So here's chapter 9! Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and follows and favourites - it really means a lot! Bit of a longer chapter here, and I hope you all enjoy!

baao xo

Chapter 9:

The first thing that Scott could feel after returning to some sort of awareness was that it was hot - far too hot. Moments passed and the heat never left, and Scott shifted in irritation. The air conditioning on the island couldn't be broken, unless Gordon had been allowed to change the pool temperate again. Frowning, Scott noticed there was something hard, but cool beneath his cheek and feeling more than slightly confused, he forced his eyes open to see what on earth had happened to his pillow this time. A dim light in the room illuminated the hard stone floor that Scott lay on, though it seemed to annoyingly blur in and out of focus for the pilot. Even more confused, Scott tried to sit up, only to gasp in pain as agony laced through his skull. Bad idea, he thought to himself as he relaxed back, closing his eyes. Instead he focussed on using his other senses to explain where the hell he was right now.

Shifting his limbs, he managed to deduce that he was lying on his left side and his legs had full movement (though that seemed unnecessary at the moment, considering he didn't actually have a use for them right now). His arms, however, seemed to have been restrained behind him and a quick twist of the wrists confirmed that extraordinarily tight handcuffs had clamped his arms behind his back. The cold handcuffs were relieving against his hot skin in the stifling room however, but a thought suddenly crossed his mind when he realised that the cuffs rested on his bare skin. A quick wriggle of his upper body confirmed that his suit had been unzipped and rolled down to his hips, leaving him in just the t-shirt he wore underneath his uniform. He thought hard about how he would have gotten into this current predicament, when suddenly the memories hit him like a wave. Wrenching his eyes open, he attempted to force his limbs into a sitting position without making himself feel like he was going to spill his last meal all over the floor.

After what felt like hours of trying, he managed to prop himself up against a wall behind him and surveyed his surroundings. With control panels all around with flashing lights, plus a door plastered with warning and danger signs, Scott assumed he was in the reactor room in the plant they'd been in for what felt like forever. It seemed that he was alone in the room, there was no noise apart from a faint beeping somewhere to his left and the sound of his thudding heart as he tried to get his breathing under control again after his battle to be upright. Remembering that Gordon had been observing the power station via security cameras, Scott searched for any cameras in the room. There appeared to be three cameras in the room, though similarly to the one that was outside the entrance to the building, there was a distinct lack of flashing lights to signify that they were still working. Sighing, Scott leant back on the desk he was sitting against. The lack of people was unsettling, and Scott didn't understand where everyone was. There wasn't a sign of anyone being around; though his removal from the corridor and placement here suggested that there was at least one person around but their absence weren't here right now did nothing to help ease Scott's confusion.

However, just as Scott was attempting to reach his watch to call for aid, a door creaking open to his right stopped his movements. Peering towards the noise, Scott watched as a bald man in long, red robes stepped into his field of vision.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Tracy."

Scott stared blankly at the man standing before him. He'd never seen this man before in his life, yet not only had knocked him out and brought him here, he also seemed to know his name.

"Who are you?" asked Scott hoarsely, his voice rough after its lack of use.

"Forgive me," replied the man, a hand on his chest, "I haven't properly introduced myself. You can call me the Hood, and I'm sure it's as much as a pleasure to meet me as it is for me to meet you."

"Pleasure's the operative word," Scott mumbled before continuing slightly louder "why am I here?"

"Well, you see, I need you here for... a business deal, shall we say? I've been observing you Tracy's for awhile now, watched International Rescue evolve into a vital service to the rest of the world, yet International Rescue has failed so many times. I doubt you remember, but there was an accident Malaysia many months ago and International Rescue performed their greatest failure. A failure to check all of the caves during a landslide and people were trapped inside, one of whom was me."

"Look," Scott began, guilt surging through him as he remembered the rescue, "it was impossible for us to check every cave - half of them were totally inaccessible! We tried, and I'm sorry we couldn't get you out, I really am."

"I don't want your apologies," replied the Hood bluntly, "I'm looking for something more."

Dreading the answer, Scott hesitantly asked "What is it?"

"Revenge. I know exactly who International Rescue are - the great Jeff Tracy runs this fun-filled family business as a way to cope with his continuing grief over the death of his darling wife in that tragic avalanche."

Scott flinched at the mention of his mother's death, but said nothing and waited for the man to continue.

"See, I am most displeased at being left to die by International Rescue, but fortunately for me, I have thought of a way you can make it up to me. Your father owns the biggest and richest company in the world, as well as those wonderful machines you call the Thunderbirds, and I would love to have a share of these profits. You needn't do anything but sit here and be a good boy for the cameras."

Before Scott could even question what the Hood meant, two men that he hadn't even noticed had entered grabbed his upper arms and dragged him to a chair in the middle of the room that had previously escaped his notice. Fastening the handcuffs already clamped around his wrists to the straight-backed chair, the two men took a step back, allowing the Hood to approach Scott.

"I hope for your sake your father gives in easily, Scott, because the entire world is about to see what happens when someone crosses me."

"We didn't cross you!" cried Scott, outraged and leaning forward in the chair, "We could barely reach anyone in that landslide, it was nothing personal!"

"Perhaps, but it does nothing to improve the reputation of International Rescue. Leaving innocent victims to die? That doesn't seem very friendly."

"You have no idea!" Scott began to reply, but unbeknownst to him, one of the men had stepped forward once more and cut off Scott's reply half way through with a blow to the stomach, followed with a swift punch to the side of the head. Scott's vision swam in and out of focus and he took a moment to right his breathing once more.

"Now, Scott, time to smile for the camera. The whole world is about to see you!"

Scott glanced up just in time for one of the men to stride in front of him and flick a camera that had been placed in front of the chair on. The Hood turned to face it, and all Scott could think of was how grateful he was that his suit had been rolled down in time.

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