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Gordon's acting really weird. Weirder than usual, that is.
Out of all five Tracy brothers, Gordon's always kinda been the odd one out. A fish out of water, if you will. Except replace 'water' with the sky or space, throw in a weird addiction to celery crunch bars and spray cheese, and you've probably got yourself a slightly more accurate description.
The short version is that Gordon lives and breathes chaos to a much higher degree than any of his brothers (and Scott will reluctantly admit that maybe he's a not-so-distant second), constantly joking and playing and getting crumbs all over Thunderbird Two's console. But while Gordon's chaos is normally endearing, today it's nothing short of infuriating.
Scott's exhausted enough as it is. Waking up at 4AM to help evacuate the Otago coastline after a tsunami alert will do that to a person. Doubly so if said person went to bed slightly past midnight the day before, then got called out to two minor rescues before getting home, where he closed his eyes for exactly three minutes and fifteen seconds before getting called out to an SOS call on a remote island that actually turned out to be yet another of the Hood's schemes.
There's a persistent ache building behind Scott’s eyes and he knows he looks a mess between the stubble and the dark circles under his eyes and the greasy hair. He probably doesn't smell a whole lot better– deodorant can only do so much in the face of hard work. All Scott really wants is twenty minutes of uninterrupted bathroom time and at least eight hours of sleep. He's not going to get either of those for a while, but at least the end is in sight. He’s just lucky that whatever the Hood sprayed at his face earlier doesn’t seem to have hurt him.
"We're almost there," he tells his passenger.
"Excellent," the Hood replies, inclining his shaven head with a wide smile. He's strapped securely into one of the two passenger seats that are normally folded away into the cockpit walls, while Gordon screams something unintelligible from the cargo hold. He’s been screaming a lot.
"He doesn't sound very happy," the Hood remarks, raising one bushy eyebrow.
"I don't know what's gotten into him," Scott admits. He opens a one-way comm channel into the hold. "Gordon, can you stop doing that? You're embarrassing me."
Gordon doesn't stop. If anything, the muffled screaming gets worse, now accompanied by a loud banging noise. Probably should have made Gordon’s restraints a little tighter. He might escape the duct tape. He's always very good at wriggling out of stuff. They don’t call him ‘squid boy’ for nothing.
"Brothers, huh?" Scott shoots an apologetic glance at the Hood.
"They can be a real pain, can't they?" the Hood agrees. "Sometimes it feels as though my brother exists to make my life difficult."
Scott sighs, relieved that Gordon's weirder-than-usual behaviour hasn't put off his passenger.
"When we get back to the island, I'll give you the full tour," he promises. "I'd like to freshen up a bit before we talk business, though."
"I'm afraid that won't do at all," the Hood says, golden eyes narrowing into a frown. "We must finish our business arrangements as quickly as possible. Once International Rescue and your fortune are in my hands, you can show me around my new home."
The headache gets worse, a blinding stab of white-hot pain lancing momentarily through Scott's skull.
"Right," Scott manages. Yes, that's a much better idea. Business first, then pleasure. "How are you holding up, anyway? We’ve got bottled water and canned coffee in the back if you’re thirsty.”
“Is that all?” the Hood wrinkles his nose. “What a terrible selection.”
"I can add some hydration salts, if you like. Blackcurrant, orange, or coconut flavour. I can't give you the strawberry ones, they're Alan's favourite."
The Hood sighs.
"I'll wait."
“ETA is…” Scott checks the flight path. “Approximately three minutes. I’ll call ahead and see if Virgil can prepare something for us. His coffee is fantastic, and he’s pretty good with tea, too. At least, that's what Penny says.”
“Don’t bother,” the Hood says, just before Scott hits the ‘call’ button. The pain spikes again, the base of his skull momentarily throbbing so hard he’s deafened by his own heartbeat. Scott hisses, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth. Okay, that feels bad. That feels really, really bad. There’s some chewable aspirin in one of his baldric pockets, and that would probably take the edge off…
“You’re right,” Scott says, popping a chalky tablet into his mouth with clumsy fingers. Best not to disturb Virgil unless he really has to. He's got a lot to do. “Refreshments can wait. Business first, right?”
“Business first,” the Hood agrees. “And then you can help me explain our deal to your family.”
“Right,” Scott nods. It’s a very good deal, actually. The Hood gets exactly what he’s always wanted: money, power, and the remnants of Jeff Tracy’s legacy. Scott’s not sure why the Hood is so obsessed– though Scott’s got a secret theory, cooked up in the bottom of a bourbon bottle, that the Hood came onto Dad at some point and got rejected and that's why he's so weirdly sore about it all– but it doesn’t really matter at this point. The Hood gets what he wants, and in return Scott gets what he wants: freedom.
The weight of responsibility is heavy, damn it. He’s tired. He’s so tired. And there’s so much to do. There’s always so much to do.
Scott activates the pool door and drops out of super-sonic speed just before Tracy Island appears on the horizon.
“Okay, approaching the base now,” Scott says, slowing even further. He drops into the triple digits, then the doubles, and finally the singles, as Tracy Island draws closer and closer. “Buckle up. We’ll be switching to vertical flight in three… two…”
Scott blinks as the poolside area comes into view. The pool is still closed. He hovers above the pool, pressing the pool door button on his screen again. Nothing happens.
“Is there a problem?” the Hood asks.
“Uh… just a small one,” Scott replies. “Hang on a sec, okay?”
Before Scott can activate his comm, Thunderbird One’s holographic display lights up. Thunderbird Five is hailing. He answers.
"Hey, John," Scott greets his brother. "Everything okay?"
"I was about to ask you the same question," John's holographic projection raises an eyebrow, folding its blue arms. "I just received a very strange call from Gordon."
"Strange? Yeah, Gordon's acting really weird today. I have no idea what’s gotten into him. He totally lost it on me earlier."
"Oh?" John frowns. "What happened?"
"I don't know. We were done on the plane, so we started heading home, and he refused to sit down or even let me pilot at all. Kept saying that there was something wrong with my head."
"Where's Gordon now?"
"In the cargo hold," Scott answers. "I gave him a quick med-scan after I knocked him out. It didn't turn up anything, but I'm gonna call Virgil and Grandma in when we land, see what they think."
John stares at Scott, his mouth slightly open.
"You knocked Gordon out?"
"Unfortunately, I had to," Scott admits. He feels pretty bad about it, but there hadn't been any other way. "He was physically trying to stop us from leaving. Nothing he said made any sense. We tried to talk him down, but Gordy wasn't having any of it."
"Who's 'we'?" John asks.
“Don’t tell him,” the Hood hisses, and the pain in Scott’s skull spikes so violently that his lungs seem to seize up. Hot liquid pricks at the corners of his eyes and inside his nose. He gasps as the pain subsides, and the holographic John leans forward, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.
“Scott, are you all right?”
“Just fine,” Scott croaks. Something drips down his upper lip. “Open the pool, will you? I need to land.”
“You’re going to switch to vertical flight with Gordon in the cargo hold?” John asks, blinking rapidly. “But there aren’t any seats in there. I don’t think that’s safe.”
“I taped him to the floor,” Scott says, breath almost coming easily again. He wipes his nose, his glove coming back bloody. “Brains’ new stuff. He’ll be fine, he’s not moving anywhere for a while. We’ll probably need Virgil to scrape him up.”
John stares at Scott for a moment before speaking again.
“Well, I can’t open the pool for you,” he says. “The… er… the mechanism is jammed.”
“The mechanism? But it was fine earlier.”
“Yes… well…” John looks away from Scott, shifting uncomfortably. “It was fine then, but it’s jammed now. There… there was an accident. I’ll put the pool cover on and you can land horizontally.”
Scott sighs. Thunderbird One will just barely fit in the pool area if he lands with the nose pointing over the cliffside, but it’s inconvenient. The exhausts leave scorch marks on the kitchen and living room windows, and Thunderbird One’s body is big enough to block out the sun.
“FAB,” he says, unhappily.
John winks out of existence without a word.
“Trouble in paradise?” the Hood asks.
“Could say that,” Scott says, keeping an eye on the pool beneath them. “Just a sec.”
As John promised, a solid cover slowly starts sliding across the water. It should be able to support One’s weight– it’s another of Brains’ engineering miracles. Doesn’t mean Scott likes using it, though. One has her place, and this isn’t it. How’d they even manage to break the pool mechanism, anyway?
Slowly, carefully, Scott lands One in her temporary place, swinging his ‘Bird around to the correct position. He’s going to have to clean the soot off the windows later, once he gets his hands on some grapple refills. He used up his baldric stash on today’s rescue marathon.
“Okay, all good. We’ll have to exit through the cargo hold, since I had to land so close to the cliff edge,” Scott flicks off the engines and slides out of his seat. As comfortable as that seat is, having been specially moulded to fit his body shape, it’s still a relief to finally get up and stretch. “You need a hand?”
“I’m fine,” the Hood replies, unbuckling himself. Scott hits the button to open the cockpit doors, and the Hood claps him on the shoulder. “Now, about those papers…”
“Not so fast, Uncle,” Kayo says, standing in the open doorway. She’s clearly cross, her hands on her hips, lips curled. Gordon’s standing behind her, bits of duct-tape still stuck to his blue uniform. He’s scowling, too, his eyes red-rimmed and tear-stained.
“Oh, I should have known this was too easy,” the Hood mutters. He kicks Scott in the shin. “What are you waiting for? Get rid of them.”
The pain intensifies again.
“Guys, would you mind?” Scott asks. “We’ve got a business deal to finalise, and I’d like to get it over and done with. Step aside, please.”
“The business deal where he gets all our stuff?” Gordon points at the Hood. “Are you insane?! What am I asking, of course you’re crazy! Kayo, you saw what he did to me!”
“Yeah, no,” Kayo shakes her head, fixing her uncle with a glare. “What’d you do to Scott?”
“Not much,” the Hood shrugs. “Just a few nano-bots hidden in an aerosol, re-writing a few neural connections as needed. He's a very good puppet.”
“That would explain the nosebleed,” Kayo mutters, and then she looks at Scott. “Stay where you are. I’ll handle this.”
“Don't listen to her! I said ‘get rid of them’, you idiot!” the Hood snaps at Scott again. “You’re bigger and stronger than both of them!”
That’s true. Scott was able to overpower Gordon pretty easily earlier. He’s never been able to win against Kayo head-on, though, but there’s a first time for everything. He reaches out, intending to start by pushing Kayo backward into Gordon, and then his world explodes into agony as Kayo swiftly kicks him in the testicles. He hits the floor hard, curling automatically into a ball.
“Stay down!” Kayo orders, her voice tinny and far-away through the haze of pain. Scott isn’t sure he could get up, even if he wanted to.
Ow, ow, ow.
“John said the GDF are gonna be here in a few. I’ll call Virgil and Brains up, see what they can do about the nano-thingies,” Gordon’s disembodied voice says. Something pokes Scott gingerly in the back. “Scott, no more duct tape, okay?”
Scott groans.