After Kayo's video professing that all the Tracys were alive and recovering, the ThunderbirdsAreGo channel went dark. Nothing was posted for nearly three weeks. The Instagram accounts were silent as well. The Thunderbirds were still grounded, as International Rescue remained offline. It was like the Tracy family had disappeared.

No one was really shocked by this. But no one was really happy about it either.

With the absence of the Tracys posting on YouTube, other people started filling in the void. Videos surfaced all over the web. It was like everyone suddenly remembered times when they had recorded the family doing their usual extraordinary things and wanted to share them with the world. Lady Penelope thought it was some kind of show of solidarity or support or something.

On the one hand, it was kind of cool, seeing all those past videos of situations in which the Thunderbirds had come in and saved the day. They seemed to stretch back to before Jeff had disappeared, all the way up to the most current rescues. On the other hand, it was a little disappointing to see that Alan had been telling the truth that more people were prone to stand around filming instead of lending a hand where it could be used. So many of the people filming could have been doing something more useful instead.

The videos inundated the internet. Rescues and press conferences. The odd appearance of one of the brothers on a talk show (which didn't happen hardly ever, honestly). The world bit their nails when rescues went wrong, and IR agents were injured. They laughed heartedly when Gordon was on a talk show and spent the time subtly making fun of the interviewer, who most agreed was a bit of a moron. They watched in amazement as Scott or John, or Virgil stood in front of podiums at Tracy Industry Press Conferences and introduced the world to some new revolutionary tech.

But there was one video that was posted that caused waves across the world.

It was a shaky video, filmed on a cell phone, about three years before. The setting was a school hallway, and the video was trained on a television. The Hood had just announced to the world that he had killed Jeff Tracy, shooting down his plane, and had just outed the Tracy family as International Rescue. The hallway was packed full of boys in uniforms, all of them silent and shaken.

The camera turned, focusing on a younger Alan Tracy, who was staring at the TV. He was pale, his eyes wide and his hands shaking. No one was saying anything. And then Alan moved, hitting a button on his watch. "John?"

"I'm working on it," John's voice said, emanating from the watch. He sounded just as frantic and confused as Alan had. "Scott's on his way to get you."

"John." Alan sounded close to tears.

"I'm sorry, Sprout, I can't—" John broke off. There was a slight pause. "I'm sorry." The connection cut and Alan ran a shaky hand down his face.

Suddenly there was a litany of yells coming from all the students, and everyone was rushing for the windows and door. The camera jostled wildly, but the end result was the scene focusing on Thunderbird One setting down in the courtyard. Once landed and powered down, the pilot jumped out, dressed in the old International Rescue suit. The white jumpsuit with blue trim seemed odd with how recognizable the blue uniform was worldwide now. And the helmet, the ones that had disguised who the Thunderbirds really were—it was a little off putting to see, really.

There was a nametag sewn into the suit, but it just said Pilot—T1.

The pilot unclasped the bottom of his helmet, pulling it off his head and dropping it to the ground just in time to catch Alan as he slammed into him. Scott cradled his little brother, his long arms wrapping around the boy and holding him tight.

It was odd, really. It was only three years ago, but Alan looked so much younger. Fourteen and gangly to his now seventeen and more mature. And Alan had only been seventeen for a few weeks, his birthday having been just before the fiasco with The Hood. Scott, too, looked younger. Less gray, less stressed. Less like the burden of the entire world was resting on his shoulders.

Although, to be fair, he looked positively devastated in this video.

Alan was babbling something that couldn't be heard, and Scott pulled back to frame his face with his hands. The white and blue gloves looked far bulkier than their current uniform but did enough to block most of Alan's face from the camera. "It's going to be okay, Allie," Scott said, and his voice was firm, if a little sad. "We'll get through this. It's going to be okay."

"What about—"

"It will be okay," Scott repeated. "I need you to get your things. I'm taking you home." He paused, pursing his lips, his hands still on Alan's face. Alan had been a lot shorter then. "When we get home, I need you to take Three and pick up John. We need to bring him home and Gordon's not healed enough to fly on his own yet." T4 had been injured in a rescue a week ago, people remembered. T4 was probably Gordon Tracy. What the crowd didn't know was that Thunderbird Five had only been up and active for four months, since the last time The Hood had attacked. Alan had only just returned to school after summer break, and the news from six months ago, where the Thunderbirds had been stolen and used to break into the Bank of London had only just been dying down.

"But Dad said—"

"Dad's not here." And Scott's voice broke, just a little, at that confession. A murmur went through the crowd. Someone close to the camera made a soft comment about Three being the large red rocket Thunderbird. "I need you to pick up Johnny."

"Scott," that was John's voice, coming over an open com from either Alan or Scott. Probably Scott. "I can't leave. I have to—"

"You have to come home," Scott replied, moving his hands from Alan's face to his shoulders. He was still gazing into Alan's eyes, the teenager staring back, both of them looking more shocked and sad and tired than anything. "We need you dirtside, Johnny. The GDF is threatening to shut us down."

More murmurs and whispers erupted at that. The GDF had no say over International Rescue, did they? And what did Scott mean by 'dirtside'? Everyone knew that Thunderbird Five was a communications outpost, but no one knew where it was located. The idea that you needed a rocket to reach it, though…people were drawing their own conclusions to that.

"Scott I can't—"

"You can, and you will," Scott said evenly. And that was the voice that people recognized: Commander Tracy of International Rescue. He'd stepped into the role almost immediately, then, not having any other choice. "Alan will pick you up. Gordon will co-pilot." The com shut down and Scott gave a nod to Alan, who turned on his heel and ran for the dorms. Scott looked up then, blue eyes piercing as they roved over the crowd. He found who he was looking for and took a step forward.

"Headmaster Walters," he said with a bit of a nod. "I'm pulling Alan out of school for the next two weeks. Whether or not he returns will be up for discussion at that point," he said, his voice steady and calm.

Walters shook his head, blustering a little. He looked just as shocked as the rest of the crowd, his mouth gaping just a bit. "I need permission from his guardian to have him leave campus."

Scott's lips pursed and he almost looked as though he was going to roll his eyes. "I am listed as his secondary guardian. You can check your paperwork." He swallowed heavily. "And with the disappearance and supposed death of his first guardian, that leaves me in charge. I'm pulling Alan out."

"You can't just—"

The man was cut off by Scott raising a hand and simply shaking his head. He didn't have to say anything, and Walters was silenced. Scott looked tired, and his eyes were pinching in a way that told of either a headache or incoming tears. But he was holding it together far better than anyone could have expected.

Their father had been shot down only hours before. The Hood had only made his announcement a half hour ago.

Things were moving so fast.

Alan came running back, duffle-bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes were a bit redder, a bit puffier, but Scott made no comment. "That everything?"

"Everything that can't just be replaced," Alan replied. He'd, clearly, left a lot behind. But he'd gotten the important bits and nothing else really mattered at that moment.

Scott gave a nod, motioning to Thunderbird One. "Get it stowed and buckle in. We need to get going before the GDF decides to ground us." He watched, silently, as Alan climbed into the Thunderbird. And then he heaved a large sigh, running a hand down his face. He bent, grabbing his helmet off the ground and made his way towards his bird.

The video ended as Thunderbird One took off and disappeared with a bit of a shockwave behind it.

Thousands of comments were left on the video. Most were talking about how devastated the two brothers had looked, how frantic John had sounded over the coms. How sad it was that the family had been torn apart again.

One comment, however, changed the way the world posted things.

ThunderbirdsAreGo 7 hours ago
We don't mind that people are posting videos of our rescues. But please try to keep personal videos private. We've tried to respect other people when posting our own videos and ask that you provide the same courtesy.
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The video was taken down the next day. And no other personal videos ever made it onto the internet.