He was floating on his back, staring at the blues and greens that bounced off the ceiling as the water amplified the glow sticks' light. Scott sat on one of the medical beds, legs tucked under him to avoid the icy water as it slowly filled Thunderbird 4. Gordon's eyes shifted to the two canisters of oxygen that sat next to his brother, a feeling of hope and accomplishment tugging at the corner of his mouth. Scott would have plenty of oxygen, more than the unknown assailants had predicted. All that was left now was to wait for them to arrive.

Gordon had a plan. It wasn't a great plan, but it would offer them a chance to save themselves. Scott was very much aware of the basics and only approved out of necessity. Not a whole lot of options at the bottom of the sea when it came to attacking their attackers. And once they had a handle on their current situation, they would figure out what was happening back home. The thought of Virgil or Dad or Brains being hurt by these people effectively wiped away the smile, anxiety building in its place.

Not helpful… he took a breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to calm his nerves.

"Gordon?" With the access to adequate air, Scott's concern came across clear as ever. The injuries were much easier to manage now, which meant most of the commander's focus was on his little brother.

"I'm fine," came out short, not how the aquanaut meant it. "Just thinking. Nothing to worry about."

Scott didn't press, nodding instead as his focus went back to a point on the wall. Gordon suspected his brother's thoughts might've been following the same track, the commander carrying much of the stress on his own shoulders. Knowing Scott, he was kicking himself for not seeing this coming. He should have planned for the worst, protected his family better, been there to stop these people before things got to this point. It was an unrealistic idea and, if Gordon were honest, they had planned for something like this. Ever since Thunderbird 2 had been taken out by the luddite group, Brains had worked to shield their ships from the extended effects of EMP devices. Which meant, whatever had taken out Four was a lot more powerful than anything they'd dealt with before.

And as far as the island, the systems needed to be active in order to prevent anyone from sneaking into their home. The Hood had been the motivation factor for the family to remedy that as soon as they had seen him off to prison. Yet, even with all their technology, someone had made it through. There was nothing they could do to fix that, but Gordon had a few ideas for how they would take care of the current problem. Someone else could figure out how to keep it from happening again later.

"Gordon," Scott's tone had lost some of the earlier concern, turning to curiosity.

"Hmm?" The blonde's hands moved gently through the water, a stark contrast to his swirling emotions.

"You're wearing your murder face."

Gordon blinked, taking a moment to translate his brother's words,and sighed, "Scott, I don't have a murder face. What even is that?"

"Oil spills, drift nets, unruly rescuees, whenever I talk about the stock market -"

"Please don't. I can't handle that frustration right now," corporate greed brought out the worst in him and left Gordon feeling ready to enlist Penelope's help to take down some lowlifes.

A knowing chuckle and Scott continued, "That's what I mean. You have a very obvious tell when you're focusing on taking care of curtain situations."

Shifting through the water, Gordon didn't meet his brother's gaze. Anger seemed the most obvious reaction to injustice, but sometimes the world needed someone to do something. He and his family had done their fair share of that over the years, but… and now his eyes found blue, "Murder face, though?"

Scott shrugged, "That's the best way I can describe it. It's never a good sign for anyone who gets in your way."

There was no doubt in the tone, Gordon aware that his brother stayed on top of the companies the aquanaut had fought against or the mission reports when victims needed restraining. That fact was comforting in its own way, knowing that his big brother would have his back when they faced the people coming for them.

Another steadying breath, "I'll try not to murder anyone." Because that wasn't what they were about. If they could, there would be a whole lot of headaches by the end of the day.

"Same," a glance to Scott revealed a dark expression and the term 'murder face' fit. Heaven help anyone who got in their way.

The water continued to rise as Gordon floated and Scott kept watch of the dark environment beyond the cockpit window, neither knowing how much time had actually passed. When the second tank had to be connected to the eldest's helmet, it was a fairly reliable sign - four hours was up. Any moment and -

"Lights! Gordon, I can see them," Scott's intent was solely on the front and Gordon sat up to see for himself.

Tiny pinpricks of light had appeared, still too far away to illuminate Thunderbird 4, but close enough that the blonde needed to initiate the next part of their plan. He swam the few feet to the hatch and closed it before turning back to Scott.

"Okay, are you ready?" Their eyes locked with finality and, if he were honest, fear that this might be the last time.

"I'm ready," the wrench shifted where it lay in the pilot's lap.

"With any luck, they won't know what's hit them before it's too late," Gordon flashed an optimistic smile. Technically, they had the advantage as a couple of dead men. By the time Scott alerted one group, the other group would be taken care of. In theory, anyway.

Scott kept his expression stern, unwilling to accept that this would all go as planned, "Promise me, if it comes down to your life and theirs, you won't hesitate."

Gordon sobered, meeting the steely eyes with his own. He knew his brother wanted nothing more than to entertain the idea that no one would have to die today, but that wasn't life. Not in rescues and certainly not in combat. They would be naive to think otherwise, but Gordon also understood that Scott would always try to protect them from anything, including having to take a life.

A nod, "Same to you, big brother." Grabbing the two portable tanks they'd set aside, Gordon attached one to his exosuit, before disconnecting the wires that powered the oxygen recycling unit. He waited a beat to connect the second to his rebreather, a grin returning to his face, "Let's hope these idiots don't take half an hour to get here."

The brunette tensed, holding out his hand to take the glow sticks and Gordon fished them up, "Get back in here before you run out, got it?"

"FAB," and his smile didn't falter as he leaned forward, pulling his big brother into a startled hug. It took Scott a moment, but eventually his arms looped around the aquanaut. The commander's shoulders dipped a fraction as Gordon spoke, "We've got this."

"I hope you're right."

"I know I am," the smile grew as Gordon stepped back, sending waves through his 'bird. "See you on the other side."

Without another word, he sank under the water, heading for the hatch in the floor. He'd already located the manual controls and with a quick turn, the lock gave and the door slid under his hand as he pushed it aside.

Step one, get out without flooding Thunderbird 4, check.

Step two, maneuver through the cramped gap between the seafloor and yellow hull. As tight a squeeze as it was, he was rewarded with the open water.

All he had to do now was wait.

In the dark and the silence.

Alone, but not.

As he secured himself to the yellow sub, fighting off memories that always had the worst timing, he wished he was alone. No one to worry about except himself. Now, with his plan in full swing, there was no room for error, because it wasn't just his life on the line.

They'd almost been too slow, fifteen minutes gone and the enemy sub still too far away to even make out her structure. The second oxygen tank had been connected and Gordon had started to count. It was a trick he used in the pool when every movement counted and checking his watch wasn't a priority. It wasn't an exact, not like the timer used by the brothers who dared him to see how long he could go, but it was enough to let Gordon know just how close he got to abandoning his initial plan and heading inside.

Five minutes to spare. Hiding under Thunderbird 4, the aquanaut peered around her to see the submarine that had been sent out to collect them. It was three times his ship's size and covered in dark gray paneling that made her difficult to fully see in the shadows of the deep. By all accounts, she was impressive, save for the people who operated her. As far as Gordon was concerned, they would be lucky to even see the ocean again after this was over.

Lights beamed down to cover Thunderbird 4, sweeping over her hull and Gordon was forced to duck back into the darkness below her. Four minutes…. Whatever these people were doing, he needed them to hurry. This was about his 'bird, nothing more.

A dull thump vibrated through the water, resounding out from Four's hull. A beat and she was moving with the pull of whatever they had attached to her.

Gordon clung to the aquascooter's hatch and took a few steadying breaths, his nerves spiking with adrenaline. No going back. Stay safe, Scott… he prayed, because his focus had to be on his targets, not his brother's. Scott could handle himself, even injured.

Another breath, head spinning slightly and Gordon knew he was out of air. Now, the clock was on his time, his capabilities and he let his eyes focus on the growing light of the enemy sub's docking bay as he moved into position.

Thirty seconds and Four broke the surface. Another five and the aquanaut was swimming into a shadowed corner, amber eyes trailing the two figures in the area. They held no sign of haste, no need to move quickly when their captives were already dead.

The hiss of his helmet disengaging was hidden under the splash of the waves, Gordon trying his best not to gasp in the much needed oxygen. He watched the men, both oblivious, as Thunderbird 4 was hoisted out of the water. The moment they were out of view, Gordon moved, gripping the side of the docking bay and pulling himself out of the water. Speed overshadowed stealth to a point, the blonde cringing at the wet splashes that followed him through a door, but still, there was no sign of detection.

Step three, get onboard the bad guys' sub. Check.

Step four… open a can of whoopass and take over.

That was the plan. Or at least, that was the most he'd been able to come up with while waiting to get picked up or die of suffocation. The next steps weren't important. Not yet.

Retrieving his wrench from his belt, Gordon held it by his side as he snuck down the first cramped corridor. Doors went by, each room blessedly empty as he peeked into the small windows. Skeleton crew… had to be. Everyone else would be on the island and that thought brought with it a renewed rage.

A hatch appeared at the end of a second corridor, beckoning Gordon onward to save his family… A creak of metal and a door to his right flew open, unchecked in his eagerness. For a split second, amber met wide, blue, neither able to sync their brains to their limbs. The next beat, Gordon dove for the man's midsection, pushing him back through the doorway he'd been exiting. They fell into a sprawl of limbs, the blonde rewarded with a strangled wheeze as his target lost his breath and he sat up.

Raising his weapon, Gordon couldn't let his thoughts linger on the fear he saw in the blue eyes. Not when Scott was depending on him. Not when his family depended on him. His jaw clenched with the downward swing, the feel of steel connecting with soft tissue and skull reverberating up his arm.

Breathe… Gordon blinked down at the unconscious man, fingers instinctively finding his neck and a pulse and then, he was up. Out the door and into the hallway, Gordon closing the hatch behind him, he advanced. Another door to his right and he checked it - empty - before pressing up against the hatch he hoped led to the cockpit and the controls he would need to get them home.

Peering through the Plexiglas window, Gordon could make out two figures, one at the helm, the other observing… and looking bored.

Good.

The pilot would be busy with the controls, but close enough to the radio to warn anyone on Tracy Island. Reaction time for the other guy would be dependent on how quickly he noticed Gordon wasn't one of their own.

The door opened smoothly, a sign of how often it was used and taken care of, neither figure turning in alarm.

A step inside and Mr Boredom sighed, leaning further back in his chair, "Took you long enough." The man from the other room… Gordon thought in the next step, halfway to the pilot and mentally willing them both to not turn around. Unfortunately, one kick off the console and Mr Boredom spun the chair, eyes landing on the intruder.

The aquanaut couldn't think, allowing his body to move faster without the need for stealth. The wrench connected with the pilot's skull, sending him sidelong into the controls and unmoving before the other man could shout a warning.

Only, a shout never came. Instead, a shoulder slammed into Gordon's side, sending him crashing to the floor with a much heavier man bearing down on him with a knee in his gut. A fist caught his cheek and the weapon fell with a clatter of metal on metal.

No no! Not good - … Get him off of you… Kayo's voice was calm, instructive over the panic of his own swirling thoughts. Gordon's eyes snapped open, pinning his assailant and finding the raised fist. A split second to react and his arms came up to deflect the blow aimed to break his jaw, using the man's momentum to roll them across the cockpit floor. Boots scrambled to find purchase, but high-tech neoprene beat out the standard issue combat boot and Gordon was up before his opponent.

Don't think, just do it… Gordon's foot swung forward, connecting with a nose that sent a crack through the small space. The sight of red spraying across the gray metal was followed by a cry as the man clutched at his face and Gordon seized the opportunity to grab his weapon. The wrench felt lighter than before, muscles tensing with the flow of adrenaline through his veins and he turned back to the man. His target was up, face awash with blood and anger, but Gordon ignored it, swinging out as the man lunged. Another crack of bone or cartilage and the figure crumbled headlong into a console, his head taking the grunt of the impact.

And then, the room was quiet save for the rugged breaths from the aquanaut standing over his victims.

Eyes clenched shut and Gordon shook away the thought, enemies… not victims. Get them secure and go help Scott.

Purpose helped him push away the nausea that had started to build and he pulled out one of the zip ties he'd brought from Thunderbird 4, connecting the bleeding man's wrists together. He did the same for the pilot, dragging him away from the controls and out into the corridor. It was a short trip to an empty room and Gordon dumped both men and what he'd done inside, closing the door behind him.

Breathe…you have the controls, Gordon did as his thoughts instructed, sending a momentary glance to the consoles still lit in the cockpit. Get to Scott. Another breath and he ran.