to get them back. Jeff shook his head. Whatever Alan was planning, he knew he didn't want to be in the way of it when it happened. And considering that the kid now had a few hours alone to plot, it was certain to be something spectacular, and messy. But then, that was to be expected from having five sons. And he knew, even after the hardships and challenges they had all been through, he wouldn't give it up for anything.