A Friend Comes Home

by Greyseal9

Follow Alan and Kayo as they uncover untold mysteries of International Rescue meeting new friends along the way. Starting in the year 2058 they'll go from teenage kicks to discovering a hidden secret that'll leave them shocked to the core. Follows the events of Thunderbirds (2004), TAG! (2015-2020) and beyond. Several character partnerships (including 1 OC).

2. Episode 0: The Invasion

PART 1

March 28th, 2058 - 12:56 EST

Alan Tracy stares out the window, his gaze unfocused on the bustling street below. His mind is miles away, lost in a sea of vibrant turquoise eyes and a cascade of raven hair. Kayo Kyrano. Just the thought of her sends a pleasant shiver down his spine, a mix of nervous excitement and hopeful anticipation. He imagines her practicing her martial arts in the gym on Tracy Island, the grace and power she effortlessly exudes captivating him completely. He wonders if she ever thought of him, if she notices the way he sometimes lingers near her, hoping to catch her eye, to share a smile, a conversation, a moment. She had only been on Tracy Island for a couple of weeks now and it seems that she's been there a lifetime already.

"So, gentlemen, we all know that A² plus B² equals..." Miss Garrett, Alan's mathematics teacher begins.

"C²," everyone in the class, but Alan, respond.

"That's right," Miss Garrett nods in approval, "But what happens when we bring in Leonardo Da Vinci's E, F and..." She pauses mid-sentence, her voice trailing off as she notices Alan's vacant stare. He isn't even pretending to pay attention, his gaze fixed on the world beyond the classroom walls.

"Mr. Tracy!" Miss Garrett calls, the sharp reprimand cutting through Alan's daydream, shattering the image of Kayo's smiling face.

"Alan. Alan!" Fermat, Alan's best friend and Brains' son, whispers urgently, nudging him with his elbow.

Alan's head snaps back from the window, his eyes widening as he meets Miss Garrett's stern gaze. The teacher stands directly in front of him, a thin smile plastered across her face, a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"How kind of you to come back from outer space, Alan," Miss Garrett's states, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I trust re-entry wasn't too rough?" She chuckles, a dry, humourless sound. "Here on Earth, we've been discussing the Pythagorean theorem. Did any of that happen to sink in?"

"I was just..." Alan stammers, desperately trying to come up with a plausible excuse, anything to avoid the inevitable wrath of Miss Garrett.

"Apparently not," Miss Garrett sighs, snatching Alan's notebook from his desk. It lies open, displaying not mathematical equations but intricate sketches of Thunderbird 1, soaring through the sky, rescuing people from perilous situations. Below, she reads out the words doodled at the bottom. "'Thunderbirds Are Go!' Well, I hope you aren't going anywhere special over spring break, Alan. Because I expect a ten thousand word paper on my desk the day you get back. On the practical applications of the Pythagorean theorem in aerospace engineering. That should keep you busy." She slams the notebook back down on the desk, the force of the impact making Alan jump.

The bell rings, signalling the end of class, and Alan lets out a breath he hasn't realized he'd been holding. He gathers his things, his mind reeling from the monumental task ahead of him. Ten thousand words? On the Pythagorean theorem? He can barely manage a hundred words on a good day. He joins Fermat at their lockers, a heavy silence settling between them. Fermat, ever observant, studies his friend's dejected expression.

"She's worth it, you know," Fermat says quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

Alan looks up, surprised. "What?"

"Kayo," Fermat clarifies, "She's worth the extra homework, the detention, the... everything."

Alan blushes, a faint smile finally gracing his lips. "Yeah," he agrees, a newfound determination sparking in his eyes. "She is." He lets out a sigh before rolling his eyes in annoyance. "That should keep you busy," Alan mocks, thinking of what Miss Garrett had said earlier, "Yeah, well you can take your ten thousand words and stick them right up your fucking ass."

"Alan!" Fermat cries, nudging him. Both boys turn around to see the headmaster approaching them while walking by with Miss Garrett by his side.

"Headmaster," Alan curtly acknowledges.

"Mr. Tracy!" the Headmaster replies.

"Miss Garrett," Alan nods, acknowledging her presence. The pair of them walk by him and take a turn down the corridor out of sight.

The fluorescent lights of the high school hallway hum a monotonous tune, casting a sterile glow on the sea of faces surging toward the cafeteria. Alan and Fermat close their lockers and slowly make their way down the corridor.

"You gotta be more careful Alan," Fermat disapproves, his voice a low murmur meant only for his friend to hear. His usually jovial expression is creased with concern.

Alan doesn't meet his gaze. He simply stares at the scuffed linoleum floor, his shoulders slumped under the weight of an invisible burden. "Why can't I tell 'em that my family is International Rescue? It's just so hard to make friends as you know you're lying to the all the time," Alan mumbles, his voice barely audible above the din of the hallway.

Fermat sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. He understands Alan's frustration. The secrecy surrounding International Rescue, the clandestine organization devoted to saving human life, is a heavy cloak for a teenager to bear. Especially for Alan, the youngest of the Tracy brothers, who yearns for the camaraderie and acceptance of his peers. "You know if your identity was discovered, it would a d-d-disaster," Fermat stammers, "International Rescue is a secret for a reason, Alan. The safety of millions depends on it."

"I know, I know," Alan replies, his voice laced with resignation. He kicks at an imaginary pebble on the floor, his frustration simmering just below the surface. The weight of the secret, the constant need to lie, to fabricate excuses, is taking its toll.

Suddenly, a whirlwind of motion erupts from the throngs ahead. A boy, his face alight with uncontainable excitement, comes barrelling towards them, a small crowd of equally enthusiastic students trailing in his wake. "It's International Rescue! They're gonna be on TV! Let's go! They're gonna be on TV!" he shrieks, his words tumbling over each other in his haste. This causes Alan and Fermat exchange a bewildered glance. International Rescue. His family. On TV. A strange mix of pride and frustration churns in Alan's gut.

"Hey!" Fermat yells, catching up to the sprinting boy, "Where are they?"

The boy, without slowing his pace, throws the answer over his shoulder. "In Russia, at an oil rig fire!"

Alan's shoulders slump. The knot in his stomach tightens. Of course. Another disaster, another rescue, another continent. He is always stuck here, in school, while his brothers are out there, facing danger, saving lives. His fingers unconsciously tighten around the strap of his backpack. "Great!" he mutters under his breath, a tinge of bitterness colouring his voice, "I'm stuck at school and my brothers are on another cool mission. Hope Kayo's alright."

Fermat, knowing how Alan is feeling right now after the conversation they've just had, throws a sympathetic arm around his shoulder. "Come on, Alan. Want to watch? At least we can see what's going on."

Alan hesitates for a moment, a flicker of reluctance in his blue eyes. Seeing his brothers in action always brings a jumble of emotions – pride, worry, and a pang of envy. However, the pull of seeing their skill, their bravery, is too strong to resist. "Yeah!" Alan finally concedes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

They followed the throng into the cafeteria where a small, boxy television perched precariously on the wall above them. The room is packed, students crammed onto dining tables, window ledges, and even the floor, their gazes riveted to the screen. The familiar green and red of Thunderbird 2 flashes across the screen, battling against a backdrop of roaring flames and billowing black smoke.

A female reporter, her voice tense with urgency, filled the room. "We are told this super-rig is now in danger of total collapse," she announces, her words barely audible above the high winds. "And there is real concern for the lives of six men who remain trapped on board. An emergency call went out to the International Rescue an hour ago. They have been here for a few minutes now assessing the situation."

Alan watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as Thunderbird 2 maneuverers expertly around the inferno. He can almost picture Virgil at the controls, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hands steady on the yoke. He knows Scott will be coordinating the rescue from Thunderbird 1, his voice calm and authoritative even in the face of such chaos.

The camera zooms in on the oil rig, its metal structure groaning under the intense heat. Flames lick at the platform, sending plumes of thick smoke into the sky. Alan can feel the heat radiating from the screen, smell the acrid scent of burning oil.

March 28th, 2058 - 22:04 YEKT

The Artic Ocean roars, a steel-grey beast whips into a frenzy by the unforgiving wind. Waves crash against the legs of the colossal oil rig, a fragile-looking structure in the face of nature's fury. Above, on a precarious inspection platform clinging to the south column, six figures huddle against the elements, their faces etched with fear. It is a scene of impending disaster, and high above, Thunderbird 1 slices through the turbulent sky, a crimson arrow piercing the storm.

Inside the sleek cockpit, Scott Tracy, pilot and eldest of the five Tracy brothers, squints through the driving rain. His voice, though calm, carries an undercurrent of urgency as he relays the situation to his father, Jeff Tracy, and the eldest of his younger brothers, Virgil Tracy, who is in command of Thunderbird 2. "Thunderbird 2 this is Thunderbird 1. I have visual, south column, they're trapped on an inspection platform," Scott reports, his gaze fixed on the swaying figures. The platform itself looks as if it could be ripped away at any moment.

"F-A-B. We'll take it from here," Jeff's voice crackles over the comm-link, the tone of a seasoned leader taking charge. Even from the relative safety of Thunderbird 1, the tension is palpable. Below, on the rig, the situation is deteriorating rapidly.

"Come on! Come on!" one of the workers yells, his voice barely audible over the wind. His words are lost in the cacophony of the storm and the groaning metal of the rig.

"Scott, get out of there that tower's coming down!" Jeff barks. Before Scott can react, a blast of fire erupts from the damaged rig, sending a shockwave that rockets through Thunderbird 1. The sleek craft buckles, momentarily losing its steady course. "Thunderbird 1 any damage?" Jeff asks, his voice strained showing his concern.

"Negative, Dad," Scott replies, his hands expertly guiding the craft back on course. His focus, however, remained on the imperilled workers below.

Meanwhile, Thunderbird 2, a colossal green behemoth, struggled to manoeuvre in the treacherous winds. "This approach angle's no good. Gonna have to swing her around," Jeff mutters, wrestling with the controls.

"Watch the wind shear Thunderbird 2," Scott warns, his voice tight with worry.

"Scotty, I was watching for wind shear when you were still wearing diapers," Jeff retorts, a hint of amusement in his voice, attempting to break the tension. The humour was short-lived.

"Shit! Hold on!" Jeff exclaims.

"Fucking hell!" Virgil shouts almost simultaneously as a large fireball slams into the craft. He gets up from his seat and makes it down into the module.

"Who needs the diapers now, Dad?" Scott's laughter is a nervous release, a brief flicker of light in the darkening storm.

The situation demanded immediate action. Inside the module, Virgil approaches a control panel and moves several items across the holo-screen before selecting the nosecones grabs with the seat attachment. He walks over to the corner of the room as his exo-suit is lowered from one of the containers and turns to have his back towards it as mechanical arms approach him and start to attach it onto his back. The hatch doors underneath the module open and Virgil walks over to it, grabbing onto one of the chairs as it slowly starts to lower. As it lowers from Thunderbird 2, Virgil uses his wrist controller to make a controlled descent towards the water. He skilfully maneuverers the platform, winching it down towards the terrified workers.

"Virgil, how's it going?" Jeff calls.

"It's looking good, Dad," Virgil replies, his voice calm and reassuring, a lifeline in the raging storm, "Okay, I've got a visual. Hold it there. Targets locked. Firing rescue lines." He directs the rescue lines towards the workers, instructing them to hook themselves on so he can lift them into their seats.

"Alright, let's haul them out and bring 'em home," Jeff's voice echoed through the comm, a mix of relief and determination.

As the winch began to lift the workers, a cry of "Look out!" pierced the air. Two of the men bump into each other, their precarious balance threatened by the sudden movement of another huge explosion that rips through the rig. They sway dangerously, almost losing their grip on the rescue lines.

"Hang on!" Virgil yells, his heart pounding as the winch momentarily dipped towards the churning waves.

"Shit, sorry boys," Jeff states, his tone laced with anxiety. The lives of these men hung precariously in the balance. Thunderbird 2 steady's once again, allowing for Virgil to start winching them in. The workers then get close enough to reach out and grab onto seats which enables them to haul themselves into them. Under Virgil's watchful eye, he makes sure that they're all secure before slowly commencing the lift of the nosecone grab. It slowly retracts back into the module and once fully inside, Virgil closes the underside hatch, enveloping the workers into a heated module and out of the wind and rain.

"Thunderbird 1, commence knockdown procedure," Jeff orders as he watches the hatch symbol on his control unit go from red, suggesting it's open, to green.

"F-A-B, Thunderbird 2," Scott acknowledges, his fingers flying across the control panel. The cargo bay doors underneath Thunderbird 1 open up to reveal a small extinguish missile. "Lining up target. Fire!"

The missile fires out from Thunderbird 1 and launches towards the centre of the raging oil inferno that is ripping apart the rig. There's a large explosion as the missile detonates and a huge foam cloud erupts from the fireball as well as a poisonous gas. The flames flicker before extinguishing, leaving the whole of the rig in darkness. In the artic sky, the search lights of Thunderbirds 1 and 2 can be seen.

"Bull's-eye! Outstanding shot," Jeff compliments, "Let's take these babies home."

March 28th, 2058 - 14:09 EST

The flickering blue light of the television screen paints the faces of the boys gathered in the common room a sickly shade of pale. Its glow reflects in their wide, awestruck eyes, captivated by the unfolding drama. On screen, the inferno that had been raging on the oil rig just moments before has dwindled to a smouldering wisp.

The reporter, her hair wind-swept and face flushed with excitement, grinned broadly. "As you can see the fire has been extinguished! The rocket fired from Thunderbird 1 has robbed it of the oxygen it needed to burn. Amazing! International Rescue have done it again, Chuck!"

Chuck, a seasoned news anchor with a voice as smooth as polished mahogany, nods sagely. "That was great work, Lisa. Thanks a lot. The owner of the rig Warren Grafton has—"

A wave of cheers erupt from the boys clustered around the television, their young voices a mixture of awe and admiration.

Suddenly, a skinny boy with a freckled face and a gap-toothed grin, who is standing near to the Tracy, looks up at Alan with an almost painful eagerness. "Ooh, I wish I could be a Thunderbird one day," he blurts out.

The room falls silent. The air thickens with anticipation. All eyes turn to him with smirks and silent giggles. The gap-toothed boy, realizing he said that out loud, flushes a deep crimson. He looks like a rabbit caught in headlights, bracing for the inevitable onslaught of ridicule.

Alan, however, simply raises an eyebrow and smirks. "That's another good one, diaper boy," he drawls, his tone laced with amusement. Everyone in the room roars with delight. The gap-toothed boy, still blushing, can't help but crack a nervous smile himself.

From the back of the room, a voice boomed, cutting through the laughter like a knife. "Tracy!"

PART 2

March 28th, 2058 - 14:12 EST

All eyes turn towards the doorway, where a figure stands – a figure as imposing as a granite sculpture in a room of swirling chaos. The Headmaster, his face etched with an unnerving severity, his arms crossed firmly across his chest, stares into the room. His lips are pressed into a thin, disapproving line, his gaze scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey. A wave of murmurs broke out, the students instinctively part like the Red Sea, making way for the Headmaster as he surveys the room, his gaze finally settling on Alan.

"Alan," the Headmaster's voice echoes through the room, surprisingly gentle, yet carrying an undeniable weight, "There's someone here for you."

The room holds its breath, as though a storm has just broken and the world is holding its breath waiting for the next thunderclap. The Headmaster gestures towards the doorway, where a woman, dressed in a crisp pink suit with a perfectly pink hat perched atop her head, stands with a cool smile. She is a vision of elegance, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair framing a face that radiates an aura of confidence and power.

"Hello, boys. Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, at your service," she announces, her voice smooth and melodious, "Alan darling, your father's been unexpectedly detained and he's asked me to pick you up. Is that all right?"

"Sure, beats the bus!" Fermat shrugs, his eyes wide with fascination.

"Definitely!" Alan replies, his voice tinged with a mixture of excitement.

"Fantastic. Now, will any of these gorgeous young things be joining you?" Penelope asks, her gaze sweeping across the silent room, her smile widening as she catches the eager looks of the boys, all of them raising their hands, vying for the chance to be with her.

However Alan, his mind already processing the whirlwind of unexpected events, responds. "Just Fermat."

"Quite right," Penelope confirms, her smile unwavering as she turns towards the door, gesturing for them to follow her.

"Lady Penelope, why are you in America?" Alan asks, his curiosity piqued as he catches up with her, "Are you on a mission for my father?"

"Alan, shh!" Penelope's smile softens, revealing a hint of mischief, "I am an undercover agent after all."

With that, they follow Penelope out of the room, leaving behind a stunned cafeteria. As they walk, Alan notices that the doors seem to open before them, as if by magic, creating a pathway for them to exit the crowded hall. They reach the entrance of the school, where a sleek pink Rolls Royce, gleaming like a polished gem, is parked. A tall man in a perfectly tailored butler's uniform, his face as impassive as a marble statue, stands next to the open driver's door.

"Here we are," Penelope says.

"Hi, Parker," Fermat greets the butler, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and amusement.

"Good afternoon to you, Master Hackenbacker," Parker replies, his voice as smooth and polished as his attire. He shakes Fermat's hand with a tight grip, causing Fermat to wince.

"Ow," Fermat winces.

"Hi, Nosey," Alan chuckles, using the nickname he'd given Parker, a nickname that the butler never seems to take offense to despite it being a clear reference to his misspent youth.

"Less of that h'attitude, or h'I shall be h'obliged to deliver the Parker Haymaker," Parker warns, his voice a low rumble.

"Okay, bring it on, Grey Ninja," Alan challenges, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

They all pile into the car, Parker sliding behind the wheel. As he begins to drive, Penelope warns him to be careful not to run over any of the students that are congregated around the school entrance, a crowd that appears to be growing larger by the second. The car, moving at a snail's pace, is barely going one mile per hour.

"Very good, m'lady," Parker replies, his voice a perfect blend of professionalism and respect. Then, he reaches across the dashboard and presses a button. Wings pop out the side of the car as FAB 1 into flying mode and with a sudden jolt, the car lurches forward, lifting off the ground. "FAB 1 is h'off!"

"All right! Whoa!" Alan and Fermat yells, their voices full of a mixture of surprise and exhilaration.

The car, a majestic pink marvel, is soaring through the air, leaving the school and the students behind.

"FAB 1 is in fly mode," Penelope states to the two teenagers, her voice calm and composed, as though taking a flight across the country is the most natural thing in the world.

Parker, with the practiced ease of a seasoned pilot, begins a smooth ascent, rising above the clouds and towards the clear blue sky.

"Holy shit," Fermat whispers, his eyes wide with amazement, "We're flying in a pink car."

Penelope, ignoring their awe, pulls out a newspaper from her purse and starts to read. "Oh, look, Parker," she says, her voice laced with amusement, "Pink is the new black this season."

"H'I'm very glad to 'ear h'it, m'lady," Parker replies, his attention unwavering from his task of navigating FAB 1 across the vast expanse of sky.

"And hemlines are going up," Penelope continues, her voice still tinged with amusement.

"That h'is good news, m'lady," Parker responds, his voice a calm counterpoint to the rushing of wind that is circulating around them.

"Oh, and apparently England won the football last night," Penelope finishes, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Yes! Eng-er-land!" Parker shouts, his voice rising with a wave of national pride. His hands, momentarily distracted, leaves the steering wheel, and the car starts to tilt sharply to one side.

"Fuck!" Alan and Fermat scream, their voices mirroring their sudden, unexpected descent.

"Jesus! Calm down, Parker," Penelope calls out, her voice regaining its composure.

"Yes, m'lady. Sorry, m'lady," Parker apologizes, his attention returning to the task at hand, his focus sharpening, his hands regaining control of the car as it begins to level out.

March 28th, 2058 - 11:34 PST

The San Francisco City Hospital parking is packed, with the usual chaos of a hospital in the middle of a busy urban centre. Ambulances blare, sirens wail, and the scent of antiseptic mingles with the salty tang of the nearby ocean. Amidst this ordinary scene, Thunderbirds 1 and 2 hover above the large building. Both vessels are out of place, yet they fit perfectly into the scene, a testament to the extraordinary nature of the world they inhabited. The hatch underneath Module 3 opens again allowing for the nosecone grabs with the seats to lower once again. This time, it has all the workers from the oil rig safely strapped in as it descends. Virgil is also in one of the seats, having taken off his exo-suit.

As the chairs land on the floor, Virgil jumps up and calls over to some of the hospital staff. "Okay, lock it up. Let's go. Let's move it. Hey, we need some help over here," he booms over the noise. He helps the rig crew of of their seats and over to the awaiting staff.

"F-A-B, Mission complete. Thunderbird 1, we are good to go," Jeff calls, confirming their successful rescue operation from the oil rig.

As the Tracy brothers prepared to depart, a figure emerges from the throng of workmen from the rig. He isn't blends in with all the others as they're wearing the same uniform, but his eyes hold a strange glint, a sharp edge that seems to cut through the mundane reality of the parking lot.

His name is Mullion, a man who serves an old friend of Jeff Tracy, a powerful individual who now harbours a deep, unshakeable hatred for the Tracy family. As the Jeff starts to lift the nosecone grab back into the module, with Virgil on it, Mullion slips away from the gathering crowd, his movements fluid, almost stealthy, as if he is a phantom gliding through the mundane. In his hand, he holds a peculiar object, a small, cylindrical container filled with a viscous, iridescent goo – a substance designed to track its target, a weapon of silent, insidious pursuit.

With a calculated throw, Mullion launches the container towards Thunderbird 1, aiming for the rear of the craft. The projectile zips through the air, a shimmering streak against the midnight sky, and lands with a soft, sickening thud against the shiny metallic exterior of the ship. The goo, activates by the impact, beginning to spread, clinging to the metallic surface, leaving a shimmering, iridescent trail. It is a silent, invisible threat, a cunning trap laid for the Tracy family.

Mullion watches, a flicker of dark satisfaction in his eyes, as the goo does its work, a silent, unseen beacon, a leash that will soon bind the Tracy family to their pursuer. He has played his part, a pawn in a larger game, a game of vengeance and power. He melts back into the crowd, disappearing amongst the sea of faces, leaving behind a trail of unseen danger, a looming threat that whispers of revenge, a promise of chaos that hung in the air, heavy and oppressive.

Meanwhile, the Tracy brothers, unaware of the danger that has been unleashed, prepare for departure. As they take off, the invisible tracker starts to send its signal. Back in the shadows, Mullion watches. A satisfied smirk played on his lips. The hunt has begun.

March 29th, 2058 - 06:44 NZDT

In an underwater submarine just off the Western Seaboard of the USA a computer voice goes off. "Tracking device, activated."

"Ah, the chariot of the gods. Having dallied with the mortals, they return to Olympus. And so, I follow," a bald-headed guy replies.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Thunderbirds are Go!

March 29th, 2058 - 07:21 NZDT

As FAB 1 is on it's final stretch of the journey, the proximity alarm goes off, indicating there is another aircraft nearby.

Parker checks his dashboard. "Pardon me, m'lady. H'Approaching Tracy Island. H'And radar indicates we 'ave some company," he says and Thunderbirds 1 and 2 pull up next to Lady Penelope's flying car. Scott waves at Alan before Alan turns to look at Thunderbird 2 where his father salutes at him. Thunderbird 1 then does a barrel roll around Thunderbird 2 before they both jet off toward the island, leaving Lady Penelope's car behind.

Penelope leans back in her seat, a thin smile playing on her lips. "Now, that's showing off," she remarks, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Alan watches the Thunderbirds with a mix of awe and longing. "I wish that was me," he whispers, his voice barely audible. He imagines himself at the controls, soaring through the air, a hero like his brothers.

On Tracy Island, the air hummed with activity. Professor Hackenbacker, more affectionately know as Brains, is hunched over a console, his fingers flying across the keys. "I'm about to run post flight checks, Mr. Tracy," Brains states, his voice a staccato rhythm, "Anything I s-should know about?"

"Brains," Jeff acknowledges, and responds in a calm and measured way, "I noticed a build-up of vibration on Thunderbird 2, followed by illumination of the number two engine out light."

"Okay, Mr. Tracy," Brains nods, his brow furrowed, "I'll c-check the flight data and guidance processor."

"Dad!" Alan calls out, his voice filled with urgency.

Jeff turns and smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Alan! Let me look at you," he beams, pulling his son into a hug. He holds Alan at arm's length, surveying him with a tenderness that belies the seriousness of his own tasks. He then glances over at his other sons, who are approaching. "Ah, oh, look out!"

"Hey Sprout!" Virgil shouts, ruffling Alan's hair with a playful grin.

Scott follows close behind, his smile mirroring Virgil's. "Hey Buddy!"

"Breakfast's ready. Come and get it," Grandma Tracy shouts from inside the house, her voice warm and inviting.

"Mum, it smells delicious, you sure Max didn't help you?" Jeff questions.

Max is Brains robotic AI assistant which is name stands for Mechanical Assistant eXperimental. While Grandma Tracy, Sally, does her best with cooking, it had been always something her late husband Grant used to do. Therefore, after years of not cooking, her ability to cook is very poor. Jeff's stomach starts rumbling as the whole family takes a seat at the table. "I am starved."

"So, Dad, I saw the mission on TV. It looked dangerous," Alan muses, his eyes wide with concern.

"Saving lives is a dangerous business. But it's what we do," Jeff replies, his voice firm and resolute. He reaches for a plate on the table, his movements deceptively casual.

"Do you think the fire was caused by thermal up draughts? I mean, that would explain the..." Alan begins, but Jeff interrupts, his hand raised in a gesture of playful warning.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, enough shop talk. I want to hear about school," Jeff states.

Alan gives his dad a weird look, as if to say, 'You're kidding me, right?' before collecting his thoughts. "School's boring," he mumbles, "Plus, I've been thinking, maybe I could be home-educated now. That way, I could sit in on missions from time to time. What do you think?"

Jeff shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. "No shortcuts, Alan. No school, no rockets. Say, why aren't you wearing your retainer?"

The conversation drifted towards the brothers' latest exploits, filled with tales of daring rescues and close calls.

"So, I'm getting the reading telling me that the wind is blowing sixty knots, right up my keister," Scott explains.

"No kidding," Virgil scoffs.

"Did you try readjust the flaps?" Alan questions.

"Well, that's the first thing I did, Sprout! It's not my first day in a Thunderbird you know," Scott replies pointing out the obvious.

"Try and keep up!" Gordon laughs.

"Yeah, and don't you have homework to do or something?" Virgil jokes.

"Unless he's blown up this school, like the last one!" Gordon laughs.

"Yeah, keep Alan away from the ships, he's a hazard," Scott finishes, causing all of Alan's brothers start laughing together before Jeff says that that's enough.

"Man, I haven't seen that much fire since that volcano in Fiji," Virgil mutters.

"That wasn't Fiji that was Istanbul," Scott argues.

"No, no, Istanbul was the earthquake," Virgil fires back.

"Yeah well, nothing compares to Argentina," Scott scoffs.

Alan starts to get annoyed as his brothers all talking about rescues and as he is too young, he can't go on missions so he throws down his napkin on the tablet and stands up. "Dad, I'm not really hungry. Come on, Fermat. Let's go."

"But! I'm not done!" Fermat calls, before sighing and follows him.

March 29th, 2058 - 18:46 NZDT

The sun is setting over the luxurious Tracy Villa, casting a warm glow on the sparkling swimming pool where Lady Penelope is leisurely reading her newspaper. Jeff is in the dining area helping Sally clean up after dinner. Max had helped with putting the dishes into the dishwasher before heading off down to Brains' lab. As he finishes clearing up the last of the crumbs on the table he turns to his mother.

"Mum, have you seen Lady P?" Jeff enquires.

"By the pool, son," Sally responds.

"Why, of course, thanks," Jeff smiles and makes his way over to the pool and spots Penelope on one of the sunlounges. Her compact now open with a hologram of Parker displayed in front of her.

Meanwhile, Alan and Fermat are about to enter the silo for Thunderbird 1. Fermat looks worried.

"We're not supposed to go in there," Fermat whispers, "We could get in trouble."

"Ah, you worry too much," Alan responds dismissively and starts to punch in a code into the door that leads out of the control room. Through the door, the hanger of Thunderbirds 1, 3, 4 and the Space Elevator for Thunderbird 5.

Fermat looks puzzled. "Where'd you get the access code for the hanger anyway?"

"Fermat, my friend, what you don't know, can't hurt you," Alan smirks.

Above them, Penelope closes her compact and places her newspaper down. As she looks up, she sees the approaching figure of Jeff and stands up to great him. "It seems the fire at the oil rig was no accident."

A concerned crosses Jeff's face. "Any suspects?"

"Not yet, but I'll keep you posted," Penelope states, as she starts packing her belongings.

"Oh, and thanks for bringing Alan home," Jeff adds.

Penelope smiles. "My pleasure. Any excuse to visit paradise." She turns to leave a soft humming sound comes from the steps that lead down to the main beach.

Kayo appears in a simple turquoise bikini that hugs her slender frame, the strings tied in neat bows at her hips and back. The material shimmers faintly in the evening light, hinting at a hidden strength beneath its delicate appearance. In her hand is a surfboard that is clearly old, its edges slightly worn, but it has a charm that spoke of countless adventures. She had spent the day down on the beach so hasn't been aware of the ongoing activities that has occurred.

Jeff calls out to an approaching figure. "Kayo!"

"Hey, Mr. Tracy," Kayo replies.

"Hello, Kayo," Penelope smiles.

"Good evening, Lady Penelope," Kayo greets.

"Did you know Alan's home?" Jeff asked.

Kayo's face lights up. "Alan's back? Alan's back!" She immediately runs off to go and find him.

"When are those two going to move along?" Jeff jokes as he and Penelope start walking towards where Parker is waiting with FAB 1.

"When Kayo decides the time is right. Girls always far ahead of boys with that sort of thing," Penelope comments.

Jeff makes a strange face. "What sort of thing?"

"Romance," Penelope answers.

"Alan and Kayo? I didn't see that one coming, even though they are best friends," Jeff muses.

"No, you wouldn't," Penelope chuckles.

"Have a safe flight home, Penny," Jeff calls as Penelope starts walking down the path to the Thunderbird 2 runway, while Jeff goes to head up to his office.

"Thanks, Jeff," Penelope responds giving him a sweet wave before disappearing out of sight.

The whine of the Thunderbird 1's engines cut through the silence of Tracy Island's hangar. It isn't the roar of full power, but a low hum, a thrumming heartbeat of a machine poised for flight. It is the sound of childhood dreams taking flight, fuelled by a potent cocktail of youthful audacity and a love for the impossible. Both Alan and Fermat have taken their seats in the pilot's and co-pilot's seats respectively.

"Okay Fermat, run pre-flight checks," Alan says.

Fermat, his face aglow with the blue light emanating from the control panel, meticulously checks the hydraulic systems. "Right. Hydraulic systems are green," he announces, a confident glint in his eyes.

"Right, commence main engine sequence," Alan chimes in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"F-A-B, Alan," Fermat replies.

"Couldn't hurt to just fire up the instruments," Alan shrugs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He winks at Fermat, the slyness in his grin a testament to the secret thrill of defying rules and of testing the boundaries.

"No wait, Alan! That's the..." Fermat begins, but his words are swallowed by the guttural roar of the Thunderbird 1's engines igniting. The cockpit vibrates with a sudden surge of energy. Alarms blare, piercing the silence like a sonic scream, as the ship shudders.

"Wrong switch! Oh God!" Fermat cries, his voice laced with panic.

The beeping intensified, the control panel flashing with a frantic red light. They fumble with the controls, their frantic movements only adding to the chaos, until the whole system miraculously shuts down. The engines sputtering to a halt and Thunderbird 1, like a startled beast, falls silent.

"Oh, could this day get any worse?" Alan asks, his voice a mix of frustration.

A hologram appears on the screen in front of them. One of Jeff Tracy. A stern face painted over it. An alert from the Thunderbird 1's control panel had flashed on his desk, a stark reminder of his sons' reckless disregard for protocol.

"Alan, my office. Now," Jeff booms over the intercom, its tone one of clear anger.

"Shit," Alan mumbles, his bravado momentarily fading.

They step out of the cockpit, the air thick with the scent of ozone and the lingering hum of the recently silenced engines. Fermat runs his hand along the sleek nosecone of the Thunderbird 1, his fingers inadvertently brushing against a sticky substance.

"Look at this," Fermat calls, pointing at the goo with his thumb.

"What is it?" Alan questions, his eyes narrow in curiosity.

"Looks like some sort of... gallium-electrolyte compound," Fermat mutters.

Alan nods, his eyes shifting from the strange goo to the door back into the control room that will leading up to his father's office. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders slump under the weight of impending doom. "We gotta get out of here," Alan states. Not knowing what this goo is doing, he rushes up to the office and spots his father looking out across the horizon. "Dad, I know you're mad. I shouldn't have been in the ship, but if you just give me a minute to explain..." he begins, but Jeff cuts him off, his voice sharp and unforgiving.

"You're damn right you shouldn't have been in there!" Jeff cries.

"But nothing happened, Dad. I had it under control," Alan pleads, growing in desperation.

"Under control? Do you have any idea of the importance of secrecy in our operation? You fired up a Thunderbird without activating the anti-detection shield. You put everyone in danger when you act selfishly. You want to be part of the team; you have to play by the rules. You understand?" Jeff thunders, his eyes fixed on Alan, demanding an answer.

Alan hesitates, his gaze meeting his father's.

"Do you?" Jeff presses, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

Alan feels a surge of anger, a familiar resentment bubbling up within him. "Yeah, I understand. I understand you don't want me to be part of International Rescue. You don't want me to do anything. You won't even listen to me when I'm trying to tell you something important!" he retorts, his voice rising in frustration.

"I've heard enough. You're grounded for the rest of spring break," Jeff declares, turning back to his desk, his shoulders stiff with anger.

"But Dad!" Alan pleads in desperation.

"Bottom line, Alan. You need to grow up," Jeff states firmly.

"Then let me," Alan snaps, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He storms towards the door, his footsteps heavy with frustration. "Please listen for once in your fucking life!" he whispers, his voice barely audible as he slams the door shut.

Jeff leans back in his chair, his gaze falling on two old family photos on his desk. The image of his wife, a youthful smile gracing her face, brings a surge of bittersweet memories. His thoughts drift to the responsibility of raising his sons, the weight of their legacy resting upon his shoulders. The comm on his desk buzzes, pulling him back to the present. A hologram of John appears on his desk.

"Hey, John. I was just about to turn in. What can I do for you?" Jeff answers.

"I could sure use a pizza. You know a place that delivers?" John smirks.

"Thirty minutes or it's free, right? Anything else on your mind?" Jeff replies, a hint of wry humour in his voice.

"Well, got a forest fire in Vladivostok, a typhoon heading for Singapore. What's happening on Planet Tracy?" John asks with curiosity.

"Alan's home for spring break, when will he ever learn the only person that can keep him under control is... Kayo," Jeff responds, dejectedly.

"Yeah, I thought I could see a storm brewing in your region but stopped by a Kyrano," John chuckles.

"Teenagers," Jeff sighs, his voice filled with the weariness of a parent battling a never-ending war with adolescence.

"Well, we've all been there. And Dad, you've done a great job since Mom died," John says sincerely.

"Thanks, John," Jeff smiles, "Keep an eye on that typhoon for us. And, uh, I'll call Vladivostok, see if they need help with that fire."

"F-A-B, Dad. Sleep tight," John acknowledges.

As Jeff hangs up the phone, he can't shake the feeling that the storm brewing on Tracy Island is far from over. Alan, with his reckless streak and his unwavering determination to prove himself, is a force of nature. It is only a matter of time before his rebellious spirit would clash with the rigid structure of their world for the worse.

PART 3

March 30th, 2058 - 08:57 NZDT

The sun has just fully revealed itself over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Tracy Island hanger. Fermat is making his way towards his father's lab, a swiftness in his step as he is eager to transverse with his father over the substance that he and Alan found yesterday on Thunderbird 1.

"Morning, Dad," Fermat calls as he approaches the work desk.

"Hey, son. There's something I'd like to s-show you," Brains replies, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"A neural-net control system," Fermat exclaims in excitement as Brains picks up an item off the desk.

"It's great to have your back," Brains states, "I bet you didn't think spring break was going to be this f-fun. Watch this!" Brains uses the neural-net control system to lift up a phone in front of him, as well as the Pods that are stationed behind his workplace. "And that tiny phone lifts up, perfect," he says, a satisfied smile on his face.

Fermat hears the moment behind him and turns to see Max whirring in surprise as the Pod components are start floating around the workshop. "Dad, it—" Fermat mutters.

Suddenly, the neural-net control system short-circuits. There's a loud crash and Max screeches loudly and he charges out of the room in order to take cover. Brains and Fermat jump at the crashing of all the Pod components that hit the floor into a disorganized pile.

Brains lets out a sigh. "N-Nearly perfect."

"There's something I want to talk to you about, Dad" Fermat states.

"Oh. Right. Oh. Okay, right. You're having problems with a g-girl?" Brains enquires, trying to lighten the mood.

"N-No! No!" Fermat stammers, "That's Alan's thing, but Alan and I did find some sort of gallium compound on the nosecone of Thunderbird 1."

"We should check that out s-straight away," Brains says, all traces of humour gone from his voice.

Fermat nods. "That'd be g-great!"

March 30th, 2058 - 09:01 NZDT

On the beach, Alan doesn't have a care in the world as he skips rocks out across the ocean. The peaceful waves lap against the shore are the only sounds he can hear, aside from the occasional seagull cry. He has no idea that not far off the island's coast, a sinister plan is already in motion.

A periscope breaks through the water's surface, attached to a submarine. At the other end of it, Mullion has his eyes peeled. He'd been picked up from San Francisco after being checked on by the hospital. He had been the reason that Grafton's oil rig caught on fire after sabotaging it in order to get International Rescue to respond to the scene. He turns around to face the bald-headed man in the centre of the room. "The island is in sight."

The man's fingers twitch. "Transom, I need you," he calls out.

"Yes, sir," Transom, a woman with long chestnut brown hair and piercing blue eyes, responds as she walks down some steps onto the main gantry, "Our cloaking device has evaded their detection systems. We have a positive visual from the tracking solution on Thunderbird 1."

"Mullion," the man calls.

"Sir," Mullion responds and jumps down from the platform his is standing on, that is next to the periscope. He approached a missile silo with a solemn gait. The metal beast before him is a relic of a bygone era, a symbol of power and fear that had been rendered obsolete by the sands of time. He places his hand on the cold steel, feeling the vibrations of his own heartbeat echo back at him. With a deep sigh, he turned the key and armed the missile. The ancient mechanism whirred to life, a sound that had not echoed through the submarine's hull in decades. The green lights on the control panel flickered to life, casting an eerie glow across the room. Mullion stepped back, his eyes never leaving the weapon of mass destruction that had been entrusted to his care. "And it's armed and ready," Mullion confirms, "Shall I target the main structure?"

"Why would I want to destroy what will soon be mine?" the man deadpans, "One of the principal tenets of Eastern martial arts is to use your opponent's strength against him." He walks over to Mullion and his cybernetic eye flashes.

Mullion tries to move but realizes he can't. "This is ridiculous."

The man laughs softly. "It will be almost impossible to force International Rescue to leave their island. On the other hand, it requires no effort at all to let them go." His eye stops flashing and Mullion falls to the ground in a heap, looking up at his boos in alarm. "International Rescue's purpose is to rescue. All we need do is give them the victim." The man turns to Transom. "Commence targeting."

"Straight away, Sir," Transom responds and quickly locks onto Thunderbird 5, "Target acquisition of Thunderbird 5 is locked."

"Fire," the man orders.

On Thunderbird 5, an urgent, high-pitched whine tears through the peaceful symphony of the ship's internal systems. The emergency alarms begin to blare, a discordant symphony of warning sirens that ricochet off the metal walls of the ship. John's hand instinctively flies to the control panel, fingers dancing across the buttons, trying to decipher the chaos of flashing red lights and cryptic messages.

"What the fuck?" John mutters, his voice barely a whisper. The air crackles with an impending sense of danger, a cold dread that tightens his chest and makes his heart pound against his ribs. Then he sees it. A blip on the radar, a small but distinct dot hurtling towards Thunderbird 5, gaining speed with terrifying rapidity. It isn't just a blip; it is a missile, a weapon designed for destruction, aimed directly at him. A wave of panic surges through him, a primal instinct to flee, to escape the inevitable. However, John is a man who has spent his life facing danger head-on. There is no time for fear, only action. "Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island, Mayday! Mayday!" he shouts into the comm, his voice barely audible over the alarms. His fingers tremble as he frantically searches for a way to outmanoeuvre the incoming threat.

But it is too late.

The missile strikes Thunderbird 5 with a deafening roar, a blast of energy that rips through the ship, tearing it apart from the inside. The force of the impact throws John back against the command chair, the metal frame bending and groaning under the immense pressure. He feels the air leave his lungs, a sharp, searing pain that rips through his chest.

Then everything goes to black.

The tranquillity of Tracy Island is also shattered by a cacophony of alarms. The harsh, piercing klaxon echoes across the island, a shrill harbinger of disaster. The sound sent shivers down the spines of everyone, jolting them out of their day-to-day routines. They know, instinctively, that something has gone terribly wrong.

In his office, Jeff feels a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. He watches, with a mix of fear and determination, as Brains and Fermat rush into his office, their faces etched with urgency.

"Bringing up the telemetries from Thunderbird 5," Brains announces, his voice trembling slightly. He swiftly activates the palm scanner, unlocking the intricate network of holo-screens and consoles that comprise the heart of Tracy Island's operations. The lights flicker to life, bathing the room in a cool blue glow.

Jeff, Scott, Virgil, and Gordon converge on the lounge, their footsteps echoing in the silent room. It is a scene of controlled chaos, every member of the family moving with a practiced efficiency honed by years of working together under the most stressful of circumstances.

"How bad, Brains?" Jeff asks, his voice firm yet laced with concern.

"Thunderbird 5... major damage sustained," Brains stammers, his voice catching. "Possible strike by m-meteor."

5

Jeff and Gordon descend and start to get suited up.

4

Jeff and Gordon are lifted on a crane from the bottom of the hanger into Thunderbird 3.

3

Thunderbird 3's blast door closes.

2

Jeff and Gordon's chairs roll up to the controls with Scott and Virgil in the passenger seats behind Jeff.

1

The rockets start up.

Thunderbirds are Go!

March 30th, 2058 - 09:23 NZDT

The bald man, perched within the depths of the menacing submarine, watches the spectacle unfold with a sardonic smirk. "There goes the cavalry," he mutters, a dark glint in his eyes, "But who will rescue the rescuers?"

Alan gazes up at the retreating silhouette of Thunderbird 3. He hears movement and sees Kayo come out of the trees, taking her position up next to Alan and follows his gaze upwards to the disappearing Thunderbird 3. Her small hand clutches his arm, mirroring Alan anxieties. Then, a voice cuts through the air, sharp and panicked. "Alan! Kayo! Thunderbird 5 has been hit! Thunderbird 5 has been hit!" Fermat, his face pale with fear, charges towards them, his words echoing the chilling truth.

"Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, don't panic. Don't panic," Alan repeats, trying to steady himself, his voice cracking with barely controlled fear. They turn towards the ocean, their eyes searching for any sign of hope, any indication of salvation. A low rumble echoes across the tranquil waters, and the submarine, like a monstrous leviathan, breaks the surface, its sleek, ominous hull casting a dark shadow on the beach. "On the other hand—" Alan begins, his words trailing off as a wave of terror washes over them.

"Run!" Kayo and Fermat shout in unison. The children scatter, seeking refuge behind the towering trees and dense foliage that fringed the beach.

Inside the submarine, a chilling calm prevails. Mullion, his face hardened with determination, looks out the periscope once again. "We made land, sir."

The boss turns, his gaze fixes on Transom, barks a command. "Cut them off."

"Activating communications blackout," Transom announces.

Above, in the control room of Tracy Island, the holograms crackle with static, the familiar calm replaced by a tense silence. Brains' frustration etches on his brow, tinkers with a control panel, his fingers flying across the buttons, desperate for a response. "What the h-hell is going on? Mr. Tracy, do you copy? Thunderbird 3, please respond."

The children huddle together, their faces shrouded in the shadows of the trees. Alan, his heart pounding, feels a wave of despair wash over him. "How'd they find the island? Do you think it was what I did in Thunderbird 1? Do you think I ruined everything? I feel so shit," he mumbles.

"No! That compound we found could have some sort of transmitting capability, it's not your fault," Fermat reassures him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We have to do something," Kayo adds and squeezes Alan's hand.

"My dad's in the control room, but how do we get there now?" Fermat asks, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

"The vents! Let's go! We have to get a message to my dad," Alan says, his voice gaining strength. The three children, their faces grim but resolute, run towards the swimming pool.

March 30th, 2058 - 09:31 NZDT

The crimson glow of the emergency lights paint a stark picture of Thunderbird 5's interior. The once-gleaming spaceship is now a chaotic tableau of flickering monitors, sparking wires, and the acrid scent of burnt circuitry. A single, heart-wrenching voice crackles through the comm.

"I'm losing all power. Repeat, I'm losing all power. Please someone help me," John calls.

"Hold on, John. We're coming in. Gordon, prepare for immediate docking," Jeff orders as Thunderbird 3 approaches the spinning mess that used to be the stable Thunderbird 5.

"You got it, Dad. Reverse main thrusters on my mark. Three, two, one. Watching the roll," Gordon announces, his eyes glued to the console as he meticulously maneuverers Thunderbird 3, towards the stricken space station. He retracts nosecone which will allow Thunderbird 3 to slide into the space station connector, that leads right into the mission control room.

"Easy, watch the roll," Virgil states, the spinning of Thunderbird 5 making it difficult to find a lock.

"Roll index angle minus two degrees," Scott sighs in relief. A hissing sound of the airlock pressurising a comfort to everyone on board.

"We're locked on," Gordon confirms as everyone starts taking off their chair straps.

"Nice work," Jeff compliments.

"Tunnel hatch secured," Virgil reports.

"Emergency packs, boys. Let's move!" Jeff barks, his voice filled with the urgency.

The brothers move with practiced efficiency, their years of training coming to the fore in this moment of crisis. With the docking sequence executed with split-second timing, the airlock hisses open, revealing John's desperate face, that is filled with concern and grimace.

"John!" Jeff cries at the sight of his injured son, "Scott, tackle that fire." Scott rushes towards the inferno that has engulfed the monitoring room where John is trapped.

"Am I glad to see you guys!" John exclaims, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he sinks into a chair, his body aching from the ordeal.

"Easy, you're hurt. Virgil, take care of your brother. Gordon, give me a damage assessment. We need to make Thunderbird 5 safe before going down to the Island," Jeff orders, his eyes fixed on the flickering monitors, his mind already calculating the damage and strategizing the next move.

March 30th, 2058 - 09:37 NZDT

Alan, Kayo, and Fermat move with the stealth of seasoned spies, their hushed breaths the only sound in the oppressive silence. The humid air of the jungle presses down on them, the scent of decaying vegetation thick in the air. Behind them, the island's dense foliage conceal their pursuers – the relentless guards, their footsteps muffled by the jungle floor.

"Watch out for the guards," Fermat whispers, his voice tight with tension.

Alan, his brow furrowed with determination, nods silently. He scans the shadowy tunnels with a mixture of fear and steely resolve. "Get in, get in," he urges, gesturing towards the narrow vent opening. It is a risky move, but they have no other choice. They have to get to the lounge in order to send a message out to Thunderbird 3 to inform them of the invasion.

Meanwhile, inside the Tracy Villa, Transom, and the rest of the crew from the submarine, stand before a massive steel door. Her nimble fingers dance across the intricate controls of a device. "One-inch steel plate, sequential titanium locking mechanism," she muses, her brow creased in concentration.

Mullion steps forward imposingly. He cracks his neck before flexing his muscular. "I love a challenge," he grunts.

Brains, sits nervously in the lounge, his trembling hands trying to get the systems up and running again. He whistles nervously, his eyes darting around the room, his normally meticulous mind now a whirlwind of frantic thoughts. The door groans under Mullion's assault, then with a thunderous bang, it bursts open, revealing the imposing figures of a bald man, Transom, Mullion and several guards.

"W-Who are you?" Brains stammers.

The bald man surveys the room with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "So, this is Mount Olympus," he muses, "And these are the Thunderbirds. I should have guessed. Jeff Tracy, the billionaire, ex-astronaut, of course. Isn't he the one who lost his wife in an accident? Avalanche, wasn't it? How tragic."

Alan, Kayo, and Fermat, huddle in the darkness of the vent, listen with a mixture of fear and determination. Their hearts pound in their chests, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. They have to move quickly, stealthily.

"Professor Hackenbacker?" Transom's voice cut through the tension, her tone polite yet laced with a hint of menace, "We met at last year's international conference on nanotechnology. I thought your thesis on neutrinos was extremely, stimulating." One glance from the leader, and Transom knows better than to linger on pleasantries. "Sorry, Sir. The command control switch is here. Fingerprint recognition system."

The man's gaze sweeps over the room, his cold eyes lingering on Brains. "Professor. Please. Activate the control switch."

Brains, his mind reeling, could barely get a word out. "N-No."

The man's smile is chillingly cruel. "Professor, you and I share an interest in the science of the mind. The difference is, I was born with my powers. Trust me when I tell you, you've barely touched the surface." He gestures to Mullion, who moves with chilling efficiency, grabbing Brains by the arm and forcing him towards the command control switch. "Even the strongest minds can be broken. It would be a pity to break yours," the man finishes, his voice a low growl.

"F-Fuck you," Brains chokes out.

The man's laughter engulfs the room, a sound that sends shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals. "Activate the control switch, Prof!" he commands, his voice thick with malice. The cybernetic eye twitching, itching to get into the mind of Brains.

Mullion, with the grace of a predatory beast, pulls Brains towards the command centre, forcing his hand onto the activation pad.

"We have control," Transom confirms.

"Get up," Mullion barks, pulling Brains upright.

"Sorry, Professor," Transom shrugs, "Nothing personal."

"Transom, patch me through to Thunderbird 5," the man orders.

"Patching you through, Sir," Transom states,

"Attention, Thunderbird 5. As you can see, I have taken over your facilities. You no longer control your operational system," the man announces.

Above, hidden above in the ventilation system, the children watch the scene unfold with a mixture of terror and helpless fury. They can see into the lounge, but are hidden behind a panel so that the bald man, and his guards cannot see them.

"They've taken over," Alan whispers with fear. He can barely see through the grimy vents, but every detail screams of danger, of a nightmare come true.

"Warm them up, Transom," the man barks, his voice dripping with cold malice.

"Increasing temperature to maximum," Transom responds. The children, huddled behind a panel can only look on in horror as Sally is dragged into the room by two of The Hood's enforcers.

"Who's the bald freak?" Alan whispers, his voice trembling slightly.

"Hood!" Sally cries as a snarl encases her face, even in the face of danger. The man, now known as The Hood, sensing her defiance, instantly silences her with a wave of his hand. "Mullion, shut her up."

"Grandma Tracy!" Kayo whispers, her heart pounding with an urgent fear.

"They've got m-my dad," Fermat stammers, his voice barely audible.

The tension in the room was cut by a sharp, urgent voice. "Okay, you have our attention. What do you want?" Jeff demands, his voice a low rumble of anger.

The Hood's lips stretch into a cruel smile. "Oh, how rude of me. Listen here, Jeff. We won't be negotiating. I'm going to use the Thunderbirds to rob the largest banks in the world, starting with the Bank of London. The world's monetary system will be thrown into chaos, and International Rescue will be held responsible."

"You'll never get away with it," Scott yells with fury over the comm.

"Why?" Jeff presses.

"An eye for an eye, Mr. Tracy," The Hood shrugs, his voice laced with a sinister satisfaction.

"An eye for an eye?" Jeff questions, betraying a note of disbelief.

"Perhaps you're forgetting our history, but surely you remember me nursing you back to health after your crash in Indochina, helping with the beginning of International Rescue, working on strategies in order to have the approval of world governments. How do you pay me back?" The Hood sneers, his gaze fixed on the trapped family, "As soon as our ideas of what needed to be done diverged slightly, you kicked me out, left me for dead. All I had left was a rubber plantation out in Malaysia."

"The one you stole from Kayo's father, you ignorant little baldy," Sally retorts, her voice a fierce counterpoint to The Hood's cold menace, "He's since disappeared since that incident didn't he?"

The Hood erupts into a mocking laugh, his eyes flashing with a cold hatred. "Take her away," he orders his guards, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

The children can only watch, their hearts trying to rip itself out of the ribcage, as Sally is dragged away, her protests muffled by the guards' grip.

"Shit," Alan mutters, his face pale with fear.

"There he is, the bastard!" Kayo hisses, her anger flaring into a dangerous heat. Alan places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I guess every family has a black s-she—" Fermat begins, but before he can finish, he sneezes. The sound, loud and unexpected, echoes in the lounge. The Hood and his guards are startled, turning their heads as if searching for the source, while Brains, in his characteristically awkward fashion, tries to cover up the sneeze as his own. Fermat turns to Alan with a wince. "This room's murder with my allergies."

Alan, Kayo and Fermat take advantage of the distraction and lower their heads back into the vents, watching the room with renewed apprehension.

"You left me with nothing. You may have broken my body, but you've no idea how powerful my mind has become. Now you will suffer, as I suffered, waiting for a rescue that will never come," The Hood declares, his voice dripping with venomous hatred. He then makes a motion for Transom to cut off the communication with Thunderbird 5.

"Wait!" Jeff roars, but his voice is cut short. The comm goes dead, leaving the trapped family in a chilling silence.

The silence on Thunderbird 5 is broken by a new threat. "CO2 levels are rising," Scott states.

"Alright, wire the oxygen scrubber to the emergency batteries. Clean the air," Jeff shouts.

"How long will that give us?" Virgil asks with concern.

"About four hours," John confirms.

PART 4

March 30th, 2058 - 09:52 NZDT

Inside the lounge, the air is thick with tension, a tangible dread that clings like dust. The children, their faces pale but resolute, remain in the ventilation shaft, their breaths coming in shallow gasps. A sense of urgency, fuelled by the chilling knowledge that their escape is hanging by a thread.

Fermat, his face contorted in a silent battle against an oncoming sneeze, fights to suppress the urge. He knows, with the morbid certainty of a seasoned spy, that any sound, the slightest cough, the faintest whisper, will be their undoing. Yet, his body betrays him. A single, muffled sneeze erupts from his chest, ricocheting off the metal walls of the shaft.

"Someone's there," a gruff voice calls from the lounge.

Mullion scowls and steps towards the ceiling, his boots thudding against the steel floor. His gaze, sharp and calculating, is fixed directly above them. The children freeze, a silent plea for the ceiling to swallow them whole. The hold their breaths with anticipation, the only sound being the thumping of Mullion's footsteps. He stops directly below them, his hands flexing, and then, with a sickening crack, his hand shoots up through the ceiling, grabbing Alan's ankle in a vice-like grip.

Alan yelps in pain, his body jerking involuntarily. Kayo, her eyes blazing with fury, reacts instinctively. She lunges at the hand, sinking her teeth into it with a primal snarl. Mullion roars in pain, his hand recoiling as he stumbles back, his face contorting in a mask of rage and surprise.

"Run!" Kayo yells, her voice echoing through the ventilation shaft, alerting everyone in the lounge to their presence.

"No, jump!" Alan shouts back, his voice strained, "We can get through to Thunderbird 2."

The children scramble to their feet, a flurry of limbs and desperate whispers as they make their way towards the opening in the shaft. With a collective shriek, they plunge into the darkness, the air rushing past them as they tumble down the launch tube that is located behind the rocket painting.

The Hood, his face a mask of cold fury, stands in the centre of the room, his eyes fixed on the old photos that have adorned Jeff's desk - photos of his sons. "Apparently the island isn't as secure as you thought," he snarls, a chilling whisper, "Children! Did you find any children?"

Transom examines the islands cameras and finds something on Thunderbird 2's hanger cameras. "Here they are. Thunderbird 2 silo, in the loading arm."

Mullion and two other guards, their faces grim, bolt towards the door making a charge for Thunderbird 2's hanger.

The Hood looks at them, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "Seal them in," he orders to Transom.

March 30th, 2058 - 10:15 NZDT

Alan, Kayo and Fermat all come crashing down into Thunderbird 2's cockpit, on top of the passenger elevator.

"Hold on!" Alan shouts as he presses a button to lower the passenger elevator.

"The doors! You guys let's go! C'mon," Kayo yells.

"Go! Go!" Fermat calls as everyone jumps the final few meters and make a dash towards the main exit that will lead to the Cliff House. They are mere metres from it when it slams shut with a metallic clang that reverberated through the hangar.

The sudden, deafening barrier left them stranded, their escape route abruptly severed. A collective gasp filled the hangar; panic threatened to engulf them, but Alan, ever the calm amidst the storm, quickly took charge.

"This way!" Alan shouts, his voice firm despite the tremor in his own heart. He pulls them away from the sealed exit, forcing them down the length of the module hangar. The looming green metal giants, their silhouettes cast long and ominous by the flickering emergency lights, watching silently. They reach Module 6, its sleek exterior gleaming with a sickly green hue under the harsh lighting. Alan stops, his gaze scanning the area. A sliver of hope appears on his face, a barely perceptible flicker in the gloom. "There!" he points, his voice barely a whisper, "It leads to the main hanger."

Behind Module 6, a narrow, almost hidden doorway offers a potential escape route. It is a service access, a hidden passage leading to the main hanger where Thunderbirds 1 and 4 are currently stationed. It offers a slim chance, a desperate hope in a rapidly closing window. As they sprinted towards it however, the door also slams shut with a grinding screech, trapping them between a double whammy of steel.

"No!" Fermat cries.

"They've got us trapped. What now?" Kayo asks.

"If we can get to Thunderbird 1, we can escape through the service tunnel," Fermat states, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes, "But we need a plan, Alan."

They walk in silence back towards Thunderbird 2. Alan racks his brain, trying to think of a way to get through the door behind Module 6 that'll open the service tunnel to the main hanger. He suddenly comes to a stop causing Kayo and Fermat to do the same. Alan's eyes widen and he looks to his left. Module 2 stands proud in front of them. Alan approaches the Module and presses in a code in a panel that is to the bottom right of the door. The whole module opens to reveal the Pods.

"I'll use the Thunderizer on the door," Alan proclaims, his eyes shining with a newfound confidence.

Just then, over by Thunderbird 2 the passenger lift that leads to the villa hisses, and Mullion and two guards emerge, their faces set in a grim determination to capture the fleeing children.

"You guys get the goons with the Firefly!" Alan yells, as they rush into the module.

"Alan! This equipment is only to be used in an emergency," Fermat states. Alan and Kayo exchanged knowing glances. "I guess this qualifies."

"No shit Sherlock," Alan scoffs, a playful grin on his face.

Alan rushes over to the control panel to configure two pods: The Thunderizer and a Firefly Pod. The mechanical arms get to work attaching the correct components to the pods. Pod A is given a laser cannon on the front of it while caterpillar tracks are connected to the underside. On the other hand, Pod B has several cylindrical tanks attached to either side towards the back of the body. Tubes then are connected to run alongside the length of the pod's body and connected to two small cannons at the front that are located either side of a large scoop. Alan gets himself into Pod A - The Thunderizer, while Kayo and Fermat get into Pod B - Firefly Pod. They both drive out of the module. Alan towards Module 6 while Fermat drives the Firefly towards the passenger lift with Kayo in control of the cannons.

"Here they come! Fermat, can you drive this thing?" Kayo asks, her voice tight with urgency.

"Uh, no," Fermat replies.

"Hey, watch it!" Kayo shouts, her eyes widening in alarm.

"I took microbiology, not driver's ed," Fermat cries. "Set the pressure to maximum."

"Got it," Kayo responds, her fingers flying across the controls of the Firefly.

Mullion and the guards, their faces filled with surprise, stare at the children as Kayo fires the Firefly, a slippery foam substance comes flying out of the cannons and swirl around them, causing them to stumble and fall.

"Retreat!" Mullion shouts in panic.

"Let's move it," Kayo states as she locks the cannons positions in. She and Fermat both jump out of the Firefly and while Kayo charges back down the module hanger towards where Alan, now has positioned The Thunderizer, Fermat runs towards Thunderbird 2's passenger elevator.

"That's it. Time to thunderize," Alan says, his eyes focused on the door. He presses a button, and a brilliant flash of light engulfs the metal door, scorching a hole through it. "Yes! Come on, let's go!" he shouts with excitement.

"Get 'em!" Mullion yells from the far side of the hanger, his voice filled with fury as the last of the foam inside the cylindrical tanks is used up.

"Where's Fermat?" Alan asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Fermat!" Kayo calls.

"Fermat!" they both shout in unison, their voices filled with desperation.

"Coming!" Fermat calls, his voice muffled.

"Hurry up!" Alan urges, as they scramble through the hole in the door, finding themselves in the service tunnel, heading towards Thunderbird 1's silo.

"What were you doing back there, Fermat?" Alan asks as they run down the tunnel.

"I had a-an idea," Fermat replies shakily but a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just try and keep up, okay? I'll open the tunnel. We gotta keep moving," Alan states as they reach the end of the tunnel where there is a keypad. Alan's fingers fly across the keypad, entering a series of complex codes. However, the panel flashes red. "Go back. Yell when you see them coming," he orders and tries another passcode, but it doesn't work and when Alan turns away from the door for a moment to see his friends disappear. He feels a cold presence enter the tunnel and gets the feeling he's being watched. Slowly turning, Alan comes face-to-face with The Hood on the other side of the door.

"Alan," The Hood greets, "You can run if you want. Were you surprised to hear what your father did to me? It is frightening when we realize our parents aren't perfect. But perhaps you already suspected that about your father. Why did he build these magnificent machines? Do you suppose it was guilt? Because he let your mother die." Alan shakes his head no. "Open the door, Alan," he orders but Alan continues to shake his head no. The Hood chuckles at his refusal before sternly glaring at Alan. "Open, the, door." His cybernetic eye flashes enraged.

"We can't go this way. He's there," Alan shouts and The Hood forces open the door and Mullion, and the other guards appear at the other doorway, leaving the children trapped.

"No!" Fermat cries and he falls slightly, "Ow. What are we gonna do, Alan?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking, okay?" Alan states and he starts to look at the control panel behind The Hood and sees a button that will open part of the floor under Thunderbird 1. "Keep backing up. I've got an idea." Alan takes his rock launcher from the pouch it is in on the back of his pants and fires it towards The Hood.

"That's your idea?" Kayo replies clearly angry that Alan missed The Hood.

"It's not me you're angry at, Alan," The Hood says.

"It's not you I'm aiming at," Alan deadpans fires another rock and this time hits the button, and the floor drops out from underneath him, Kayo and Fermat. They all scream as they fall.

"Get them!" The Hood shouts.

"Transom, fire up Thunderbird 1. And set it on broil!" Mullion demands. The kids look behind them while they are falling down the tunnel and see the flames coming from Thunderbird 1 behind them. Kayo screams even louder. The tunnel opens up and reveals to the ocean.

"No sign of them," Transom states as she scans the cameras.

"Of course not, the little shits went up like firecrackers. Pop, pop, pop!" Mullion laughs and Brains moves to punch him angry as he thinks his son is dead.

"Don't, give him the satisfaction, Professor," The Hood muses, as Mullion easily disarms him, "This is taking too long. Pick out the equipment you need to get into those banks and load it into Thunderbird 2. No more delays."

"Yes, sir," Mullion replies.

March 30th, 2058 - 11:41 NZDT

The sun beats down on the south-east coast of the island, turning the sand into a shimmering, white expanse. A group of children, their faces flushed with the heat, scrambles towards the shore, their nervous laughter echoing across the deserted beach. The waves, however, have other plans. A pair of particularly large swells, whip up by an unseen offshore wind, crashes down on the trio, sending them tumbling and sputtering.

"How about a little warning next time you pull a stunt like that?" Fermat spits, his voice muffled by a mouthful of seawater.

"Relax, Fermat. It's just a little water," Alan replies calmly, shaking his head as he wades back to shore.

Fermat coughs, spluttering and wiping his face with a soggy sleeve. "I c-could have drowned! I can't swim."

Alan stares at him, eyes wide. "You mean you can't swim?!"

Fermat nods, his expression mortified. "I repeat, I could have d-drowned."

Kayo, her hair dripping and her clothes clinging to her body, disappears behind a cluster of palm trees, seeking some privacy to dry off. The boys, both in their boxers, wring out their shirts, trying to extract the excess water.

"I said I was sorry, Fermat. Just put this behind us?" Alan sighs, attempting to lighten the mood. He eyes Fermat's striped boxer shorts. "Nice drawers."

"Thank you," Fermat mumbles, still a bit shaken. He soon dries off and walks away, disappearing around a large boulder.

Kayo, now in dry clothes, emerges from her hiding spot, a sly grin playing on her lips. "Fermat!" she whispers.

Fermat pops out from behind the rock, a playful twinkle in his eyes. He smiles. Kayo, her mischievous grin widening, creeps up to Alan, who is now trying to button his shirt. "Boo!" she shouts, her hand reaching out to tickle his bare chest.

Alan yelps, startled, and jumps back, his hand flying to his heart. He glances around, cheeks flushed, before realizing it was Kayo. "Fucking hell, Kayo," he sputters, "You could have given me a heart attack. And next time, wait till I'm changed!"

Kayo, unable to contain her laughter, doubles over. "You're worse than a girl. Hurry up and get dressed!"

Alan, still blushing, quickly finishes buttoning his shirt. The children set off along the beach, the sun now beginning to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the sand.

"Data from Tracy Island is sent to Thunderbird 5 via satellite," Fermat explains, his voice taking on a serious tone, "So, there's a miniscule possibility that if we reach the satellite station, we could..."

"Blow it up!" Alan interrupts, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous spark.

"No," Fermat chuckles, "We could hack into it and give control back to Thunderbird 5."

"Good thinking, Fermat," Alan says, impressed, "Alright, let's do it." He starts drawing a rough plan in the sand with a stick. "Here's the plan. We're here, right? So, we go along the shore around the base of the mountain to the access road, here. And then up to the transmitter. So, what do you think?" He steps back to admire his 'work'.

Kayo, who has been studying the map, shakes her head. "Good. Except that we're here, not there, and the transmitter is there, not here. We have to go through the jungle."

"But that's o-off limits," Fermat states.

"It's gonna be dangerous," Kayo points out, "But we have no choice."

"I'm in," Alan declared, his hand slamming into his palm. The three of them stood together, their hands clasped. "We gotta get up there fast! All our folks are in trouble. And if The Hood gets off the island..."

"Actually, he's not going anywhere for now," Fermat smiles revealing a device in his hands.

"The guidance processor for Thunderbird 2. You can't take off without it. Fermat, you're a genius. How'd you get this?" Alan asks, his eyes widening in astonishment.

Fermat shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Alan, my friend, what you don't know, can't hurt you."

March 30th, 2058 - 01:34 GMT

The full moon's light, filters through the canopy of ancient oaks, casting an eery glow across the manicured lawns of Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward's sprawling country estate. Parker, ever the meticulous valet, is finishing his thorough cleaning of the FAB 1 after returning from an event just a couple hours ago. The stillness of the English countryside is broken only by the hooting of owls. Suddenly, the car communicator buzzes, its insistent tone cutting through the calm. Parker, knowing the significance of that sound, quickly answers.

"Parker?" a crisp voice speaks on the other end.

"M'lady?" Parker replies.

"We have an emergency," Penelope informs.

Parker, his brow furrows in concern, turns to the French windows of the mansion, where he can just make out Lady Penelope's figure, silhouetted against the bathroom's pale light. She is up to her shoulders in a fragrant bubble bath, her eyes glued to the flickering holo-screen.

"What a charming fellow," Penelope remarks when she hears a knock on the bathroom door, "Come in."

Parker, carrying a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, enters the grand bathroom, its marble walls gleaming under the soft light. The scent of lavender and jasmine hangs heavy in the air.

"Have a look at this, Parker," Penelope says, gesturing towards the screen, "He, and this woman, poor girl, both work for this man, known as The Hood."

"Sounds like h'an h'alias to me, m'lady," Parker observes, his gaze fixed on the holo-screen.

"Quite right, Parker. Real name: Trangh Kyrano. Assumed suicide after he disappeared when his rubber plantation went bust in the jungles of the Malaya," Penelope explains, taking a delicate sip of tea, "Oh, perfect, Parker."

"M'lady, that's the brother to Mr. Tracy's former manservant, Kyrano," Parker cries, a sudden realization dawning on him.

"How's my schedule for today, Parker?" Lady Penelope asked, a hint of steel in her voice.

"You 'ave clay pigeon shooting with Lord Marlborough, h'a benefit gala for the Institute of the Blind, h'and h'incidentally, there's h'a typhoon bearing down h'on Singapore," Parker replies, smoothly reciting her day's agenda.

"I suppose that's urgent," Penelope comments, a flicker of concern crossing her face.

"Yes, m'lady. There was h'also h'a bridge collapsed h'in Buenos Aires and h'a volcanic eruption h'in Jakarta," Parker continues, his tone grave.

"And International Rescue haven't responded?" Penelope questions, her brows furrowing.

"No, m'lady. H'And the media h'is awash h'in speculation vis-à-vis their whereabouts," Parker says as he turns up the volume of the television. The news reporter is saying that there are currently multiple disasters around the world, and International Rescue, usually the first to respond, haven't turned up.

"Typhoon Jayco hit Singapore just one hour ago, and thousands have been left homeless by a volcano in Jakarta," the reporter explains, "Only International Rescue have the incredible machines to carry out the rescue of the people trapped."

"I think it's time to send the emergency signal, Parker," Penelope states firmly.

"H'I fear you're not wrong, m'lady," Parker replies, a worried crease appearing on his forehead. He reaches for the ornate silver teapot and, with a deft tap on its top, activates the emergency signal. A small red light blinks and beeps on the teapot's lid, broadcasting their urgent plea for help.

PART 5

March, 30th 2058 - 14:00 NZDT

Deep in the jungle, Alan, Kayo and Fermat move through the living tapestry of green woven with sunlight and the chirping of unseen insects. They trudge through the dense foliage as their faces streak with sweat. They stride through a small spring and use it as a guide towards the source, that's near to the transmission tower.

"I'm telling you, Fermat, it was like The Hood was inside my head back there," Alan says, a tremor of fear still lingering in his tone.

"What do you mean, Alan?" Fermat enquires, scepticism evident in his voice.

"Maybe he can read minds or control minds or something," Alan states.

"Don't be silly, Alan. Everything can be explained by science," Fermat counters, his usual matter-of-fact demeanour returning as he swats at an incent buzzing near him.

"I'm just trying to figure out his weakness," Alan muses, his gaze hardening, "Everybody has an Achilles heel, right?"

"My Achilles heel is actually my Achilles heel," Fermat winces as he shifts his weight, "It's got a blister the size of a basketball. Kayo! Can we s-s—"

"Stop?" Kayo asks, cutting him off sharply mid-sentence. Her gaze unwavering, an unspoken warning in her tone.

"Yes!" Fermat pleads, his face contorting in pain.

"No!" Kayo's response is immediate and firm.

Fermat sighs in defeat. "Okay."

Alan helps Fermat up the steep, muddy incline. "No more cheeseburgers for you, Fermat," he chuckles, "And don't worry about Kayo, she was always like that growing up."

March 30th, 2058 - 14:37 NZDT

Meanwhile, in Thunderbird 2's hangar, Mullion and The Hood stand before the sleek, powerful craft.

"Ready for launch," Mullion says, his voice devoid of emotion. With Module 2 a mess, he walks along and inspects the inside of Module 4, which is also seemingly open. Inside, he finds the holo-diagrams of The Mole. "We'll use this to get into the vaults."

"Subtle, as usual, Mullion," The Hood sneers.

"I didn't realize we'd be getting points for style," Mullion deadpans, "We're robbing banks, remember?"

The Hood's gaze, cold and piercing, instantly silences him. A shiver runs down Mullion's spine as the cybernetic eye flickers before him, reminding him of the power his boss has over him.

"Don't worry. You'll get your money," The Hood growls.

Mullion turns his attention towards Thunderbird 2, and presses down on his communicator. "Transom, initiate pre-flight diagnostics," he instructs.

Transom is in the pilot's seat of Thunderbird 2, and begins her pre-flight checks. The Hood and Mullion stand on the passenger elevator as they wait for her to select Module 2. Then an alarm blares through the hangar.

"What's going on?" Mullion winces.

"It's the guidance processor," Transom states.

"What's wrong with it?" Mullion enquires.

"There isn't one," Transom replies, "The guidance processor is gone."

"Aaargh! Those fucking kids!" Mullion roars, his face contorting in fury.

"Clever, Alan," The Hood muses, "It's the children. They have it."

"No way," Mullion growls, "They're dead. No one could live through something like that."

"I did," The Hood counters, his voice a cold, steady whisper, "Get them, Mullion. Take whatever you need. And make sure you get the guidance processor before you lose your temper."

March 30th, 2058 - 15:11 NZDT

Back in the jungle, Fermat, his voice still winded, tries to lighten the mood. "Alan, don't you think Kayo is blossoming?" he asks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Blossoming?! What's that supposed to mean?" Alan retorts, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Come on, Alan. You've got a c-crush on her," Fermat chuckles, his amusement evident.

Alan's face turns an even deeper shade of red. "You've got to be kidding," he stutters, "I mean, she's... she's not that bad, I guess. But we've been childhood best friends for years and I would hate to destroy that. Saying that Mum got me a..." His rambling is abruptly interrupted by Kayo, who has reached a small clearing near the top of the mountain.

"Okay, guys, take five," Kayo states, her tone curt.

"Five isn't going to do it!" Fermat gasps, reaching the clearing with ragged breath.

"Guys?" Kayo asks, her eyes flitting between them.

Fermat, catching his breath, looks from Kayo to Alan. Kayo's gaze is fixed on Alan, but not in a way that makes him feel comfortable. She smiles at them, her lips curling into a slight, almost imperceptible smirk. Then, her expression shifts, her eyes widening as she spots something on Alan's shoulder.

"Shit. Don't move," Kayo mutters.

"What is it?" Alan questions, his voice a nervous squeak.

"Hexdrotilous scorpion," Kayo replies, a tremor of fear in her voice.

"Is that dangerous?" Alan enquires, his voice barely a whisper.

"Point zero two five milligrams of its venom is fatal," Fermat confirms.

"So, dangerous is an understatement," Alan gulps, a tremor in his voice, "Fuck, well it was nice knowing you guys' and..." Once again, his words are cut short, swallowed by the sudden movement of Kayo. She grabs a sturdy stick with a lightning-fast motion and swats the scorpion off Alan's shoulder.

"Watch out!" Fermat yells, his heart pounding as he watches the scorpion scuttle off.

"Kayo, what was that?" Alan demands, his voice still shaky, but his gaze fixed on her.

"Let's get going," Kayo says nonchalantly, her expression once again unreadable.

Alan steps back, a wave of confusion and concern washing over him. He nudges Fermat, his voice a low whisper. "Still think everything can be explained by science?"

Fermat, still recovering from the encounter with the scorpion, throws Alan a puzzled look before shaking his head. "Not girls!"

March 30th, 2058 - 15:48 NZDT

They soon reach the satellite transmitter. Fermat gets straight to work hacking into the system so they can talk to Thunderbird 5. He is perched precariously over a blinking circuit board, muttering under his breath, his hands working with a furious urgency. Kayo takes a seat and makes herself comfy while they wait, unlike Alan. He paces back and forth, his face displaying a mixture of anxiety and determination.

"How are we doing, Fermat?" Alan asks uneasily.

"Don't rush me, Alan. This is very d-delicate equipment," Fermat starts, but the circuit board let out a sharp spark, followed by a sickening hiss, "Which is now b-broken."

Alan's shoulders slump slightly, a wave of despair threatening to engulf him. "Can you fix it?"

Fermat, furrows his brow in concentration, looks around the cramped circuit box, scanning for a solution. The desperate need to make contact with Thunderbird 5, in order to make sure that everyone is alright is a heavy weight pressing down on him. "Yea- Maybe, but I'll need something to solder with," he states.

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Fermat, where are you going to find something like that?" Alan retorts, his patience wearing thin. Both Kayo and Fermat exchange a knowing glance, their eyes falling on Alan's retainer, the metal piece securely anchoring his lower jaw. Alan, follows their gaze, understanding instantly, his face flushing crimson.

"Shit," Alan mutters, his voice tight with frustration and shame.

Kayo and Fermat, grinning mischievously, quickly get to work, prying the metal piece from Alan's mouth with gentle yet firm hands. Alan, his jaw now dangling precariously, trying to protest, but the words died in his throat, trapped by the sudden lack of support.

"Perfect," Fermat exclaims, holding up the metal piece with a satisfied smirk.

"Gee Alan, I never figured you for a cry-baby," Kayo chuckles, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'm gonna kill you," Alan mumbles, his voice barely audible.

"What'd he say?" Kayo muses, her grin widening.

"I think it was something of an apology," Kayo says, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Yeah, Alan kind of li—," Fermat begins, but a triumphant cry interrupts him, "I got it! Yes! Y-You the man, Fermat! Okay, first step is to establish contact with Thunderbird 5." He leans closer to the transmitter, his voice hushed as he spoke into the microphone.

"Dad?" Alan calls into the small microphone chip.

A moment of silence hangs heavy in the air, before a voice, thick with worry, responds. "It's Alan!" John's voice states.

A wave of relief washes over Alan, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear as the hologram's of John and Jeff appear in front of him. "Alan, where are you? Are you safe?" Jeff enquires, the holograms flickering due to the poor connection.

"I'm at the satellite relay station with Fermat and Kayo," Alan informs, "Fermat's gonna hack into the main computer system and give control of Thunderbird 5 back to you."

"We're standing by," Jeff replies, his voice steady despite the tension.

"Okay, we're almost there," Fermat announces, his fingers flying across the keyboard, his mind racing.

Meanwhile, in the Tracy Island lounge, Transom, presses her lips together seductively as she knees down next to Brains. Brains is still tied up after The Hood decided he couldn't be trusted after almost throwing a punch at Mullion. He'd been trying to get a message to Max's systems after he'd turned the robot assistant off earlier to do some upgrades to him earlier in the day, until the call from Thunderbird 5 came in.

"Goodness me, Professor. You're so good-looking without your glasses on?" Transom compliments and pretends to lean in for a kiss, smirking at the fear that crosses Brains eyes as he squirms, trying to get away from her. Unfortunately for her, the sudden activation of the alarm panel disrupts her moments. The Hood enters the room, his gaze focused on the flashing red lights. "A burst of transmission from the island's satellite station. Should I jam it?" Transom announces, her voice professional despite the interruption.

"And give Mullion the coordinates," The Hood orders, his voice cold and harsh.

"Take the main track southeast, then head up Satellite Hill," Transom instructs into her communicator. Mullion, accompanied by his guards, set off in pursuit of the children, their quadbikes revving as they start going up the steep incline.

Fermat, his eyes glued to the flickering screen, realizes the signal is faltering. A sense of dread washes over him. "They're onto us! We're being jammed!" he shouts, his voice filled with panic.

"Can you finish?" Alan demands.

"I'll try," Fermat replies, his fingers desperately trying to keep pace with the fading signal.

"Alan, what's happening?" Jeff questions with worry, as both his voice and hologram is now crackling. John's hologram disappears all together

"Hang in there, Dad. One more minute, okay?" Alan says. His throat growing dry with anxiety.

"It's not going to work, Alan. The signal's too weak for data transmission," Fermat states with despair.

"Dad, can you hear me? They're jamming the signal. We're going to lose you. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything, okay?" Alan says, his voice firm despite the growing panic.

"That's a negative! It's too dangerous. Follow emergency procedure. Wait for Lady Penelope at the rendezvous point. Alan, can you read me?" Jeff's voice, now tinged with urgency, echoes from the hologram. The holo-screen starts to break up, the picture distorting, lines of static replacing the familiar image of him. "Alan, we're losing you! Alan!" Jeff shouts, desperately hoping that they can keep the comm connected by the hologram disappears and they're met with blank screens.

"Dad!" Alan cries out, with a mixture of fear and frustration as the image on the screen completely vanishes, leaving behind only the faint hum of static. He slams the small communicator into the ground. Its shattered screen a stark symbol of their connection severed, leaving them stranded, facing an uncertain future.

"No!" Fermat cries out, his hands shaking.

"Useless!" Alan shouts, his frustration boiling over.

"It is now you smashed it," Fermat retorts.

"I'm sorry, Alan. This is hard on all of us," Kayo offers, placing a hand on Alan's shoulder, her eyes filled with empathy.

"No, it's okay. I'm fine," Alan lies, forcing a smile, his inner turmoil hidden beneath a façade of bravado.

"You don't have to be such a tough guy, Alan. I'm worried about my dad too," Fermat admits sharing a sense of vulnerability with him.

"I'd do anything to help Grandma Tracy right now," Kayo adds, her eyes reflecting a deep concern for the family they have come to consider their own.

"But The Hood knows we're alive now. We have to go," Alan states, his voice regaining its resolute tone.

"Even worse, they know exactly..." Fermat gulps, his words cut short by the screech of tires and the sudden appearance of Mullion and his guards. "... where we are!" he cries.

PART 6

March 30th, 2058 - 16:27 NZDT

The wind whips their hair as the children tumble down the hillside, a simple descent becoming a chaotic slide as they try and get away. Mullion, flanked by two guards, watch as they disappear on the other side of the hill.

"Come on!" Mullion barks and they all rush back onto the quadbike. One of the guards revs the engine before charging off in the direction the children went.

Alan, Kayo and Fermat all run down the side of the hill as quickly as possible. They head down a slow gradient in order to not going tumbling down. Unfortunately, ahead there is a large patch of leaves and shrubbery that is lying on the floor, which hides a moist ground covered in moss. As soon as their feet rush over the leafy surface, they legs give out from underneath them. Unable to stop, their descent becomes a chaotic spectacle of flailing limbs and tangled hair. Their faces come plastered with mud and fear, as they scramble to escape the guards. One by one, they plunge headfirst into a ditch, landing with a splash in the churning river below.

"Ah, great, More water," Fermat groans, his voice muffled by the mud that coats his face. He shivers, the icy river water sending chills down his spine as he tries to stay afloat.

Alan quickly turns to Kayo as she resurfaces. "Kayo, can you slow 'em down?" he inquires, a hint of an amused smile playing on his lips.

"I'd be delighted," Kayo replies, her voice as bright as the sunlight glinting off the river in Alan's eyes.

"Then do it. And meet us at the junkyard. Come on, Fermat," Alan calls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness as they set off towards their destination. The junkyard is a treasure trove of discarded metal and forgotten dreams. Alan, with a practiced eye, surveys the chaos, his gaze locking onto a gleaming object half-buried in the refuse: a hover sled. "This'll get us out of here," he declares, a thrill coursing through him.

Meanwhile, Mullion finds Kayo in the dense undergrowth, her face hidden beneath a tangle of leaves.

"There! Come on," Mullion commands.

Kayo looks up down the dirt track. Her eyes widening at the sight of the approaching quadbike. She scans the area around her and hears a buzzing sound. Above the dirt track, hanging precariously from a branch overhead is a bee's hive.

"Straight ahead," one of the other guards points, and he increases the speed of the quadbike towards Kayo. Though Kayo is faster. With a swift swing of a stout branch, she sends the hive crashing down upon the unsuspecting trio. Mullion yelps, his face contorted in pain as the bees swarmed him, their stings leaving burning welts on his exposed skin. He tumbles off the quadbike and into a puddle, his cries drowned out by the buzzing of angry insects.

Kayo, her heart pounding, wastes no time in making her escape. She knows her best chance of evading Mullion is rendezvousing with Alan and Fermat. Ahead, she spots the junkyard and bursts into it, breathless and exhilarated, just as Alan and Fermat are struggling to attach a makeshift seat to the back of the hover sled.

"It's gonna make this thing hard to control, you know," Fermat says.

"No problem," Alan assures him, a self-assured glint in his eyes.

"You really must be careful not to exceed four bars of boost or else," Fermat continues, his anxieties growing.

"I said no problem!" Alan snaps in frustration.

"Guys, let's go! We've got to get out of here. What is this?" Kayo interrupts.

"It's a hover sled, and our ticket out, unless you've got a better idea," Alan retorts, his eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, let's wait for Lady Penelope, like your dad said," Kayo shoots back.

Fermat, seeking to escape the escalating tension, offers Kayo the makeshift seat. "Here."

"Great plan. Let's sit and wait to get caught. I say we do something. Now! Right, Fermat?" Alan presses, his frustration mounting.

"Actually, I agree with Kayo. I don't think this is s-s-safe," Fermat stammers, his stutter always more pronounced under pressure.

This is the final straw for Alan. "You don't think anything is s-s-safe, you piece of shit! Why don't you go back to your dad and get killed by Kayo's father's KILLER!" he roars, his fury overwhelming him.

There's a moment of silence as both Kayo and Fermat turn to Alan is shock. They've near seen him this angry before. On closer inspection there are signs of both frustration and despair.

"Just because I s-s-stutter doesn't mean I'm wrong. If we're a team, we should make decisions as a team," Fermat counters, his voice wavering but resolute.

"Do you guys want to sit here and take a vote? Or do you want to get out of here? Because I'm going," Alan declares, his words punctuated by the whirring of the hover sled's engine as he gets it started. He turns to see Kayo walking away, her face etched with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

"You can be a real jerk sometimes," Kayo calls behind her, disappearing behind a tree just as Mullion and a remaining guard emerges from the forest, their faces contorted with malice. The other as it turned out had passed out from the bee stings.

Kayo is immediately captured, her hands bound tightly behind her. They look up, just as Alan and Fermat soar above the trees, the hover sled a blur of motion.

Mullion fixes his gaze on the retreating figures, and turns to the driver. "Go! Go!" he shouts with urgency.

Fermat, his heart pounding in his chest, peers over his shoulder. Mullion and the guard are gaining on them, their quadbike roaring through the forest.

"Oh, no!" Fermat cries with dread.

"Come on! Faster!" Mullion yells, his words barely audible above the roar of the engine.

"Alan! You're going too fast!" Fermat screams, his grip tightening around the makeshift seat.

"I need more speed to get above the trees. Hang on!" Alan yells back.

However, the hover sled is too fast, and Fermat, his grip slipping, tumbles off, screaming in terror as he plummets towards the ground. He lands with a thud at Mullion's feet, his face white with fear.

Alan, realizing the catastrophic mistake he has made, looks down and sees Fermat and Kayo being dragged towards the Tracy Villa, already tied up. "Oh, shit," he mutters, his face grim.

March 30th, 2058 - 17:58 NZDT

Mullion, victorious and cruel, walks Kayo and a stunned Fermat towards a door in the side of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Kayo asks, her voice filled with defiance.

"Oh, no! Not the fridge!" Fermat cries, realizing their destination.

The door opens, revealing Sally and Brains sitting inside already bound up.

"Kayo!" Sally exclaims.

"Hey son," Brains greets Fermat.

"Are you okay?" Sally asks with worry.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Tracy," Kayo lies, her voice betraying none of the fear she is feeling.

Before Sally can reach out to her, Mullion grabs Fermat, pulling him away from Brains and forcing him to sit on a container. "Cool off, kid," he laughs, his voice dripping with malice. With a final, cruel grin, he shuts the door, leaving everyone in the chilling silence of the fridge in its wake.

March 30th, 2058 - 18:17 NZDT

FAB 1 slices through the azure sky, its pink wings catching the setting sun. Inside, Parker, the ever-stoic chauffeur, expertly maneuverers the car, his voice a calm counterpoint to the worry that is laced in his stomach.

"Tracy Island h'approaching, m'lady. Switching to h'aqua mode," Parker announces, the gentle hum of the engine a steady beat against the backdrop of the approaching island.

"Isn't life fun, sometimes?" Penelope muses.

"Rib-tickling, m'lady," Parker replies, a rare smile playing on his lips.

Unbeknownst to them, a different kind of excitement is brewing at the heart of Tracy Island. In the lounge, Transom stares at the sound of an alarm that has appeared on the radar screen.

"What is it?" The Hood demands.

"We have an unidentified craft approaching the island at high speed," Transom reports.

The Hood's eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam flickering in their depths. "Prepare for interception," he orders, a wicked smile twisting his lips.

Meanwhile, high above the island, the atmosphere crackles with a different kind of tension.

"Phew! Somebody roll down a window. It's getting a little hot in here," Jeff complains from his position in Thunderbird 5.

"Re-entry into Earth's atmosphere in thirty seven minutes, but oxygen's out in thirty, so we won't feel it," Virgil reports.

"Stop it!" Jeff barks, trying to maintain a semblance of control.

"Come on, Dad, the situation's hopeless," Gordon exclaims, his normally cheerful disposition replaced with a wave of despair.

"No, it's not. There's still time. We've got people on the ground working for us," Jeff counters, his voice betraying a valiant attempt at confidence.

"Alan? He's just a kid!" John exclaims.

"He's a Tracy," Scott states with unwavering conviction.

On the ground, Alan sprints through the lush jungle after spotting FAB 1 approach the island, his heart pounding like a drum. He bursts out of the foliage, just as Parker and Lady Penelope begin their leisurely walk towards the Tracy house.

"This doesn't look good, Parker," Penelope remarked, her tone a mix of concern and amusement.

"No, m'lady," Parker responds.

"That bougainvillea is absolutely parched, and someone should do something about that hideous hammock," Penelope continues, her keen eyes note the tense atmosphere. She hands her pink parasol over to Parker as they walk up the steps of the villa into the kitchen, dining area. On the steps leading up to the lounge, the imposing figure of The Hood stands, with Mullion and Transom flanking him.

The Hood's gaze falls upon Penelope and Parker. "Whom do we have here? Mullion," he commands.

"I must warn you that I know judo, krai magna, and Tae kwon do," Mullion bellows, puffing out his chest, his arrogance a flimsy shield against the approaching storm.

"And I know Parker," Penelope finishes, her voice a steel trap, her eyes glinting with a fierce determination.

"M'lady," Parker nods and hands the parasol back over to her.

With a swift movement that belies his years of experience, Parker unleashes a lightning-fast punch, striking Mullion square in the nose.

"Aargh!" Mullion cries, holding onto his nose, "You've broken my nose."

"Yes, that was very much the intention h'of the manoeuvre," Parker deadpans, while The Hood rolls his eyes in disbelief.

Transom, emboldened by his master's presence, lunges at Penelope, but she is too quick for her. With a swift move, Penelope pushes Transom back, sending her sprawling onto the ground. "Whoa!" Transom exclaims in astonishment.

"One tries so hard in life to sort things out on an intellectual-slash-conversational level," Penelope observes, "Sometimes it's just not possible."

The fight was on. Penelope, with her trademark agility and grace, expertly countered Transom's clumsy attacks, while Parker, a whirlwind of controlled fury, unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks against Mullion.

With a grunt, Mullion finally manages to throw Parker against a metal cabinet. "Shall I bring the car around, m'lady?" Parker groans as he tries to get back to his feet.

"Parker, have a bit of a lie-down," Penelope says, her voice cool and collected, despite the chaos engulfing her.

Parker, momentarily dazed, sees Mullion lurking behind Penelope and springs into action. "H'Excuse me, m'lady," he apologizes, his voice laced with a grim determination, and unleashed another powerful punch just over her shoulder. When it has no effect on Mullion, he grabs a nearby frying pan and slams it against his head.

The Hood, watching the scene with a calculating gaze, starts to clap slowly as he makes his way down the stairs. It brings the whole fight to a stop as Penelope turns from from her position, standing on top of the sofa.

"Ah, Lady Penelope," The Hood smirks, "Of course, he has his palace. Why not his princess?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Penelope scoffs, perched precariously on the back of the sofa, her stiletto heels balancing on its edge like a tightrope walker. The room holds its breath. Penelope, with her sharp wit and even sharper heels. She prepares for the next attack, when in the corner of her eye, she spots Transom raising a hand, with a long black metal manicure in her hands. With a swift movement, she aims a swipe at Penelope, the metal nails glinting like daggers.

Penelope prepare a quick hop, and she jumps over the swing, landing gracefully on the cushions of the sofa. The Hood can only roll his eyes at the sight that is unfolding in front of him in utter disbelief. Transom, clearly frustrated, lungs again. This time, her manicured finger grazes the tip of Penelope's thumb.

"Ow!" Penelope yelps, her hand shooting up to her injured finger, "Do you have any idea how much a manicure costs these days?" The pain, however, doesn't stop her from retaliating. With the swiftness of a viper, she sweeps her leg around, catching Transom squarely on the cheekbone with her stiletto heel.

Transom stumbles back, landing with a thud on the floor. "Ow!" she groans, clutching her face.

Parker and Mullion continue their struggle with each other. Neither one gaining the upper hand for a significant amount of time. They exchange a series of quick, brutal punches, their bodies moving with a practiced fluidity. Parker uses some techniques from his misspent youth and starts to play dirty which manages to gain the upper hand. He expertly lifts Mullion over his shoulder, the man struggling in his grasp.

"Coming through, m'lady!" Parker announces. He charges across the room, Mullion dangling over his shoulder like a ragdoll, and places him on the table between Penelope and Transom, effectively separating the combatants. They all get up again and continue the fight. Mullion swings a massive fist at Parker, who dodges with ease. The impact sends a tremor through the floor, knocking over a nearby table laden with champagne empty glasses.

Penelope and Transom's dance is more of a duel, each step calculated, each twirl a feint. The sound of Penelope's heels clicking against the marble floor the underlying tones between the grunts and screams that they exchange between them. Transom's eyes dart around, searching for an opening, while Penelope remains poised.

Mullion's second punch comes with the force of a freight train, but Parker is ready. He sidesteps, grabbing the back of the chair next to him, and swings it into Mullion's path. The chair shatters, but the momentum sends the brute stumbling backward. He catches himself, his smirk replaced with a snarl.

Meanwhile, Transom lunges at Penelope, her coordination surprisingly good for someone so ungraceful. Penelope spins out of the way, her dress fluttering around her like a crimson tornado. She uses the momentum to drive her own heel into Transom's knee, and the woman yelps, stumbling back. The pair break away as Transom goes crashing through a set of French doors that led to the pool. As she gets back to her feet, Transom approaches Penelope once again and the pair start to circle each other, breathing heavily. The sound of their own hearts beating in their ears. Transom's eyes narrow, and she feigns a lunge. Penelope doesn't fall for it. She waits, her patience as sharp as her heels.

Mullion and Parker's fight has spill back into the kitchen, knocking over priceless vases and sending artworks flying. The soon make their way back into the games room towards the back of the kitchen. Penelope sees her opening and takes it. She leapfrogs over a toppled table as Transom swipes at her. However, with Penelope already in the air, she flips over the woman's outstretched arms.

They all meet each other back in the games room and both Mullion and Transom end up on the sofa. Mullion from a swift punch from Parker and Transom from falling through where Penelope had stood until she had jumped over her. Penelope and Parker exchange a glance before they grab the underside of the sofa, and with a grunt of effort, flip it. The sofa tips, sending Mullion and Transom sprawling. The sound of their combined weight hitting the floor is like a thunderclap, and for a moment, all is still.

The Hood growls and picks up another heavy sofa and throws it in the direction of Parker and Penelope. "Duck, m'lady!" Parker shouts.

Alan, who'd observed the unfolding scene from his vantage point behind a large bush, can only gaze on in disbelief. "He's weak. Using his strength makes him weak," he whispers.

The Hood, seemingly distracts, turns his head towards Alan, his eyes narrow, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "You're a formidable opponent, Lady Penelope. More than a match for most men," he comments with grudging respect.

"That's not saying much, then, is it?" Penelope retorts, her voice cutting through the air like a dagger. She and Parker keeping an eye on both Transom and Mullion to make sure they don't get up.

The Hood, with a flick of his wrist, calls upon his guards who are quickly there to grab onto to Parker who'd has swung a punch towards The Hood. The bald man's gaze remains fixed on the young woman he has underestimated. "I suggest you let us pass," he orders.

"Don't try your parlour games on me, you sad, little man. You've committed a serious crime trespassing on this island. And in about..." Penelope pauses, glancing at Parker's watch, "...four seconds, I'm going to get quite cross with you."

The Hood, with a swift move, grabs Penelope's foot as she is about to launch a kick, his eyes glinting with a ruthless delight. He allows his guard to grab onto her as well before taking a step back and calling over his shoulder. "How are you, Alan?" he asks, his voice a chilling whisper, his back still to the young boy, "I hope you don't think I'm going to chase you." He pauses so Alan can here the grunts from Penelope and Parker as his guards rain down blows on them. "You can make it stop, Alan. You have something that belongs to me."

"Really, Mr Alan, Sir," Parker groans, "Don't mind me. This h'isn't the first time h'I've been pulverized h'and h'it's never done h'any real 'arm before. Ow!"

Alan, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, knows he has to act. He rushes out of his hiding place. "Stop! Stop! I'll give it to you," he shouts, throwing The Hood's stolen guidance processor towards the pool. "Fetch!" he cries, but it is too late. A guard, hidden by the foliage, snatches the device before it can touch the water.

"You made a match of it, Alan, I'll give you that," The Hood muses. He then turns to Mullion and Transom. "Put them with the others."

Transom, with a gleam of malicious joy in his eyes, grabs Parker and drags him away. Mullion turned his attention to Lady Penelope and Alan, his eyes fixed on the young boy with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. "You're coming with me," he growls, grabbing Alan's arms and tossing Penelope over his shoulder.

"Put me down! This outfit is couture!" Penelope shrieks, her voice a mix of indignation and desperation as she and Alan are dragged towards the giant, metal refrigerator.

"You need to cool off, m'lady," Mullion mocks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Lady Penelope!" Kayo cries out in alarm.

"Big oaf!" Penelope shouts at Mullion before the metal door slams shut, trapping them in the chilling darkness. "Right, that's quite enough losing for one day."

PART 7

March 30th, 2058 - 18:36 NZDT

The fluorescent light hums above them, casting a pale, sterile glow on the interior of the giant refrigerator. Everyone is trying to huddle together for warmth in the frigid confines. Their breath forming miniature clouds in the chilled air. The temperature is just above freezing, a cruel irony considering the situation. They are all prisoners of their own ingenuity.

"So, how does it feel to be right all the time?" Alan asks, turning to Fermat, avoiding Kayo's gaze. Her simmering anger is palpable, a storm brewing beneath her usually placid exterior. He doesn't want to ignite a volcanic eruption in the cramped space.

"Not b-bad, actually," Fermat replies.

"I'm so sorry, Fermat," Alan sighs, his face etched with genuine regret.

"We make quite a pair. It's hard for me to t-t-talk. It's hard for you to l-l-listen," Fermat jokes, a wry smile playing on his lips.

Alan feels a surge of despair. He is only coming to terms on how much he has failed his friends. Now they're trapping in a monstrous refrigerator, with no sign of getting out in the near future. The thoughts of his father and brother linger in his mind. With The Hood still in control of International Rescue's operations still, the increase in Thunderbird 5's heating systems along with the slow oxygen leak from the impact of the missile, means that they won't have much air left. Even if they did, it is almost certain that the missile would've knocked Thunderbird 5 out of orbit and it would be slowly heading down towards Earth's atmosphere.

Kayo, unable to contain her frustration any longer, snaps. "If you'd just listen to Fermat instead of trying to be a hero, we wouldn't be in this mess!" Sally places a comforting hand onto her shoulder in an effort to calm her.

Alan knows she is right. He had dismissed Fermat's warnings and his overconfidence and rashness has landed them nowhere. "We all have our moments, Kayo," he says, trying to soothe her anger, "Let's focus on getting out of here."

Penelope, ever the resourceful one, surveys their surroundings with a critical eye. "Parker, I have an idea."

"H'Excellent, m'lady." Parker states and does his best to hop over to her due to his hand and feet being tied up.

"Brains, how long do Jeff and the boys have?" Penelope presses.

"I can't think. I'm too c-c-cold," Brains mumbles, shivering uncontrollably.

Sally, ever the nurturer, starts rubbing Brains' arms to generate some warmth. Her calming presence offers a small beacon of hope. "Alan, do you remember when you were a kid, and the power went out during winter?" she asks, trying to divert their grim thoughts.

Alan smiles faintly. "Yeah, me, Kayo, Fermat and my brothers huddled together under the blankets and told ghost stories."

"That's right," Sally says, "You always found ways to make the best of any situation, no matter how scary or uncertain it was."

Kayo seems to soften at the memory. "Alan, I'm sorry I lost my temper. I know you were only trying to help."

"It's all right, Kayo," Alan responds, "Apology accepted. We all need to work together now."

Meanwhile, Transom, Mullion, and The Hood are preparing Thunderbird 2 to leave Tracy Island. "The guidance processor has been installed," Transom confirms, "Thunderbird 2 is ready for take-off."

"What is our ETA?" The Hood orders.

"Around an hour. Bank of London, here we come!" Mullion says excitedly.

5

Transom completes pre-flight checks.

4

Thunderbird 4 along with Pods C and D are loaded into Module 4.

3

The Hood and Mullion board Thunderbird 2 via the passenger elevator.

2

Thunderbird 2 taxis down the main runway and comes to a halt allowing the ramp to raise.

1

The blast shield rises.

Thunderbirds are Go!

The icy wind whips around the freezer, biting at exposed skin and sending shivers down spines. Outside, there is the roar of engines and a distinct rumble that causes tiny vibrations inside the walls.

"We've got to be quick. The Hood's getting away," Alan states urgently.

"H'In position, m'lady," Parker calls. He stands positioned under some icicles, his hands outstretched from where they're bound behind his back.

Penelope, her eyes flashing with a dangerous glint, doesn't need to be told twice. "Here we go." With a swift flick of her leg, she sends her heel flying. It impacts one of the icicles that shatters, causing it to fall and break the ropes binding Parker's hands, releasing him with a satisfying snap.

"Yes!" Alan exclaims, a wave of relief washing over him.

"Good shot, m'lady," Parker acknowledges, a grateful smile playing on his lips.

Chaos quickly dissolves into controlled efficiency. Penelope and Parker, their movements precise and coordinated, begin untying everyone else. They all get up to their feet and huddle together in order to stay warm.

"Come on, Parker. Let's give the bad guys a good thrashing!" Penelope says with righteous anger.

Before they can launch into a full-scale assault, a new obstacle presents itself. The exit door, a hulking steel monstrosity, lies firmly shut.

"This seems to be h'a six-lever mortise, m'lady," Parker informs her as he examines the lock and presses his ear up to the lock.

"I love it when your misspent youth comes in handy Parker," Penelope comments dryly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Thank you, m'lady. Unfortunately, h'I fear h'I shall need h'a piece of wire to h'access the mechanism," Parker replies, his gaze sweeping the room for any suitable tools.

As if on cue, Penelope's hand shoots up her shirt. The room falls silent as she reached for her bra wire and everyone turns to give her some privacy while remaining huddled together around the door. "Will this suffice, Parker?" Penelope enquires, holding up the slender, metallic wire.

"Most certainly, m'lady," Parker answers, his face betraying a flicker of surprise.

Penelope smirks. "I didn't actually need it, anyway."

"H'Of course not, m'lady," Parker responds, his demeanour instantly regaining its composure. With a practiced hand, he slips the wire into the lock and, with a few deft twists, the door swings open.

"Quick! They're getting away," Fermat's frantic call brings everyone back to the urgency of the situation.

"Okay, everyone get to the lounge," Alan barks, pushing past Parker.

Fermat grabs Parker's hat from the floor and rushes after Alan. Penelope follows closely behind along with Sally and Brains, Parker taking up the rear. As they burst into the lounge, a wave of fear washes over them. The screens flicker with ominous red warnings, and the atmosphere crackles with a palpable sense of dread.

"Get in there quick, Fermat, and save my family. Then we'll get The Hood. Good luck!" Alan orders, his voice heavy with desperation.

Fermat, his face set with determination, moves swiftly to the central table and turns on the holo-screen. "Looks like they slipped a backdoor key into the access codes," he mutters, his fingers seemingly flying across the thin air as the windows being displayed on the screen changed rapidly.

"I-I'll follow your lead, son," Brains offers.

Penelope, ever the pragmatist, moves over to comm channels and tries to connect with John's portrait. "Thunderbird 5 come in. Thunderbird 5 come in."

"How long have they got before re-entry?" Alan demands.

"Ninety seconds and counting," Fermat replies, his brow furrows in concentration, "I'm in!"

"Good job Fermat," Alan smiles.

"Okay, I just need someone on their end to confirm the access protocol," Fermat states.

"Thunderbird 5 come in," Brains calls.

"Dad, come on, are we coming through?" Alan implores, his voice a desperate plea.

"Mr. Tracy, can you hear me? Come in," Brains repeats.

"Thunderbird 5, come in," Penelope echoes, her face etched with worry.

"Dad, come on!" Alan cries.

"Mr. Tracy, can you hear me? Come in," Brains repeats again, his voice edging dangerously close to a scream.

"Dad!" Alan yells.

"Thunderbird 5, come in," Fermat calls.

"How long have they got?" Kayo asks, her face pale and drawn.

"Forty five seconds until re-entry," Fermat confirms.

"Damn it, Jeff! Wake the fuck up!" Brains shouts, the usually polite Brains breaking into a rare outburst of raw emotion. Everyone takes a step back in shock as the room falls silent at the outburst, only the sound of the comm-link beeping is heard. It comes to a stop and there is a crackle.

"I think that's the first time you've ever called me by my first name, Brains. Thanks for waking me," Jeff replies, his voice groggy but regaining its strength as he shakes off the effects of oxygen deprivation.

"Dad!" Alan cries, relief flooding his voice.

"Alan! Well done," Jeff beams.

"Mr. Tracy, confirm access protocol," Fermat interrupts, his voice a mix of urgency and relief.

"Confirmed. We are back online," John replies from the background.

"Gravity is restored. Put T-Thunderbird 5 into geostationary orbit immediately," Brains orders.

"F-A-B, Brains," Virgil acknowledges, "And it looks like we're good to go."

"Dad, are you all right?" Alan questions.

"We're fine. We still have a job to do. Where's The Hood?" Jeff demands, his voice regaining its characteristic authority.

"He's in Thunderbird 2, Mr. Tracy, headed for L-London," Brains states.

"He's got the Pods on board," Fermat adds, his face grim.

"Looks like Thunderbird 3 lost a booster, Dad. We'll never get there in time," Scott growls.

"Let me go after The Hood. He'll destroy everything you've built, everything International Rescue stands for," Alan declares.

"Negative. I'm sorry, it's too risky," Jeff replies, his voice firm but laced with sympathy.

"I can do this. You know I can. What am I saying?" Alan pauses, his eyes meeting Kayo's. A subtle blush creeps onto his cheeks as his hand briefly brushes against hers. "We can do this."

"Okay, Alan. We'll meet you there. Thunderbirds are go!" Jeff announces with quiet confidence.

"F-A-B!" the chorus of voices echo, a symphony of determination and hope.

Jeff turns to his remaining sons. "Okay, boys, we are outta here." He offers a reassuring smile to the injured John, and helps him to his feet.

"Are we really going?" Kayo asks, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

"Y...y...yeah," Alan stammers, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. Fermat stifled a laugh, enjoying the sight of his best friend flustered.

"Oh, boy!" Kayo exclaims, her eyes wide with anticipation. Parker salutes Alan as he approaches two lampshades attached to the wall.

"You ready, Fermat?" Alan asks.

"N-N— I guess!" Fermat replies, his laughter bubbling up despite himself. He can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect of his first proper International Rescue mission. This is going to be a wild ride.

5

Alan descends and gets suited up.

4

Kayo, Fermat and Penelope are brought into Thunderbird 1's hold and take a seat in the back.

3

Alan retracts the chair inside Thunderbird 1 and closes the hatch.

"Flight controls are green," Fermat states, "Hydraulic systems are good."

2

The launch pad starts to move.

"Right. Set primary fuel pumps. Main engine start," Alan announces.

1

Thunderbird 1 comes to a stop as the swimming pool above starts to retract.

Penelope turns to Kayo. "Don't boys just love their toys?"

Thunderbirds are Go!

A grin cuts across Alan's face as he feels a surge of exhilaration. The controls, sleek and responsive, are an extension of his will. The thrust of the engines presses him back against his seat, a feeling that is both exhilarating and terrifying. The Earth, bathes in the golden glow of the sun, stretching out beneath him, a canvas of a blue ocean below. For the first time in his life, he feels a sense of freedom, a feeling of liberation unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He is flying. He is soaring. He is a Tracy.

His mind races through the pre-flight checklist, every detail ingrained in his memory through countless hours reading and studying Scott. His fingers dance over the control panel, adjusting the altitude, fine-tuning the course. His eyes scan the instruments, monitoring every vital statistic, every crucial piece of information that paints a picture of the Thunderbird 1's performance. He has prepared for this moment in his mind, for this challenge, for this responsibility. This is not just a flight, it is a test, a trial by fire. It is a chance to prove himself, to earn his place in his father's legacy, to become a member of International Rescue. What makes it even better, is that he isn't doing it alone, but with his two childhood best friends in Kayo and Fermat.

PART 8

March 30th, 2058 - 10:31 GMT

Above London, a thick roar of Thunderbird 2's engines cuts through the air like a hawk, its shadow stretching long and menacing across the city. Ahead of it, Tower Bridge. A majestic symbol of London, is in a frenzy when Thunderbird 2 comes into view. Workers scramble, their shouts echoing through the air, as they received urgent instructions: "Get the bridge up! Get the bridge up!" An immense, mechanical groan accompanies the upward tilt of the bridge, creating a gap for the approaching Thunderbird 2.

Inside Thunderbird 1, Alan makes sure that the autopilot is still working as they make their way across the Atlantic Ocean. "Thunderbird 1 come in," Brains states over the comms, his hologram appearing on the large holo-screen that is displayed in front of Alan.

"Thunderbird 1 receiving, Brains," Alan acknowledges.

"Situation update, Thunderbird 3 is about to initiate separation," Brains reports.

"F-A-B!" Alan and Fermat exclaim in unison.

Behind them in the cargo hold, Penelope brings up a smaller hologram that shows Thunderbird 2's symbol approaching the City of London. "Boys, Thunderbird 2 is in final approach to London," she announces.

"I know The Hood's weakness, Fermat. I can stop him if we get there in time," Alan declares.

"Stand by. We're going to maximum thrust, 15,000 mile per hour," Fermat informs.

Meanwhile, the BBC News is scrambling to cover the unprecedented event. "We're getting reports of some kind of incident in London involving the Thunderbirds," Chuck announces, his voice laced with concern.

"Chuck, I'm here in Jubilee Gardens where Thunderbird 2 has made an impromptu landing, causing total panic in Central London," Lisa shouts due to the screaming crowds behind her and the sound of Thunderbird 2, "As far as we know, there has been no emergency call from this area, so it's unclear why Thunderbird 2 would be active here at all. I don't know if you can see this Chuck, but Thunderbird 2 seems to be unloading some kind of machine."

Inside Module 4, Transom gets two pods configured: The Mole and a Cargo Pod. The mechanical arms get to work attaching the correct components to the pods. Pod C is given a drill on the front of it while caterpillar tracks are connected to the underside. On the other hand, Pod D has a basket attached to the back of it. A mechanical arm is then connected to the side of the pod's body and similar to Pod C, caterpillar tracks are connected to the underside. Transom and The Hood gets themselves into Pod C - The Mole, while Mullion gets into Pod D - Cargo Pod. The module door is then lowered to reveal the two pods as well as Thunderbird 4 that is taking up most of the room inside the module. The Mole rolls forward first and goes several feet in front of the module before coming to a stop. It tilts it into a vertical position to start digging into the ground, disappearing allowing the Cargo Pod to safely go down afterwards.

The Hood sits back and grins at the GPS hologram. His eyes fixed on the target – the Bank of London's vault.

"Sir, if we continue on our present course, we'll sever the monorail's subterranean supports. Shall I correct our position?" Transom enquires.

"Stay on course," The Hood commands, void of any emotion.

"But sir, we'll cause a major disaster," Transom argues.

"No, we won't. International Rescue will," The Hood says, a hint of a sinister smile playing on his lips.

As The Mole hurtles forward, the monorail shakes, and a sickening crunch resonates through the earth as the support gives way. A single monorail car, with passengers trapped inside, hangs precariously in the air, its fate hanging by a thread.

High above London, Thunderbird 1 bursts through the clouds. Alan begins slowing down the craft as he spots Thunderbird 2 parked in Jubilee Gardens. He prepares to start the landing procedure to land right next to the other Thunderbird.

"Let's get her down, boys," Penelope calls.

"Initiate landing, Fermat," Alan instructs.

"Right," Fermat replies.

"Retros at seventy five, flaps to one-sixty," Alan orders.

"F-A-B," Fermat acknowledges and watches as Alan swings Thunderbird 1 around violently as he brings it to hover above Jubilee Garden, "You're going too fast."

"Thanks. Retros to ninety," Alan corrects, his voice tight with concentration.

With a gentle thud, Thunderbird 1 settles on the ground. "Textbook, boys," Penelope comments as everyone starts unbuckling from their seats and exiting. She goes over to the pilot's seat, that Alan has just got out of, and turns on the holo-screen to bring up the location of The Mole. Her brow furrows as she notices it is almost at the bank and immediately opens her compact. "Parker, meet me at the Bank of London," she instructs.

"Yes, m'lady," Parker responds.

Alan, Kayo, and Fermat rush towards Thunderbird 2. "The Hood's getting away," Alan declares, his face grim.

"Those people can't hold on much longer," Kayo states as the get onto the passenger elevator.

"What are we gonna do, Alan?" Fermat asks once they enter the cockpit and rush to their new seats. Alan as pilot, Fermat as co-pilot and Kayo as navigator.

"We're International Rescue. Our duty is to save those people. Brains, we're going into the accident zone," Alan confirms, his resolve unwavering.

"F-A-B, Thunderbird 2 and good luck," Brains replies, his hologram appearing on the dashboard.

Alan lowers Thunderbird 2 back over the module, retracting the landing struts, before activating Thunderbird 2's VTOL engines. Thunderbird 2 slowly takes off from Jubilee Gardens and takes to the air again, minutes after landing with The Hood. It circles round as Alan brings it over the River Thames. He gets Thunderbird 2 to come to a stop to assess the damaged support. However, the monorail has other ideas and the failing support crumbles at an expediential rate. The monorail car, that had come to a stop, suddenly, plummets into the river.

"Brains, the monorail is down. Repeat, the monorail is down!" Alan shouts with horror.

There is a moment of stunned silence as everyone watches the small pod disappear beneath the waves, its fate sealed.

Alan knows he has to back fast so quickly jumps out of his seat, removing the pilot's controller from in front of him. "I'm going underwater in Thunderbird 4. You have the bridge," he instructs to Fermat, his voice firm, his eyes fixed on the sinking monorail. "You're on autopilot."

"Me?! Fly alone?!" Fermat exclaims with disbelief.

"Fermat, International Rescue needs you right now. I need you," Alan states.

"F-A-B, Alan," Fermat acknowledges with a mix of fear and determination as he brings down the controller in front of him, turning off the autopilot.

March 30th, 2058 - 11:07 GMT

The White Cliffs of Dover shakes as a long casting shadow covers the coastline for a brief second as the red rocket of Thunderbird 3 zooms across it. Gordon and Jeff remain at the controls while Scott sits behind Gordon in one of the spare chairs. Behind Jeff, Virgil tends to John's wounds and gets his right arm into a sling. As Thunderbird 3 hurtles towards London, the city below a sprawling canvas of tall skyscrapers that lead out to the ancient suburbs, Jeff calls Tracy Island. The Thames, a shimmering silver ribbon, snakes its way through the urban landscape.

"Brains, come in, what's the situation?" Jeff asks.

"The Hood has caused a disaster with The Mole. The m-monorail is down in the Thames," Brains explains.

"Where's Thunderbird 1?" Scott enquires.

"It's on the ground. The k-kids are in Thunderbird 2," Brains informs.

"F-A-B. We're right behind 'em," Gordon acknowledges.

March 30th, 2058 - 11:09 GMT

Back in the Module, the lights turn on and illuminate Thunderbird 4. Alan climbs the steps leading up to the vessel's hatch and slips smoothly into the cockpit. He quickly secures himself into the pilot's seat, his body moving automatically through the countless times he's seen Brains explain to Gordon before. The hatch closes behind him with a soft, reassuring thud.

As Alan busied himself with additional pre-launch checks, Fermat manoeuvres Thunderbird 2 into position, closer to the monorail, as he hears the sound of Thunderbird 4's powerful engines whirring to life over Alan's comm link. Alan's hands move swiftly over the controls, making adjustments, calibrating, ensuring the vehicle's systems are synchronized and functioning optimally.

"Prepare for launch Thunderbird 4," Fermat calls.

"Systems check complete; docking clamp released; we are go for module deployment," Alan lists. Thunderbird 2's Module 4 is dropped into the water and the hatch opens as Thunderbird 4 is lifted to a 45 angle inside the module. "We are go for launch." Thunderbird 4 enters the water and its floodlights illuminate the area. Immediately, Alan sees the monorail car on the riverbed. "I can see the monorail. People are panicking in the monorail and a little girl is crying for her mommy," Alan relays, "Don't panic, guys." He activates Thunderbird 4's mechanical arms, which he controls using the joist stick on his chair. The claws at the end of the mechanical arms are used to the ends of the monorail car. "Fermat, I'll hold the monorail in place. Can you get a line on that stanchion and lift it up?"

"I can't get a clear fix on the target. I might hit the passengers," Fermat infroms.

"I'll go and fix it myself," Kayo announces, who's remained mainly silent since they have left Tracy Island.

"What you mean swim?!" Fermat cries.

"Get me as close as you can," Kayo says as she rushes over to the back of the cockpit and grabs a tow cable.

Fermat sighs but complies, lowering the elevator platform with a whir of machinery. The sunlight bathes Kayo as the platform descends, revealing the river's surface in all its shimmering, cerulean beauty. The water looks deceptively calm, but the current is swift, hinting at the power lurking beneath.

Kayo secures the tow cable to her turquoise tool belt and takes a deep breath. She knows the risks but knows that this might be their only chance to rescue those trapped in the flooding monorail car before it is too late. The moment she dives off the platform, the world around her changes. The cool water envelops her, and the noise of the river grew deafening. She can feel the tow cable tightening as it tautens, trying to pull her back to the river's surface. The riverbed is a blur of rocks as she swims down. The rush of the water fills her ears, and stings her eyes. Kayo remains focused, her heart pounding in her chest.

"How are we doing on that line Fermat?" Alan calls.

"Just look out your window, and don't blame me," Fermat says just as Kayo swims by Thunderbird 4 heading to the monorail, "Come on, Kayo, come on!"

"What the—, Kayo?" Alan exclaims, his voice rising in surprise. Through the window, he sees a figure passing his window and clinging to the monorail's side, her dark hair whipping in the water.

Kayo's face is set with determination as she grapples with the rope, her body a blur of controlled strength. With a practiced move, she expertly secures the rope to a stanchion on the monorail. She then swiftly climbs back towards Thunderbird 4 in order to get into the airlock that'll take her into the med bay, her movements as fluid as a fish swimming through water.

"Opening the airlock," Alan announces, allowing Kayo to enter. "Okay, Fermat, we need a lift."

"F-A-B, Alan. Commencing reverse thrust," Fermat confirms, the VTOL engines of Thunderbird 2 roaring above them, the thrust pulling the monorail upwards, bringing to slowly to the surface.

"Holy shit that was amazing, Kayo," Alan breathes, his gaze fixed on the young woman as she enters the airlock. He tries to ignore the warmth that blooms in his chest, the way his heart seems to skip a beat at the sight of her, the way he can't help but admire her fierce competence. Even the slight blush rising on his cheeks he tries to hide.

"Thank you," Kayo responds, her gaze meeting his for a brief moment, a flicker of something, perhaps gratitude, perhaps something else, passing between them.

"Nice job, Fermat," Alan calls over the comms, his voice regaining its usual authority.

"Nothing to it, really," Fermat replies.

Together, Alan and Kayo begins to lift the monorail out of the water using the mechanical arm controls to easily manoeuvre the heavy structure.

"Easy does it," Alan muses.

Suddenly, the familiar hum of Thunderbird 3's engines fills the air as it lands gracefully near the riverbank. From the craft emerges Jeff, his face set with concern, follows by the rest his sons: Gordon, Scott, Virgil and an injured John trying to keep up. Their faces etched with relief, their eyes seeking out Thunderbird 4 and the monorail car appearing on the surface.

"There they are!" John shouts, a wave of excitement washing over him. Cheers erupts from the gathered crowd, their relief tangible in the air.

As the monorail is safely secured, Alan emerges from Thunderbird 4, his steps light, a grin spreading across his face. He meets Jeff's gaze, his grin widening. "Glad you could finally join us," he quips, a hint of playful teasing in his tone.

Jeff immediately wraps his youngest into a tight hug. "Hey, don't get cocky after one mission. We still have a dangerous situation. I need you boys to close down this accident scene. Kayo, go get Fermat. Meet us at Thunderbird 1. Alan, you come with me," he orders, his tone going serious once again.

"Okay, let's clean it up guys," Virgil calls out.

"We got to get to the Bank of London fast," Jeff says.

"Lady Penelope went after The Hood," Alan informs.

"I know, she may need help," Jeff states, his face grim as they set off towards the bank, their minds racing with the growing danger that awaits them.

PART 9

March 30th, 2058 - 11:53 GMT

Inside the Bank of London's vault, the tension is palpable. Lady Penelope, her sky blue eyes flashing with defiance, stands facing The Hood's back. A single, glittering diamond lies in his hand as he inspects it. Initially ignoring her presence.

"Ashes to ashes, diamonds to diamonds," The Hood murmurs, "Lady Penelope. What an unpleasant surprise."

"Don't be rude," Penelope retorts, "I can't tell you what a pleasure it would be to use my little finger to pull this big trigger." With a practiced flick of her wrist, she draws a pearl-handled pistol, the gleam of its chrome catching the light. "Now, don't move!"

"Mullion," The Hood calls, his voice a sharp hiss.

Mullion appears behind Penelope and with a swift, precise movement disarms her, the pistol clattering to the floor. This leaves the young Penelope shocked and before she can react, the firm hands of Mullion grab onto her and throws he over her shoulder.

"That's not cricket," Penelope comments, a hint of amusement in her tone.

"I'm sorry," The Hood replies, his lips curving into a cruel smile, "The only part of sport I ever liked was winning."

"How ghastly," Penelope sniffs as she is thrown into one of the vault cages and is locked inside it.

Meanwhile, outside the bank, the unmistakable roar of Thunderbird 1 echoes through the air. Inside the cockpit, Jeff takes to the controls with Alan, Kayo and Fermat in the seats behind him.

"Hey, Dad," Alan starts, a note of concern in his voice, "That stuff The Hood said. He was lying, right?"

Jeff's face hardens, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "No, Alan. See, you can't save everyone. It doesn't matter how hard you try or how brave you are. It doesn't even matter if it's someone you love, someone you'd give your life in a second to save. You just can't save everyone."

Alan's brow furrowed, his young face mirroring his father's sombreness. "What was Mom like?" he enquires, barely a whisper.

Jeff's gaze softens momentarily, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "She was a lot like you," he admits, his voice thickening with emotion, "Come on, we've got a job to do."

Thunderbird 1 races towards the bank, and soon lands outside it. Their footsteps echoing on the pavement. Just as they arrive at the bank's entrance, Parker pulls up in FAB 1 and leaps out of the driver's seat.

"Good timing, Parker," Jeff grunts, his eyes fixed on the bank's imposing façade as he runs towards it.

"Good h'afternoon, Mr. Tracy," Parker replies.

"Come with us," Jeff orders has he runs past him.

"My pleasure, Mr. Tracy," Parker confirms and slides over FAB 1's bonnet and runs as fast has he can alongside Fermat.

Inside the bank, The Hood, having placed Penelope under guard, senses something. Transom is loading up the last of the stolen goods into the Cargo Pod when The Hood calls Mullion over. "International Rescue's here," he snarls, "Kill them all."

Jeff scans the bank's interior as they make their way through the maze of corridors. They come to a clear junction and he brings the group to a stop. "Alan, you guys stay here with Parker," he orders, "I'm gonna go find Lady Penelope."

Before Alan can protest, Jeff is gone, disappearing into the labyrinthine corridors of the bank. "But what about The Hood?" Alan calls out, his apprehension rising with every passing second. His gaze falls on Parker, a sudden idea forming in his mind. Pointing towards something behind them. "Look out, Parker!"

Parker, confused, turns away, just as Alan sprints away, following his father's lead. "Master Tracy!" Parker calls out as he turns back around to see Alan disappearing round the corner.

"Look out, Parker!" Fermat shouts, pointing in the same direction Alan had, but with a genuine urgency.

"H'Alright, that's enough h'of that," Parker accuses.

"Don't move," the voice of Mullion booms behind Parker, Kayo and Fermat.

The trio gulp and make a run for it only to come face-to-face with Transom appearing at the other end of the corridor. Parker instinctively raises his hands, as if to defend himself, his eyes flitting nervously between Transom and Mullion.

"Go on, then," Transom challenges, a smirk playing on her lips.

"No, sorry. H'I can't 'it h'a lady," Parker replies, lowering his fists.

"Allow me," Kayo interjects with a playful smirk. With a swift kick, she sends Transom sprawling to the ground and dashes away, Transom in hot pursuit.

Mullion, his eyes narrows with intent, turns to remaining two. "I've been waiting to get my hands on you brats," he growls.

"And I've been waiting to get my hands on you," Parker quips back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He slowly removes his chauffeurs hat and hands it to Fermat. The two men clash, their fists meeting in a flurry of blows. The fight is brief, but brutal. Mullion, a seasoned fighter, lands a powerful punch in Parker's private area.

"Ow, now that was a punch," Parker remarks, a grimace contorting his face.

"Parker, can we wrap this up?" Fermat interjects, his eyes darting around the room.

"What did you have in mind, Master Hackenbacker?" Parker enquires.

"Strategically speaking, the best odds of success lie with the Parker Haymaker," Fermat shrugs.

"I concur," Parker agrees. With a synchronized movement, they unleash a barrage of blows, flooring Mullion with a resounding thud.

Meanwhile, in the vault, Jeff finally reaches the room where Penelope is being held, the same room The Mole and the Cargo Pod are. "Penny!" he yells.

"Jeff, no!" Penelope cries with concern, her eyes wide with fear.

The Hood, his face a mask of cold triumph, stands by the open cage, his gaze fixed on the two figures locked together in a silent exchange. "Did you save them all this time, Jeff?" he asks mockingly.

"I didn't make you what you are," Jeff responds with a low growl. His eyes narrow and his jaw tightens with rage.

"It's not me you have to convince," The Hood retorts, gesturing towards the entrance of the room. It is a moment of agonizing anticipation as Alan appears in the doorway.

"Leave my son out of this!" Jeff roars and charges at The Hood.

"Jeff!" Penelope yells, but it is too late. The Hood produces a red device out of his pocket and points it directly at Jeff. There is a large pulse emitted from it, throwing Jeff backwards into the now open cage where Penelope is being kept in. As Jeff crashes into the wall, the guard standing by the cage door closes it again and locks it. Thus trapping both Jeff and Penelope inside and only leaving Alan to face The Hood.

"Dad! DAD!" Alan shouts, rushing towards the cage only to be shoved to the ground by the guard.

"I'm disappointed in you, Alan," The Hood muses, "I thought we were kindred spirits."

"Well, we're not," Alan states, "I'm Jeff Tracy's son."

"You certainly are," The Hood confirms, his eyes fixed on the young man who stands before him. Alan, his courage fuelled by a desperate need to protect his father, charges at The Hood.

"No!" Jeff and Penelope shout, their voices a chorus of fear and desperation.

The Hood's guards, acting with brutal efficiency, throw Alan aside, sending him crashing into the wall.

"Alan!" Jeff cries out, his voice filled with anguish.

The Hood, his eyes momentarily dazed, climbs up the catwalk, his back to The Mole, his face a mask of self-assured menace.

March 30th, 2058 - 12:02 GMT

The vault echoes with the frantic clang of metal on metal, the sense of fear and adrenaline evident. Kayo, a blur of turquoise and black hair, darts through the labyrinth of steel cages, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Transom, his face contorted with fury, is hot on her heels.

"Come here, you little minx!" Transom roars, her voice a guttural growl bouncing off the cold, unforgiving walls.

Kayo, desperate, spots a half-open cage. She leaps and lands nimbly on a metal bar. With a quick twist of her body, she flips over to the other side, leaving Transom gaping at the empty space where she had been an instant before.

"Ow!" Transom yelps, bumping headfirst into the wall. Kayo, losing no time, slams the cage door shut with a resounding clang.

"Bye-bye," Kayo smirks triumphantly. She doesn't linger. There is another, more dire, battle unfolding, and her presence is urgently needed. She sprints towards the source of the echoing shouts, her mind already racing with the grim reality of the situation.

Back in the main vault, a tense scene is unfolding.

"Alan, stay back!" Jeff pleads.

The Hood stands towering over Alan, his eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction. "You want so desperately to walk in Daddy's footsteps," he sneers, his voice a cold whisper that sends shivers down their spines.

His goons, two hulking figures, move with chilling efficiency, one of their hands gripping Alan's throat while the other holds him in place, their eyes devoid of any human emotion.

"Let him go!" Jeff screams.

"Let him go, please," Penelope echoes with fear.

The Hood only laughs, a cold, hollow sound that seems to echo the emptiness in his soul. "Did you really think you could challenge me?" he muses, a tone that drips with venom, enjoying the helpless fear of his captives.

"Let him go!" Penelope demands.

The guard tighten his grip, Alan's face turning purple, his eyes bulging. Then, just as abruptly, he releases his hold. Alan crumples to the floor, gasping for air.

"Alan! Are you alright?" Penelope yells.

"Alan, get out! Run!" Jeff cries.

"They're getting weaker. They can't last much longer," Alan raspes, his voice weak but determined.

"Neither can you!" Jeff roars, but Alan, with a surge of desperate courage, begins to climb The Mole to reach The Hood, his weak limbs shaking with exertion.

"Alan, no! Look out!" Jeff yells.

The two guards that had been holding Alan, have walked over to The Mole and activated it's drill, its metallic claws scraping against the concrete floor. Alan has to jump, clinging to the railing of the catwalk, his body swaying precariously over the churning gears and grinding metal.

"Alan!" Penelope cries out in terror.

The Hood, his eyes glowing with a cold satisfaction, steps forward, his grin a cruel mockery of human emotions. "I'm glad you could be here to see this, Jeff," he says. He steps on Alan's hand, crushing it with a sickening crunch. Alan cries out in pain, his grip weakening. "Goodbye, Alan!" The Hood cackles with sadistic glee. He puts all his weight on Alan's other hand, and Alan's scream echo through the vault, a testament to his unbearable agony.

Just as The Hood prepares to deliver the final blow, Kayo burst through the door, her eyes blazing with fury.

"No!" Kayo roars.

"Grab her!" The Hood barks, his eyes narrowing, the guards lunging towards her. Kayo, a whirlwind of action, moves with a grace and speed lands a series of lightning-fast kicks and punches, she disarming the two guards, sending them sprawling onto the floor, defeated.

"Oh!" The Hood exclaims, stunned by her sudden appearance and fierce determination.

The catwalk, weakened by The Mole's blades, groans under the weight of the two men, and then with a sickening crack, it gives way, sending Alan tumbling upwards, landing safely on the platform above. The Hood, caught off guard, is left hanging precariously over the churning gears.

Kayo, exhausted but victorious, sinks to her knees, her chest heaving, the fatigue of the ordeal catching up to her. She looks down and notices a large red stain coming through her uniform. It turned out one of the guards had a knife on him during the fight and had landed a good few hits on Kayo. Due to the adrenaline, Kayo hadn't noticed it until now. The last thing she is aware of is looking up at Alan before collapsing to the ground, her world going black.

"Leave me, Alan. Leave me to die," The Hood wails with a mixture of desperation and anger, his grip on the railing loosening, one hand dangling over the abyss.

"I don't want to save your life," Alan admits. The Hood, his face contorts with hatred and despair, lets go of his other hand, his body swinging dangerously over the abyss. Alan, with a swift, decisive movement, grabs The Hood's hand. "But it's what we do," Alan finishes, his voice firm, his eyes reflecting the unwavering spirit of his father. With a surge of strength, Alan pulls The Hood back onto the platform, just as the police storm in, their guns drawn, their faces grim. The Hood, defeated and disarmed, is quickly apprehended, his reign of terror finally coming to an end.

Alan, his heart pounding in his chest, rushes to Kayo, his face etched with worry. "Kayo, look at me!" he cries, kneeling next to her, his fingers gently feeling her pulse. "It's weak," he breathes, a wave of panic rising in his chest.

Fermat and Parker rush into the room and see Alan cradling an unconscious Kayo. "It's gonna be alright, Alan. You've known Kayo longer than I have and even I know she'll make it through it," Fermat soothes.

Paramedics rush to Kayo's side, their faces grim but efficient. They administer oxygen and carefully carry her away, her limp body a testament to the toll the fight had taken.

As the ambulance speed away, Alan sinks to the floor, the dam of emotion finally breaking. He weeps, the tears flowing freely, a silent release of the tension and fear that has gripped him throughout the ordeal. In the face of victory, he is left with the stark reality of Kayo's vulnerability, the memory of her limp form a heavy weight on his heart.

PART 10

March 30th, 2058 - 14:16 GMT

In a quiet corner of St. Thomas' Hospital, Kayo lies unconscious in a sterile white room. The only sound to pierce the silence is the steady beep of the heart monitor and the occasional rustle of her sheets as she shifts in her sleep. She had arrived a few hours ago now, her body a canvas of shadows and stark crimson. The emergency room staff had worked tirelessly to stitch her back together, their movements precise and urgent. The fluorescent lights cast a cold glow over the battleground of her skin, each stitch a silent promise of survival.

Alan sits on the chair beside her, a worried crease etched into his forehead. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, his gaze never leaving her peaceful face. His hand hovers over hers, as if the warmth of his touch could somehow seep through the layers of bandages and heal her from the inside out. He had known her for what feels like an eternity but nothing could've prepared him to see her like this. Thunderbirds 1, 2, and 3 had flown above the hospital around an hour ago, heading back towards Tracy Island. Alan decided to stay with Kayo until she recovered, allowing everyone to get some rest, especially those who'd been trapped on Thunderbird 5. He looks over to Kayo and the air around them seems to crackle with an unspoken tension.

The smell of antiseptic is heavy in the air, mingling with the faint scent of fear that clings to his clothes. Alan had seen his fair share of danger, but this is new territory for him. He isn't used to feeling so powerless, so exposed. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He has to be strong for her. After all, she has always been there for him, a silent sentinel in the shadows, ready to offer a reassuring smile or a sharp word of advice when he needed it most.

He studies her, committing every detail to memory: the soft curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes, the way her hair falls over her forehead in a gentle wave. Her beauty is something he had always appreciated from afar, but now it is tinged with a newfound sadness. He knows she is strong, but he can't help the ache in his chest at the sight of her lying so still. He has to keep it together, though.

The door to the room creaks open, and a nurse in blue scrubs enters, her shoes squeaking against the freshly waxed floor. She offers him a kind smile, one that speaks of a thousand similar vigils she has seen before. She checks the monitors, made a few notes, and then looks at him. "Mr. Tracy, she's stable," she informs, "But she's going to need time to heal. And you, you should get some rest too."

Alan nods, not taking his eyes off Kayo. "I'll stay," he states firmly despite the exhaustion that tugs at his words. The nurse gives him a knowing look and then leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. He leans back in the chair, his thoughts racing like a tornado through his mind.

April 12th, 2058 - 16:54 BST

Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days and the hospital's rhythm remains the constant symphony of beeps, whispers, and distant footsteps. The digital clock on the wall ticks away the moments, each second feeling like an eternity. Alan has been in and out of the hospital constantly the past couple of weeks and it is only recently it has dawned on him that he still hasn't started that ten thousand word essay.

He heads to a local library and heads over to one of the computers and takes a seat, turning it on. The faint scent of old books and the hum of the air conditioner are the only sounds in the otherwise quiet room. Alan stares at the blank page on his screen, his mind racing with formulas and diagrams. He takes a deep breath and begins to type, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he delves into the complex world of aerodynamics and space travel. His words paint a picture of sleek aircrafts slicing through the sky, and rockets defying gravity to reach the stars. It is a dance of numbers and symbols that holds the power to shape the future of human exploration.

The first paragraph is a challenge, but he is in the zone now. The caffeine from his third coffee of the day is kicking in, and the words begin to flow more freely. As he writes, he imagines himself in the cockpit of Thunderbird 3, using the theorem to calculate the perfect trajectory for a mission to Mars. Yet, the universe has other plans. The library's Wi-Fi chooses that moment to cut out, leaving Alan's screen frozen mid-sentence. He slams his hand down in frustration, the echo of the sound bouncing off the bookshelves.

"Great," Alan groans, looking around for a solution, "Just what I need."

A librarian, who'd been walking past Alan noticing his frustrating, lightly taps his shoulder bringing him to turn around and face her. "There's a café just down the street. They've got free Wi-Fi, and maybe a change of scenery will help you."

Alan hesitates for a moment, glancing at his deadline, but he knows she is right. Sometimes, a fresh perspective is all it takes to conquer a problem. He saves his work to a flash drive and packs up his things.

As he steps out into the cool evening air, the chatter of people flood the street and the distant sound of cars honking their horns, fill the void left by the library's silence. The café ahead is a beacon of light and life, a stark contrast to the academic fortress he'd just left behind. Inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the murmur of conversation creates a comforting backdrop as Alan finds a table by the window. He powers up his portable holo-screen and hopes for the best.

The café is bustling with students from all walks of life, each with their own stories and deadlines. For Alan, there is only one that matters: the essay that could prove very important for his school work. He takes another deep breath and begins to type, determined to conquer the ten thousand words that stand between him and Miss Garrett's rath.

As he delves deeper into his topic, he finds himself explaining the theorem's role in the design of wings and propellers, how it influenced the shape of the most advanced space vehicles, and even its use in calculating the distances between celestial bodies. A passion for the subject that Alan didn't know he had suddenly shines through in his writing, each sentence a testament to a love for the intersection of mathematics and engineering. Despite the pressure, Alan's eyes light up with excitement as he discusses the implications of the theorem in orbital mechanics.

After what felt like an eternity, the first thousand words are complete. Alan leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and goes up to get another coffee. The hours pass, and the café grows quieter as the day becomes the evening. The barista occasionally glancing his way, offering refills with a knowing smile. As the night grows later, the café's lights dim, signalling closing time. Alan's eyes burn with fatigue, but his resolve remains unshaken. He has reached the halfway point and knows this is a good place to stop.

He gives a tip to the barista and makes his way towards the hospital. The air is cooler now, carrying the promise of a new day. Alan nods, his mind still racing with equations and aerodynamic principles. He knows he has found his stride, and nothing will stand in his way. Once back in Kayo's hospital room, he sets his laptop on a small table, surrounded by textbooks and notes. The silence is a comforting cocoon, a stark contrast to the lively café. With renewed energy, he continues to type, the glow of the screen illuminating his face.

Then, it happened. Alan hears movement and looks over towards the bed. Kayo starts to shift more in her sleep and her eyes flutter open, and she looks at him with a hazy confusion. "Alan?" she murmurs, her voice a mere breath.

Alan puts down his laptop and leans forward, his hand finally finding hers beneath the layers of bandages. "I'm here," he says, his voice thick with emotion, "You're safe." He can feel the warmth of her palm against his, and it is like a spark had been lit in the dark room. "You're going to be okay."

Kayo's eyes search his, looking for answers he isn't sure he had. "What happened?" she asks, her voice barely audible. This causes Alan to take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

"You were hurt," Alan begins, his voice cracking slightly, "But you're safe now. You're in the hospital, and I'm not leaving." He feels Kayo's grip tightening on his hand, and she winces as the pain from her injuries shoots through her.

"The Hood," Kayo whispers.

"Yeah, he's gone?" Alan confirms, "He's been arrested and is in British Custardy now."

"The... the other's?" Kayo questions, her voice fading. "Are they okay?"

The gravity of her words hit him like a sledgehammer. While she's been fighting for her life the past few weeks, her first thoughts are of how everyone else is. A silent tear falls out the corner of his eye and he holds back a chocked sob. He squeezes her hand, trying to convey his promise without speaking. "We'll handle it," he states, "You just focus on getting better."

Her eyes search his, looking for the truth in his words. In that moment, their unspoken feelings crash over them like a tidal wave. The room grows quiet again as Kayo closes her eyes, the pain medication pulling her back into a much-needed sleep. Alan leans back in the chair, his grip on her hand never loosening. He will be there when she wakes up, ready to face whatever comes next. And maybe, just maybe, they can find their way through this mess and into something more.

The door opens once again, and the nurse peeks in, her expression concerned. "Mr. Tracy, you really should get some rest," she orders, her eyes scanning the room, "I can see you're not going anywhere, but you need to take care of yourself too."

He nods, but his eyes never leave Kayo. "I'll be fine," he assures her, "I just need to be here."

"Alright," the nurse nods softly, "But if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

As the door clicks shut again, Alan leans closer to Kayo, his forehead touching hers. "I'll always be here," he murmurs, his voice a silent promise that hangs in the air between them. As the hours ticked by, the unspoken words grow louder, filling the space around them with a newfound hope that maybe, just maybe, they can navigate the treacherous waters of their secret lives and find a safe harbour together.

April 13th, 2058 - 05:45 BST

The sun begins to rise, casting a soft glow through the blinds. The shadows grow long and thin, stretching out like fingers reaching for the new day. Alan feels the weight of their situation pressing down on him, but he pushes it aside. For now, all that matters is her. He traces the line of her jaw with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers, even as she sleeps. When she stirs again, her eyes opening to meet his, he sees a spark of something new in their depths. He swallows hard, his heart racing.

"Alan," Kayo calls, her voice stronger this time, "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Alan states, giving her a weak smile, "We're a team."

"No," Kayo corrects, her eyes searching his, "We're more than that."

PART 11

April 13th, 2058 - 20:37 NZST

The sun sets on Tracy Island, a warm, golden blanket over the turquoise pool where Scott, Virgil, John, and Gordon engage in a playful battle. Laughter echoes across the water as they splash and chase each other, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the serenity of the surrounding landscape.

"Hey, Scott," Virgil calls as he throws a beachball in his direction.

"Get him!" Gordon yells.

Jeff stands by the barbecue, his eyes crinkle in amusement as he watches his sons. Beside him, Penelope, ever elegant in a crisp white sundress, sips her margarita, her lips hinting at a knowing smile.

"What did you put in these margaritas, Jeff?" Penelope enquires, tilting her head, a hint of mischievous curiosity in her voice.

"It's a Tracy secret," Jeff replies, his eyes twinkling.

Meanwhile, Fermat is receiving his swimming lesson from Brains. He flounders slightly in the water, his arms flailing, but a determined look settled on his face as he fights to stay afloat.

"That's my boy," Brains declares, "One more week and you're gonna be swimming like a f-fish."

Alan stands at the edge of the pool, watching Fermat with a kind smile. "Good job, Ferm," he calls.

Just as Alan is about to sit down, Kayo emerges from her room. She swirls around, her new dress billowing around her like a summer breeze. "So, what do you think?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Alan, engrossed in the scene before him, doesn't make the connection immediately. "He's getting there," he states, his eyes focused on Fermat.

He turns around, startled to see Kayo standing before him, a soft smile on her lips. "Whoa, Kayo!" he exclaims. His mind scrambling for something to say, something appropriate. "You're just really, um, cute in that dress," he stammers, his face burning with embarrassment as he turns back towards the pool. Fortunately, the shadows cast by the palm trees mask the crimson hue of Alan's cheeks, effectively hiding his flustered state.

"Did you say 'cute'?" Kayo enquires, her smile widening, a hint of playful mischief in her voice.

Before Alan can respond, Jeff walks over towards them, a buoyant energy radiating from him. "Hey you two. I was going to gather everyone around to do this, but I thought you guys would want to go off as soon as, so..." He reaches into his pocket and produced two small, silver pins adorned with the International Rescue emblem.

"Mr. Tracy! Thank you, sir," Kayo cries, her eyes widening with joy. She then turns to Alan, her expression shifting from pure happiness to a mix of shock and wonder.

"Dad, I don't deserve this," Alan murmurs with uncertainty.

"Why Alan, you saved my life on more than one occasion?" Kayo counters.

Alan's mind races, his heart pounding. He feels an overwhelming surge of gratitude, but also a deep sense of unworthiness. He needs to get away, to sort his thoughts, to process the profound responsibility that came with the pin. "I need to go," he says, his voice tight, his eyes searching for an escape route.

"You earned it. You all three of you," Jeff adds.

As if on cue, Alan's brothers approach, a boisterous wave of affection and congratulations flooding the air. Gordon, ever the jokester, ruffles Alan's hair, a mischievous grin on his face. "Hey, way to go, sprout!"

John, usually reserved, adds his voice. "Alan!"

Scott, the mother hen that he is, sees an opportunity to lighten the mood. He scoops Alan up, lifted him over his head, and launches him into the pool with a joyful yell. Virgil, John, and Gordon follow suit, plunging into the water, their laughter echoing through the air.

Jeff, watching his sons with a mixture of admiration and concern, sighes. The phone rings, shattering the peaceful scene. He answers, his voice instantly turning serious.

"Yes, Madam President. I see. Of course, straightaway," Jeff states and hangs up, "Boys. Sorry, Penny. The Hood has escaped and is after the now Zero-X spacecraft."

Penelope, never one to be fazed, simply raised an eyebrow. "Of course he has. And quite quickly too," she remarks.

Jeff, his face now reflecting the gravity of the situation, turned to his sons, his eyes meeting theirs one by one. "Thunderbirds are go!" he declares, his voice booming, his words echoing the call to action. He turns and runs inside, leaving the playful scene behind him, a stark reminder of the responsibility that lies ahead, the destiny that bounds them together as a family, as International Rescue.

April 13th, 2058 - 21:06 NZST

The salty air hangs heavy, laden with the scent of seaweed and the distant thrum of the ocean. Alan stands at the edge of the island, the waves crashing against the shore a rhythmic counterpoint to the turmoil in his mind. The sun, disappearing over the horizon, casting long shadows that stretch across the sand, mirroring the sense of uncertainty that clings to him. He hasn't meant to slip away from the others, but the evening's events have left him reeling, needing this solitude to process the weight of the world that seem to have fallen upon his shoulders.

He isn't sure what had prompted his sudden realization, but as he watches the sky turn a fiery orange, a deep sense of unsuitability settles within him. The idea of joining International Rescue, a dream he'd cherished since childhood, now feels distant, almost unattainable.

His thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice. "Alan, what's going on?"

Kayo is standing beside him, her hand gently resting on his arm. He turns to her, his face a mixture of relief and vulnerability. "I dunno," he sighs, "I guess today made me realize that I really am not ready to join International Rescue."

"You know I didn't ever believe that," Kayo replies, her voice soft but firm, "But after today, you really do prove yourself, not only to me, but to your brothers and your father too." She pulls him into a hug, her warmth a comforting weight against his growing anxiety. "We better get back to the villa. It's getting late."

The walk back is quiet, their shared grief a palpable presence between them. The villa, usually a hub of activity and laughter, is shrouded in an eerie silence. It is Scott who breaks the stillness.

"What's wrong?" Alan asks, his voice tense.

"It's Dad," Scott replies, his face etched with sorrow, "He's— "

"What's going on?" Alan demands, his heart pounding in his chest.

"The Hood," Scott growls, his voice barely a whisper, "He's responsible. That was the last message we got from him."

Kayo, who had been standing just outside the room, turns and walks away, her footsteps echoing through the empty hallway.

"Kayo!" Alan calls out, his voice echoing with concern, "Shit."

"I think we all need time to process this," Scott states and one by one, everyone leaves, leaving Alan alone with Sally.

"You go and talk to her, Alan," Sally says softly.

Alan nods, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He know Kayo needs him, her father's killer is now also responsible for his own father's death. He feels a deep, almost primal need to be there for her, to offer solace and support.

He knocks on Kayo's door, his hand trembling slightly. "Hello! Can I come in?"

A muffled sound comes from within. "Yes." He pushes the door open and enters, finding Kayo under the bed sheets, her back to him. He slowly lifts the covers, revealing Kayo curled up in a ball, wearing only a T-shirt and jeans. The rip in the T-shirt, a testament to her anger, pulling at his heartstrings.

"Hey, I'm here," Alan states, his voice cracking with emotion. He sits down beside her and pulls her gently into a hug.

"It's all my fault," Kayo whispers, choking back the sobs, "I'm such an idiot."

Alan looks at her, his own heart aching. He can see the self-blame clouding her every thought, and it breaks him. "Just because he's killed your father doesn't mean you're responsible for him," Alan says firmly, " I regret what I said to you in the jungle; I really do. But it kills me to hear you talk down on yourself." He gently lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him. He gives her a small smile, hoping to pierce through the sadness that clouds her eyes. Thankfully, she returns the smile, a flicker of hope in the darkness of her despair. She throws her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Thanks, Al," Kayo whispers.

Alan feels a surge of protectiveness for her. He knows he has to do something, to help her through this. He has an idea, a wild one, but it just might work.

"I'll be back in a second, Kayo," Alan informs, pulling back from the hug and moving towards the door.

He runs down the hallway, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm. He bursts over to his father's office, banging on the door. "Scotty, can I come in?"

"Sure," Scott replies, his voice laced with exhaustion.

Alan enters, his determination hardening. "Right, I need to ask you something."

"Is it about Kayo?" Scott enquires.

"Maybe," Alan shrugs, a blush creeping up his neck, "I was wondering if Kayo could go with me on missions. She's quite sensitive, you know."

Scott raises an eyebrow, surprised by the request. "Sure, just keep an eye on her."

"Thanks, Scotty," Alan smiles, turning to leave. He has just reached the door when something stops him.

"Alan!" Scott calls out.

"What?" Alan questions as he turns back, his heart sinking as he sees the unreadable expression on his brother's face.

"Have you told her yet?" Scott asks.

"What?" Alan replies, confused.

"Never mind," Scott sighs.

"You sure?" Alan persists, but Scott only shakes his head, leaving him more confused than ever.

Alan returns to Kayo's room, only to be met by Virgil and Gordon, who are busy helping her packing her belongings.

"What's going on?" Alan enquires, his voice filled with confusion.

"Didn't Scott tell you? We're swapping rooms," Gordon says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "So, you'll be next to her, seeing as she'll be your co-pilot when you get to fly Thunderbird 3."

"NO!" Alan shouts, his mind reeling. He barges into what is now Gordon's room, finding her in the middle of packing. He approaches her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright in moving next to me?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Of course I am," Kayo replies, her voice a little shaky, "I'm the one who agreed to it in the end."

"I just wanted to make sure," Alan responds, his face flushed, "I guess with everything going on, I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Kayo feels a blush creep up her cheeks, but she quickly masks it. "It's okay." The unexpected warmth in her response sends a jolt through Alan. He has a feeling this unexpected turn of events might not be so bad after all.

April 14th, 2058 - 00:34 NZST

A symphony of buzzing and hammering played out a chaotic melody as Virgil, Gordon, Alan and Kayo, wrestle with the final stages of Kayo and Gordon's move. The scent of fresh paint and the faint aroma of sawdust lingers in the room's. Gordon, his face flushed and his hair plastered with sweat, surveys his new room with a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion.

"Now that's what I call a job done, Virg," Gordon announces, wiping his brow with a grimy rag.

"Certainly, though Alan, you sure Kayo is happy with this right?" Virgil asks, tilting his head.

Alan, standing awkwardly by the doorway, flushes a deep crimson. "Yeah, we had a conversation about it while you guys were busy. Just wait a second if you want to ask her yourself."

Gordon raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk spreading across his face. "And why's that, Alan?"

"She's just getting herself changed into fresh clothes in the new room," Alan murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Virgil, ever the perceptive one, chuckled. "Well, I'll leave you two to it," he says, giving them a knowing wink. He then strolls out of Gordon's room, followed by Alan, who hesitates for a moment, as if unsure of what to expect.

As he entered his own room, Alan finds Kayo, his neighbour and the object of his affections, sitting on the edge of his bed, engrossed in a book. She has always been a voracious reader, even in their younger days, when they were both young, hot-headed children, pushing the boundaries. She looks up as he enters, her eyes, the same piercing blue he remembered from the very first day they met, sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"Finally, you're back," Kayo muses, a playful glint in her eyes, "I was wondering how long it would take."

Alan chuckles, trying to mask his nervousness. "Yeah, I was just helping Gordon with the last few things. The amount of junk he has is unbelievable."

"Well, I'm certainly looking forward to getting to know my neighbour," Kayo jokes, giving Alan a friendly slap on the back, "Just like the good old days back in the early 50s."

Alan's cheeks warm under her gaze. "Absolutely," he manages to say, his voice betraying his unease. He watches as Kayo rises from the bed and walks towards the door, her smile a beacon of warmth that lit up the room.

It had been a very long Spring Break.

"Don't forget your essay!"

"SHIT!"