Earlier that day...

Jeff Tracy stared at the ceiling high painting in the living room. It depicted an epic rocket, ready to launch into space. It wasn't just a picture that he thought looked cool; this was the actual rocket that had taken him to the Moon. There, he and his close friend and colleague, Captain Taylor, had set up a moon base and managed to survive for over a year with absolutely no outside help. Together, they had written the book on space survival.

"You miss those days, don't you, Mr Tracy?" Jeff turned to see his faithful manservant Kyrano holding a tray which carried a lovingly made herbal tea.

Jeff took the delightful tea and sipped it. "That was a long time ago, Kyrano. A long time ago. At some point you have to stop looking back and start looking forward."

"Of course, Mr Tracy, of course," Kyrano nodded. "That is why you have built all this."

"Right," Jeff agreed. This was no ordinary house they were standing in. Jeff and his five sons lived in a luxurious villa built on Jeff's very own private island—affectionately known as Tracy Island—an island that virtually nobody knew about. Its remote location in the south Pacific had given Jeff the perfect getaway from his fame and glory days, whilst also providing the perfect location for his new operation. "And that's why you do everything for Tin-Tin."

"She is my whole world," Kyrano said proudly. "I never could have dreamed I would be able to provide such a good life for my daughter."

"Well, she's had a great start," Jeff smiled warmly. "An education from one of Britain's top universities and a whole year exploring Europe. She's going to be a fine young woman."

"Thank you, Mr Tracy," Kyrano said, beaming. "How can I ever repay you?"

"There's no need," Jeff said. "You saved my life once. I am still repaying my debt to you. Oh, and I received word not too long ago that Tin-Tin is on her way home. She's lucky enough to be aboard the Fireflash for its maiden flight. It's some aircraft; she'll be home in no time."

Kyrano smiled and bowed his head before leaving the room. Jeff sat down at his desk and enjoyed the brief moment of quiet. Despite living on a remote island, having five sons meant there was always some kind of chaos brewing, even if they were all allegedly adults. Well, Alan wasn't technically quite an adult yet, but he could drive and that was good enough for Jeff.

A beeping sound caught Jeff's attention. His head darted to the far wall of the lounge where pictures of his five children were hung. The fifth picture on the far right was of his middle son, John, and it appeared as thought John's eyes were flashing. This was no illusion or trick of the light; the portrait really was flashing.

"Go ahead John," Jeff said clearly, having pressed a secret button on the underside of his desk. Suddenly, the portrait was no longer a still image. John Tracy seemed to be within the picture; his beautifully kept curl at the front of his hair looking pristine, even from within the space station where John was located.

"We have our first emergency call, Dad," John announced.

"Right!" Jeff replied. "I'll call the rest of the boys in and you can give us the brief. It's time for International Rescue to reveal ourselves to the public."

*

Scott was the eldest of the Tracy boys and so he sat in his own armchair while his younger brothers, Virgil, Gordon and Alan were sat on the sofa. It was a small privilege, but there was nothing quite like having your own personal armchair, moulded perfectly to your body, providing the ultimate comfort. The entire Tracy family was gathered around their father's desk, eagerly anticipating their first mission.

"Ok boys, it's finally time for our first assignment," Jeff said. "The new Mach six Fireflash is in distress and we're the only ones who can help."

"The Fireflash?" Alan suddenly cried out. Alan was the youngest of the siblings and was easily the most excitable. However, being a champion racing driver at the age of seventeen showed his incredible skill—as well as his desire for thrills. "Isn't that Tin-Tin's flight?"

"Yes, Alan," Jeff nodded gravely. "But there are hundreds of others on that plane and it's our job to rescue all of them. Just because we know one of the passengers in danger doesn't change how we view the situation."

"Yes, Dad," Alan said, going quiet but still looking worried.

"Ok, Scott," Jeff said, clearly not wanting to waste more time. "You know the rules. Your uniform is in your craft. Away you go, son. And good luck."

"Yes, sir!" Scott said, jumping out of his seat and walking over to a conspicuous piece of wall in the lounge. Placing his back to the wall, he grabbed the two lights over his shoulders and pulled them forwards, causing the panel of wall to rotate.

"Good luck, Scott!"

"Take it easy, Scott!"

After a few words of encouragement from his brothers, they were suddenly completely gone as the wall finished its rotation. Instead of facing their comfortable and spacious lounge, Scott was now faced with the hangar of his prized craft: Thunderbird 1, a hypersonic rocket designed to be the first machine on the scene of any given rescue.

The platform he stood on extended itself forward, creating a bridge for Scott to calmly walk across and enter his Thunderbird. He began the launch sequence as he put on his uniform; a military inspired outfit, all blue, with a light blue sash across his chest that led into a holster by his waist. He sat down and used two handled levers to guide Thunderbird 1 along a track, down through its hangar to its launch site.

If seen from above, you would see a rather bizarre sight. The swimming pool on Tracy Island mysteriously began to move, retreating into the wall and revealing the secret hangar beneath it. Thunderbird 1 was properly aligned, its red nose cone pointing vertically, directly through the newfound gap in the ground.

"Thunderbirds are go!" Scott couldn't resist crying out as he activated the main thrusters. Smoke billowed out from Thunderbird 1's jets, rocketing it skywards at astonishing speed. The craft shot out from its swimming pool launch site, and in the blink of an eye, Tracy Island was gone.

"Changing to horizontal flight," Scott said, arcing the craft beautifully so that it became parallel to the ground. With his trajectory now pointed directly towards London, he would be there in no time. "Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5, what's the low down, John?"

"The Fireflash has been sabotaged," John said over the radio. "There's a bomb placed in the landing gear hydraulics, making it impossible to land and if they stay in the air longer than their radiation safety factor, the passengers and crew will be exposed to a lethal dose of radiation. They're trying to dislodge the bomb using aerobatics, but they're not having much success."

"Right, thanks, John," Scott said, giving the situation a moment of thought. Could he somehow board Fireflash and defuse the bomb? No, it would be impossible to do on his own, and even with help it could be too risky, too difficult and too time consuming. He was going to need backup. "International Rescue from Thunderbird 1."

"Go ahead Scott," Jeff's voice said from over the radio.

"I'll be arriving at London Airport in fifty minutes, but it looks like I'll need heavy rescue. Send Virgil with Pod 3."

"Ok, Scott," Jeff replied. "Away you go, Virgil."

With the knowledge that his brother would be close behind to support him, Scott had no further need for transmissions and could focus on the job at hand. He pushed Thunderbird 1 to its limits, propelling it forwards as fast as it could go. Beneath him, the ocean became nothing more than a blue blur, looking more like a small piece of carpet than an enormous body of water.

It wasn't long before John had an update. "A rescue attempt is being made, Scott. They're going to try to get somebody aboard the Fireflash—but it doesn't look hopeful."

"Well, let's hope they succeed," Scott said genuinely. As long as lives were saved, it didn't matter if International Rescue were involved or not. "I'll maintain present course."

He continued to eat away at the miles, as he had to assume Fireflash would still require his assistance. Whatever rescue operation they were trying must have been extremely difficult and technical; it seemed like an age before John gave him an update. Scott could actually see Britain on the horizon by the time John informed him the attempt had been valiant but it had indeed failed. With Scott fast approaching the scene, it was time to act.

"London Tower from Thunderbird 1," Scott called out over the radio. "Approaching London Airport, height two thousand five hundred feet, airspeed seven point five thousand miles per hour. Will be touching down in two minutes." Scott opened the wings of Thunderbird 1, ready to land, but he had heard no reply.

"London Tower, this is International Rescue," Scott tried again. "Fireflash is in trouble and we are equipped to help you. Requesting permission to land."

Finally, they answered. "International Rescue, you are cleared to land. Use runway two-nine."

"Will not require runway," Scott replied with a smile. "Coming in vertically." He deployed his landing gear and fired his reverse thrusters, causing phenomenal deceleration that would've thrown Scott all around the cockpit if he hadn't been properly strapped in. He descended upon the airport, Thunderbird 1 practically dropping out of the sky down onto the tarmac, the tyres of its landing gear giving an ear-splitting screech as they gripped the ground.

"London Tower from International Rescue," Scott announced. "Now listen carefully, I need assistance taking my equipment up to your control tower and I also need your assurance that airport security will be stationed at my craft to guard it against any potential intruders."

"International Rescue, please give me more information about your organisation. We cannot grant you free access to our facilities without more details."

"Look, there are six hundred people up there with about forty minutes to live!" Scott cried out. "Now you can't help them but I believe we can. So, what's it gonna be?"

*

The Hood watched closely as the man from International Rescue was escorted from his aircraft towards London Tower, with several men helping to carry his equipment. He wondered with mild frustration what all those buttons and levers on the unit did. He could've easily changed his disguise earlier and been in a position to discover the secrets of the specialised equipment—but no. He had to remain focused. The main prize was right in front of him.

Thunderbird 1 was nothing short of magnificent. The Hood had already seen an incredible aircraft today—the Fireflash—but the International Rescue craft made Fireflash look like a paper aeroplane. The sheer sound of its jet engines on approach had been phenomenal, an epic roar that had pierced through the sky. It was no plane; it was a rocket, aerodynamically perfect in every way, shape and form, and technically beyond anything anyone had ever seen before. If he discovered its secrets... he would be the wealthiest man in the world.

"Now to make sure nobody even gets close to Thunderbird 1," The Hood said, "Except me, of course."

He drove as close to the craft as he could, allegedly guarding it from any potential intruders. Little did they know that the unassuming Tony the airport security guard was secretly the only one with any ill intentions toward the International Rescue craft. With his stolen police car in place, he had a perfect view of Thunderbird 1, a view so perfect that he would be able to see anyone approaching the craft. And, of course, he would be able to see anybody watching him.

The Hood chuckled to himself as a discreet clicking noise began. It was the hidden camera within his fake security guard hat, secretly taking pictures of Thunderbird 1. These pictures alone would be worth a fortune to the right buyer, but for true wealth he needed to unlock every secret International Rescue had. He needed to board the Thunderbird.

It was difficult to tell when he would have a good opportunity to attempt a boarding. He had no idea when the rescue operation would be due to take place. He had no idea if more Thunderbirds would be making an appearance. It seemed like a reckless move, but The Hood had no choice but to gamble and make a move as soon as possible.

He calmly exited the car and briskly made his way to the aircraft, trying to look as natural and conspicuous as possible in an effort to draw in little to no attention. The Hood could hardly believe his luck. Despite his intricate planning, this had always been a risky part of the plan but it literally could not have gone any better. Nobody stopped him—nobody even seemed to notice him—and when he reached his target, a hatch seemed to slide open, almost as if it was inviting him in.

He gratefully obliged, entering the cockpit. Something nagged away at him, saying it was too good to be true, and realistically he knew that was the case. He still needed to act fast. He quickly whipped out a little handheld scanner and pointed it at the instrument panels, flashing a holographic projection as it collected data. As the scanner got to work, he used the time wisely, continuing to take pictures with his secret hat camera.

The Hood had to stop himself from getting giddy at the priceless information he was gathering. The scanner would provide a complete readout of the inner workings of the machine, which combined with his pictures would enable the right people to recreate the International Rescue technology. He took pictures of every nook and cranny of the interior of the craft, cleanly photographing the sleek control levers, the rotating chair mechanism, the automatic intruder detector... automatic intruder detector?!

"International Rescue!" The Hood cursed, wasting no more time. He stopped his scan before completion and bolted out of the aircraft, dashing for his car.

"Stop!" Airport security yelled at him, but The Hood had no intention of stopping. His stolen car was the closest of all the cars and guards, allowing him to quickly dart inside and start the engine. The security force began to move their cars into a blockade formation, but his slight head start had given him enough of an advantage.

The Hood put his foot down, the car jolting forwards jerkily in response. He had reacted just in time, as he sped through the unfinished blockade, only just clipping one car on the way through. The car slid violently one way and then the other, the minor damage having seriously thrown off the balance. The Hood wrestled the steering wheel, fighting as hard as he could to control the vehicle. Incredibly, he succeeded. He got the car straight and was now speeding away from the scene of the crime, well ahead of his law-abiding pursuers.

The Hood cackled to himself. He had done it!International Rescue's secrets were now the property of The Hood.