Chapter Four

The Hood and General Yang were currently seated in an extravagantly decorated suite at the far end of their base. The room contained two black leather chairs, complete with solid gold framing and a highly polished pine desk, behind which General Yang was now seated.

"I think it's about time we let those other dogs at I.R know that we have their team mates, don't you?" the General suggested, brandishing a portable radio that he was holding casually in his grip.

"Would that really be a good idea?" the Hood enquired. "They could use that radio to track us here."

The general smiled and beckoned Dr. Smith over, who handed him small device.

"This little baby - when clipped to any communications device - will automatically block the signal and prevent the receiver from being able to track us down," General Yang explained. "It's been tested on even the most powerful of communicators and I have been reassured that it will work for this."

The Hood took the device and studied it. It was a tiny piece of equipment that resembled a ring. "How do you know that this thing will work?"

The general gestured at Dr. Smith. "Because I trust its inventor," he said. "Now give it to me and I'll show you how it works."

The Hood gave the device over to his partner, which was promptly placed over the top of radio's antennae and tightened into place. It began to emit a sharp beeping sound.

"Here goes nothing," the general commented as he lifted up the radio to his lips. "Calling International Rescue…"

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Thunderbird Five.

"Calling International Rescue…"

By now John Tracy was use to these calls and he immediately began the automatic routine that was etched so deeply in his mind.

However, this call was to be different.

"This is International Rescue receiving you," John answered. "What is your emergency?"

"No emergency here, boy," came the casual reply. "But I understand that you Tracys are having a couple of problems of your own. Specifically, two missing family members, am I right?"

It took all of John's resolve not to snarl and rage in anger when he realised the identity of the caller. Instead he pressed the button that would allow the message to be broadcast straight to Tracy Island as well as here on Thunderbird Five.

"Who are you?" John demanded to know.

"You may simply refer to me as the general," the voice replied. "That's all you need to know…John Tracy."

John couldn't help it and started at the mention of his name. His skin - an already pale complexion - went even paler.

"How the hell do you know my name?" John asked. "Where did you find that out?"

"Simple. I simply aligned myself with your oldest and worst enemy," the General responded. "Believe me, he knows a lot about you and your brothers."

John's eyes narrowed. "The Hood."

That comment was received with a mocking laugh. "Well done, lucky guess."

"What do you two want?"

"Again, that is simple. First I want the plans to your lovely machines and secondly, I want to know what happened to those two men that you rescued from that jet at Mount Everest four months ago."

John was perplexed. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Because I want to make sure that they have been properly eliminated. I didn't order them to be shot and killed just for the fun of it. You see, John, I use to be a military man - as you can tell from my moniker - and I just hate it when my orders aren't followed through, it makes it difficult for me to sleep at night."

John couldn't believe that this monster had such a pathetic excuse for trying to kill two of his brothers! The more he thought about it, the more he considered that there might be something else to it, though he could check that up later, once he had tracked this asshole's location.

To the general, John said, "Look, I don't know what happened to those men; we don't keep track of our rescuees. As for the other request, there's no way in hell that we would give you the plans to our machines, especially after what you've done."

"That's a real shame, John," the general replied. "It looks I'm going to have to go to plan B."

"What's plan B?" John asked.

There was no response from the radio.

"Oi! What's plan B?" John raised his voice slightly.

It was no use because the general had cut him off.

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Somewhere.

"What the hell is plan B?" the Hood asked after General Yang had finished making the call.

"Why my dear Hood," the general smiled. "Plan B is that we simply kick things up a notch with our 'guests'. If a few kicks and punches isn't going to convince them, then lets see how much real pain they can handle. Do you like the sound of that?"

The Hood rubbed his hands in anticipation. He liked the sound of that indeed.

Seeing his partner's positive response, General Yang buzzed in two of his men. "Prepare our prisoners and bring them to room 13," he commanded.

With a salute his men went to perform their orders.

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Tracy Island.

"Were you listening to all that, Father?" John asked.

"Every single word, John," Jeff answered. "We all did. Have you managed to track the location yet?"

"I was just about to," John replied. He turned his back to the monitor and began the process of tracking the radio signal's last known location.

It should have been a simple procedure; emphasis on the words, 'should have'.

The family watched as John stiffened, flew his hands over the controls again, and then whirled around to face them, a look of shock on his face.

"Father, it's not their!" John panicked.

"What do you mean, it's not their?" Virgil asked. "It has to be!"

"Well it's not," John replied. "I checked several times, they must have been blocking the signal somehow."

Jeff rubbed a hand over his face before saying, "Ok John, keep trying, maybe you might be able to override it."

John sighed and nodded. "FAB."

"Now what are we going to do?" Gordon asked.

"Hopefully John will be able to bring up the location," Jeff answered. "Otherwise, we'll have to wait until they call again."

"I hope Scott and Alan are faring ok," Tintin whispered quietly.

"Me too, honey, me too," Virgil replied, taking her hand.

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Somewhere.

Unlike the suite, room 13 was a dismal looking place. The walls were constructed of cold stone and sharp drafts were whistling through the small gaps. Scattered around the room were some horrific looking pieces of equipment, some of which looked as if they hadn't been cleaned since they were last used.

Stripped from the waist up, both Scott and Alan had found themselves being dragged through the corridors to this room.

"Al, are you ok?" Scott asked as he took in his brother's appearance.

Alan's eye was squeezed shut and he was covered in bruises. His arm was hanging limply to one side.

"I'm ok," Alan replied, noting that his older brother didn't look much better than he did.

With two men each having tight grip on them, Scott and Alan watched as the door opened and the Hood and General Yang strolled in.

"Ah, gentlemen, are we ready to get really serious?" the general inquired.

"What are you on about?" Scott demanded. "Haven't you done enough?"

"Oh no." It was the Hood who answered. "I don't think we've done nearly enough."

General Yang nodded at the Malaysian's answer before walking around the room and contemplating the equipment. He stopped in the centre of the room and looked up at the ceiling, where a hook and some rope were located.

Turning to his prisoners he curled a finger and beckoned Alan over. The blond found himself being pulled across the room until he came to a stop in front of the general.

"Tie him up to this," General Yang commanded, pointing at the hook, "then water him down."

Before Alan could realise what was happening, he found himself being unceremoniously flipped upside down. He attempted to kick out and struggle but it was no use and he soon found himself tied upside down to the hook. The men who has secured him returned with buckets of water, which they threw over him.

Trapped in the grasp of the other lackeys, Scott began to struggle and the men tightened their grip on his arms. They were a lot more heavily built than he was and his weakened state made it all but impossible to escape.

"What are you doing!?" Scott shouted. "You hurt him I swear to God I'll…"

"You won't do anything, dog!" the Hood snarled, "except watch us have some fun with young Alan here."

General Yang turned to one of the men. "Sergeant Lee, bring me the picana."

The sergeant nodded and left the room. He returned a couple of minutes later carrying a wand like object with a bronze tip and an insulated handle. It was connected to a control box and a car battery.

Sergeant Lee placed the equipment next to his boss and backed away.

The general picked up the wand and twirled it casually between his fingers, before turning on the car battery and altering the rheostat on the control box to the voltage he wanted.

The picana sparked slightly.

"Ok, Alan, are you going to tell me what I want to know?" the general asked, "or do I have to use this?"

Alan tried not to blanch as he stared at the device, before swallowing and responding with, "I…guess…you'll have to use that."

"I thought that might be the case," General Yang nodded, walking round Alan in a circle. He suddenly thrust the picana at Alan's head.

Alan let out a small cry as a shock rippled through his body. It was followed by another as the device connected to his stomach.

"Stop it!" Scott shouted as he watched the event unfold.

But instead of halting, General Yang merely bent down to the control box and again adjusted the rheostat.

This time when the picana touched his chest and the shock went through him, Alan's cry echoed throughout the room.

Seeing his little brother's pain, Scott once again began to struggle and shouted, "leave him alone you son of a bitch or I'll rip you to shreds!"

General Yang paused in his treatment of Alan. He turned to the Hood and handed him the picana. "Here, you have a go. I think I need to teach young Scott here some manners."

The general walked over to Scott who had been released from the grasp the lackeys. He contemplated attempting to make a run for it and try and rescue Alan. However, before he could even move, General Yang kneed him hard in the stomach.

The breath knocked out of him, Scott fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. General Yang crouched down beside him and yanked Scott's head up by a fistful of hair so that they were looking at each other eye to eye.

"The only person about to be ripped to shreds around here," the general snarled, "is you." He clapped his hands to get the attention of the two men who had previously been holding Scott and were now watching Alan's predicament. "Take him" - he indicated Scott - "and put him on the drum. Let's see if having your flesh slowly grated off - piece by piece - will make you more eager to talk, shall we?"

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How's that for a quick update? I would like to take this opportunity to thank the people who have reviewed this story so far.

The picana is real device that was used in electrical torture.

Next chapter coming soon!