I call this chapter 'Scott and Gordon being an iconic duo' and 'Scott serving the Ultimate Dad Energy'.


Alan's and John's rooms were the only ones without en-suites – because John had never been on Earth long enough for it be a necessity and because Alan was the youngest and therefore got the last pick of bedrooms – which meant Alan ended up occupying the main family bathroom for a ridiculously long time, slowly transforming into a boiled lobster. This wouldn't have been an issue had Gordon not wanted access to the bathroom cabinet, having run out of painkillers in his own medicinal supplies, and so sat with Scott in the corridor to wait for their youngest brother to finally materialise. It was eerily similar to their positions earlier in the day, only outside a different door.

For all his complaints about certain family members being mind-readers, Gordon had apparently acquired the same skill, for he turned to Scott and asked, "are you getting some major déjà vu right now?"

Scott eyed the locked bathroom door. "Yup."

Gordon slid down the wall to sprawl across the floorboards with an exaggerated groan. "While I'm glad he's finally showering, does he really need to take so long? He's gonna use up all the hot water."

"That's literally impossible and you know it."

Gordon flapped a hand at him. "Shush, let me be dramatic."

Scott raised a brow. "As if you need my permission for that."

"Yes, well…" Gordon struggled for a retort. He raised an arm towards the ceiling and let it fall back to his side with a thud. "Ugh. I dunno. I'm tired, alright? I want my goddam meds."

"Hasn't Virgil got any?"

"I'm not looking for standard Advil, Scotty, I need my elephant tranquilisers."

The tiredness was catching because Scott usually had more self-restraint than to laugh at one of Gordon's jokes along this theme, because health wasn't something to make fun of, but this time he couldn't help himself. Gordon lifted an arm from where it was draped across his face and looked extremely smug at having caught his brother laughing.

"That's not funny," Scott told him, which didn't come across as particularly chastising given he had a smile stamped across his face that was half-mad from exhaustion. "Is your back really that bad?"

"It's been worse." Gordon made a face. "Well, obviously it's been worse, but nah, I'm good. I'll steer clear of any heavy lifting for a few days, that's all. I just want the meds so I'm not in Hell tomorrow morning. You were right about sleeping in a proper bed tonight though."

Scott couldn't help himself. "Did you just… admit that I was right about something?"

Gordon stared at the ceiling and gave a long sigh. "I told you – it's the tiredness. It's finally driven me mad." He propped himself up on an elbow and examined the locked door. "Seriously, did he drown in there or something?"

Scott shuddered. "Don't even joke."

Gordon kicked the door half-heartedly. "Yo, Alan! Hurry up! Scott thinks you drowned and he's freaking out."

Scott swatted Gordon's wrist. "That is a lie, Alan, take as long as you want."

"Just not too long, or I'll kick the door down."

"Ignore Gordon!"

"Ignore Scott!"

Alan yanked the door open in a cloud of steam, damp hair sticking on end like an agitated hedgehog that had been caught in the rain.

"I can't believe I'm the legal child here," he announced, dragging a hand down his face with another yawn, tripping over Gordon's legs. "Dude, move. Jeezus."

Gordon hissed at him and writhed like some sort of eel as he attempted to clamber to his feet, vanishing into the bathroom.

"It's like a sauna in here," he called back to them, clattering around the cabinet before finally reappearing with his prescription. "Okay, Al, you now have a time limit on your showers. Keep your emotional breakdowns within twenty minutes like the rest of us."

"Fuck you," Alan muttered, aiming a kick at Gordon's shins without landing it.

"I'm sorry, what?" Scott tossed his hands up. "Nobody should be having any emotional breakdowns in the shower."

Gordon shrugged. "Sure man, whatever you say, but everyone knows the shower is the best place to cry, so…"

Scott stared at him. "Please know that I am very concerned about you."

Gordon shook his container of pills with a gleeful expression. "Don't be – I've got drugs."

Alan's expression softened. "That was a terrible joke and you're an awful role-model, but, like, are you okay? Is your back bad again?"

"Huh?" Gordon glanced down at the meds in his hands and back up again. "Oh, right. Yeah, I'm good. Don't worry about me, I'm just peachy."

Alan tilted his head. "Normally you say that when you're lying," he pointed out, narrowing his eyes as he inspected his brother for any obvious signs of pain. "How bad is it from one to ten?"

"On a Tracy scale or a normal person's scale?"

"Both?"

"Tracy scale – like a two. Normal person… probably closer to a five. I dunno, Al, how do normal people work again?"

Scott resisted the urge to knock his head against the nearest wall. Sometimes he swore that just listening to his brothers gave him grey hairs. Grandma could probably sympathise.


With Gordon finally stowed away in an actual bed with a supportive mattress – and several aquariums gently bubbling against the far wall with their glittering inhabitants watching over their owner – it was time to complete the rounds as far as the others were concerned.

Kayo had dragged a sleeping bag out to the patio and was determined to continue her stake-out through the night and Penelope and Parker were both in bed. Grandma was back at John's bedside and Brains was in the Thunderbird hangars. Scott tracked down Virgil – out on the patio keeping Kayo company for the time-being – and sat with his siblings until Alan quietly informed them that he was opting to stay with Scott for the night.

It was the first time Scott had slept in his own room in nearly a week and he'd forgotten that the air-con was still turned up high. It took a little while for the temperature to rise to a more comfortable level and in the meantime he left Alan wrapped up in one of his old college hoodies as well as the duvet. Alan yanked the hood over his head and tugged the sleeves down over his hands, pulling a pillow to his chest as he curled up with his back pressed to the wall, watching unblinkingly.

Scott paused in his hunt for a clean sweatshirt. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Alan replied automatically without skipping a beat. He sniffed. "Seriously, nothing. I just feel weird."

"Weird like sick?" Scott moved to sit on the edge of the blanket and was surprised when Alan didn't try to move away when he put a hand on the kid's forehead. Alan didn't look feverish, and Scott couldn't detect any raised temperature either. Possibly it was just emotional exhaustion getting the better of him. "I'll get you some water."

Alan pulled the duvet tighter around his shoulders. "I dunno." His voice trembled minutely. "Not sick. I've got a headache but it's not that. Just weird."

Scott tossed the sweatshirt onto the end of the bed and gave Alan his full attention. "Could it be anxiety?"

"Maybe," Alan admitted. The duvet rustled as he shrugged. "Like yeah, my anxiety sucks right now, but it's not… it's a different type of weird. Not sad exactly, just…"

"Weird?"

Alan offered a tiny smile. "Exactly."

Scott reached across to tuck the duvet around his brother. "You're probably a bit overwhelmed," he said gently, brushing a stray curl back from Alan's forehead. "It's been a long day. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Yeah?" Alan murmured, sounding very much like a little kid asking for a promise that the monsters under the bed were all gone.

"Yeah," Scott replied softly. "I'll grab you that water and then I'm gonna take a shower, but after that I'm going to try to get some sleep too. Sound alright?"

"Uh huh."

By the time he got back with the glass of water, Alan was already asleep. He looked younger, more peaceful, and Scott was struck by the sudden urge to cry. He set the glass down on the windowsill, just within reach, and retrieved his sweatshirt before heading for the shower, dimming the lights as he passed the switch. He turned off the final lamp on his way to bed after nearly falling asleep standing.

The next thing he knew was a sudden movement before an elbow clobbered him in the chest. Years of military service and sudden IR calls had made him a light sleeper, so he was awake and making observations before he was even fully conscious.

It was still dark – the deep sort of darkness only found in the very early hours – and the lack of light from the corridor proved that no one else was awake yet. His chest ached from the impact of whatever had hit him. He shuffled partially upright, trying to process what had happened. His vision was taking a little while to adjust but his hearing was sharpened by the lack of sight, so it only took him half as long to recognise the ragged breathing beside him.

"Alan?"

The sudden stillness at the sound of his name was proof that Alan was awake, which only made his lack of response all the more concerning. Scott could just about spy his brother now, flat on his back, eyes screwed shut and hands clenched into fists at his sides, struggling to try to keep his breathing even. Even in the dull light, Scott could tell that he'd been crying.

"Alan?"

Alan inhaled sharply. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

Scott sat up. "Hey. What's going on?"

"N-nothing. Just a bad dream. I'm fine."

Scott didn't think he'd ever been less convinced by anything in his entire life. He let the silence sit for a moment in case Alan wanted to make the first move, but there was no further elaboration, so instead he said, "Do you want to try that again?"

Alan sat up, burying his face in his hands. There was a muffled sound that could just as easily have been a cry as it could have been a mumble. Scott reached for the lamp switch, but Alan's hand shot out and snagged his wrist, keeping them in darkness. Scott slowly moved his hand back to his side and noted Alan watching him through splayed fingers, unshed tears glittering in the dim glow from the hibernating hologram projector across the room. Scott sat back against the wall beside his brother and waited.

The aircon hissed. The duvet rustled as Alan drew his knees up to his chest. The rest of the villa remained obstinately silent. Scott glanced at the clock on the windowsill. It was just after two-AM.

"Can you turn that off?"

Scott frowned. "What?"

"The aircon," Alan ground out. "It's…" He flapped a hand. "Not too loud but too… Just turn it off. Please?"

Scott was reluctant to move, so instead he spoke at the hologram projector. "EOS, deactivate the aircon in my room."

Years ago, he'd have said it would be a cold day in Hell before he'd give EOS permission to access his room, but a lot had changed since then, and he couldn't deny that he trusted the AI these days.

EOS didn't vocally reply but the faint stirring of the air stilled. The temperature ticked upwards a few degrees. Scott gave the hologram projector an awkward thumbs up and received a pale green glow in acknowledgement instead of the usual blue. Doubtless EOS would be telling John all about this little interaction. Not that it really mattered – Scott was still too relieved to have his brother back in the land of the living to be annoyed by any smug remarks that were bound to be made in the near future.

Alan lifted his chin to stare at the window. The sky outside was murky and indistinguishable from the sea and a faint trace of longing crossed his face. Scott could identify the source without too much effort – this was the longest Alan had gone without visiting the stars in years and, like John, he usually used them to ground himself. It was impossible to make anything out through a cloud layer this thick, not even the bright light that was Thunderbird Five tracking across the sky.

"Alan," Scott said quietly, trying not to startle him. "Talk to me."

Alan blinked as if surprised by the reminder that he was not alone. He drummed a hand against his knees, biting the nails on the other until even this was not enough and he half-tipped half-fell off the bed to pace in tight, agitated circles, flexing his hands at his sides. Through his thin PJ top, turned partly transparent by nightmare-induced sweat, his muscles were tense, coiled, as if anticipating an attack. A stranger would consider him a caged animal. Scott knew better. There was a fine line between fear and anger and sometimes the two could manifest as each other. There was a reason why Alan's room had ended up in pieces and it wasn't due to excess rage.

Alan came to a sudden halt. "I need to see Virgil."

Scott didn't need to ask why, not when Alan was still shaking from whatever terrors had plagued his dreams.

"Okay. Let's go." He reached for the hoodie that Alan had abandoned halfway through the night and wrapped it around Alan's shoulders. "Put that on first. The aircon's still on in the rest of the house and I don't want you catching a cold."

It was just further evidence of how shaken Alan was that he didn't protest or tease Scott about his blatant mother-henning. For once, Scott would have welcomed the jibes. Instead he was forced to watch as Alan jumped at things in the shadows that no one else could see, practically bristling with nervous energy, constantly moving as though he had a thousand volts running through his veins.

The anxiety appeared to be catching as Scott found himself glancing over his own shoulder a few times, certain that he'd heard something or glimpsed a movement, unable to rid himself of the uncanny feeling that there was something very wrong.

Virgil was the deepest sleeper Scott knew. He was expecting his brother to be completely out for the count, which was why it was such a surprise to discover Virgil awake and flipping through a holographic photo album when Alan thumbed in the keycode with trembling hands and burst through the door like a hurricane in human form. Virgil dropped the projector onto the floor and was on his feet in an instant, just in time to catch the sobbing teenager rushing at him.

"Hey, what's going on? Alan?"

Scott quietly slunk into the room. Virgil lifted one hand from Alan's back to gesture wildly at him.

"Nightmares," Scott signed, reluctant to test Virgil's lipreading skills this late at night and confident that Alan couldn't see him, still plastered to Virgil's chest like a spider-monkey. "He won't talk about it."

There was a note of something incredibly pained and heartbroken in Virgil's eyes at that. He didn't reply at first, just hugged Alan close and held him tight until he'd convinced himself as well as Alan that they were both alright and still here.

"Any better?" Virgil asked quietly, lifting Alan's chin with two fingers until Alan had no option but to meet his gaze. "Allie?"

Alan sniffed and dragged a hand across his nose. Scott went on a hunt in Virgil's en-suite for tissues because it was the end of the world but hygiene, Al, c'mon. Alan was in tears again when he returned.

"I was gone for five seconds," Scott hissed. "What did you do?"

Virgil shot him a deadpan stare that fell short of a glare only thanks to the tiredness and concern behind it. 'How long have you known me again? My entire life, wasn't it? And yet you're really accusing me of upsetting him further?' the stare said, which was a valid point, and Scott gave him an apologetic smile that was a tad more pathetic than it was sheepish. Virgil just looked exasperated, but their focus had to be on Alan, so he let it slide without any further comment, instead plucking the tissues from Scott's hands and offering them to Alan.

"I'm just really t-tired," Alan gasped out, almost angrily. "And I want to sleep but I can't, because I've got too much energy and I can't get rid of it because it's constant anxiety and when I finally do manage to sleep I wake up again within an hour or so because I keep seeing all of you die in really, really horrible ways or worse and I can't do this anymore."

He clawed a hand through his hair more viciously than Scott cared for. Virgil had the same idea and dragged him into another hug before he could do any damage.

"I don't know what to do." The words were muffled by Virgil's shirt but over the years Scott had developed practically superhuman hearing when any of his brothers were upset. "I want to sleep because it's easier then or at least it's supposed to be but there's nightmares then and there's nightmares when I'm awake too. I'm fucking losing it."

"You're not," Virgil assured him, rubbing his back. "I promise you're not."

Scott dimmed the lights slightly. The aircon thing earlier was beginning to make sense – sleep deprivation combined with severe anxiety was just inviting a sensory overload.

"When did you last sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time?"

Alan shrugged. "Dunno. Like… nearly two weeks?"

If it were anyone else, Scott would have been seriously questioning how they were still standing, but he'd learnt not to question Alan's abilities. Mixed with that classic Tracy stubbornness, it was little wonder that Alan had managed to push through this long. But it wasn't sustainable, and it was a recipe for disaster – Scott knew that from personal experience.

"Does it help if you have company?" Virgil asked, grasping at straws. If company worked, they wouldn't be standing here having this conversation, because Scott hadn't left his brother's side the entire time he was asleep and yet Alan had still woken in a panic.

Alan twisted the tissue into a painful knot. "A little, but not really. I was staying in Gordon's room for a while, but I didn't want to keep waking him up, so I told him the nightmares were gone and went back to my own. Having someone around helps me fall asleep easier but it's staying asleep that's the problem." He blinked back fresh tears. "I thought it would get better but it's just getting worse, and I don't know what to do. There's gotta be something you can give me, Virg, right?"

"Technically," Virgil began, with some hesitance.

"No," Scott cut in. "We are not drugging him."

"Hell yeah, drug me! I don't care! If it lets me sleep for once, I don't mind if you freaking dart me with animal tranquiliser, just knock me the hell out."

"We'll find another way," Scott stated, making sure he had Virgil's attention as he said it.

"How?" Alan was on the verge of tears again. "At this rate I'm just gonna end up fainting anyway, and I think the drugs are a better option than that."

"Penelope's been struggling to sleep too," Virgil interjected before Alan could spiral any further. "I think she's been using some sort of herbal tea. We can ask her about it and see if that helps you. Look, worst case scenario, I'll give you something, but I really, really don't want to use a sedative on you in your current state unless I absolutely have to."

"You used to use them on Scott when he was overworking all the time," Alan grumbled, but seemed a little appeased.

"I'm sorry, you did what now?"

"Shut up, Scott," Virgil told him. "You were being an idiot. I took action as your IR Medical Officer. Get over it."

Alan snorted.

Scott tossed his hands in the air in exasperation. "Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own brother."

Virgil gave him a sunny smile. "Right." He snapped back to the main matter at hand. "We have a couple of options now. One, we can all stay here. Two, we can go to the gym and Scott and I will monitor while you try to run off some of that energy. Or three, we take some bedding downstairs because we all know John won't be asleep, and we try to get some more rest there. Hopefully you'll sleep through, but if not Johnny will keep you company, so you don't have to feel bad about waking Scott or me."

Alan ducked his head. "Option three," he mumbled.

"Option three it is." Virgil reached for a pillow. "Scott, think fast."

Scott let the pillow collide with his face. "Thanks, Virg," he drawled. "You're truly a blessing in my life."

Virgil grinned. "Damn straight I am." He passed Alan a blanket. "C'mon, let's get moving."


Scott was the first one awake the next morning. This wasn't a surprise as far as Virgil and Alan were concerned as neither of them would get out of bed before eleven unless it was literally an emergency or someone other than Grandma had cooked breakfast and therefore it was edible and a case of first come first served. Finding John asleep too was more unexpected, but also understandable. Healing was a slow process and it took a lot of energy. At least John wasn't protesting too much when he was told to take it easy.

Kayo was still out on the patio. Scott took a detour via the coffee machine – and wasn't that hilarious: of all the urgent supplies on the list, Gordon had managed to ensure caffeine had made it on-board Two – and set one down in front of her.

"Thanks," Kayo mumbled, warming her hands on the mug and holding it to her nose to breathe in the rich scent. "You're a lifesaver."

"Have you been out here all night?"

Kayo yawned. "Uh huh." She took a sip of coffee and slumped a little further against the strut of the diving board that she was using as a backrest. "The bad news is that the current hasn't changed and I still haven't been able to make contact. The good news is that I can now see why." She swiped upwards on the hologram projector to reveal a series of drone images timed an hour earlier. "Check these out." She jabbed a finger on the main picture. "Seems like someone made it on deck during the night."

Scott looked at the looming ship. If he squinted, he could just about make out the writhing mass that Kayo had captured on camera.

"I guess that confirms our theory about a zombified crew," he said at last. "I'm not sure I'd call it good news though."

"Yeah, you're right. That was my crappy phrasing – sorry." Kayo rested her cheek against the rim of her mug and closed her eyes. "We've got two options, as far as I can see."

Scott suspected he wasn't going to be a fan of either of them. "Hit me."

Kayo set her mug down. "We have enough explosives to be able to blow it sky high. Alternatively," she held up a finger to accentuate her point, "we board the ship and take them out the old-fashioned way. EOS found the crew manifesto and we could clear the place out without too much effort. We have more than enough bullets. We'd then have access to GDF systems again, which would give us a better chance of figuring out new leads and possibly getting in touch with someone. You and I both know that there are GDF bunkers out there, we just have to find them. This is how we do that."

Scott didn't lift his gaze from the ship. In the grey of pale dawn light, it seemed more ghostly than ever.

"Sounds like you've already made up your mind."

Kayo shook her head. "I'm advising you on what I think would be the better option, but at the end of the day you're the boss, not me."

Scott glanced at her. "This is a family decision, not an International Rescue matter."

"Oh, please." Kayo drained her mug. "Besides," she added as she finally rose from the patio, arching into a graceful stretch. "Are the two really so different? You're still calling the shots, Scott, and you're kidding yourself if you think otherwise." She nodded towards the ship. "I'm gonna take a shower. Let me know what you decide."

Scott sat back against the diving board strut. "Explosives would be quicker and safer," he mused.

Kayo shrugged. "You know my thoughts on the matter, but either way I'll back you. Just make sure you choose within the hour, or we'll have a much bigger problem on our hands. Brains' forcefield is good, but it hasn't been put to the test against an entire horde."

"An hour?"

Kayo flapped a hand. "You fly a hypersonic aircraft – making quick decisions isn't anything new to you." She swept up his empty mug and carried it inside with her. "An hour, Scott!"

Scott let her go without further comment. There was that brisk chill of early hour to the air. It forced him to stay present in the moment, making it easier to focus. As the sun rose above the peaks the final wisps of low cloud burnt away to provide him with an uncannily clear view of the ship. He didn't need the drone footage anymore – he could spy the infected crew member on the top deck, lumbering around. If the way it kept lurching towards the portside was any indication, it had caught scent of the healthy humans not so far away.

Of course, the other issue with using explosives was the implications on the local environment. Gordon had already made his point that setting up fishing nets around the bountiful coast on the far side of Mateo Island would be a smart move. Destroying the ship would contaminate the sea and that wasn't an acceptable outcome. As reluctant as he was to face up against the infected again, let alone allowing his siblings into that situation, Kayo was right when she claimed that the second option was the better choice.

"EOS?"

EOS's avatar materialised above the projector. "You're going to ask me to monitor the ship, correct? There's no need – I haven't taken my attention away from it since I first became aware of its approach."

"Thanks."

"Of course." EOS faltered. "Scott," she said more quietly. "John's okay, right? I miss him."

She wasn't a child and Scott knew that, but her voice and the pain behind it couldn't help but invoke that protective instinct in him.

"John's going to be back on his feet in no time."

"Good." EOS's lights brightened. "I'll keep an eye on the ship. You should inform Kayo of your decision. I'm very glad you've chosen not to blow anything up, I've grown rather fond of the octopus family I've been monitoring in the area."

"You know what?" Scott hauled himself upright. "I'm not even gonna question that."

Kayo was frying up leftover potato and something green and suspiciously healthy looking alongside a couple of eggs. "We should keep a few chickens," she announced without turning to face him.

"Where would we even get a few chickens?" Scott pointed out.

"We're getting chickens?" Gordon wandered into the room, clasping a hand to Scott's shoulder in greeting before sidestepping Kayo and nearly falling headfirst into the fridge. "I woke up like a minute ago, no one judge me." He prised the lid off a protein shake. "Anyway, what were you saying about chickens?"

"Chickens are not a priority right now," Kayo told him firmly, brandishing a spatula like a weapon.

Gordon went cross-eyed trying to keep it in his line of sight and finally gave up, slumping across the counter as he waited for breakfast to be served up. "I want a chicken," he grumbled into his 'shake.

"Kayo," Scott said before they could get side-tracked any further. "You're right. Option two is better. How do we go about this?"

Kayo flicked Gordon's temple.

"Oi! What was that for?"

She pointed to the frying pan. "Make sure that doesn't burn. Scott, come with me. I had an entire night to formulate a plan and I want to talk you through it real quick."

Gordon looked up from the food. "Are we going a-hunting?"

Kayo's grin was wicked. "Yup. Fancy killing some zombies with us?"

"I could be down with that. Just us though. Maybe Parker, but not anyone else."

Scott gave him a sharp nod. "I'm with you on that one. Kayo, does that still work with your plan?"

"Eh." Kayo twirled a hand. "I anticipated that. We'll bring Parker along. It'll be easy."

"Nope!" Gordon clasped his hands to his ears. "I did not just hear you say that! If you've jinxed us, Kay, then I swear…"

"You're being ridiculous," Kayo remarked.

"La, la, la, I can't hear you…"


Parker took minimal convincing. Actually, Scott couldn't claim to have convinced the man at all – what he'd said was more of an explanation than anything else and Parker had simply retrieved a knife from seemingly nowhere and asked when they were leaving. It was a short process from there on out: collecting their newly updated suits from Brains' lab, informing the others of where they were going – with the exception of Alan who was catching some rare but much needed sleep in the Den, his head on Grandma's knees whilst she petted his hair as though he were some sort of small yet hopelessly endearing animal – and trying to psyche themselves up for the mission ahead. At least this time they weren't going to be more than five minutes away from help at any given point.

Kayo's plan was a good one. Well researched, plotted out, a combination of all the data they had available, cross-referenced with EOS and accounting for possible diversions/snags stretching from zombies to sea-related mishaps. Parker seemed happy enough with it all and Gordon hadn't raised any complaints. Initially, Scott hadn't had any issues with it either. So why now was he staring down his reflection in the mirror feeling as though he was backed into a corner?

The logical part of him – the part that had grudgingly accepted help years ago and limped along to therapy and actually came away having learnt something – registered that the fact this suffocating feeling had appeared as soon as he'd put on his zombie-proofed IR suit was not a mere coincidence. He may not remember all that had happened in that abandoned supermarket, but his subconscious mind had formed a link between wearing the suit and the traumatic experience without a need for accessible memories.

He eyed his mirror-self. The obsidian fabric of his suit was so dark that he could have been wearing the night itself. He curled one hand into a fist and heard the strange snap of metallic braces sliding over one another as the plated glove adjusted. It was fused to the rest of his uniform now, unlike the previous design that allowed him to remove it whenever he pleased. He flexed his hands in front of him. Light gleamed across his knuckles. The metal was polished and unblemished. There was not a trace of colour to be found, but whenever he glimpsed the gloves out of the corner of his peripheral vision, all he could see was crimson.

Nothing about this suit was meant for saving people. It wasn't a suit for a hero, it was a suit for a survivor. It was appropriate – they weren't boarding the GDF vessel to rescue the crew, but to put them out of their misery. There was nothing heroic about that, no matter how clever Kayo and Penelope were with wordplay.

Scott could still recall trying on his International Rescue uniform for the first time. He remembered the vivid blue and the way the silver gleamed under the lights and how Dad's smile had been so impossibly proud. Now, he ran a hand down the opposite bicep and felt only smooth fabric; there was no logo on this suit. There was nothing identifiable about it at all.

It was a strange day when Kayo was the optimist and he was the pessimist.

But here they were, with Kayo insisting that no matter what they wore, whether they had a Thunderbird at their fingertips or no tech at all, they would always be International Rescue, while Scott couldn't help but argue the opposite. Because his reflection? The person in the mirror right now? He was not the Commander of International Rescue. He wasn't even the CEO of Tracy Industries.

He was just a survivor.

The thing was: Scott didn't know how to feel about that.

"Hey." Kayo rapped on the doorframe and didn't wait for a reply before slipping into the room. She looked him up and down, calculating. "Where's your gun?"

Scott repressed an instinctive shudder at the thought of pulling a trigger. "I don't have one."

"Don't be an idiot. We're boarding a ship full of the infected – you need a gun." Kayo jabbed a finger into the metal plating directly above his heart. "Find a weapon." Her tone left no room for arguments. "Or I'll find one for you."

"Kayo." Gordon's approach was so silent that both Scott and Kayo jumped. Gordon held up his hands in apology but didn't back down, even under Kayo's challenging stare. "Quit bugging him about the gun thing."

Kayo whirled around, incredulous. "I'm trying to keep everyone alive! How am I the bad guy in this situation? You can't walk into a swarm of the infected without a weapon. That's just suicide."

Something almost angry flickered across Gordon's face for a second. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and straightened. "He won't walk in without a weapon, it just won't be a gun. C'mon, you were the one who used to tell me to know when to pick my battles. This is one that you shouldn't pick. Just let it go, please?"

"Kayo," Scott prompted her. "It's fine. I'll sort something out, alright?"

Kayo was still bristling but relented. "You'd better…" She trailed off, tensing. "Did you hear something?"

Gordon took a step further into the centre of the room, spinning slightly so that he didn't have his back to the door. "I didn't hear anything. Scott?"

Scott tapped his wrist console. "EOS, come in. What's going on up there?"

Sirens exploded before the AI could answer. It was a different alarm to their International Rescue alert system – higher pitched, almost painful, complete with flashing red lights. There came the distant thunder of all shutters slamming closed at once.

Kayo launched into a sprint with a hissed curse. Scott bolted after her, aware of Gordon at his heels. The sirens were so loud that the very foundations of the villa seemed to vibrate with shockwaves. Faint scraps of plasterwork crumbled.

"What's going on?" Gordon yelled.

Kayo didn't look back. "Proximity alert. Something's breached the shallows… and whatever it is, it's big."

"The ship?" Gordon guessed.

Scott caught Kayo up to run side-by-side. "I thought we had another half hour?"

"Yeah, well so did I." She shot him a disapproving stare. "I'm in the dark just as much as you. The only thing I can think of is that the damn thing still has power and somehow the engines got reactivated. We'll have to shut them down with an EMP from Four."

"Uh…" Gordon said. "Didn't Plan A require a little bit more time than this?"

Kayo activated the enhanced reconnaissance mode on her suit as they crammed into the elevator down to the hangars. "Plan A's scrapped. We're onto Plan B."

"Oh my god," Gordon whispered, grabbing Scott's wrist instinctively to comfort himself. "My squid sense does not like Plan B."

"Hey Gordon," Kayo snapped. "Fuck your squid sense."

Parker was waiting for them as soon as the doors opened. "The ship's too close," he reported. "If we don't board soon, they'll come to us instead."

"Wonderful," Gordon drawled. "I'm just loving today."

"Scott." Kayo's wrists looked strangely bare. It took a moment for Scott to figure out why before Kayo was wrapping something metallic and faintly hot around his own. He recognised her tasers without needing to activate them. Kayo shouldered past him before he could argue. "There's no time to grab any other weapon and if you insist on not using a gun, those are better than nothing."

Gordon peered over Scott's shoulder. "Huh. I guess if you electrocute zombies at a high enough voltage, you could fry their brains to mush."

Scott rapped his wrists together to activate the tasers. Tiny blue lightning bolts darted around his wrists, reflected up and down his suit in the metal plating. He couldn't help but grin. "Now this I can work with."

Gordon was watching him with a fond, almost nostalgic expression.

Scott frowned. "What?"

"Nothing." Gordon shook his head. "It's just…" He gave a tiny smile. "I dunno, bro. You look like a superhero, that's all." He crossed his arms, almost self-consciously. "It seems fitting."

Kayo stalked across the hangar floor and tossed an un-activated explosive to Parker. "Plan B involves approaching from deeper waters, so Gordon? You're up. Get your lady ready for action."

"Four's always ready," Gordon muttered defensively, but obediently tapped on his wrist console. In her tank, Thunderbird Four lit up, bright and welcoming. "Those charges had better be safe. If you damage my girl, you should be more scared of me than the zombies."

Scott deactivated the stuns. The blue lightning settled back into smooth metal. He exhaled slowly.

"Let's do this."

Gordon swept an arm towards the entrance to Four's tank. "Ladies and gentlemen, your ride awaits."


Oh, the action is coming...

Review?

Kat x