Chapter 118.

"I hate you!"

"Yeah? Well I despise you!"

"I loathe the blood in your veins!"

"I detest you!"

"I abhor your existence!"

Kayo sighed and dropped her head into waiting hands. She'd returned from her meeting with Penelope and Rigby yesterday after being away from the island for four whole days. Their cyber review had been a huge success. Colonel Casey had signed off funding for a new AI operated security system that would greatly complicate the Hood's plans (and probably make Havoc want to stick her head inside a blender), and Penelope had gifted her some of her favourite Assam tea to try with a tin of handmade shortbread from Aunt Sylvia.

The weather for the duration of her return flight had been wonderful. Turbulence had been minimal, there had been no delays when requesting clearance from Kazakhstan and China's air traffic controllers, and she'd landed in Tracy Island's hanger without a single bird turd or splattered fly marring Thunderbird Shadow's paintwork.

All in all, a very productive trip.

A very productive trip that died a short, but very painful death upon exiting the hanger and entering the house.

Unbeknownst to Kayo, she'd returned home right as Tracy War Three was getting underway. The boys were over their colds, however weren't over picking fights with each other. She had no idea what had started the current conflict, however some strategic eavesdropping hinted that it had something to do with Gordon misreading the instructions on a packet of hair dye, and then paying for his mistake in the worst way possible.

Bright orange hair.

Not quite John's shade, but bright orange regardless. Brains had attempted to romanticise the situation by suggesting the term 'saffron orange', however had surrendered without a fight when Kayo pulled up a picture of a traffic cone on her phone.

"I'm telling you," Gordon snapped, slamming a mug down onto the kitchen counter with significantly more force than was necessary, "The box said it was supposed to be Honey Mist Auburn."

"Well honey, I'm afraid you missed auburn big time," Virgil quipped, sneering when Gordon glowered at him, happy that his remark had hit home.

"Gordon, can you pass me a carton of yoghurt?" John asked, not bothering to look up from the article he was reading on his tablet. Kayo was swift in noting the absence of a 'please'.

"Which one?" Gordon clipped, yanking the fridge door open and leaning on it, "We have five. Why do we have so many? Nobody eats half of it anyway."

"At the front, in a green container," John replied, "The live yoghurt."

The snort that broke out of Gordon's nose would have probably given a weaker man a nosebleed, "As opposed to what? Dead yoghurt?"

Clearly irritated by the lack of a yoghurt pot next to him, John stood up and shuffled over to the fridge and retrieved the desired item with his own two hands. The transaction seemed to be going smoothly, however clipped the kerb when he exacted his revenge by shoulder-barging Gordon with enough force to momontarily submerge his brother's face in his cereal bowl.

"Oh pack it in," Scott growled, pouring some fresh beans into the coffee machine, "You're both as bad as a pair of teenagers. Grow up, for heaven's sake."

Alan, who had remained silent throughout the previous displays of aggression, glanced up from where he'd had his chin resting on his arms, his expression appalled, "Seriously, bro? You have the nerve to ask them to grow up, yet you did a background check on a girl I asked out to the movies a few weeks back?"

Scott stuck his nose in the air and set the machine to grind, "That was different. You're still a minor."

"Stones and glass houses, bro," Virgil sighed with a tongue click, "There can't be one rule for you and another for the rest of us. Now, let's focus our attention on how we're going to fix Orange Faced Phillis over there. We can't have two redheads in the family, otherwise the rumours of mom having an affair will gain credibility."

The grip John had on his tablet tightened to the point where it was a wonder the screen didn't crack.

"Okay, who finished all the pineapple juice?" Gordon demanded, his butt in the air as he rifled through the vegetable drawer and wiped a stray drop of milk from his chin, "I deliberately hid the last one we bought. Who has it?"

"Oh, do you mean this?" Virgil asked, pulling a yellow carton out from where he'd had it stashed on one of the barstools under the kitchen table. With an air of a man who a) had a death wish, and b) probably didn't know he had a death wish, he downed the remaining contents in two clean gulps, smacking his lips for emphasis as he screwed the cap back on and tossed the empty chunk of plastic back at Gordon.

"Mmm. Tasty."

Aware that he'd contributed more than his fair share to the tension that now haunted the island, Scott was still capable of sniffing out a spark before it turned into a fire. Moving swiftly, he laid a hand on Gordon's shoulder, eager to diffuse the situation before it escalated into something they'd all regret.

"Now Gordon, our next supply run is in three days, so I'll be sure to-"

Splat.

A shriek of disgust sounded from Virgil as a piece of toast collided with his face, butter-side up. This alone would have been bad enough, but Gordon being Gordon decided to follow up with a fistful of jelly, eighty percent of which sailed clean past Virgil and ended up splattered across the floor.

"That's it!" Virgil roared, clawing butter out of his eye before giving chase, "I've had enough!"

Having anticipated his brother's raging pursuit, Gordon vaulted atop the bin and began to hop from counter to counter in an effort to stay out of Virgil's reach, food items flying here, there, and everywhere.

"Of what, pray tell?" John asked, still simmering over Virgil's backhanded comment about him being the result of an affair. Deciding that he'd rather indulge in some revenge of his own than get an answer, the redhead hooked a foot around one of the barstools and nudged it into a position that would force Virgil to run over the section of floor with the dollop of jelly the next time he did a lap of the kitchen island.

"Of this!" Virgil cried, bracing his hands against the sink and swiftly changing direction when Gordon began to backtrack, "Of this, and of all of you! I've had enough of us!"

Before John could ready a reply, Virgil's boot came into contact with what remained of Gordon's jelly projectile. A brief moment ensued where it looked as if the engineer just might do the splits, before the entire spectacle culminated in said engineer ending up on his backside like an upturned ladybird.

To make matters worse (as per the norm), Scott chose that precise moment to move forward, intent on saving their grandmother's jug of wild hibiscus that Gordon was awkwardly hopping over. Not anticipating Virgil's sudden shift from vertical to horizontal, he ran afoul of a flailing arm, and was thus sentenced to the same fate as his toppled brother.

The force of two grown men hitting the deck caused the hibiscus jug to jump, and it was with a certain amount of sinister satisfaction that John and Gordon both watched as the contents emptied over the faces of brothers one and two.

"That's it!" Virgil roared, spluttering when a stray petal nearly went up his nose, "I've had enough of this madhouse! A few weeks with no rescues is fine, but if this is going to continue long-term, then there's absolutely no way I can carry on living under the same roof as you thickwits!"

Scott dragged a sleeve across his soaked face, irritated to find that it too was wet, "What are you talking about? Where will you go?"

"That's none of your concern," Virgil spat, hauling himself to his feet.

Kayo opened her mouth to offer some words that she hoped would have a grounding effect, but was beaten to it by Gordon waded back into the fray.

"A capital idea, Skippy," he agreed, shaking the empty carton of pineapple juice for emphasis, "Most families don't live the way we do, and most families manage to get through breakfast without pissing each other off to Jupiter and back. I too want in on the moving out train."

John seemed thrilled by his brother's proposal. Why on earth hadn't they thought of this sooner?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kayo exclaimed, holding her hands up and moving to stand between the newly disowned brothers, "Hold up! What happens to International Rescue if you all move out? You can't exactly store Thunderbird Two in a garage, or Thunderbird One in the attic."

John hesitated. That must be why they hadn't thought of it sooner.

'Cheers, Dad. Way to give us freedom to live our lives away from each other.'

Still, there was no problem that money couldn't circumvent. And there was no shortage of money in the Tracy household.

"The beach huts," Gordon announced, inadvertently steamrolling over the suggestion Virgil was about to make about buying a rural property with a camouflaged refuelling station and pod bay built into the surrounding countryside, "I'm not leaving Thunderbird Four with you heathens, so I'm laying claim to the hut on the south-west waterfront. It has the best view."

Virgil immediately rose to his brother's challenge, "If that's the case, then I'm nabbing the one directly underneath Three's silo. It has the most reliable internet connection."

"And I call dibs on the one on the northern beach," Scott finished, "It's got the most natural cover."

"I'll forgo my choice in favour of returning to Thunderbird Five. Permanently," John added, "But for the record, the hut round by the back of the hangers has good internet coverage, a pleasant view, a decent amount of natural cover, and the added benefit of being far enough away from Two's runway and Three's silo that you don't get a free facial every time Chonk and Midget launch their 'Birds."

Alan rubbed his hands together in silent glee. It looked as if they'd all forgotten about the hut up by what had once been a vent back when the island had been a volcano. It was the perfect spot for sunbathing, with or without clothes.

"Well gentlemen, it looks like we finally agree on something," Gordon declared, hopping off the counter and brandishing a banana as if it were a gun, "None of us want to live together anymore. I'd offer to shake your hands, but I don't think enough soap exists for me to scrub mine clean afterwards."

Deciding that the situation was beyond salvation, Kayo aborted her attempts at intervention, sighing inwardly when Scott swanned past her and off up the stairs towards his room. Apparently, both him and the others had overlooked the fact that their new living arrangements essentially left a heckin' big villa virtually unoccupied.

"I'll be out of here by sundown," Gordon promised, tearing off a chunk of banana and slapping his thigh, "Celery! Come on, we're leaving."

"Alan!" Scott yelled, materialising back in the kitchen with alarming speed and seizing the youngest by his sleeve, "You're coming with me. No way am I leaving you at the mercy of these savages."

Alan felt despair engulf him as dreams of private sunbathing were abruptly dashed.

"MAX!" Virgil hollered, aware he didn't have a person or animal he could lay claim to, but unwilling to be the only one to set off solo, "Meet me in the hangers in ten. We're leaving!"

Two storeys down in Brains's lab, MAX beeped in fear and hastily wheeled himself into the nearest available storage locker, bolting the door behind him for good measure. Virgil never yelled at him. None of the brothers ever yelled at him. Even Grandma never yelled at him, and he knew that of all the humans who inhabited the island, she had the lowest tolerance for his presence.

Something was wrong. Virgil never yelled. Virgil never got angry enough to yell. Hell, Virgil never got angry, period.

Unless…

MAX felt his fuse panels go cold.

Unless he'd finally worked out who was behind the moustache on Alan's portrait.