A/N: I'd like to give a HUGE thank you to Ms. Stephane Dumas and Ms. gan20. Without them I'd still be battling the writer's block my annoyment of a muse put up. Here it is, the long awaited Chapter 8!
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"What's your plan?" Virgil whispered to Oriana when the guard roughly pushed Tin-Tin towards Grandma Tracy.
"Be patient. I'll tell you after we've been moved."
"Moved?" Gordon asked, leaning over Virgil. "What do you mean?"
"Once they are given orders they will move us to one of the rooms in the basement."
"How do you know this?" Virgil asked.
"Years of surveillance. They've always taken prisoners to the basement of a building. It's a safety precaution they take to make sure that if someone did escape, they wouldn't know what was going on."
"What happens if there's no basement?" Gordon asked.
"You die."
Virgil and Gordon just nodded and sat back. Everyone else sat quietly, except Alan who would cry out every now and then when he moved because of his shoulder wound. Time seemed to stretch on forever. Minutes seemed like hours as they waited for Michael to return to learn their fate.
"Well, kiddies, it seems the Boss is in the Christmas spirit," Michael said as he walked back into the room. "He has asked me to spare your lives. He'll be arriving this evening to tell you about the plans he has in store for you. In the meantime, we'll have to find you a suitable place to stay since we'll be taking over the main rooms of the house."
He motioned for one of the guards and talked to him briefly before more troops arrived in the villa. The guard gave a few of the troops some orders as they roughly pulled everyone to their feet. They were then led downstairs and to the basement, just as Oriana had said they would. The troops waited as a few other men finished clearing the music room of any items that could possibly be used as a weapon before roughly pushing everyone into the room. One man, who was carrying Alan, dropped him hard on the old couch that was by the back wall, smirking as he did so. As the men began to leave, Oriana approached them.
"Um, excuse me, but could you undo at least one of our hands so we can take care of the young man?"
They just laughed and left the room, closing the door behind them. Oriana turned to the others who were staring at her.
"What? It was worth a try."
"So what do we do now?" John asked, turning to Jeff.
"Didn't you say you had a plan?" Scott asked, looking at Oriana.
"Well... First, answer me this: Are there any secret passages?"
"To the hangars for all our craft," Virgil responded.
"Where are they at?"
"Upstairs," Scott said, looking worriedly over at Alan. Tin-Tin and Grandma were sitting next to him, trying to keep him from moving or thinking about the shoulder wound.
"Well that shoots that idea. What about secret rooms or large ventilation shafts?"
"Nope," Gordon said, shaking his head. "Other than the hangars, this is a pretty normal house."
"Why don't we try and focus on more important things, like getting out of these handcuffs and tending to Alan's wound. After that we can worry about how to get out of here and taking the island back," Jeff announced.
"Well, I can help with the first part of that, dad," John said. Everyone turned to see him twirling his handcuffs on a finger.
"How...?" Gordon asked.
"I stashed your set of handcuffs keys from the last time you thought it was funny to cuff me to my drums," John replied with a slight smirk. "Just incase you thought to do it again."
Gordon grinned sheepishly. "Hee hee, oops!"
John just smiled and walked over to the group. Before long everyone was free and standing over Alan, throwing ideas, belts, and pieces of ripped up shirts to help bandage up the wound. After Alan was proclaimed fixed, or at least back in somewhat working condition, they all began to discuss plans of escape.
****
Upstairs everyone was in a tizzy. They had just a couple of hours before the Boss came and they still hadn't found the entrances to the hangars where the craft of International Rescue lay safely tucked away. Michael was especially worried. He knew that the Boss didn't like to wait when it came to learning secrets of the organization he had been working so hard to get at for years. 'Besides,' he thought, looking out at the ocean from the balcony outside the lounge, 'it'd be a great idea to hand the members AND the craft of International Rescue over all in one package. Kinda like the ultimate Christmas gift. Yeah. That's it. A Christmas gift the Boss will never forget. I wonder if I'll get a raise...?' He continued pondering the idea of a raise and what he would do with his raise in rank when one of his men came running up to him.
"I think we found one!" he gasped between breaths.
"Oh? Show me," Michael said, trying to hide his enthusiasm. He hated showing those under him that he was still human. His strict nature, emotionless mask, and almost inhumane tactics were what got him the job in the first place.
Michael followed the man outside and to the airstrip where several more men were standing around what looked like a normal plane hangar carved into the cliff side. The other men opened the main door and led him into a dark room, which he could tell from the echoes of their footsteps, was very large. Much too large for anything other than a Fireflash or Sky Thrust commercial aircraft. Perhaps even both.
He continued to follow the men, turning back to look at the door and the small slit of light coming from it, barely lighting more than just the door. Just then overhead lights were turned on and Michael stared in amazement at the size of the room. As he slowly turned around, he stopped, his eyes landing on the huge, green ship with Thunderbird 2 painted on the side. He walked closer and noticed the track that ran underneath it and followed it until he found the adjoining room full of all the rescue equipment and six huge pods, ready and waiting to be loaded up and onto the magnificent bird that rested in the hangar behind him. He walked down the row of rescue equipment, a grin slowly making its way across his face. When he reached the end of the row, he noticed that there were still fairly wet tracks and the sound of water echoing behind the wall. With the help of his men, they found the barely visible markings of a large set of doors. Pushing with all their might, they were finally able to open them, the light from the room shining on the unmistakable form of a submarine. The grin on Michael's face spread into a smile, one that scared men many times. He had been able to find two of the three Thunderbird craft and one happened to be the main one that the Boss had wanted since he first saw them. Slowly a laugh bubbled up inside him and he let it go. It was a dark, maniacal laugh of triumph that sent shivers down the spines of the men who heard it as it echoed through the hangar.
****
"Jeff Tracy, I want you to answer me! Are you all right? What's going on?" a female voice said from Jeff's watch. Looking at it, he saw Lady Penelope's angry face glaring at him.
"Why, Penny! What a pleasant surprise!" Jeff said, smiling slightly.
"Don't give me this pleasant surprise stuff. What's going on? Why wouldn't you answer the main line? Where are you?"
"I'm not going to lie to you, Penny. We're in trouble. The island's been taken over, Brains and Kyrano are missing, Alan has been shot, and we're all locked in the basement. I don't think we'll be able to pick you up at the airport."
"Well that's a fine kettle of fish you've gotten yourself into. What can I do to help?"
"Nothing, Penny. I don't want you getting involved. We've worked out everything here. We'll be all right."
"Well, I'll be waiting in the Plaza Hotel by the airport. If I don't hear any good news from you by tomorrow evening, I'm getting some help."
"Very well, Penelope. We'll be in contact. Jeff out."
"Why don't you want her to help, dad?" Alan asked from the couch.
"Because if anything goes wrong, she'll be the only one who CAN help."
****
"Mr. Brains, what do you think is going on?" Kyrano whispered to Brains as they hid behind a workbench in the lab.
"I-I-I don't know, Kyrano, but whatever it is, it's, uh, not good. Mr. Tracy would n-never let anyone in the lab without a-at least telling me, first. These guys are probably some, er, uninvited guests," Brains whispered back. He moved to the edge of the workbench and looked around the other side, watching the strange men poke around the lab.
"What about Mr. Tracy and the boys? Do you think they are all right?"
"I think they are. They've been through t-t-tougher scrapes than this before."
Brains waited as the men turned their backs and motioned for Kyrano to follow him underneath an instrument panel.
****
"Father, have you thought about contacting Brains on his communicator?" Alan asked as Grandma fussed over his bandages.
"Yes, Alan, I have. I don't want to take the risk of these guys finding out that we have alternate ways of communication. We also don't want to take the chance of exposing Brains, should he be safe and in hiding."
Alan just nodded and everyone fell silent. They had been able to come up with a workable plan, but needed a distraction for at least the guards outside. It would be hard to do just about anything in the music room because of the soundproof walls, built to keep the noise down and Jeff sane. According to everyone's watches it was now almost four-thirty in the afternoon. No one knew exactly when this Boss would get here, but they were betting that it would be soon. Looking around, Oriana's eyes stopped on the intercom box on the wall.
"Mr. Tracy, does that intercom only receive, or can it send out as well?" She asked.
"It can send and receive," Jeff said, his brow furrowing in puzzlement.
"Where does it lead to?"
"The lounge."
"Good. I think we may have our way to pull this off," Oriana said, turning to the others and smiling.
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Will thier plan succeed? Will all the craft be found? Who is this mysterious Boss? Tune in for the next exciting episode of Christmas Conspiracy!
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"What's your plan?" Virgil whispered to Oriana when the guard roughly pushed Tin-Tin towards Grandma Tracy.
"Be patient. I'll tell you after we've been moved."
"Moved?" Gordon asked, leaning over Virgil. "What do you mean?"
"Once they are given orders they will move us to one of the rooms in the basement."
"How do you know this?" Virgil asked.
"Years of surveillance. They've always taken prisoners to the basement of a building. It's a safety precaution they take to make sure that if someone did escape, they wouldn't know what was going on."
"What happens if there's no basement?" Gordon asked.
"You die."
Virgil and Gordon just nodded and sat back. Everyone else sat quietly, except Alan who would cry out every now and then when he moved because of his shoulder wound. Time seemed to stretch on forever. Minutes seemed like hours as they waited for Michael to return to learn their fate.
"Well, kiddies, it seems the Boss is in the Christmas spirit," Michael said as he walked back into the room. "He has asked me to spare your lives. He'll be arriving this evening to tell you about the plans he has in store for you. In the meantime, we'll have to find you a suitable place to stay since we'll be taking over the main rooms of the house."
He motioned for one of the guards and talked to him briefly before more troops arrived in the villa. The guard gave a few of the troops some orders as they roughly pulled everyone to their feet. They were then led downstairs and to the basement, just as Oriana had said they would. The troops waited as a few other men finished clearing the music room of any items that could possibly be used as a weapon before roughly pushing everyone into the room. One man, who was carrying Alan, dropped him hard on the old couch that was by the back wall, smirking as he did so. As the men began to leave, Oriana approached them.
"Um, excuse me, but could you undo at least one of our hands so we can take care of the young man?"
They just laughed and left the room, closing the door behind them. Oriana turned to the others who were staring at her.
"What? It was worth a try."
"So what do we do now?" John asked, turning to Jeff.
"Didn't you say you had a plan?" Scott asked, looking at Oriana.
"Well... First, answer me this: Are there any secret passages?"
"To the hangars for all our craft," Virgil responded.
"Where are they at?"
"Upstairs," Scott said, looking worriedly over at Alan. Tin-Tin and Grandma were sitting next to him, trying to keep him from moving or thinking about the shoulder wound.
"Well that shoots that idea. What about secret rooms or large ventilation shafts?"
"Nope," Gordon said, shaking his head. "Other than the hangars, this is a pretty normal house."
"Why don't we try and focus on more important things, like getting out of these handcuffs and tending to Alan's wound. After that we can worry about how to get out of here and taking the island back," Jeff announced.
"Well, I can help with the first part of that, dad," John said. Everyone turned to see him twirling his handcuffs on a finger.
"How...?" Gordon asked.
"I stashed your set of handcuffs keys from the last time you thought it was funny to cuff me to my drums," John replied with a slight smirk. "Just incase you thought to do it again."
Gordon grinned sheepishly. "Hee hee, oops!"
John just smiled and walked over to the group. Before long everyone was free and standing over Alan, throwing ideas, belts, and pieces of ripped up shirts to help bandage up the wound. After Alan was proclaimed fixed, or at least back in somewhat working condition, they all began to discuss plans of escape.
****
Upstairs everyone was in a tizzy. They had just a couple of hours before the Boss came and they still hadn't found the entrances to the hangars where the craft of International Rescue lay safely tucked away. Michael was especially worried. He knew that the Boss didn't like to wait when it came to learning secrets of the organization he had been working so hard to get at for years. 'Besides,' he thought, looking out at the ocean from the balcony outside the lounge, 'it'd be a great idea to hand the members AND the craft of International Rescue over all in one package. Kinda like the ultimate Christmas gift. Yeah. That's it. A Christmas gift the Boss will never forget. I wonder if I'll get a raise...?' He continued pondering the idea of a raise and what he would do with his raise in rank when one of his men came running up to him.
"I think we found one!" he gasped between breaths.
"Oh? Show me," Michael said, trying to hide his enthusiasm. He hated showing those under him that he was still human. His strict nature, emotionless mask, and almost inhumane tactics were what got him the job in the first place.
Michael followed the man outside and to the airstrip where several more men were standing around what looked like a normal plane hangar carved into the cliff side. The other men opened the main door and led him into a dark room, which he could tell from the echoes of their footsteps, was very large. Much too large for anything other than a Fireflash or Sky Thrust commercial aircraft. Perhaps even both.
He continued to follow the men, turning back to look at the door and the small slit of light coming from it, barely lighting more than just the door. Just then overhead lights were turned on and Michael stared in amazement at the size of the room. As he slowly turned around, he stopped, his eyes landing on the huge, green ship with Thunderbird 2 painted on the side. He walked closer and noticed the track that ran underneath it and followed it until he found the adjoining room full of all the rescue equipment and six huge pods, ready and waiting to be loaded up and onto the magnificent bird that rested in the hangar behind him. He walked down the row of rescue equipment, a grin slowly making its way across his face. When he reached the end of the row, he noticed that there were still fairly wet tracks and the sound of water echoing behind the wall. With the help of his men, they found the barely visible markings of a large set of doors. Pushing with all their might, they were finally able to open them, the light from the room shining on the unmistakable form of a submarine. The grin on Michael's face spread into a smile, one that scared men many times. He had been able to find two of the three Thunderbird craft and one happened to be the main one that the Boss had wanted since he first saw them. Slowly a laugh bubbled up inside him and he let it go. It was a dark, maniacal laugh of triumph that sent shivers down the spines of the men who heard it as it echoed through the hangar.
****
"Jeff Tracy, I want you to answer me! Are you all right? What's going on?" a female voice said from Jeff's watch. Looking at it, he saw Lady Penelope's angry face glaring at him.
"Why, Penny! What a pleasant surprise!" Jeff said, smiling slightly.
"Don't give me this pleasant surprise stuff. What's going on? Why wouldn't you answer the main line? Where are you?"
"I'm not going to lie to you, Penny. We're in trouble. The island's been taken over, Brains and Kyrano are missing, Alan has been shot, and we're all locked in the basement. I don't think we'll be able to pick you up at the airport."
"Well that's a fine kettle of fish you've gotten yourself into. What can I do to help?"
"Nothing, Penny. I don't want you getting involved. We've worked out everything here. We'll be all right."
"Well, I'll be waiting in the Plaza Hotel by the airport. If I don't hear any good news from you by tomorrow evening, I'm getting some help."
"Very well, Penelope. We'll be in contact. Jeff out."
"Why don't you want her to help, dad?" Alan asked from the couch.
"Because if anything goes wrong, she'll be the only one who CAN help."
****
"Mr. Brains, what do you think is going on?" Kyrano whispered to Brains as they hid behind a workbench in the lab.
"I-I-I don't know, Kyrano, but whatever it is, it's, uh, not good. Mr. Tracy would n-never let anyone in the lab without a-at least telling me, first. These guys are probably some, er, uninvited guests," Brains whispered back. He moved to the edge of the workbench and looked around the other side, watching the strange men poke around the lab.
"What about Mr. Tracy and the boys? Do you think they are all right?"
"I think they are. They've been through t-t-tougher scrapes than this before."
Brains waited as the men turned their backs and motioned for Kyrano to follow him underneath an instrument panel.
****
"Father, have you thought about contacting Brains on his communicator?" Alan asked as Grandma fussed over his bandages.
"Yes, Alan, I have. I don't want to take the risk of these guys finding out that we have alternate ways of communication. We also don't want to take the chance of exposing Brains, should he be safe and in hiding."
Alan just nodded and everyone fell silent. They had been able to come up with a workable plan, but needed a distraction for at least the guards outside. It would be hard to do just about anything in the music room because of the soundproof walls, built to keep the noise down and Jeff sane. According to everyone's watches it was now almost four-thirty in the afternoon. No one knew exactly when this Boss would get here, but they were betting that it would be soon. Looking around, Oriana's eyes stopped on the intercom box on the wall.
"Mr. Tracy, does that intercom only receive, or can it send out as well?" She asked.
"It can send and receive," Jeff said, his brow furrowing in puzzlement.
"Where does it lead to?"
"The lounge."
"Good. I think we may have our way to pull this off," Oriana said, turning to the others and smiling.
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Will thier plan succeed? Will all the craft be found? Who is this mysterious Boss? Tune in for the next exciting episode of Christmas Conspiracy!
