3

Every once in awhile (not so often that you'd get used to it, though), Gordon Tracy did the smart thing. This was one of those times. Moving carefully through the still, silent house, he turned a corner and spied TinTin, staggering drunkenly through Brains' laboratory, pistol in hand. In the pale half-light cast by the window-framed moon, Gordon saw the silvery track of tears upon her face... and caught a yellowish, cat-like gleam from her eyes. Trouble.

Back on San Mateo, she'd confided that the Hood was trying to get through her defenses, and that she wasn't certain how long she could hold him off. She'd begged Gordon not to tell anyone else what was happening. And so far, he'd done as she asked, doing his best to stop her attacker without revealing TinTin's plight. This, though, was more than he could handle alone.

He needed help, and quickly, but was uncertain how to go about getting it. Bits and pieces of the past had begun to return, some welcome, others not, but he still felt new here, and decidedly awkward. One successful rescue did not a hero make.

Then, looking worriedly around, he got a notion:

There was an intercom on the wall; the sort used to pipe soft music all over the house for fancy galas, or to communicate when Kyrano, say, was too far off to shout for. On a sudden impulse, Gordon darted over to the comm unit, punched in a certain satellite radio station, and turned the volume up to full, tooth-rattling intensity, in every room at once. Manchester United versus Shelbourne, last game of the championship, 1 to 3, with a minute remaining. The transmitted crowd and cursing announcers were so loud, the very walls vibrated. A Doric column couldn't have slept through that.

But rousing the family was one thing; having them get there in time to help, quite another. The blast of hideous energy that ripped through Gordon's mind just then would have destroyed it utterly, had TinTin not used the last of her strength to shield him. Even so, he was bludgeoned unconscious, waking to find himself in the midst of a tense stand-off.

The Hood had forced TinTin to press the muzzle of the gun to her own right temple. Speaking through her mouth, he spat,

"This much, at least, I shall have! The child will die before your eyes, Kyrano, leaving me safely out of reach, until I choose to strike again. Unless..."

Gordon rose with Alan's help, surprised to find that he still had a head. His mind felt like an overturned sock drawer, but he focused as best he could. Gathered in the room, wearing night clothes and worried expressions, were Jeff, Kyrano, Parker, Brains and the ladies. Scott and Virgil were there as well, grimly hiding their weakness. Kyrano appeared to be in shock, his eyes locked on TinTin's pallid face, his mouth working in continual, silent spasms. Jeff and Parker were armed, but their guns were useless; shooting TinTin would do nothing but give the Hood what he wanted... an innocent victim.

The gloating villain went on, his channeled voice a velvety purr.

"...unless another agrees to take her place. One I do not see among you. Can it be that my enemy fears me? That he is too weak to show himself?"

"Enemy!" Jeff demanded, a cold gleam in his narrowed eyes. "What the hell are you raving about? No one here was your enemy, before you attacked us in Macedonia! Not that it matters. Understand this, 'Hood', or whatever you call yourself: International Rescue didn't start this fight, but we'll by God finish it! Harm that girl, and..."

"And what? There is nothing you can do to save her, Jeff Tracy. She belongs to me now; heart, mind and body! I am a clever man, Mr. Tracy; far cleverer than you imagined. I was shot in Macedonia and close to death; but able to use the power of my thoughts to heal the wounds, and cloak my escape...only to discover that everything I'd amassed was gone, stolen! As my grasping brother once stole my intended bride! But, you failed to quite finish me, didn't you?"

He went on; clearly barking, staring mad.

"I rose again, stronger than before, and smashed you down upon San Mateo... where my weapons and jamming systems were destroyed, forcing me to seek shelter within my own mind. But this time, I have the upper hand. This time... I will close our little play."

Possessed by the Hood, TinTin kept the gun pressed firmly to her temple and gazed lingeringly around at the gathered family.

"However, we need not be uncivilized about it. I will gladly accept a substitute in place of this child, and go my way in peace... For now."

Any of the others would have volunteered, but they were prevented from offering by the sudden appearance of John. He stepped into the cavernous lab from a side door, saying drily,

"My cue, I suppose."

"John! NO!" Scott and Jeff shouted simultaneously, as he approached the enslaved girl. The Hood choked them off with a searing thought, losing just a tiny bit of his grip on TinTin in the process, and a little more of his power.

"Finally," his voice hissed from her bloodless lips. "I rejoice to meet the cur who has so often slunk between the Hood and his rightful prey! I had begun to think it would be necessary to kill one of your litter mates to flush you forth, coward."

John shrugged.

"Whatever. I'm here."

The instant he came within reach, the possessed girl struck like a snake. One hand shot out, seizing John's shirt and yanking him closer, while the other jammed the pistol against the underside of his jaw. One shot would blow his brains out. The Hood chuckled softly from TinTin's body; the leering expression his, the silent tears, hers.

No one moved, hardly daring to breathe, while the Hood spoke through her mouth.

"If I had you in my possession, vermin, I would bring you ten thousand times to the brink of death, and ten thousand times drag you shrieking back, but here I can only kill you once. I shall try to enjoy myself, nevertheless."

John hardly seemed interested, his gaze flickering briefly to the data screen of a nearby autoclave, then returning to those weird yellow eyes. He looked rather impatient, as though he'd just remembered an important appointment.

Virgil started to move forward, but Jeff stopped him with a single sharp gesture. If John had a plan of some sort, (and his father hoped to God that he did) he needed time to play it out. Fortunately, the Hood was in no hurry to reach the end of his sadistic trifling.

"Any tender sentiments for the rest of the litter?" He inquired, enjoying himself.

"They already know." John glanced aside again, at a different monitor, this time, and read there an all-important message.

Halfway across the world, high over Asia, a set of powerful military satellites had just been reprogrammed, their laser weapons given a brand new target.

"Wait," John ordered calmly, as his disappointed captor made ready to pull the trigger and his family tensed to spring. "I do have something to say."

And then, as the Hood paused expectantly, John looked him full in the eyes and smiled once, coldly.

"Good-bye."

Triggered by Five, fifteen weapons-grade lasers fired at once. Fifteen bolts of energy shot from far overhead like a second sunset to incinerate a rundown Malaysian temple. Wood vaporized, stone ran like molten sugar, soil fused into glass. As for the man within...

TinTin gave a single, mighty convulsion, uttered a despairing scream, then dropped the pistol and collapsed. John caught her before she hit the ground, handing her off to Gordon and Alan, who'd lunged forward, with the rest of the family, the instant she'd begun to fall.

He stepped away from the milling crowd, working his bruised lower jaw just a bit.

"Timing could've used a little work..." John said to himself. And then, looking over at the data screen. "Good job."

It flashed once, transmitting a message intended only for him, to which he replied,

"I'll work on it. Gun-point conversations aren't my strength."

Then Penelope glided over, her composure unshaken, and John turned his mind to other things.

Moments before, Jeff had drawn Kyrano aside for a long, private talk, and Gordon carried TinTin over to a nearby couch, Alan trailing anxiously behind. Scott had lowered himself into a chair and sat there wearily, head in his hands, while Cindy rubbed his shoulders. Virgil, slumped in a nearby seat, looked ready to pass out again. Parker yawned hugely, holstered his sidearm, said something to the room in general about returning to bed, and left them all. Grandma and Gennine remained behind for a bit, assisting Virgil back to the infirmary, then returning to see about the others.

The younger boys were deeply concerned about TinTin. She lay there on the couch, still and helpless, like an un-strung puppet. Gordon looked up as someone approached. Brains. He surged to his feet, interposing himself protectively between the on-coming scientist and the comatose girl. Hackenbacker paused, squinting a little.

"Gordon," he said, "I'm, ah... I'm only t- trying to help. You c- can watch the whole time. I wouldn't h- hurt her any more than, ah... than I'd hurt you. I s- swear."

Brown eyes and hazel locked gazes, patience meeting suspicion head on, and overcoming it. Gordon nodded and stood aside... but stayed close. It would be early afternoon before everything was sorted out.