It's been far too long, I know. I'm sorry for the long break but I'm back and this story WILL be finished! (So will 'Nothing Lasts Forever')

Chapter Eleven

Challenge Six: Parker

John: 31 points

Virgil: 29 points

Alan: 28 points

Scott: 21 points

Gordon: 18 points

Penny's usual morning routine involved being woken by a gentle tap at the door followed by the depositing of a perfectly brewed cup of Earl Grey on her bedside table. Parker would murmur 'Morning, Milady', drawing the drapes and leaving her to sip her tea and peruse the society pages of The Times at leisure before beginning the lengthy process of preparing herself for whatever the day might bring. At home, this might mean anything from a day at the races in the company of the King, to a gunfight with a group of villains courtesy of an MI5 mission. On Tracy Island, of course, the day held only relaxation & the delights of long hours spent enjoying the sun and the scenery - any muscle-bound Tracys on the horizon simply enhancing the beauty of nature, of course...

But that day didn't go quite according to the usual pattern.

Penny was awakened not by a tap at the door, but by a thud. Rather annoyed at being snapped out of a very pleasant dream in which Scott Tracy and his muscles featured somewhat heavily, she initially assumed it was one of the less co-ordinated Tracys up to no good, though why they should be doing so in the guest wing was something of a mystery. She wondered if Alan, perhaps, was sneaking round trying to get some clues to Parker's upcoming challenge.

She smiled lazily, picturing Parker's annoyance if he found the young man snooping around. Intending to drift back to sleep in the hopes of recapturing her dream, her sleepy gaze fell upon the alarm clock, just as there was yet another bang on her door.

Nine o'clock? How could that be? Parker woke her at seven-thirty on the dot even when she was on holiday. She needed at least an hour to dress for breakfast - after which a further hour or so would see her finally perfect her look for the day.

A third thud, followed this time by a groan and some language which was rather unsuitable for the ears of a Lady, told her the story. Pausing only to pull on one of the many silk robes she'd brought with her, she headed to the door and pulled it open.

Only to have to jump aside as a decidedly unsteady and rather green-looking butler lurched into the room.

"Tea, Milady," he moaned, offering her - with a very shaky hand - a china cup with the remnants of what had once been her morning tea swilling around the bottom. No saucer - that lay in pieces out in the hallway. As to the fate of her drink, well there was no mystery there. Parker's shirt was sodden and stained.

"Parker! What on earth is going on?"

Parker moaned again. "H'I don't feel so well, Milady."

Penny raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow as understanding dawned. "Gordon's alcoholic pie? Please tell me you didn't eat the rest?"

Parker's face was now the same shade as Thunderbird Two. "H'I don't think those h'apples were cooked right, Milady."

"Oh, I don't think it was the apples that were the problem. You never could mix your drinks, Parker and gin has never agreed with you."

Parker swallowed. "Never h'again, Milady."

Penny sniffed. She'd heard that one before. "I believe dear Brains has something that might help," she told him. "Sit down, Parker, before you fall down. Again."

With that, she left in search of assistance for her faithful servant.

It was Gordon who came to the rescue, fittingly enough, since it was his pudding that had caused so much trouble. The redhead didn't seem to know whether to laugh or be insulted at the effect of his culinary efforts, but he dutifully procured a supply of Brains' potion and followed Penny back to her room, where they found Parker snuggled up in her bed, snoring loudly and dribbling onto her pillow.

"Parker!" Penny was decidedly unimpressed - as was Parker when he was shaken roughly awake and his head and stomach assaulted him once more. The hangover was quickly despatched and a laughing Gordon left him grovelling to his mistress. At least, he grovelled on the rare occasions he managed to get a word in, such was the extent of Penny's wrath.

"Done h'in by h'a pie," he groaned, once the lecture was over and Penny had dismissed him. "H'I'll never live this down."

"You slept late, Penny," Jeff said, when the aristocrat finally made her appearance.

Loyal to Parker, Penny chose not to offer any explanation other than a general comment about enjoying a relaxing holiday.

"You call all this relaxing?" Jeff asked, raising a wry eyebrow.

Penny smiled. "The boys are certainly providing plenty of entertainment, Jeff. I just hope they're not pushing themselves too hard." Oh, she was such a liar, she thought to herself. The harder they pushed the better, as far as she was concerned. That shoulder massage she'd given Scott the other day after he'd overdone it in the gym... Maybe she should insist on a follow-up treatment just in case.

It was a shame when the klaxon sounded and cut her reverie short.

The rescue wasn't particularly difficult, but it did take time and so it was decided to leave Brains' challenge for another day. But what to replace it with?

"I was supposed to have a list of all the challenges by now," pouted Alan.

"We told you, we're not giving you any advantage," said Virgil, all the while wondering if he was ever going to think up anything good.

"But this was my idea. I'm supposed to be organising it."

"And you're doing a wonderful job, darling," Grandma told him. "But it's only fair that all you boys have the same chance to prepare."

Alan couldn't argue with that – no matter how much he would have liked to. "So what can we do this evening, then?" he asked. He hadn't been looking forward to Brains' challenge, expecting it to involve fiendishly difficult calculations or complex scientific experiments, and he'd been resigned to see his chance of taking the lead in the competition disappear. But he'd surely stand a chance in any other challenge.

Penny eyed her butler, who'd been sitting quietly in a corner, clearly keeping his head down. "Perhaps Parker's challenge would be suitable. It's rather a good one."

Parker looked up and managed his first smile of the day. It looked as though her ladyship had forgiven him.

"Okay..." John sounded a little hesitant. In fact, all the Tracy brothers were rather wary about this one. Parker had refused to give any clues, though he'd cheerfully told them about all his other ideas which Lady Penelope had vetoed, much to the relief of Grandma - she would never have allowed her beloved grandsons to participate in a bare-knuckle fight - and the boys themselves, who had turned a shade of green to rival that of Parker earlier that day when he'd described the pickled egg and jellied eel eating challenge which had been his second choice.

Parker jumped up. "Where's Kyrano?" he asked. "H'I need some 'elp getting the stuff from the plane. You lot, stay 'ere!"

When Kyrano re-appeared in the lounge some thirty minutes later, it was a shock to everyone - even Tin-Tin - to see the normally inscrutable man not just smiling, but seemingly on the brink of collapsing into fits of laughter.

"Kyrano?" Jeff asked curiously as his sons exchanged bewildered glances.

Kyrano visibly composed himself and there was just the faintest tremor in his voice when he announced that all was ready.

"But what exactly is the challenge?" Scott asked. "Penny?"

"Oh, I think dear Parker should explain," Penny replied.

"So where is he? He's-" Alan broke off, his mouth hanging open as Parker entered the lounge.

Or rather, a somewhat distinguished-looking, elegantly-dressed, elderly gentleman did.

Cheers, jeers and groans accompanied his entrance as the boys twigged what the challenge involved.

"Disguises!" Gordon enthused, pumping the air in delight.

"Seriously?" Scott was clearly less than impressed, being the least creative of all the brothers.

"Mister Gordon's right," Parker said, moving to the centre of the room a little unsteadily due to the limp he had added into his act. "H'allow me to h'introduce myself. H'Algernon H'Arbuthnot h'at your service."

No-one quite liked to point out that Parker's idiosyncratic style of speaking gave him away, though his upper-class accent was certainly rather impressive. As was the disguise. The wig looked totally natural, his moustache was luxuriant and his voluminous eyebrows had been slicked down. He had clearly had plenty of practice accompanying Lady Penelope on her various escapades.

"So we have to create a disguise?" Virgil asked.

"More than that," Parker told him. "H'it's not just the look, you've got to create the 'ole character. We'll be h'asking you questions, so you'd better be ready with some quick h'answers."

"You'll have five minutes to show off your character from the moment Kyrano introduces you," Penny told them. "Allow me to demonstrate. Mr Arbuthnot, what do you do for a living?"

"H'I'm h'in h'antiques."

Penny's smile wavered only slightly at her chauffer's mangling of the English language.

"And do you have a family?"

"H'oh, yes. There's H'Angela, my wife, h'and my three sons, H'Andrew, H'Alaistair 'n' 'Enry."

"I'd love to hear about them."

Parker spent the next few minutes waxing lyrical about his family, his life and his job, responding effortlessly to everyone's questions and easily side-stepping all attempts to catch him out. Finally, Penny smiled at the Tracys. "That's the kind of thing. You have to know your alter-ego inside out. When you're in disguise on a dangerous mission you can't afford to be caught out."

"But we don't go on missions like that." Scott still didn't like this challenge.

"No," Jeff agreed. "But if there's ever a chance you'd be recognised as a Tracy, it might be necessary to hide your identity. I think it's a great challenge, Parker."

Parker looked around him in apparent confusion. "H'I fink you've got me confused with someone 'h'else, Sir. No Parkers round 'ere."

"I have placed a box in each of your rooms," Kyrano told them. "Mister Parker tells me they are full of items to help you in your task."

"You don't just 'ave to use what's h'in the box," Parker told them. "Use what you've got lying h'around, just knock yourselves h'out." He bit back a smile, knowing full well that some of them would be horrified at the contents. But then, there was no point giving them all the same items. No, five distinct characters needed to be created, and to ensure fairness, he'd had no say in which box went to which brother. He knew he could count on Kyrano to deliver the boxes at random with no peeking.

"We'll be scoring you on creativity and characterisation," Penny told them. "You have one hour. Starting…" She looked across at Parker who produced a whistle from his pocket.

"NOW!" Parker made Grandma jump both with his wild shout and his enthusiastic blow on the whistle.

Five Tracy brothers left their couches. Four fled from the lounge as fast as they could, whilst Scott, clearly desperate to keep his dignity just a few seconds longer, walked more sedately to the door.

Grandma laughed. "That poor boy. Of all the things you could have asked him to do, this must be the worst."

Everyone but Penny laughed.

When Parker blew his whistle an hour later, the villa's comms system transmitted the signal to the competitors. A few minutes later the judges, sitting eagerly on the sofa, heard them arrive outside the closed door. Sounds were muffled, but there were definitely several loud shouts of laughter.

"Come on," Jeff said, rubbing his hands – he couldn't deny he was looking forward to this challenge. "Kyrano, bring the first one in."

Kyrano went to the door and they heard him ask who would like to go first. A moment later he reappeared, his lips twitching in an effort not to laugh.

"Allow me to present… Edna Blunt." With that, he started the five minute countdown.

Parker could barely contain his glee. This was exactly what he'd hoped for. He'd presented the idea to Penny as a practical and useful activity, but he'd known that certain of the brothers would provide a rich source of entertainment. He'd had high hopes for Gordon and the redhead hadn't let him down.

Not that Gordon's hair was red at the moment. No, now untidy grey curls peeked from under Grandma's favourite hat. He'd also borrowed one of her shawls, which helped hide the fact that the floral-patterned dress didn't exactly fit him.

"Oh, Gordon," Grandma sighed, though she was clearly trying not to smile.

"Eh? What's that?" 'Edna' put a hand to her ear and moved closer to Grandma. "You'll have to speak up." Gordon's old-lady voice was several octaves higher and a whole lot more tremulous than his usual deep, confident tone.

"Tell us about yourself, Mrs Blunt," Penny began.

"Mrs?" The outrage was obvious as Gordon's already high voice moved into the falsetto range. "How dare you! It's Miss Blunt, if you don't mind. I've never been married. Never wanted to. Men! Ugh! Smelly, dirty, hairy things. Disgusting!"

Penny had to smile. "I'm terribly sorry."

"I should think so! Honestly, the cheek of girls today. And not just this young thing. You, boy!" Gordon hobbled over to jab Jeff sharply in the chest. "Where are your manners? Shouldn't you be giving up your seat to an old lady?"

Suitably admonished, Jeff did as he was told.

"Thank you!" 'Edna' made a show of sitting down slowly and painfully, complaining about her bad back and rheumatism as she did so.

"That's a lovely dress," Penny said.

"Now don't think you can get around me by paying me compliments. Though, this is one of my favourites. It brings out the colour of my eyes, don't you think?" Gordon fluttered a pair of blue-lidded, long-lashed eyes at them. Between that and the rather heavy blusher and lipstick he'd applied, albeit clumsily, he'd clearly made good use of the make-up box Parker had supplied.

"Is that a Kansas accent I hear?" Grandma asked.

"Certainly is, my dear. I've lived there all my life." Gordon answered the next few questions easily, drawing on his Kansas childhood – and, to Grandma's amusement, several of her friends - for inspiration. He was clearly enjoying his performance.

"And what did you do for a living?" Tin-Tin asked.

"I worked in a diner, dear," 'Edna' told him. "They say my apple pies were out of this world."

"H'I'll say," Parker muttered, paling a little at the memory as the others laughed.

Gordon's – or rather, Edna's – five minutes came to an end and he waited eagerly for the judges' verdict.

"Well, done, Gordon. That was rather a good effort." Whilst Gordon didn't exactly convince as a woman, Penny was still impressed. She'd thought Gordon might play this one for laughs, but, whilst he'd clearly had fun with his choice of costume, he'd thrown himself completely into his character.

Gordon grinned. "It was fun."

"Well you certainly enjoyed yourself," Grandma said. "Though would I be right in thinking you used some of my old Kansas friends for inspiration?"

Gordon shrugged sheepishly. "Maybe…"

"It's actually a good strategy," Penny said. "The more you can root your character in reality, something you're familiar with, the less likely you are to make mistakes."

"Just a few suggestions for next time, though," she continued. "The padding… Maybe it's a little, er, optimistic for an eighty-year-old woman."

Parker laughed as Gordon blushed, looking down at the ample – and rather perky – bosom he'd actually been rather proud of.

"Perhaps draw in a few wrinkles, too," Jeff suggested. "Though that wart is disturbingly realistic."

"Yes," Penny agreed. "But you did hide your hands with those gloves, so all in all, a very good performance. Well done, Gordon."

"Thanks, Penny. Parker, great idea!"

Gordon left the room and Kyrano announced the next competitor.

"Mac McCauley."

Everyone was keen to see who the next contestant was, but they were forced to wait. Though the groans and catcalls from outside the room suggested that someone was taking their preparations very seriously.

Finally, in came... Virgil. Not that he was particularly recognisable right now. At least the reason for the delay became clear. He'd obviously been doing a few last-minute push-ups to pump up his arm muscles, which bulged impressively against the constraints of a too-tight and, indeed, too small, t-shirt. One of Alan's if Tin-Tin wasn't mistaken.

The muscles weren't the only notable thing about his arms. 'Mac McCauley' was the proud possessor of some elaborate tattoos. Virgil had clearly enjoyed creating this part of his disguise, and his artistic talents - not to mention his ability to paint with both hands - had been put to good use. Torn jeans smeared with oil, scuffed boots, slicked-down hair under a battered baseball cap and a goatee beard completed the look.

Well, there was one more thing. A bottle of beer hung loosely from his fingers and, after taking his seat, Virgil took a lengthy swig, belched spectacularly, much to Grandma's disgust, then, leaning back in his chair with legs spread wide, surveyed his audience with an air of defiance. At least, the men got the defiant look. The women - Grandma excepted - were, quite frankly, leered at.

"So..." Jeff had a feeling he knew where Virgil had got his inspiration from. "Mr McCauley..."

"Mac." If Gordon's Kansas accent had been relatively refined, Virgil's was, as his grandfather would have put it, 'pure barnyard'.

"Mac," Jeff continued. "Is that your real name?"

Virgil rolled his eyes at the impertinence of the question. "Mom named me Billy. But the guys call me Mac."

"And are you married, Mac?" Penny asked. Truth be told, she was a little taken aback by the lascivious look Virgil directed at her. Beside her, Parker bristled, and she put a hand on his arm, impressed that the gentlemanly Virgil could be so convincing.

"Not any more," Mac told her. "She left me after I got sent down. Took the kids and cleared out. No idea where they've gone. Though if I catch up with the guy she took off with..."

"You've been to prison?" Grandma asked.

Virgil turned to face her and his attitude changed. Whatever Mac McCauley's faults might be - and surely they were many - he had clearly been brought up to respect elderly ladies.

"Yes, Ma'am. Stole some cars, turned over a grocery store or two. But I never hurt no one. I served my time. Got out six months ago and I ain't done nothin' wrong since."

"Do you work?" Jeff asked.

"Nah." Virgil took another swig of his beer. "No one wants to employ an ex-con. But I get by. My family look out for each other."

"Brothers?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah. James and Ross. Great guys."

Now Jeff and Grandma were both smiling, recalling Virgil's experiences with his high school tormentors.

Virgil turned to Tin-Tin and grinned, revealing one blacked-out tooth. "Hey, babe."

Tin-Tin, like Penny, felt slightly repulsed. A convincing performance, she thought, but she'd be glad to have the real Virgil back. "I have a boyfriend," she said coldly.

Virgil flexed his muscles and smirked at her. "Boy? What you want is a real man, honey."

"I think that's all we've got time for," Penny said quickly, even though the five minutes weren't quite up. "Well done, Virgil. That was very good."

"Virgil? What sort of dumb name is that?"

Jeff cleared his throat. "That'll do, son. Parker? Any comments?"

Parker had also been impressed. As he commented, no one who knew Virgil Tracy would have recognised him right now. Not only did he look completely different, but Virgil's gentle, decent character had been completely hidden under Mac's brash and somewhat intimidating persona.

Pleased with his performance and staying in character to the end, Virgil sauntered out, pausing to touch his cap at Grandma and leer one more time at the ladies before poking his head back round the door and, in his own polite tones, apologising profusely to both Penny and Tin-Tin.

"Well," Penny said, drawing in a deep breath. "Perhaps, Kyrano, you could show the next one in. Maybe a more civilised human being this time?"

Well you couldn't get more civilised than Scott, or rather, 'Jonathan Jones'. And though Penny had got what she'd asked for, she couldn't help being rather disappointed, especially after Virgil's overt display of - albeit toxic - masculinity. Oh, there was no doubt that Scott could wear a suit, and this one was his own, expensive and perfectly tailored, fitting perfectly. But it was still a suit. A suit with arms. And legs. Masking the perfection that Penny knew lurked within. A pair of Brains' glasses - which didn't really suit him - completed the look.

"So, Mr Jones," Tin-Tin began. "What do you do for a living?"

Mr Jones, it turned out, had a rather boring middle-management role in a company which manufactured aeroplane parts.

"Are you married?" Penny asked.

"No, Ma'am. I've never met the right woman."

"What about your family?" Grandma asked.

"Mostly dead. Just an aunt in Milwaukee."

"Oh, you poor boy. I hope you've got some good friends."

"One or two."

They learned that Mr Jones played chess, but he didn't socialise much with the rest of his club mates. He didn't really socialise at all, informing them that he preferred his own company. His answers were brief and, after the sterling efforts of Gordon and Virgil, Scott's performance, whilst not ineffective, was definitely on the unimaginative side.

No one could get much out of Mr Jones. Quiet, unassuming and frankly rather boring, the one thing in the character's favour was that he would more than likely be ignored in favour of someone more lively. Once Scott had left the room, Penny pushed that point, feeling obliged to try to get the eldest brother a little more appreciation. But she couldn't convince anyone - even herself - that he deserved a higher placing than Virgil or Gordon.

"'Oo's next, Kyrano?" Parker asked.

Kyrano raised an eyebrow and, unusually for him, actually shrugged as he announced,

"Virgil Tracy."

The judges exchanged bemused glances as Virgil - or at least, Virgil-lite - walked in. Penny was struck by the fact that she'd never realised how similar Alan and Virgil were facially, the differences in their build and colouring having dominated her impression of them. But, yes, Alan, with his hair coloured and wearing an old shirt of his brother's - which hung rather loosely despite the fact that he seemed to be wearing several sweaters underneath to bulk him up - did indeed look very like him. The paintbrush tucked behind his ear just added authenticity.

Tin-Tin spoke first. "Well, Virgil, where did you-"

It was Parker who interrupted.

"'e'll 'ave no trouble with those questions. No, what we need is h'a test."

"Test?" Alan asked, tentatively. He hadn't expected that.

"Yes," Jeff agreed. "Perhaps you should draw us a picture. What about Parker, here?"

"Sorry guys, I've, er... sprained my wrist," Alan told them.

"Aren't you ambidextrous?" Grandma asked.

"Both of them," Alan countered.

"You could play us a tune," Penny suggested.

Alan moved to the piano and gave them a quick burst of Tchaikovsky.

"Well it's not bad," Jeff told him. "But it's not quite your usual standard, Virgil."

"I told you, I've sprained my wrists."

"It's an interesting one," Penny said, slowly. "Alan's come up with an effective disguise for himself, that's for sure, and he can carry it off after a fashion. But..."

"If it's an International Rescue situation, then having a Tracy there, even a fake one, might complicate matters," Jeff continued.

"But if someone suspects Virgil is a member of the organisation and then there he is whilst a rescue's taking place..." Tin-Tin offered, receiving a grateful smile from her boyfriend.

"Well, there is that, I suppose," Jeff said.

"So I did good, then?" Alan asked.

"All in good time," Jeff told him. "We've still got John to see."

They all wondered why Alan laughed.

They didn't have long to wait to discover the reason why. Kyrano didn't just announce John, he actually bowed as he informed the judges that 'Lady Davina Harrington-Blythe' had arrived.

There was a stunned silence as a willowy, elegant young woman entered the room. Penny recognised one of her outfits from last season, though John, being somewhat taller than her, was displaying far more leg than she ever had. Whilst Gordon had tottered a little precariously on Edna's relatively low and solid heels, John sashayed confidently across to his chair in a pair of the highest heels Jeff had ever seen. Where Parker had got a pair large enough for a man, he was scared to speculate. Though a large hat and a froth of blonde curls shielded much of his face, John's make-up seemed immaculate. He'd even applied false nails in a fetching shade of pink to complement his lipstick.

Taking a seat and crossing her legs demurely, Lady Davina greeted the judges in a perfect imitation of Penny's cultured tones. Whilst her voice might have been just a little deep, her English accent was flawless. Initial surprise was giving way to appreciation amongst the judges.

John had clearly been inspired by Penny as he told them all about Lady Davina's childhood in a rambling English mansion and her rather less enjoyable time at boarding school. Now, a close friend - or maybe more! - of the prince, she helped raise funds for various charities whilst overseeing the family estate.

It was a spectacular performance. Everyone was rather disappointed when the five minutes were up.

"Well, done, John!" Penny was quick to congratulate him.

"H'I'm gobsmacked," Parker told him. "When Mister Scott just wore 'is suit, H'I thought 'e'd got that box h'and chickened h'out. H'I never thought h'anyone would really wear them 'eels."

John winced and eased them off his feet. "They're not the most comfortable," he admitted.

"How on earth did you manage to walk in them?" Jeff asked.

John blushed. "Naturally gifted?" he suggested, his cheeks reddening even further when Parker snorted with laughter. "Look, it's a competition and I want the points, okay?"

"It really was spectacular," Tin-Tin told him, making a mental note to keep an eye on her shoe collection whenever John was back from Five. "You make a very pretty woman, John."

John grimaced and moved to pull his hat and wig off. "Not so fast," Jeff told him. "We need to get your brothers back in for the results."

As the others filed in, laughing and joking and offering less than complimentary critiques of each other's disguises, the judges conferred.

"Okay." Jeff called them to attention.

In first place was Lady Davina, followed by Mac McCauley, Edna Blunt, Jonathan Jones and finally, Virgil Tracy.

"I don't look like that," Virgil grumbled, punching a pouting Alan in the arm.

"Sure about that?" Alan asked, dodging a second blow. "Hey, I hope you haven't stretched that t-shirt. It's new."

"I can't believe two of you decided to dress up as women," Grandma said.

"Well it wasn't much of a stretch for Johnny," Gordon laughed, only to whimper as his brother poked him in the ribs with a sharp stiletto heel.

"Scotty, you didn't make much effort," Alan said. "I don't know how you managed to beat me."

Scott looked affronted. "It's a perfectly good disguise. And unlike some, not only can I adopt it in seconds, but I can get out of it again just as quickly."

"And why does that matter?" Gordon asked.

"Because-"

Right on cue, Brains' face appeared on the vid-screen. Despite the seriousness of a potential rescue, everyone had to laugh at the bemused expression on his face as he surveyed the new additions to the Tracy Island crew.

"Tracylimpics challenge," Jeff told him, taking a deep breath and getting down to business. "What's the situation, Brains?"

Brains informed them that a forest fire in New Zealand had got out of control. Jeff surveyed his five sons and sighed. "Well, I guess Thunderbirds are go! But get yourselves out of those costumes before you get there."

Scott grinned as, in a perfect imitation of Clark Kent, he pulled off his glasses and tie and started to unbutton his shirt.

"You're wearing your uniform underneath!"

"That's right, Virg. Like I said, always ready for action." With that, he was gone, on his way to Thunderbird One.

Later, they had to agree that Scott had a point. Whilst he arrived at their destination looking just as immaculate as he always did, the others were a sorry sight. Virgil had been unable to peel the goatee from his chin, and as for the tattoos, well, maybe it had been a mistake to use the kind of paint that could only be removed with a special solution, something which Thunderbird Two had never needed to carry. Alan fared better, at least at the start of the rescue, but as time went on, the heat of the fire made him sweat, soaking his hair and causing the dye to run. By the time they regrouped ready to go home, lines of brown stained his face and neck. Oh, and he really had sprained a wrist!

Gordon had forgotten to remove his false eyelashes, and his skills at make-up removal were limited, it appeared. John had cleaned his face, but, as with Virgil's beard, the lack of any kind of solution to dissolve the glue meant he had to complete the rescue with his long, pink nails on show to the world, since gloves were out of the question.

The International Rescue fan sites went into meltdown that night!