A/N: As you can probably see, I've decided to change the name of the fic to Chocolate Cake - I guess Sponge was only really a working title. I'm sorry if this causes any inconvenience.

Thankyou to the positive reviews that are flowing and giving me confidence. And thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, Mad-Friend, who is taking the time out to read and beta this fic, telling me where I've gone wrong and helping me turn this into a better story.

Part 2: Taking Action

John gave a little giggle that caused Scott to veer backwards in alarm at his brother's strange behaviour. The two were sitting on John's bed, Scott with a checklist in hand and John, having gone over the procedure with him, acting strangely un-Johnish all of a sudden.

"This is your first ever stab at revenge, isn't it?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"Well… yeah. But hey, just let me enjoy it, eh?"

Scott chuckled and put the checklist down. "Can't argue with that. By the way, did you hear some music earlier?"

John shrugged absent-mindedly as he rubbed his hands together. "Probably Virgil playing the piano or Gordon dancing along with the Beach Boys. Right, let's put this plan into action!"

Gordon listened with interest as Virgil told him the conversation he had overheard between Scott and John. They were standing by the swimming-pool board, out of earshot of everyone else, and when Virgil had finished telling his tale, Gordon looked at the water thoughtfully - a bad sign, Virgil thought. He watched as his younger brother's head shot up; he looked indignant and furious.

"Maybe they're planning a prank - without me!"

Virgil chuckled. "John planning a prank? That's something I'd love to see!"

"How could he?" fumed Gordon. "After all, that's my forte round here! I always pull the good ones off!"

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "You haven't always pulled them off correctly though, Gordon."

Gordon glared at him. "Yeah? Give me one example of when I've gone wrong!"

The pilot needed no second bidding. "Well, how about when you were eight years old, and Grandma took us all out shopping to that bathroom store? You saw a bath for sale that was propped up against the wall, and you pressed your upper body into it and pretended to be a mummy."

The redhead thought for a moment, then chuckled. "I'd been watching too many episodes of Scooby-Do. But what's your point?"

"Well, you jumped out of the bath roaring at the top of your lungs in order to scare Grandma when she passed. But it wasn't Grandma, it was another poor lady."

Gordon's grin faded. "Well… mistakes will be made," he muttered.

Virgil rested his head in his hands. "Gords, that 'mistake' left Grandma babbling five-hundred desperate apologies!"

"I remember that!" The redhead couldn't help feeling slightly insulted, "Didn't she plead mild mental illness on my behalf?"

"Yes, and it took two cups of coffee in the store café before that lady could be persuaded not to press charges! I thought Grandma was going to kill you!"

Gordon frowned. "Well, it amused you lot."

"It amused Scott and Alan and the merriment of the prank might've lasted longer if you'd remembered to take that toad out of the bathroom before we left the house. I'd never heard so much screaming in all my life - and that was only John!"

Gordon held up his hands. "Okay, okay, okay, so I wasn't the world's expert prankster back then. But now I like to think of myself as one of the country's best."

Virgil pointed an index finger at him. "Now that, I can agree with."

Gordon took a sweeping bow. "Thankyou, Virg. Right, what are we going to do about John and Scott?"

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "What are we going to do about them? You don't know for certain what they're doing!"

"But I can find out," Gordon said wickedly. "Virgil…"

"No."

"Aw, come on…"

"Gordon, how can I put this politely?… There is no way in heck that I am going to help you find out what John and Scott are up to. I thought you promised Dad you'd behave!"

"I never promised, I said I'd try." Gordon's grin expanded - his face was in danger of splitting. "And I don't have a great deal of willpower."

Scott strolled into the kitchen and made a beeline for the fruit-bowl. Plucking a pear, he turned around to smile at his grandmother, who was giving him a suspicious look over her mixing-bowl.

"Let me guess - you want a lick of the bowl, Scott Tracy?"

"Grandma, I am thirty-one years old," Scott explained in patient tones. "I am the eldest Tracy sibling. I am a pilot. I help my astronaut brother keep Thunderbird 3 on course. I do my chores, I try and keep a cool head on rescues, I find out what needs to be done. Do I really need to lick the bowl?" He paused for a moment; then he grinned. "Well, yes, I do!"

Grandma shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. It was amazing how much her eldest grandson reminded her of Jeff - he had inherited the same charm, the same adventurous streaks, the same sense of responsibility and the same good looks. In fact, looking at Jeff and Scott combined, she was reminded so much of her late beloved husband, Grant. Chuckling to herself, she took two eggs out of the egg carton and cracked the yolk into a separate, smaller bowl.

"Well, who am I to refuse a brave little soldier?" she told Scott, who blushed at the childhood nickname that his mother and grandmother had given him.

"Gee, thanks, Grandma."

"You're welcome - but just you make sure you don't bother me while I'm doing this." Grandma added the eggs to the flour and sugar in the large bowl and started to mix it up. Then she walked over to the stove and brought forth a bowl that had been sitting in a saucepan. As she came closer, Scott saw that there was melted chocolate in the bowl.

"Grandma? I'm afraid I'll have to try that stuff, check it's not poisonous," he said, trying to sound official."

"You keep your hands off it, young man, and maybe then you'll still have fingers. Now make yourself useful and grease those tins."

Twenty minutes later, Scott was glancing both longingly and impatiently at the two large chocolate sponge layers cooking away in the oven. He glanced at his watch and let out a breath. It was six o'clock. Soon Kyrano would be in to cook the spaghetti that he had promised John for tonight, and there was still the small matter of the cake-layers being joined together and covered with butter cream. That chocolate butter cream that was so fluffy, sweet, melt-in-your mouth irresistible and gave you a free five-minute pass into heaven…

Oh, concentrate, Scott, concentrate, he thought fiercely to himself. They didn't have long to do this.

Virgil peeked round the kitchen-entrance at Scott, who was sat next to the oven, staring inside with the look of a man starving for a crust. He quickly pulled the two chocolate bars out of his pocket and strolled in, giving his brother a smile.

"Hi, Scott. Fancy a Ripple?"

Scott blinked as his music-making brother offered him the Galaxy chocolate. "Where did you get this?"

"Sorry, can't say," said Virgil lightly. If I tell him where I hide them… no, it's just not worth it, a boy needs sweetness in his life to match the sweetness of his music.

"Well, if you don't want the bar…" he said meaningfully.

Scott peeled the wrapper with lightening speed and crammed half the contents in his mouth. "Doh, doh, it'd be shelpish og me." On seeing his brother raise his eyebrows at him as he slowly unwrapped his own bar, the elder took a moment to chew and swallow before speaking his mind.

"I mean," he tried, "all chocolate is made to be eaten, and who am I to deny it its purpose in life?"

Virgil put his tongue in his cheek before nibbling on his own bar. "So, er, how's it going?" he asked casually.

"Hm? Oh, fine, fine." Scott sucked at the piece of Ripple in his mouth as he continued to stare at the oven. "The cakes are coming along nicely, so everything's pretty good."

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes. He had seen this behaviour before when Grandma had been doing her legendary baking; by the looks of things Gordon would get no desired information tonight. Before he could ask anything else, his grandmother reappeared with Kyrano at the kitchen door and the matriarch's eyes bulged at the chocolate-bars in their hands.

"Scott and Virgil Tracy!" she snapped. "It will soon be dinner-time! Kyrano's about to start cooking!"

The two brother immediately stood, trying to hide the half-eaten bars behind their backs and stuttering out the old excuse that they were growing boys, and pilots needed a sufficient intake. Their Grandma gave them a fond but firm look.

"Well, boys, I'm sure you've had enough intake now - so if you'd be so kind as to get out from under our feet, otherwise your father will be scratching his head and wondering why he has three sons, not five."

Had Scott and Virgil been twenty years younger, they would have responded to this threat with a joint cry of 'Oooooh!' But with one having just turned thirty-one and the other a few months away from his twenty-eighth, with both sharing memories of past experiences of their Grandmother's wrath, they merely exchanged glances and escaped from the kitchen, kissing their grandmother on the cheek affectionately on the way out.

"Did you find out anything?" Gordon asked eagerly as Virgil rounded the corner. The chestnut-haired pilot shook his head.

"Sorry, Gordon. Grandma's making a chocolate cake tonight, and by the looks of things it's diverted all of Scott's attention."

The redhead cursed slightly. "How am I supposed to get my information if they won't give me any? It's so inconsiderate and rude!"

"Have you seen Dad anywhere?" Virgil added. "It looks like dinner will be on the table shortly."

"Yeah, he's gone down to the lab to get that report from Brains and to go over some possible modifications for Thunderbird 3." Gordon sighed and ran a hand through his copper-coloured hair. "I'm going for a swim. Coming?"

Virgil shook his head. "No thanks, I think I'll just squeeze in some book-reading time before dinner."

"Well, suit yourself. See you." Gordon left his brother to it and went off to get changed.

John peeked his head round the kitchen door, watching the dinner preparations taking place. The manservant Kyrano had his back to the blonde, nursing a big saucepan of bolognaise sauce - John's mouth began to water. Then he practically drowned in his own drool as he spotted his grandmother on the other side of the kitchen, spreading that gorgeous butter cream over that equally gorgeous sponge cake.

Should he ever get married, he would definitely ask his grandmother do the catering for the reception. There was no doubt about that, he thought, as he inhaled a mixture of bolognaise sauce and chocolate butter cream that was not too rich nor too light.

He quickly ducked out of the doorway so that his grandmother would not see him - he needed her to feel as though it would be safe to put the cake in the fridge, otherwise he'd never succeed.

Peeking back round, he watched his grandmother decorate the top of the moist sponge cake with strawberries, before taking it to the fridge and placing it inside. He breathed a sigh of relief, ducking back out of sight before his grandmother turned towards the door. Deciding it was time he wasn't there, the astronomer quickly ran off down the corridor and slipped into the recreation-room.

After that… incident with the blueberry cheesecake, his grandmother had given him a tedious lecture about messing around with food ('You're not an animal, you're a very silly young man!') and that wasn't the half of it. Two-days' worth of lunch and dinner-plates had to be washed by his hand - but it wasn't so bad, considering the original sentence was to do it for a week, John mused, walking absent-mindedly around the pool-table. Grandma must have decided that he had been punished enough.

Except there was nothing to be punished for, John thought to himself, as he spotted a tiny blue stain on the floor that refused to budge, no matter how many times he had scraped at it.

John gave a dry smile. His last stay at the island had been an eventful one, but not in his favour. Still, it wasn't too late, John thought, looking over his shoulder to check that nobody was around. The blonde did a small pre-victory dance on the spot that would have led any witnesses who knew him well to immediately summon a psychiatrist.

Then he called Scott on his mobile.

Five minutes later, his hands clasped around something, Scott was standing back outside the kitchen door. Inside, only Kyrano was present. It had already been confirmed that Gordon was still in the pool and that Grandma had gone for a stroll in the gardens with Tin-Tin, positive that everything would be safe in Kyrano's hands.

Kneeling down by the kitchen door, Scott nodded at John to keep guard. Then, he opened his hands up to reveal a mouse. Not a real mouse, but a robotic replica that looked, scuttled and behaved exactly like a live one, and better still, only needed to be turned on by a tiny switch on the under-belly and controlled by a small touch-pad remote. It was, in Scott's eyes, a work of genius and one that he had secretly purchased in England two weeks back when his father had sent him over to England to visit their London agent Lady Penelope on International Rescue business.

Scott turned the mouse upside down and quickly activated the switch on as John did the same with the remote. Then Scott leaned in and placed it on the kitchen floor, before ducking out of sight and handing the show over to his brother. Flat up against the wall just outside the kitchen door, John's hand darted around the touchpad, controlling the mouse's course and he sent the mouse darting right across the kitchen so that Kyrano noticed it over the saucepan he was tending.

Peeking in, Scott and John watched as Kyrano, sighing, went to grab a kitchen towel. Trying to keep the mouse moving, John made it run around in a circle - before disaster struck and the mouse ran into the wall.

John cursed as Kyrano approached the mouse, brandishing the towel. The small toy's legs were moving hurriedly, its empty eyes unable to see that it could not move any further forward. John quickly moved it, but in his panic the mouse went too fast and this time ran into the wall opposite. As Kyrano approached it, the panicked blonde's fingers moved around the touchpad in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, and the mouse fled for the open door as Kyrano threw the towel down, missing it by inches. Realising Kyrano was going to come straight at them, Scott immediately pulled John out of eyeshot.

The mouse ran through the door and took off for its left. Kyrano quickly chased after it, failing to notice Scott and John behind him, squashed together in the gap between the wall and the kitchen door panel.

"Ouch," was all John could mumble as he continued to control the mouse via the touchpad, hoping Kyrano would be distracted for just two more minutes. Two more minutes, that was all they needed.

The manservant chased the mouse down the corridor and around the corner. It scuttled as fast as it was able, and soon managed to disappear. Kyrano cursed in Malaysian, looking around before getting on his knees and crawling some length across the corridor.

"Kyrano?"

The manservant looked up to see Jeff Tracy emerging from the entrance-door that led downstairs into the laboratory, which was run and organised by Brains, the designer of the International Rescue machines. On seeing his employer raise an eyebrow down at him, Kyrano quickly but calmly explained.

"Mr Tracy, forgive my unusual position. We seem to have a mouse."

Jeff scratched his chin. "Mouse, eh? That's odd, we're in the Pacific. Seems impossible to have mice around. Well, I know dinner's ready soon, but I just wanted to drop into the kitchen for a drink of water, if that's alright."

Kyrano stood, taking the towel off his shoulder, glancing around once more. "Yes of course, Mr. Tracy. I must re-attend to my cooking. I would not like to let Mr. John down."

The two men strolled back to the kitchen and Kyrano quickly ensured that his bolognaise sauce was alright before retrieving some pasta from a cupboard. Opening it, he poured the entire packet of stiff spaghetti strands into a saucepan of water that had been steadily boiling for the last five minutes, and in his short absence had reached its limits.

"Was my mother going to make a cake, Kyrano?"

The manservant looked up, one eye on the pasta. "Yes, Mr. Tracy, you will find it in the fridge."

"Oh, great," was his reply. Turning away to tend his spaghetti, Kyrano heard the fridge door open and a slight pause.

"Uh - Kyrano?"

The manservant looked around. "Yes, Mr. Tracy?"

"Are you sure the cake's here?"

Kyrano frowned and made his way over. "I saw Mrs Tracy put it in there myself, Mr Tracy. I'm sure it…" Then he saw the big space on the first shelf where the cake should have been. Turning away, he rubbed his forehead for a moment.

"Kyrano?" Jeff looked at him worriedly. "Everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Tracy. I just think I've made a connection. Are you aware of your sons' - forgive me - limitless appetites?"

Jeff stared at him for a second before cottoning on. "Yes, I'm afraid I am. Kyrano, could you go and fetch my mother, please? She'll need to be told about this. In the meantime I'll hide the rolling-pins; don't want anyone getting caught on the wrong-end of those."

Rubbing his hair dry with one of the two towels he was holding, Gordon gave a deep, satisfied sigh, which reflected the mood he always felt after a good swim. It helped him relieve the tensions of every day life, and sometimes gave him inspiration for a new prank.

Opening his bedroom door, Gordon stepped inside and jabbed the inside button that closed the door. Glancing around his room briefly, he discarded of the smaller towel and went to the wardrobe to find a shirt to wear at John's welcome-home dinner that evening.

And froze.

He turned around and looked at the desk again. He blinked. Everything he owned was still there, sure - but there also something else, something that was not his.

"What the - where did that come from?" he muttered aloud, approaching the desk. He stared down at the new guest on his desk for a moment, feeling confused but very pleasantly surprised. How beautiful and appealing it looked, he thought, delight starting to bubble up inside him. What a wonderful - hold on.

Gordon's growing smile died as he realised that what he was looking at should not be there. In fact, it was something that, if found here, in this place, in the next five minutes, would almost certainly see him standing on the edge of the highest cliff on the island, with only way to get down - forwards.

The penny dropping, the aquanaut's facial expression turned to one of horror as he continued to stare at the large chocolate sponge cake with the strawberries decorated on top, sitting on its plate on his desk. He knew that his grandmother had been making a cake, but wasn't it supposed to be in the fridge, as far away from his sticky little paws as possible? His grandma knew him, she wasn't that stupid - as a matter of fact, she wasn't stupid at all! Or was the stress of caring for one son, five grandsons, one scientist and one young lady proving all too much for her?

And that wasn't the half of it, Gordon realised, looking the cake over yet again. There was clear evidence of foul play; someone had cut a slice out of the cake, leaving a yawning gap. And the small plate that was sitting next to the large one had obviously been the host of that cake-slice - there were marks of butter-cream covering the white porcelain and even a half-eaten strawberry lying on top of it.

Two plates, both with incriminating evidence that would land Gordon in it, whatever it was, and he didn't even want to think about the repercussions. What he needed to consider was how to get the cake back to the kitchen, without being seen.

Maybe he should just make out his will now and ensure that his Olympic gold medal was buried with him.

"John, will you just come in here?"

"No, no, Scott. You just do it and I'll, er, watch."

Scott rolled his eyes to the heavens. His astronaut brother was perfectly capable of spending a month in space at least three times a year, but he was not so capable of helping to care for Alan's tiny pygmy alligator. Scott could only thank his lucky stars that John had been safely tucked away in space on the occasion when they had received a distress call from a group of people on the Ambro River, who were being targeted by a group of alligators that through a simple accident had undergone rapid growth until they had swelled to many times their normal size.

"John, is there any particular reason why you seem to fear all water-creatures? I'm surprised you don't shriek and duck out of sight every time Gordon walks in."

John sighed. "We already do that anyway."

Scott chose not to reply and busied himself with bending down and holding out a piece of meat towards Alan's small pygmy alligator. "Come along, Laika. Come on, girl."

The alligator eyed the meat for a moment, then edged closer. Scott dropped the meat in front of her and Laika began to eat it herself. Scott stood up, dusting his hands off.

"Nothing to it." He turned to grin at John. "Now to clean her out cage out. Fancy helping?" He backed off a bit at the look his brother gave him. "… OK, perhaps you could just keep an eye and an ear out."

Glancing back in the direction of the Villa, John lowered his voice excitedly. "Do you think he's found it yet?"

Scott, crouching back down to pet Laika, glanced up. "Well, he's obviously not been caught yet, I can't hear any shouting."

"I hope it works," said John, somewhat anxiously.

Scott grinned up at him. "I'm sure it will. We've done our part. We've just got to keep our fingers crossed, right?"

John nodded, giving a slight smirk. "Right."

Glancing down at Laika, who was shuffling round his feet, Scott leaned close to her, and murmured, "And not a word out of you, okay, madam?"

Laika, having stopped her shuffling momentarily, stared up at him with round marble-eyes. Scott straightened up, satisfied, and decided that their secret was safe with her.

Will the prank work, or will Gordon cotton on and overcome? Find out, in the third and final instalment of Chocolate Cake!