Disclaimer: see chapter one

Redemption Gone Rogue

What happens when redemption goes wrong? A backstory for our favourite villain.

The Fireflash was touted as a revolution in aviation design. There was pomp and circumstance around its maiden flight from London to Tokyo, with the lead up to the flight occupying headlines around the world.

After many foiled attempts at intercepting the members of International Rescue, it seemed fate had finally dealt him a good hand. The nuclear bomb that he had jimmied into the wheel-well of the hypersonic jetliner would be enough of an emergency to draw out the pathetic rescue agency he had targeted for revenge.

He hid in plain sight, disguised as an airport worker while awaiting the arrival of International Rescue. Reasonable enough and ordinary enough for him to be an ever present shadow in the airport without people giving him a second glance, which was just as well as his plan relied on being as inconspicuous as possible.

The minutes counted down until his nefarious plot kicked into action. He saw, from the wheel well where he was posted, the highfalutin passengers, all dressed to the nines, and he pondered about the divide between riches and rags.

The cargo trolley had rolled up beside him and he got to work, stacking bags in the right spot, checking off names against the passenger list. There was nothing to suggest that this would be anything but another attempt to draw International Rescue's technology into his hands, but then he came across the name he thought had perished long ago.

Tin-Tin Kyrano.

It couldn't be.

Something twanged painfully in his chest. Not his niece, the flesh and blood of his brother that had died all so long ago. It had to be a coincidence, another person who happened to share the name of his blood. No other explanation.

But then again, how many other Tin-Tin Kyrano's existed?

His mind raced, thoughts crashing down over each other like a tsunami. What if she had survived? Was his revenge worth wiping out the last of his bloodline? There was no chance he could sire offspring; the uranium mine, cancer and bouts of chemo and radiotherapy to control the aforementioned cancer had rendered him sterile. If it was his bloodline, why had he not been given the chance to raise his family? Did his late brother distrust him so much that he was denied a small comfort, even though he had tried to make good on his erroneous ways? Was he so hideously deformed, both physically and mentally, that he was automatically deemed to be an unfit guardian of a helpless child?

He tapped on her name on the DataPad he held and pulled up her information. Her date of birth matched the timeline; she would be of a similar age to his niece, if his niece survived. He delved deeper; the ticket had been financed by a Jefferson Tracy.

That name also rang a bell.

Of course, everyone had heard of the philanthropist Jeff Tracy, a man who had pulled himself up by the bootstraps and forged on after a tragic event ripped apart his family.

He had heard about the man before Jeff became a legend. Kyrano had spoken about him during his time working at NASA as a consultant on extra-terrestrial horticulture. If there was a man with the drive to whip the world into a better place, it was Jeff Tracy.

He knew that Jeff Tracy was the founder of International Rescue and that his sons were the operatives; not common knowledge, but one had to know about their enemy to exploit their weakness. He also knew that they were the incompetent fools that had left him and her to die that day.

Mistake number one.

It would be the mistake that would end them all.

He peeked out from under the cargo hold and scanned the passengers boarding the plane, eager eyes scanning for someone that resembled his niece. She was there, a perfect mix of her mother and her father. He picked her out instantly and knew it to be true. She was what was left of his family.

Bile rose up his oesophagus. Resentment burned through him, lighting a fire that had long since burnt out. It was his niece that he had been deprived of all these years, delegated to a life of loneliness. Some stranger had raised her, moulded her into the young woman with principles and morals that smiled gracefully as her biometrics were read and she was permitted to board the plane.

There was no backing out from his plan now.

He would seize her and teach her the real ways of the world, show her what the ordinary folk had to do to survive. He would share his story, his life and his vendetta with her.

Together, they would right the wrongs of the past.

Together, they would murder the men behind International Rescue.