Hey everyone! Long time no see...sorry about that. My beta reader and I have been working on this and finally the sixth chapter is proofed and ready to go. Having a dead computer at home with no internet didn't help matters...but, oh well. Hope you like this. I do warn you though, the story is about to get dark for awhile.Enjoy!

Miss Blakeney and Katya

P.S. the italics directly below are used to show the characters are speaking in another language. Sorry if this is confusing.

Chapter 6: The Games have Begun

Gheat debarked from the small airplane and looked around. There, standing by the small metal storage unit for the plane, was his master, his shaved head gleaming in the steamy Malaysian sunlight. Bowing to his master, Gheat waited for the order to rise. When given it, he waited for leave to speak.

"What do you have for me?" Gheat shivered. His master was not one to suffer fools or failures. Luckily, he was neither.

"I have the one you wished, my master. He was not that difficult to capture. I disposed of his watch as you requested and turned the signal on too. He is drugged and has no idea where he is. Do you wish for me to bring him out?"

"Yes. Well done, Gheat. You will be greatly rewarded and have my lasting pleasure. Take him to the audience chamber and chain him to the furthest wall. I want him to awake in total confusion."

"It shall be as you say." Bowing low, Gheat went off to fulfill his master's request.

Gheat carried the limp form of Scott Tracy into what could only be called a throne room. One of his master's lesser slaves followed him over to the wall facing the door. Gheat deposited Scott's body into the slave's arms while he picked up one of the manacles hanging from the wall. Roughly, he shoved it over the limp hand and locked the manacle around his writs. He quickly repeated this and signaled the slave to lean Scott against the wall. Gheat expertly moved the chains so they gave the prisoner some freedom to sag but would cause maximum pain, too. As soon as the slave let go of him, Scott slumped forward. For one split second, it looked like the chains would not hold. Then with a metallic clang and a painful jerk of the arms, his body stopped. For one moment, Scott's eyes flew open, and a grunt of pain escaped his lips. Then his lids shuttered close, and he slumped against the chains.

The soft whisper of silk slippers on stone made Gheat spin around to face the noise. His master, the Hood, walked over to the young man hanging ingloriously from the wall. His eyes narrowed evilly as he studied the helpless figure. Swiftly, his foot shot out and hit the young man squarely in the chest. With a gasp and a groan, Scott's eyes shot open. Blearily, he gazed at the shadowing figure in front of him. Suddenly, his eyes flew wide open. Gathering his strength, he planted his feet under him and pushed himself up. Standing erect, he glared at the evil man in front of him. Summoning up all the hate and loathing he felt for the man in front of him, Scott spat his name in his face.

"The Hood." Bowing slightly, the evil man gazed triumphantly at the bound man. Here was the key to International Rescue. Since IR was made up of the Tracy family, they were very willing to protect their own. When one was in danger, the others focused all their attention on rescuing and helping that one member. The Thunderbirds would be crippled by their fear and sorrow over Scott's disappearance. Pain. Ah, causing the Tracys pain was like balm to his restless soul. He hated them, hated them more then even he cared to admit. At every turn, they had frustrated his plans. But no longer. His plan was perfect. He would not fail.

Looking into Scott's pain-filled but steely eyes, the Hood's mouth cracked into what could only be called a grin. But grins were never made to look like that particular one. It sent shivers of fear down Scott's spine. Before he could react, the Hood's red, silk covered arm lashed out, hitting his head. Scott's head smacked against the stone wall, causing his eyes to momentarily lose focus. Before the prisoner could regain any composer, the Hood struck. Karate chops to the chest, ribs, arms, and head were alternated with kicks to the knees to cut his legs out from under him. Each time that happened, Scott's body would start to fall, only to be painfully jerked to a stop by the chains around his wrists. After several minutes of these attacks, the Hood stepped back and surveyed the damage. Scott hung limply, supported only by the manacles. Blood was running down from a cut on his forehead, and his breathing was horse and painful. The attacks had left him unconscious, and he would not be waking up anytime soon. The Hood allowed himself one genuine smile. The games had begun.

­­A silent and heartbroken group landed on Tracy Island. Virgil, Alan and Gordon, who had flown Thunderbird 1 home, met again in the lounge. There, the entire family had gathered. Their father was sitting behind his desk; desperately trying to appear brave while the tear tracks down his face betrayed him. Onaha was holding twelve year old Tin-Tin, her and Kyrano's daughter, while her father stood behind his "Mr. Tracy", giving him the support he needed. Brains and his son Fermat were seated on the sofa in the corner. Fermat was hugging his father, who was fruitlessly trying to keep the tears at bay. Finally, John's picture was lit up. However, no one could see his face. His head was in his hands, and all anyone could see was the back of his head and his heaving shoulders.

Alan went instantly to Tin-Tin, leaving her mother to comfort Gordon. Virgil stood just by the wall portrait and looked up at the figure of his brother. Virgil could not cry-he had no more tears left to cry. He could only stare stupidly at the picture of his missing brother. Virgil knew in his heart that Scott was not dead. If he was dead, no one would have removed his watch and disposed of it as they did. This thought scared him more than the thought of his missing brother. Only a few people knew the secret of the watches the Tracy men wore, and most were in this very room. There was only one person who knew the Tracy's secret and would commit such a reprehensible deed: The Hood.

Jeff's eyes latched onto his second-oldest son. Slowly raising himself out of the chair, he moved over to him. Tenderly, he wrapped his arm around his stony son. Virgil flinched. He would not give into the tears that threatened. He had to be strong, for his family, for Scott. He would be… A sob ended all his thoughts, and he finally gave into the fears and griefs that haunted him.

Finally, his tears slowed and then stopped. Amazed, he looked around the room. Everyone had left. Only he and his father were still there. Marveling, he then noticed that he was somehow seated, with no knowledge of how he got there. Jeff glanced at him.

"Are you better now, son?"

"Yes Dad, thanks. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Virgil, do not apologize. Now, tell me everything you know." An hour and a half later, Jeff leaned back against the sofa. This had been planned. It had to have been, which meant that the crumbling overlook was no accident. Someone had deliberately plotted and carried out an attack against his son. There was only one person with the knowledge, cunning, and most importantly, the hatred to carry it out. Virgil caught his father's eyes and nodded. He knew what Jeff was thinking.

The Hood.

The next day, a cloud hung over the tropical paradise of Tracy Island. After breakfast, every member of International Rescue, including John and Lady Penelope via tele screens gathered in the lounge. Gordon, Alan, and Virgil debriefed everyone on the rescue and the subsequent disappearance of Scott. When they had sat down, Lady Penelope raised her question.

Beautifully flicking a stray blond tress from her face, she queried, "Has anyone identified or translated the language the attackers were using?"

John answered her. "We have a recording of it, but I didn…haven't had a chance to do anything with it."

"Could you play it now?" The polished British accent had a slight hopeful tone in it. Everyone was praying for a clue to this mystery. Perhaps this was it. John pushed a button on Thunderbird 5's control panel, and soon everyone could hear the recording from Mobile Control.

"Thank you for saving those two young people. They are our future. Thank you."

Everyone tensed when they heard the next phrase.

"Scott, there is no reason for this to end in violence. Just drop your laser pistol, and put your hands on your head. You are going on a little journey." Tin-tin teared up when she heard the man threaten Scott's life. Scott had always been there for her, like the older brother she never had…and now he was gone.

"Alright." No one breathed during the sounds of the struggle; then they heard someone speak again but this time in the unknown language. Before anyone could puzzle on how they could discover the origin of the language, Kyrano drew in a surprised breath. All the Tracys, Brains, Tin-Tin, Fermat, and Lady Penelope turned to look at him. His eyes grew wide; then he hastily signaled to John to stop the recording.

Turning to the large group of people gaping at him, he said, "I can tell you what they are saying. They are speaking a dialect from my country of Malaysia. I know the dialect quite well as it was the one spoken by the people in the district my family home was in. Please Mr. John, play the recording again." John complied at once.

Kyrano began translating. "He says, 'Is this the one the master wanted?' Then that Mr. Lung answers, 'Yes. The leader, the one we would find behind the control box. See, the blue edges. Yes, this is he.' The other asks,'Should we not also bring the box, sir?'' Everyone heard Alan scream, "Scott? Are you there? Do you copy? Scott, answer me!" Then Kyrano began translating again.

"Mr. Lung says, 'No, they are calling him. They will soon investigate. Call the men. We must hurry from this place.'" Everyone remained silent long after the recording ended.

Alan was the first to voice the question foremost on everyone's mind. "What would the Hood want with Scott? I mean, it would have been simpler for him to just kill Scott there on the scene. Why set up a rescue, then kidnap only one of us?" No one could voice an opinion. But everyone knew he was right. Jeff looked into the faces of his loved ones and saw confusion and fearful thoughtfulness, the same feelings he was experiencing. Then his gaze fell on his faithful retainer. Kyrano's expression was fearful and troubled. As Jeff was studying him, Kyrano caught his eye. Knowing what his employer was about to ask, he unobtrusively shook his head no. He should not say what he feared to the whole group, they were already traumatized enough. There was only one reason to take Scott alive, to torture him, hold him for ransom, or possibly both.