The military is a place many see as either a last resort or a time-honoured family tradition. Jeff had always been a big supporter of the army having joined himself, he later encouraged all his sons to attend; Scott ended up being the only one to actually attend.

Jeff had always threatened to send Alan to military school throughout his teenage years but never actually went through with it. Not because he loved his son, more so as Alan had always managed to redeem himself a moment before being sent away.

Teenage Alan thought that the military was ridiculous, they went to war, they fought and then did it all over again. This is why the current situation was ridiculous, just as Alan had finished Wharton's Academy and been given freedom on summer break, he signed up to the military. He hadn't gone temporarily crazy and signed up, he had his reasons.

He had come to a realisation that he couldn't just sit around and wait for peace, it just wasn't going to happen. The Hood had proved that the world still was facing a terrorism crisis and they needed people to help address it; the Thunderbirds could only do so much.

He needed a purpose, a drive that would push him through his life. A university degree sounded nice but it wouldn't be enough and he knew he wouldn't be satisfied. He knew that the Thunderbirds was a faraway dream and his family was just too precious about him; it would take till he was thirty to finally be allowed to join. He wasn't prepared to wait that long.

He hadn't told his family much, they thought he had accepted a place in Birmingham University's physics programme. It was somewhat true, he would be near Birmingham but not for University, he was going to Hereford to join the Special Reconnaissance Regiment (SRR).

Originally he was going to apply for the American Marine Corp but decided against it, especially when he considered the possibility that Scott would likely be working in its sister agency. Instead, he settled for the UK and originally had planned on just applying for the armed forces and going to Sandhurst for officer training. He had applied at the recruitment office just to make sure he could have some privacy. His mothers maiden name was perfect for the job, so 'Alan Shepard Paise' was born.

However, that was completely thrown out the window when he got an offer from the SRR. On his second week of basic training, he has pulled aside and led to a room. Told to sit, he only had to wait moment for an older man to enter the room.

"I imagine you have no idea why you here?" An older gentleman sat down in front of him.

"I'm Commander Henderson. Reading your file I think I can offer something that could interest you". Alan wisely kept his mouth shut, holding back any questions; this man looked important.

"Simply put we're interested in you: your fitness aptitude test meets our criteria, you're clear from medical, your basic fighting skills are already up to snuff and you seem to have the right personality we're looking for". The Commander explained.

Alan was decently surprised by his assessment. His personality to most people was his worst asset. To have somebody actually like his personality was quite refreshing.

"What are you interested in me for? You must have loads of other recruits that meet the criteria." He couldn't help but ask.

"We do." He turned his eyes from the file in front of him to Alan's eyes.

"But we have to start from somewhere. I can't tell you what we want you for until you pass the test. Prove to us you're good enough. I hope to see you tomorrow, someone will fetch you." Picking up the file he stood up and left. Leaving Alan to be guided out by some soldiers who lead him back to his cohort.

This was the day after the meeting when a soldier came to get him for assessment. There were only five other trainees there with him and none of them knew why they were there either. Some were older than him, others the same age but seemed to be more experienced than him by far. The only thing they knew is that there would the four tests, of varying difficulty.

They were given a simple consent form, allowing them to do whatever they'd like outside of murder or permanent bodily damage. Maybe he should have realised what he was signing up to when he signed that form.

The first test was decently fun target practice with the assembly and disassembly of a gun, a classic exercise that wasn't too bad.

Next was the driving test. Simple really, drive off-road through a pre-determined route as quickly as possible whilst avoiding detection. Not an easy one but still doable. He had struggled slightly with the sheer size of the six-wheeler but he had managed. The gears were pretty crappy but not impossible to drive with.

By the third test, the difficulty level had gone up a lot. They had to find out information on an assigned target within 48 hours. His target was a 42-year-old male with an extensive medical history, he was supposed to find the 'but' in his history.

He had only found out half of the mystery behind the man, he'd figured out the man was taking and selling drugs but not to who. He was later informed that the man himself wasn't particularly important but he had friends in very high places. The only way he had found out the information he was wanting was by practically stalking the man for two days. He was upset that he hadn't managed to find the whole story behind the man but he thought it was still pretty good for 48h of work.

He didn't know how the other candidates had done, having not seen them since the first day. On the last day of the assessment was when he finally saw his fellow candidates, for the final test.

It was an interrogation and torture test. The rules were simple: outlast your fellow candidates or escape, every man for himself. The safeword is Seagull.

The test was gruelling and painful. They were not allowed to eat or sleep, only to drink. They didn't ask for any information, they didn't even show any emotion when performing torture techniques, they just did it.

The first to crack was Jenkins at the end of the first day. She burst into tears and begged them to stop and let her go, she couldn't scream seagull loud enough it seemed.

It was hard to hold out, especially when you had no idea what the prize was, there wasn't a goal to work from, only stubbornness. Luckily for Alan stubbornness was one of his most abundant assets. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn't allow himself to give him. He did think it was rather funny that his family was currently assuming he was out partying for freshers' week, getting drunk like no tomorrow.

Midway through the second day, two more candidates dropped out. Philips and Andrews's will to continue had been completely broken down, to the point where at lunch they threw in the towel.

Leaving just him and cadet Black. Black was a friendly bloke but who clearly was a bit full of himself. On the first day, he practically boasted to Jenkins that he was better than her. Alan really wanted to kick him but decided against starting a fight in close confines and with a comrade was a bad idea.

Black finally gave in on the four days, both were extremely tired and hungry but Alan was still more spritely than Black. The nail in the coffin for Black was the absolute silence. The staff had seemed to seal off the room, making all the noise dissipate. It was so quiet Alan could hear the blood rushing through his veins and his lungs filling with air. At the start, Black had talked to him to try and dissipate the silence but to no avail. He eventually got tired of talking and began to try to ignore the silence. It didn't work.

Turning to Alan he said "How can you be fine with this? I can't do this anymore. The silence is too much, I can't continue to hear the ringing in my ears, the blood rushing through my veins,...I…can't do it" he was practically in tears as he said that.

Alan hated the silence too but he didn't find it as maddening as Black. It was irritating but his brothers were irritating and that was 365 days thing not just a few days in a 'cell'.

"Seagull! Seagull! Just get me out of here! I can't anymore, please!" He begged the door. Quite quickly an attendant came to usher Black out of the room and he was left alone.

Fifteen minutes later Commander Henderson, whom he had last seen nearly a week ago entered the room. His previously grumpy face now held a smile. "I knew you'd be a good one".

"So what did I try out for?" Alan decided to ask. It had been a week and his patience was running out.

"Well, Cadet Paise, what do you think of joining Her Majesties Special Reconnaissance Regiment?"

—-

Two and a half years later:

Since that offer, Alan's life had really changed. He was still based in Hereford but he had done a lot of travelling with his regiment and really changed. He had grown taller and gained an athletic build from the amount of exercise he did. His track record in the regiment had little to no blemish and he was a well-respected member of his team.

He'd been to the Middle East, China, North Korea and other politically unstable place looking for information and spying for the UK. He'd been in some pretty precarious situations but he had managed to come out mostly unscathed.

He hadn't seen his family face to face since the day he had left for 'University'. They usually had a video call every two weeks where they often spoke of their missions and Alan made up some kind of university fun experience to talk about. His family must be convinced he was an alcoholic by the amount of time he had used a pub crawl as an excuse.

They were still under the impression that he was an angsty teenager that lost his temper every day, and yes he still did have a temper but he now he was much more controlled.

His current mission was an investigation into an African warlord who had shown some interest in illicit items on the black market. Usually, this wouldn't be a priority case but looking at heavy-duty chemistry equipment tended to be quite suspicious in the UK Governments' eyes.

The investigation was quite short. Quite quickly they had the evidence they needed to prove an assassination was required. The stupid man hadn't thought to cover his associate's face and that ended up being his undoing. With the payment traced to him and his associate present for the transaction, it didn't take a mastermind to figure out who had bought the item.

However, it didn't all go to plan.

The first issue was that the warlord had hired some very talented individuals to protect him. Not impossible to avoid but still made the job more difficult. The biggest issue however came when it was time to shoot him dead.

The bullet hit him straight through the head no problem; what Alan didn't notice as he himself was being looked at through a sniper lens.

The only warning he got was the sudden whip he heard behind him, as the signature sound of a silencer. He managed to avoid a fatal shot but his leg was still hit.

"Ah, f**k!" He could only shout. He felt like a total idiot for not noticing the sniper, but there wasn't time to think about it, he needed to move.

Picking up his gear he raced through the building, he needed to get to a safe spot. He didn't know who was a warlord's guard and who was a civilian. He would have to treat every as suspicious. Finding a get-away car he began his journey out of the city. The original plan once the warlord was dead was to meet up with his crew on the opposite side of the city.

That plan would have been excellent had he not had a tail following him. He couldn't risk heading back towards the team safehouse, if he did every one of them would be in danger. Picking up the emergency burner phone in his pocket he made a call.

"Sir, we have been exposed. I'm being followed, can't go back to the safe house, I'm going to try and go towards location #001586 for 0100 hours, any possibility you could send pick-up?" He requested.

"Agent Flick transport is unavailable at present. I'll extract the team, hang on until we can arrange pick-up. I'll be in touch in 72 hours." He hung up. Phone calls had to be kept short to avoid any tapping of the network.

72 hours was a long time when you consider trying to avoid hostiles with a buggered leg and no clue where to go. Well, he'd just have to deal with it…

—-

Commander Henderson had just hung up the phone on Lieutenant Paise. For once he felt a bit helpless, usually, they had transport ready in case of problems. The issue was that this mission was minimally maned because other teams had required more assistance. Usually, there were 6-8 personnel per mission but for this mission, they were three.

Not dangerously low staffing but to make it work they would have to meet up for transport. He knew that Lieutenant Paise wouldn't be bothered by the delay had he not been chased. At the end of the day, he was going to have to sort something out he couldn't leave a damn fine soldier to fend for himself.

Picking up his phone he typed in a number he hadn't used in years.

"Lady Penelope, I know it's been a while but can I cash that favour?"

—-

"Penny I've told you before and I made it clear that the Thunderbirds don't meddle in military affairs! We assist people in need, not government bodies" Jeff couldn't help reminding her.

"I know, I know… but I owe a favour to a friend and you owe me a favour so I thought we could make it even" She tried to negotiate.

Scott couldn't help but ask "So who do you want us to help? Are they in trouble or something?"

"It's Commander Henderson, he's one of my old work colleagues. He used to help me out a lot and I've racked up a few favours. I usually would just brush him off for this kind of request but he was quite desperate. One of his Lieutenant is stuck in hostile territory, four hours ago he was exposed and is now on the run. The issue is there no transport available to pick him up, the unit thinks they might be able to get transport out there in 72h time but even then they're not sure if it's actually going to be a week." Penny explained.

"When they last had contact he was heading to location #001586, if you decide to take up this request I'll give you the map to the location but I can't before. This mission was extremely confidential and the paperwork is already complicated." She finished. Commander Henderson so rarely cash-in favour that she was much more inclined to consider his request. He knew she had a connection to the Thunderbirds.

The boys had various looks of unsure on their faces, they looked to their father for his opinion.

Jeff was still unsure about the whole idea. The reason they never got involved with government bodies was to avoid picking sides. Could he justify this?

He was saving someone, potentially because his identity was somewhat secret maybe they could get away with it.

"We'll do it but only this once. I don't want to have another request like this again, you know why we have this rule".

"FAB Jeff" Penny responded with a smile.

"Boys I think it's time to suit up"

—-

Once Alan was at location #001586 he could finally relax. It was a small border village with what could only be described as a shack on the outside. He knew that the Warlord's men would still be looking for him but this village was desolate enough to hide him for a little while. The only thing there was a change of clothes and a few hay bail, not exactly the ideal safe house.

Halfway through his trip to the location, he had received a text on the burner phone 'Transport 0145, be ready'

He was glad he wouldn't have to be on the run for 72h+, he was quite surprised his commander could pull that kind of resource out of thin air.

His first concern when he got to the shack, however, wasn't his commander's ability to find resources. No, he was concerned about his leg.

As soon as he was shot he legged it out of there, the adrenaline at the time meant that he could walk on it but now he just had to be a mister tough guy.

The bullet hit him just above the left knee, staying lodged in the muscle. He was bleeding moderately from the wound, he knew he need to bandage it but he didn't have the supplies on hand currently. He settled for tying a random piece of cloth around it and hoping for the best. Resting his head against the straw bail behind him, he sat and waited.

—-

He only noticed their arrival when they knocked at the door. 'Knock Knock' "It transports for Agent Flick?" He heard a voice call through the door.

Gun in hand he lent against the door "What's the location tag?"

"Location #001586" He heard them say. 'It's them!' he could only think excitedly.

However, when he opened the door his excitement died immediately as Scott called "It's the Thunderbirds, your commander asked for a favour".

By the looks Scott, Virgil and Gordon were giving him he knew that none of them recognised him. Not surprising really, he was covered in dirt, wearing a turban on his head with shabby clothing to match and they hadn't seen him since he left two years ago. He'd still need to be careful though, the best-case scenario was that he got back to base without them realising it was him.

He would need to change his accent a little but that wouldn't be too difficult. Settling for sounding very posh, he asked "Are we going to go? I'd like to get back with my team as soon as possible."

—-

Scott thought the guy was a little rude. He didn't talk much it seemed and even when he came aboard he was quite cold. Only when Virgil forced him to the medbay did he finally interact with them.

"I've got a bullet wound that needs looking at" They couldn't see any blood and he wasn't limping so it was a tad confusing.

That thought quickly changed when he pulled off his jeans to reveal bleeding scabbed over the hole in his leg "The bullet's still in there, didn't have the tool to remove it."

Scott was in slight disbelief at this man, he thought he was tough but he would never attempt to remove a bullet from his leg. The guy wasn't even limping for goodness sake!

Leaving Virgil to his work he went to his station to co-pilot with Gordon.

Virgil expected to man to flinch or make noises of pain when he checked it before numbing it, but instead, the man only tensed at his poking of the wound.

He could see that he could put it back together but he was slightly worried about the bleeding. If it was bleeding with the bullet in, taking it out might make it worse.

"I think you should have this sorted at the hospital, I don't want to cause any further damage" Virgil explained.

"I trust you, go for it. I don't like a hospital" he rebuked Virgil, he trusted his brother to do a good job, why wouldn't he?

Virgil was a bit disconcerted by the man's words but understood what he was saying. His little brother was so bad with hospitals that he wanted his brother to fix everything at home. Some people are just like that.

"I'll give you some fluids and some painkillers to help with the pain and bleeding" He explained, his plan was to give him morphine and fluids just to get him back up to snuff before getting to the UK. It was a seven-hour trip so not exactly to the closest place.

After giving time for the morphine to work on the man, he administered local anaesthetic and got to work. Once the bullet pulled out, the suturing was the easy part. The most difficult bit was getting rid of the dead space on the inside of the leg so that he wouldn't have an internal bleed.

Once he was satisfied with his work and the wound was dressed he turned to the man to find him asleep. He felt a bit bad for the man still being dressed, his clothes were absolute rags and he was covered with dirt.

Pulling the turban off revealed the man's golden locks but Virgil didn't stop there. He took off the man's boots and jacket, as they looked uncomfortable. As he finished by wiping the man's face he finally realised what he was looking at.

"Alan?"

He stepped back in shock seeing the mirror image of his brother in front of him, like a twin. He didn't understand, was it Alan? How was that possible? He was supposed to be in Birmingham for University?

He didn't have enough proof to confirm it was Alan though, for all he knew it could be a stranger doppelganger. Picking up the radio next to him "Gords do you want to come and see something interesting?"

And that's how we ended up with both brothers debating a man's looks. "I mean it could be him but it makes no sense, Alan is a selfish brat and he isn't in the military".

"Maybe they needed a civilian for a mission? For all, we know this man is just a doppelganger"

"But the resemblance is uncanny, this is what I imagine Alan looking like when he grows up" Gordon pondered.

This was also the scene Alan work up to, as his sense finally came back to him he heard Gordon and Virgil's conversation. He also knew that the jig was up, his turban was gone and any dirt had been wiped away, making his identity clear as day.

"Huff… Hello" He called there attention.

Both faces swung his way and exclaimed "Alan?" "Alan?" in unison.

"Yep, that's the name" Better to admit it than deny it.

"WTF were you doing?" Gordon was angry, really angry.

—-