Chapter 90.

"I don't think he's coming."

John sighed, a handful of fries halfway to his mouth, "Are you sure? It's really not like him to pass up such an unhealthy breakfast."

Virgil nodded and returned his phone to his pocket, "He's not answered any of the voicemails or texts I've left him. His tracking shows that he's safely in grandma's room, but hasn't moved for a while. I reckon he's crashed."

Over by the window, Scott buried his head in his hands. He'd fought with Alan before, but never badly enough for the youngest to shut himself away and refuse the olive branches he and the others were extending. Maybe he really was too controlling and overprotective…after all, alcohol was far from the most dangerous thing in the young blonde's life. He flew a rocket, for crying out loud.

"Hey, he'll come round," Kayo soothed, squeezing Scott's arm, "Just give him some space. He's probably as zonked as you are, and we all know how cranky he gets when he's tired."

Scott nodded and raked his hands through his hair. He'd managed to bag a full ninety minutes of shuteye after bawling himself dry on John's shoulder, but wasn't above admitting that he still felt like shit. Maybe a shower would help reset him…

The eldest brother was in the middle of searching for a fresh towel when the door suddenly creaked open, revealing two blue eyes and a head of bright blond hair. Slowly, as if afraid he might get yelled at, Alan pushed the door open and shuffled into the room, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

All activity within a ten foot radius promptly ceased. Virgil's eyes widened several inches beyond their natural limit, John snorted the water he was drinking out of his nose in an impressive fountain, Gordon's mouth fell open in shock (a couple of stray crumbs dropping out in the process), Kayo squeezed the chicken wrap she was eating until mayonnaise began to drip onto the floor, and Scott choked as a mouthful of burger went down the wrong pipe.

After several minutes of raspy hacking (and overenthusiastic back slapping from Gordon), the eldest Tracy regained enough composure to stand vertically again. After wiping the tears from his eyes, he was surprised to see Alan striding across the room towards him.

Before Scott could hurl himself out the window or stammer an apology, Alan closed the final three feet between them and grabbed his eldest brother in a hug. The height difference meant that Alan ended up with his face squished against Scott's ribcage, but he didn't care. He needed to show his brother how much he was appreciated.

Actions were sometimes better than words.

A collective puff of relief filtered around the room. Kayo released the death grip she had on what remained of her wrap and Gordon finally remembered to close his mouth. Scott stood frozen in terrified confusion for several seconds, his blue gaze travelling uncertainly between Alan and Virgil. The engineer made a throat slashing gesture before motioning for Scott to return the hug.

The eldest Tracy didn't need to be told twice. Stooping slightly to compensate for his youngest brother's lack of height, he enfolded Alan in his arms and waited patiently until his baby brother's reassurance meter was full.

"I'm sorry," Alan mumbled, his voice muffled against Scott's pyjama shirt, "I'm such a brat. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through. You're the best brother I could hope for. I don't need dad or anyone, so long as I've got you."

Gordon harrumphed and tore a bite out of the doughnut he'd been saving for his baby brother.

The traitor.

Scott smiled and gently pried the youngest Tracy's arms from around his torso, "I'm sorry too, Alan. I'll try and give you more space to work through problems on your own from now on. Just promise me that you'll talk if anything's bugging you, okay? Alcohol isn't a viable coping mechanism and-"

"Scott," Virgil warned, his left eyebrow travelling north, "What did we discuss."

The eldest brother flushed crimson, "You're right, I'm sorry! Ugh, I'm afraid my head's not screwed on quite right at the moment. I'm going to take a quick shower and then head home. Anyone want a lift? I've got a spare seat going. Oh, Gordon, do you want me to drop you off at the vets?"

The aquanaut grinned around the chicken McNuggets in his mouth, "No need, look!"

Five pairs of eyes followed Gordon's finger, which was pointing at a large object next to the bed that was partially obscured by a towel. A quick peek underneath on Kayo's part revealed Celery, sound asleep inside her travel crate on a bed of fluffy blankets. A new squeaky whale toy (no doubt a companion for squeaky shark) lay between her limp paws.

"I went and fetched her while Virgil ferried breakfast up from the car," the aquanaut disclosed, "We made a quick detour to the local pet shop en route. Whaley is her reward for being so well behaved for the doggy nurses, ain't that right girly?"

Celery let loose an explosive snore and didn't answer.

In the background, a new voice piped up, "I'm sure Bertie will appreciate the return of his best friend, no doubt."

Alan jumped clean out of his skin as Lady Penelope emerged from the bathroom, one hand smoothing down her immaculate blond locks. Gordon promptly choked on the McFlurry he was in the middle of scarfing, horrified that his pineapple print pyjama shorts were on display for their London agent.

Penelope merely smiled and helped herself to a handful of fries.

"I'll take you up on that lift," John announced, frowning as Scott began to tear through his bag in search of shower gel, "On the condition that you don't stall the engine just to freak me out. You'll be the one having to clean up if my breakfast reappears."

"Thunderbird One takes no responsibility for the upchucking of food, both of the digested and undigested kind. Terms and conditions apply. Satisfaction not guaranteed," Scott replied, tossing a container of shampoo into the air and catching it deftly before kicking the bathroom door shut.

John seized Gordon's empty bottle of water and reeled his arm back in preparation for an epic toss, but was stopped by Penelope's voice.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we may have a situation developing," the blond woman exclaimed, her blue eyes studying an array of holographic shapes on her compact mirror, "I've just received word that the Chaos Crew are travelling northwest towards San Miguel via Gasper Campos. Their approximate speed is eighty miles per hour and accelerating fast."

"Are you sure it's them?" Kayo asked, pausing mid-chew.

"Whoever it is just ran three red lights," Penelope replied, her lips pursed, "So yes."

Virgil frowned in alarm, "They must have acquired a vehicle. And driving at that speed in a residential area during rush hour is just asking for trouble."

"Then let's shut 'em down!" Gordon snarled, leaping to his feet and beelining towards the door, "John, I'm going to need their current coordinates and projected route. Factor in traffic conditions and areas of high civilian concentration. I'll cut them off in Thunderbird One before they get too far."

"Yeah, not gunna happen I'm afraid, Gordo," Scott declared, materialising from the bathroom with a t-shirt pulled halfway over his half wet head, "I'm coming with you, and no way are we using Thunderbird One. She'll draw the attention of every law enforcement officer in the city, which may prompt Havoc and Fuse into retaliating with aggressive countermeasures."

"Agreed," Penelope added, snapping her communicator shut, "We'll take FAB 1. If we use the stealth mode feature, we should be unrecognisable."

"I'm coming with you," Kayo announced, holding her hand up when Scott went to protest, "You might need someone with you who's not afraid of fighting fire with fire. Plus, I got a full five hours last night."

Scott rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

"Go careful," Virgil urged, his face a strained mixture of fatigue and concern, "Me and Alan will stay here and track their position. John? Release EOS."

"F.A.B," the redhead replied, heading out onto the balcony where the signal with Thunderbird Five was stronger.

Scott threw his brother a mock salute, "We will, Virg. Tell Grandma where we are when you get the chance. Thunderbird One out."

Gordon made a last minute grab at an unclaimed vanilla milkshake before bolting off after Kayo, Scott and Penelope, his concern over his pineapple print pyjamas pants long forgotten. Four against two was good. The odds were stacked in International Rescue's favour.

Upon emerging into the carpark, Scott was alarmed to hear the tell-tale roar of a rapidly accelerating engine bouncing off the walls of the hotel compound. The unmistakable 'bang' of an engine backfiring all but confirmed one of his (many) silent suspicions; that the Chaos Crew intended to pay them a personal visit en route to their intended destination.

A subsequent update from John revealed that Havoc (or Fuse) had locked onto the vehicular signature of FAB 1 and, if EOS's aerial scans were to be believed, were gunning Spoiler's engine towards the most accurate location they had for the Tracy clan (and the DNA they carried).

Scott, Gordon and Kayo managed to throw themselves behind the security of one of the chunkier looking cars in the carpark, however were powerless to intervene as Havoc blasted past Penelope, who was in the process of transmitting a piece of tracking software that EOS had just sent her onto Spoiler's onboard computer.

Tragically, she had to be within a certain distance for the download to complete.

Puddle splashing distance to be precise.

A gasp tore out of Kayo's mouth as a tsunami of dirty water engulfed their London agent, the radius of the offending splash extending for several feet both up and down the pavement Penelope was stood on.

Penelope. Lady Penelope. Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. Her royal ladyshipness. Purveyor of fine bone china and ethical diamonds. The living definition of etiquette and decorum…

…who was standing like a horrified scarecrow, flicking muddy puddle water from her hands as the mascara from her immaculately made-up eyes began to trickle down her cheeks.

For a minute, no one dared to move. Scott and Kayo looked on the verge of erupting into hysterics, while Gordon had both hands slapped across his mouth, his eyes wide with horrified mirth.

"Ahem," Penelope began, pulling out her compact mirror while delicately tucking a strand of sodden hair behind her ear, "Parker? Bring the car around, would you."

"Sorry m'lady!" came the wheezed response, "But Mister John 'as asked for my 'elp crackin' a piece of jammin' tech that the Chaos Crew 'ave on their equipment. The trackin' download that Miss EOS sent you 'asn't worked, so we-"

"I SAID BRING THE CAR AROUND!" Penelope howled, her expression deranged as she took grim stock of her ruined pink pantsuit. Ignoring the stammered reassurances of her driver, she snapped her mirror shut and turned to face the infuriatingly dry faces of her comrades.

Comrades who looked mere seconds away from wetting themselves.

"Scott, you're driving," Penelope snapped, her composure slipping as she squelched her way over towards the cowardly trio. It had even gotten in her shoes.

The eldest Tracy abruptly pulled himself together, "Yes, m'lady."

Penelope sniffed, peering down her nose at Scott as if he were nothing more than a potted plant.

Kayo diverted her eyes and hastily busied herself with retying her ponytail.

Gordon meanwhile, had fished a tissue out of his pocket and was gingerly holding it out towards their drenched London agent. How he expected a tissue intended for nose-blowing to do anything against the dripping canvas that was Penelope's face was anyone's guess, but he'd been taught that it was the thought that counted.

Unfortunately, nothing short of a full-blown spa trip was going to make Penelope's day any better.

"I appreciate the gesture, Gordon, but I'm afraid that's the equivalent of shitting against a landslide."