AU42 by PENNYSPY RATED FRT

The year is 2031. International Rescue have been in operation for 5 years. But there's the Tracy Corporation side of the men in blue as well. And when a routine business trip goes wrong, it threatens the very fabric of the universe.

This story was written as a response to and winner of the Tracy Island Writers Forum's 2005 Spring Challenge. Credit goes to fellow TIC author Molly Webb, who wrote the text shown at the beginning of the story in italics.

UNIVERSE 0.0: GONE

Jeff Tracy had been at work in his office at the Tracy Corp headquarters since 7am. His briefcase lay open on one corner of his desk, balancing the stacked piles of papers and reports that nearly covered the gleaming expanse of black glass. He was lost in concentration on a particularly troublesome spreadsheet when his cell phone rang. Absently he picked it up and answered, his eyes still on the paper before him. "Jeff Tracy."

There was a pause, and then a voice replied. "The Jeff Tracy?"

Jeff frowned, full attention suddenly focused on the phone at his ear. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

Again there was a pause before the voice answered. "I found it in your son's wallet." The voice continued, female -- a Brooklyn accent, Jeff realised. "Or, rather, the police did. My name's Doctor Holden, Mr Tracy. You need to come to Ripley memorial hospital right away, sir. There's been an accident, I'm afraid...your son Alan is in our care."

"What? Alan?" Jeff's heart, which had started thudding as soon as the word 'Doctor' was spoken, suddenly squeezed painfully tight in his chest. "What condition is he in? What happened?"

"It's simpler if you come to the hospital as soon as you can, Sir. I can tell you that his condition is stable. He was caught in an explosion at a laboratory in New Jersey..."

A lump had appeared in Jeff's throat, making the next words more of an effort. "Are there any other survivors there?"

"One other. A woman. Mr Tracy, this will be easier if you come straight to the hospital." The voice was sympathetic, but insistent.

Jeff was already heading for the door. "Okay, I'm coming there by helijet. Have the roof ready for me."

There had been no reply from any of the others' wristcoms, as expected. By now Jeff was on the roof, and just as he was getting into his personal helijet, ready to call John on the way, his own wristcom began to buzz insistently. He wasn't surprised at his son's speed of reaction. "It's all clear, John, go ahead. Switch to channel 17.9."

A moment later, John was talking directly into Jeff's headphones over the helijet's radio. "Dad, the lab that Scott, Brains and Alan were in � the news is saying it's been destroyed, and...!"

"I was told about the explosion. Slow down son..."

"I can't get hold of any of them, Dad. I'm worried...police are talking about a huge explosion..." John's strong voice wavered. "Do you know where they are?"

"I've just had a report from the hospital, Son." Jeff tried to inject calm into his voice, prepping for the two-minute flight over the New York skyline to the hospital. "Alan's in there. I don't know all the facts yet. I want you to monitor the reports. Find out what you can about this. I want everything ready to go when I reach the hospital."

"Which one?"

"Ripley Memorial in New Jersey. I'll be there in two minutes." Jeff shivered. He had almost no idea what he was going to find. "Tell Virgil and Gordon to get over here. Tell them what happened. Don't let them find out by the news reports. I'll tell you more when I know more. Meanwhile, get me everything you can."

John paused, Jeff heard him draw a quiet breath of self-control. Then his determined voice answered. "FAB, Father."

Jeff glanced down at the city. He was already at the hospital.

Doctor Holden met him on the heliport roof. She was already explaining about the explosion. "He was found about a hundred metres from the main area, with major burns to his back and a broken leg. We think he may have cracked some ribs as well. But he's in good shape, considering." She was brisk, but thorough enough that Jeff absorbed all she had to say with a few nods and no initial need for any questions. They arrived in the ER unit a moment later. "He's in here, Mr Tracy."

Stepping through the white glass door that looked like all the white doors with greenish glass at eye level in every hospital ever, Jeff moved in a few feet, and looked down at the blond head of his youngest son. The burns were covered with the soothing blue gel developed to heal and minimise trauma. Every other part of Alan's body was wrapped up, or hidden under a thin mass of wires. For a moment the only sound was his son's controlled breathing, the reassuring beep of computers and the low hum of monitors.

Jeff went immediately to his side. Reached out to touch his forehead, and his exposed bare arm. "It's all right, son. You're going to be all right." Alan's eyes twitched, most likely still in sleep, and these signs of life soothed some of his father's inner horror. However, Jeff Tracy's face remained like stone when he turned back to Doctor Holden. "What else can you tell me?"

"This wasn't an accident."

Jeff turned to the voice. It came from a tall woman in a long brown jacket. She had an almost cropped dark haircut that emphasised a strong jaw and finer cheekbones. Piercing dark eyes fixed themselves on Jeff's face. "There was a major explosion at the Hudson laboratories, Mr Tracy. I understand that two of your sons and another man were also visiting there," she said.

"Yes." Jeff glanced up, his grey eyes pebble hard. "Yes, my son Scott and...a friend of ours. An engineer. Who are..."

The woman stuck out her hand. "I'm Detective Bale, Mr Tracy." She had a firm, business-like grip as Jeff shook her hand. "I'm in charge of the investigation into the explosion. We also have a witness to what happened recovering in the other room."

"Scott and the others..." Jeff swallowed. "Are you sure they were in the area when the explosion happened?"

"According to our source, they were in the building at about that time. But there are some...discrepancies. She insists that they weren't killed, but she wants to speak to you first."

"I see." Jeff murmured. He glanced back at Alan. The thought of leaving him alone worried him more. He reasoned that Virgil and Gordon were on their way, and he had to know more about where Scott and Brains could be. Reluctantly he went towards the door. "Take me to her. What's her name?"

"Doctor Rose Weaver."

When Jeff walked into the room a couple of floors below Alan's, Dr Weaver was sitting up in bed, surrounded by pillows. An attractive woman in her early thirties, her serious face was outlined by dark blonde hair hooked back neatly over her ears. Jeff noticed the long scrape that ran down the left side of her face, and she had a black eye. When Jeff entered she said in an unexpectedly gentle southern accent, "Why, you must be Jeff Tracy. Scott's the absolute spit of you."

"Everyone notices that." Jeff said gruffly. He managed a smile, and sat down by her bed. "I hear you know what happened to him. And to his companion..."

"Brains?" Weaver smiled. "Yes. Just about. Do you know what Professor Jameson was working on?"

Jeff paused. He remembered Brains talking about it, a project that sounded closer to science fantasy than something a friend could have created in a lab. "Brains mentioned something about a...Portal?"

"Yes. A Portal which Jameson discovered would take us to other worlds. Other realities..."

"And where does Scott fit into this?" Jeff said impatiently. "I have one son in hospital, Doctor. Where should I look for the other one?"

"I'd better tell you from the beginning, Mr Tracy." She said, adjusting her place amongst the pillows. "And the Detective over there, if she'll believe any of it."

"Go ahead." Jeff told her. "And don't leave anything out."

UNIVERSE #unknown: PORTAL

"Don't panic? Are you absolutely bally well insane?" Professor Jameson screamed. Scott and Brains stood either side of him. All around them, they could hear unfriendly little roars and snarls.

"More killer Guinea pigs?" Scott hissed.

"I hope n, not..." Brains said nervously.

It wasn't helping that the whole place was quite dark and still otherwise, with the thin light from a crescent moon hanging overhead. They had landed painfully in what appeared to be dense woodland, landing as if flung from a speeding bus. Amazingly, nobody seemed too badly hurt, but his head pounded. Scott was very anxious to find civilization as soon as possible.

At least he had warmed up, now. His mind went back over what had happened, hoping for clues to their situation.

It had started at 8pm that evening. Scott, Alan and Brains pulled up outside YutaniTech labs in the big, black Mercedes that Scott always used when in the City.

As a consequence, Scott was still driving, and Alan was still bitching about it. "We've been checking out labs all day, Scott, and you've hogged the wheel the whole damn time. I won the Parola Sands for crying out loud! Don't you trust me?"

"Not even when you're all grown up," Scott grinned. "Anyway, Sparky, this is the last stop, then we can hit the town afterwards and have tomorrow free."

"This has certainly been fascinating to investigate, Alan." Brains added. "Your Father has made some truly impressive investments."

"This is something a little more unusual, though." Scott flipped open the computerised book of company references. "Says that Professor Jameson has been experimenting with matter transportation."

"An extremely d, dangerous thing to get involved in, Scott." Brains nodded.
"No kidding. It sounds like that movie where the thing has the guy's head and the bug's body." Alan made a face.

"You had nightmares about it for weeks," Scott reminded him. "You wouldn't let us kill any bugs for months after John showed you that..."

"Hey. We're there." Alan hopped out of the car the split second after Scott parked it. "Wonder what Jameson's really doing."

"Did he really have nightmares about the Fly?" Brains asked as Scott opened the door.

Scott shrugged. "The boy has an imagination. Too much for a good astronaut..."
"I heard that, fly-killer!" Alan yelled.

Scott pretended not to hear and locked up the car. "Come on, Sparky. Last stop."

"Sure, Hotdog...."

"Hotdog?" Brains peered at Scott. "Um...?"

"Never mind." Scott headed up into the building. "Hello?"

The security guard let them through the main doors once they'd shown their IDs. Once in the building proper, the lab was very quiet. Only a few lights had been on when they arrived, and the reception area was completely still. There was a brightly lit corridor on either side, each with a sturdy looking door at the end of them. The lights behind both appeared to be off. There was nobody else in sight.
"So much for the City that never sleeps," Scott mused.

"This is New Jersey, Scott," Alan reminded him.

"Wonder where everyone is." Scott was checking left and right. "Think there's a bell?"

They heard a swish as a door opened down one of the corridors. Then a blonde woman wearing a long white coat came towards them, carrying a clipboard, her flat shoes making a sharp tapping noise on the smooth floor.

"Good evenin' fellas. It sure is nice to make your collective acquaintances." She smiled warmly and held out her hand. "I'm Doctor Weaver." she welcomed the Tracys and Brains into the laboratory, saying. "I'm just thrilled that you're here, especially so late in the day. Professor Jameson is right on the brink of something totally extraordinary."

Scott raised his eyebrows as she turned away, looking at Alan. "I know y'all hear that every time you visit any scientific lab with those big checks of yours', but I can promise you that this is going to send you off the planet."

"We know all about the transport project," Scott said.

"Oh, it's about way more than that by now, sug'." Weaver gave him a not-quite-motherly grin. "Wait 'til you see it!"

An intrigued Scott walked easily beside Weaver, asking her how long she'd worked here - "Way too long, sug'" - and what she did - "Anything he needs, and anything I know he needs. We've hardly left the lab since the breakthrough."

"You got the transporter to work, then?" Scott heard his father's interrogation skills coming into play.

"Pretty close, but things have changed now. You're going to see something else altogether. This way, gentlemen..."

They entered a room that was part lab, part study, and at least a third bedroom. There were used coffee mugs all over the place, and in the corners a mass of wires and bigger tubes.

Scott's view was immediately dominated by something in the centre of the lab. It was a big sphere at least the size of a mini-van, the bulk of it slowly revolving. Thin silver strips held it together and the outer coating appeared to be made of an oily metal, moving and flexing. This constantly altered its colours and shapes. The effect was almost kaleidoscopic. Ten separate computer consoles surrounded it - big heavy blocks of computer technology that clicked and whirred, as dark and grey as the globe was gleaming and light. A series of other globes revolved on each screen, projecting off over and over.

The air in the room felt alive as well. For a second Scott had the sense he was hanging in water, his limbs without weight. His head was now not-unpleasantly light. "What is it?" He realised how dry his throat was.

"Feel free to take a look, gentlemen," Weaver invited them. "I'm sure you'll find us worth investing in for years to come."

"Remember, we don't get the final word, Doctor," Scott said. "We're researching for our Father. Once we've taken a look at this we can decide whether to recommend further funding for your work."

She put a hand on his arm anyway. "I really hope you'll think so, Scott. Can I call you Scott?" she smiled.

"You can call me anything," he replied, the weirdness in the room making him feel odd, playful and wary. Like he was being spun round himself.

It didn't appear to affect Weaver, who smiled even more brightly and said, "In a moment we'll show you what it can do."

Brains had already dived ahead of Scott and Alan. "Wow, is that what I th, think it is?"

"A big glowing spherey thing?" Alan wondered out loud.

Weaver managed an unlikely combination of compassion and disdain. "No, Alan, dear. It's..."

"It's a 'big glowing spherey thing' that I call a Portal, Mr. Tracy. Something I stumbled upon quite by mistake. I would never have found it without dear Doctor Weaver, here." The English voice came from a man whom they immediately realised must be Professor Jameson. A moment later the Professor had poked his head around from the other side of the sphere.

He was much older than any of them. His thick white hair stuck out in tufts all over his head, a tired but vivid pair of blue eyes shone behind round spectacles that hung on the end of his nose. A rumpled tweed jacket flapped over a greyish yellow shirt. "Sometimes, genius is inspired." He gazed at his assistant with what Scott interpreted as deep affection.

"You're sweet," she smiled. "Isn't he sweet? But he's exaggerating. I just fine-tuned the best way to control the Portal. The Professor really deserves all the credit for the breakthrough." Weaver nodded to her rumpled idol.

Scott stepped forwards then and shook the Professor's hand before they continued. "Good to meet you, Professor Jameson. I'm Scott Tracy and this is my brother, Alan."

"Yes, yes, ergo - you are the extremely important funding visit from the Tracy Corporation. And who is your friend?" Professor gestured curiously at Brains. The little scientist was examining the sphere, as close as he could get without touching the edge of it. "He's about to lose his nose. Be careful, old chap..."

"Oh, s, sorry, I, I'm so impressed by all the w, work you're doing..." Brains was talking so quickly he could barely get the sentence out. "I can see even now that you've made the impossible come t, true...I c, can't wait to see how it's, er, all put together!" He stuck out a hand and pushed up his own glasses. "S, sorry. The name's, er..." he glanced at Scott and back to Jameson. "You can call me Brains."

"Er, is that a joke?" Jameson glanced at them.

"Not at all. We're his friends and we all call him that," Scott grinned.

"He must like you," Alan added.

"And he's the best engineer I've ever met. We need him so we understand exactly what we're recommending to our father," Scott finished.

"Oh, er, I see." The Professor wiped a hand across his brow. "Well, er...have you all time for a cup of tea before we begin explaining the breakthrough? I believe I require a pitstop before I can begin to explain the whole concept."

"Sure." Scott nodded. "We've been on the move all day. It sounds like just what we need."

"When you are refreshed, I can take you through it." Jameson gave a strange little laugh that set Scott's teeth on edge.

"Got any coffee...?" Scott asked.

Weaver opened up a cupboard lined with types of tea Scott vaguely recognised from his time at Oxford University. She lifted out a single small jar from the back. "The machine ran out about an hour ago. But there's always my emergency supply."

"You've earned that grant already," Scott said gratefully.

When they'd all sat down, and been served bad coffee in hastily scrubbed mugs, Professor Jameson started to explain excitedly. At first they thought they would never get through the technobabble. This was further hampered by Brains' persistent over- and then under-complicating of his descriptions. Luckily, Weaver knew when to add her two cents, and Scott quickly figured out the right questions. All the same, it was, nearly two hours later by the time Professor Jameson finished explaining his point.

"It all happened quite by accident," he said eagerly, his white fluffy moustache twitching with enthusiasm under his flared nostrils. "As the report you have there probably tells you, Doctor Weaver and I have been researching the creation of a matter transporter. We were getting close to achieving this, too, or so we believed. Yet every time we put an object into the machine, it would disappear altogether. When we worked out how to extract it from the transfer, we often found ourselves with an object quite different to the thing we originally sent. It was as if we were pulling another version of the object out into our own world."

"Our own world?" Scott asked.

"Yes, Scott. The world we inhabit, we eventually realised, really is merely only one of an infinite amount of extraordinary possibilities."

"You can't mean all that science-fiction bullshit is real?" Alan said.

"Oh, yes. It's quite, quite extraordinary; quite fascinating. Let me show you." Jameson leapt to his feet with unexpected celerity, and then headed for a cabinet. When the others had caught up, he swung around and showed them triumphantly. "Here." He tossed a framed photograph over to Scott. "Examine this, and tell me what you think you see."

Scott caught it easily and examined it. It was a picture of Mount Rushmore. "I don't get it," he said, puzzled.

"Now look at this one, Scott." Weaver handed it to him, "Really look at it. What do you think the difference is?"

Scott frowned, and peered at the two photographs side by side. A moment later it clicked. "Jefferson's different! Who the hell is that?"

The second picture of Mount Rushmore had obliterated two of the presidents, and replaced them with one huge face. The face was big and bald, with a pair of enormous eyes glaring out across the photograph. Scott frowned at it. "I hope that's no world I ever see..."

"We don't know who it is, Scott," Weaver said, "No human has gone through our portal to that gateway yet. I can show you the animals that have changed, though."

"Animals?" Scott looked at her.

"Over here." They left the cupboard and went into a smaller one, where at least sixteen dogs, cats and smaller animals, even two parrots, were caged. "We have video footage and DNA samples of each creature. When we put them through the Portal, they came out... changed."

"Changed?" Scott asked.

"Yes. We brought them back through the portal, and they appeared fine. Only, we discovered that their personalities were irrevocably altered. But on further tests, we don't think that these are the same animals. We think that each one is a copy of the animal we sent through..."

"A copy?" Scott glanced at Brains, who was looking at the files on a Guinea pig with some interest. "Kinda like a fax?"

The irritating laugh came from the door again. "No, no. An approximate copy, Scott," Jameson said. "These are almost exactly like the animals we sent through in every way. But when we recalled them their personalities had changed."

"Changed, huh?" Outside each cage there was a file hanging off the front, with photographs of the animal inside stapled to the cover. Scott flipped open the nearest file, which sported a photograph of a big Rottweiler snarling savagely at the camera. "How do you know?"

"That dog..." Weaver pointed to the big Rottweiler in the cage near Scott. It was standing with its tongue hanging out, panting enthusiastically. "He was abused as a puppy, and we took him from a rescue home that was about to put him down. He was dangerous, and impossible to train. He would bite you the moment he was free of his restraints. But that was before we put him through the gate. When we attempted to retrieve him, we found something quite extraordinary. Check the file."

Scott flicked through its file. The dog was named SUBJECT 1809240. ALTERNATE UNIVERSE VISITED: AU36. It went on to give a lengthy description of the damage done by its huge teeth to the necks of at least four people. Scott winced. "It's a brute..."

Weaver opened the cage. Scott and Alan unconsciously braced as the massive dog walked out into the area. Its jaws were sloppy with thirsty drool. Scott glanced at the Professor and at Weaver. They seemed relaxed enough. Then the dog leapt forwards.

"Look out!" Scott pushed Weaver to one side, away from the huge animal. The dog landed on top of Scott. Scott felt its furnace breath on his neck...

"Looks like love at first sight to me," Alan commented.

Scott realised that the back of his head was now soaked by the dog's over-enthusiastic tongue, and that he was lying on top of Weaver. She hadn't raised any complaints so far. "Uh, sorry..."

"That's all right, sug'. I'm flattered, really. I'll keep you around for our less friendly poodles..." They laughed, Scott going slightly red.

The big dog barked, once, and smiled up at him. A little sheepishly, Scott brushed off his suit. "Nice dog."

Alan grinned - and then there was a yelp from Brains, followed by a short but vicious series of expletives.

"Are you all right?" Scott demanded.

"D, damn Guinea pig b, bit me!" Brains lifted his very bloody thumb. The creature he'd been examining did the small, fluffy equivalent of a snarl and began tearing its nest of newspaper to tiny shreds with its bared fangs.

It took a little more than five minutes to have Brains' bite sewn up by Dr. Weaver's deft hands. Not happy about the situation, Scott made noises about taking Brains to an emergency room to get tetanus and rabies shots, just in case, and was mutely surprised when Weaver just smiled and produced the requisite inoculations from a refrigerated safe on the back wall. "Not that it will probably do any good anyway," the doctor remarked reassuringly as she stuck Brains with the first needle. "Sometimes, they aren't even the same species. We've had a few come back that couldn't even breathe oxygen. They died before we could figure out what it was they did breathe.. Maybe some of these worlds aren't even inhabited at all, at least not by life we recognize."

"I'd k, kinda like to take a look at those, too." Brains said, his scientific curiosity overcoming his concern about the possible long-term effects of the bite he had sustained. "It sounds m, most interesting..."

"So what you're saying is that the Portal leads to all kinds of potentially dangerous worlds," Scott cut in, frowning. "Worlds with things that can get in to this one. Everything from animals to diseases...that Guinea pig, for example..."

"Potentially dangerous is all it is, Scott. Charles and I have total control over the creatures we bring back. Nothing can leave the sphere until we allow it out." Weaver hid her defensiveness fairly well.

"What about the Guinea pig?" Brains inquired.

"Is totally harmless. It bit me, and I have undergone thorough tests to make sure it carried nothing more dangerous than your...usual family pet," the Professor said to Brains. "Bally sorry about that, old man."

"We can control it," Weaver repeated.

"I don't know, Professor." Scott rubbed the centre of his forehead. It was getting late. Nearly past midnight. He wondered if his father was still at work in the huge Tracy Corp building, in the main business district of Manhattan. He'd bet his 'bird on it. "I'd like to see it in action, though, just so that Brains can take a look at the system in operation."

"Sure, sug'," Weaver replied. "Give us 30 minutes to set it up. We'll use a different Guinea pig this time."

"Yes, Rose is quite right. We'll set it to, oh, the last place we visited and show you the changes and how we're working around the clock to correct them." The Professor swept off and Brains and Weaver followed.

"Scott?"

"Yes, Alan?"

"Are you buying all this?"

"Let's see what they come up with, Al. With Brains here it won't take long to work out if this is a hoax..." He heard the sphere whirring, the clattering of the blocky computers that apparently performed miracles. "...or if Guinea pigs in some dimensions really are more dangerous than killer dogs..."

Thirty minutes passed and Scott only stopped pacing around the lab, going over more files, and checking out a couple more of the menagerie's ever-more odd inhabitants when Weaver called out. "We're good to go, Scott. Alan."

"Great." Scott moved over to the screens, standing behind her. "Talk me through it..."

Professor Jameson brought out a plant and said, "This is going to illustrate the stage we have reached so far. The challenge will be to bring back the correct animal or plant from the, er, alternate worlds. I believe that this will do for now, however."

"How do you track it?" Brains asked.

"We have recorded its signature, every resonance it has in this world. From DNA to energy waves and vibration. This computer handles it." She pointed at the most complicated looking machine of the lot, a bank the size of a small car up against the nearest wall. "Once the data is recorded in there, we can choose how to search for it. So far, it's almost done loading the DNA samples."

"DNA tracking, huh?" Scott glanced over at Brains. They were both thinking the same thing - about the uses it could have for rescuing trapped people. "Impressive."

"These clunky ol' computers are aligning it with the world we want to reach." Weaver added. "And I designed the hardware and the software, so trust me, it's going to be from the same world as the Guinea pig that bit you. See?" she pointed at the screens now. "Number 42."

"Another Guinea pig," Alan murmured. "What's the worst that can happen?"

The sphere was spinning steadily, and all eyes were firmly fixed on it now. The side of the sphere opened.

"Kinda icy in there, isn't it?" Scott shivered as freezing air blew from it into the room.

"We're using the cold in the Portal for two reasons. One, it keeps the Portal itself cool and stops it from exploding." She punched the keys again. "We've realised it'd also be useful for subduing the more dangerous specimens we retrieve. We can analyse them inside the Portal's inner lock before letting them back into this world. Screen them intensely for viruses, that kinda thing."

"That's good to know," Scott murmured. "Are we talking nuclear power here, Doctor Weaver?"

"The Portal's cooling units are failsafe, Scott," she assured him. "But fine-tuning will always lower the risk substantially."

"So there is a risk." Scott heard his father's voice again, found the angry centre of it. "This is being performed in the middle of New Jersey. You know how many people this could affect if something happened...!"

"I believe that we are perfectly safe for the, er, moment, Scott. It appears that the nuclear core has all the correct, er, shielding. It may need to be deeper underground, but it is adequate for the amount of power they are expecting to use." The pilot felt Brains' warning hand on his arm. "I would advise you that later we should move the laboratory a little f, further out, though."

"Okay." Scott relaxed a fraction. Weaver and Jameson were watching him warily. "But if we end up funding the product we're going to require a lot more safeguards built into all this."

"And at least now it's only New Jersey..." Alan muttered. Luckily Scott didn't hear him.

Doctor Weaver went back to her work. "Okay. We're nearly ready." She went to the cupboard and took out what looked like a skateboard with a motor attached to the back. The Professor brought around a Guinea pig that, to Scott's eyes appeared seriously drugged. He placed it on the 'skateboard' where it lay almost still, its tiny body clearly breathing in its sleep. "Open your peepers, gentlemen. When this goes in, we'll seal the Portal so we can send it through."

The Professor hit a button on one of the smaller, heavier computers, and then dove from one to another. The Tracys craned their necks to see as the 'skateboard', operated by remote control, was driven into the airlock. The side of the sphere snapped shut behind it, apparently operating by sensor. Then, it began to whirl.

The lights in it flashed faster and faster at unbearable speed. The silver lines around it became a single shining blur. The weird high pressure that he'd felt on entering the lab returned, only a thousand times stronger. After a moment Scott had to look away, feeling sick and dizzy. Then he heard a noise that resembled Thunderbird Two's retros misfiring, and a deep sound-barrier boom from within the huge ball. It made the air vibrate.

When it stopped Scott almost lost his balance. The pressure the thing had exerted was just enough to confuse his body's long-held idea of upright and horizontal. He had to lean on the console to momentarily steady himself. The others seemed to be having a similar experience, except for Alan, who never appeared to get sick at anything except seafood and the sight of his own blood.
That's when Scott saw him. The tall, dark eyed man with the piercing eyes. He shouted, angry and startled. "How did you...?"

And then he didn't have a clue what had happened next.

"Scott called the intruder's name out. Called him the Hood, and a host of other things...He really seemed to know him." Weaver was finishing her story. "The guy had these really weird eyes. Seemed to suck you right in. He knocked out Alan at first when he tried to rush him. Then he turned them on me and Scott, and the others. First he made me give him a disc with all the blueprints for the machine. Then he...he...said he wanted a demonstration. He made Scott get inside the Portal. The Hood said he wanted to use Charles and Brains to make a bigger, more 'useful' Portal. But just then, Alan woke up - he attacked the guy. I heard some gunshots. Then I saw Brains dive into the portal, and so did the Professor. The machine went crazy - cold air was leaking but so was the heat. The Portal closed and I knew we didn't have long...but I'd been shot." She raised her knee, showing it was heavily bandaged. "Alan got me clear. I think that the Hood was right beside us, up until we got outside. Maybe he stopped Alan from running..." she looked tearful.

"So what you're saying is..." Jeff's head was hurting by now, unable to accept the possibility that any of this could be true. "My son...Brains..."

"Scott's alive, Mr Tracy." She said. "And so are Brains and the Professor. I can help you find them."

Jeff sat there, staring at her. "I want to believe you."

Rose Weaver stared right back, and sighed. "But you don't, huh?"

"No." Jeff frowned. "I'm sorry. I'll need to see more reports, more proof that this is even possible..."

"Then find the guy that did it, Mr Tracy. Find those plans, and I promise you we'll get your son back." Weaver leaned over enough to touch his arm, her grip strong and with a measure of desperation to it. "I'm not lying, Mr Tracy. I want Charles back, too. I'll do whatever it takes, but I can't get it all from memory. You have to believe me - I have no reason to make all this up!"

Jeff paused for what seemed like hours to meet her gaze with a focus that seemed to sear her to the back of her skull. In fact, it was only a moment later when he said, "We'll search for your witness. Beyond that, I can't do anything else but hope that Scott and Brains are alive somewhere."

"Beyond that, I can only hope the same thing. All the research is gone, and 'til you catch the rat-bastard, 'scuse my French, then that's all we can do."

Jeff nodded. "Take care, Dr. Weaver." He got up, walked to the door where Detective Bale was waiting outside. "You made a convincing case. We'll find those files. I want my son back whether you're telling the truth or not." He left the room, leaving Weaver to rest. With a heavy heart he prepared to call base and explain what had happened.

He had to tell them not to panic.

UNIVERSE #42: LEVIATHAN

"What I mean by that is, wasn't that the last place they you were dialling up?" Scott demanded. "Before the Hood attacked us? AU42?"

"Yes, and it brought back one of the more foul-tempered brutes. I hate to think what it's done to other 'harmless' wildlife..." Jameson sputtered.

"One ill-tempered Guinea pig," Brains sounded extremely wary, "doesn't, er necessarily define a world as immediately dangerous."

"Oh, that's good to know," Scott said, his eyes darting nervously around, weighing up their chances.

"But I've still got the, er, s, stitches..." Brains muttered. "I believe we should, er, get the heck a, away. As soon as we, er, can."

The big pilot hesitated all the same. "Won't they be trying to get us back?" Scott said. "Shouldn't we stay here in case they try to locate us?"

"They can track us..." Jameson mused. "Probably will if there's anything left of the place. Given enough time, Rose is perfectly capable of deciphering the last few puzzles on her own."

"But if the Hood's got her...?" Brains shivered.

"Then I doubt there's gonna be anything left to find us with." Scott was starting to squint in the dark, as his companions were becoming just grey shapes in the surrounding gloom. "And we need to get to shelter fast. Who knows what this place is gonna throw at us. We need to find water, and food as soon as we can."

The weird little grunts and squeals were beginning to die away, as the animals making the noises appeared to lose interest. The movement of bodies just out of sight ruffled foliage and they were clearly heading away from the three men. Silently the reluctant travellers breathed a sigh of relief.

"If New Jersey is still green in this universe, then perhaps it is more civilised than we dare hope, Mr Tracy," the Professor said. Hopefully.

"I hope you're right, Professor," Scott said, also trying to sound cheerful. After the confusion and fear, he considered a decision had finally been reached and he felt better already. "Let's saddle up and head out. Even in this world, in America there can't be that many places without people for miles and miles. And the weather's great!" He strode off confidently, hearing the two scientists hurry along behind him.

"Clearly you've never been to Milton Keynes, Mr Tracy." Jameson mumbled.

Scott laughed, confirming he had. "You're right, it could be worse. But this is America � no roundabouts here!" He heard the others attempting to keep up, and the thirst for getting somewhere, anywhere pushed him just ahead of his two companions.

Scott also heard Brains whisper, "That's if this even is America." But Scott chose, just for then, to ignore it.

It was dawn in the new universe when Scott, Brains and Jameson finally hit upon a road that looked reassuringly used, and quite freshly tarmacced. The area around it was still wooded, but it appeared less dense by the early morning sunlight. A border of trees kept their view of the new world quite restricted as they stared up at the shards of open sky.

Rain would have made things harder, Scott thought, glad for the sun's warmth for now. They stood in the sun's gaze trying to get warm, letting their eyes adjust. Briefly noting the muddy, torn and stained state of his once grey Armani suit, Scott raised a hand. "Okay, now we go one way or another. And that means we've got to choose right now."

"Maybe we should w, wait for a car," Brains suggested. He brushed off a couple of spiders that had taken up residence on his trouser leg, and tugged leaves from his hair.

"We've gotta start walking one way or the other," Scott said. "Look at us. Unless we get somewhere, fast, we'll never figure out a way of getting back."

"I thought the world would be more different, somehow." Jameson murmured.

"What's that?"

"It all appears reassuringly predictable," Jameson said. He gave that laugh that put Scott's teeth on edge again.

There was a heavy rumbling sound, then, coming from behind them.

"What in thunder's that?" Scott yelled over the rising din.

"It sounds like a tank!" Brains hollered back.

The trees around them were cracking and it felt like an earthquake under their feet, the new tarmac threatening to split. As they watched, a massive dark shape began to fill the space previously overhung by trees in the middle distance. "I think it is a tank," Scott said. "Let's get off the road - now!"

The three of them dived into the bushes and burrowed down even as the rumbling reached the part of the road they had just been standing on. Scott risked a glance out through a few spaces in the dense leaves, the vibrations making branches crack and tumble on either side.

He was right. It was a tank. But like no tank Scott had ever seen before. It was enormous, easily as tall as the biggest trees, slicing and crushing the fragile foliage with its iron body. What it lacked in elegance it made up for with sheer effective brutality. He'd heard tanks described as dragons, but the unrelenting aggression in the size and weight of the metal beast that burst through the woods, uncaring of any living thing made that label utterly inadequate. This was a Leviathan.

Scott made out the insignia on the side of its black metal � a snake burning in a spiked sun. The image chilled him. On the very back were emblazoned the initials GA., the golden letter and the symbol reflecting what little sun could penetrate the thick forest roof.

They had barely recovered from seeing the first monster when its brothers followed. Thirty or forty more smashed their way past the three men, until their muscles ached and their heads throbbed at the unrelenting grinding of the surrounding earth, and the way each machine's gargantuan engines strained the shuddering air. The earth under their bodies was pounded by the machines' vibration, until the three men were numb and deaf to anything but the Leviathans' snarling song.

But they did stop coming, finally, and Scott warily climbed out of the hole they had hidden in. His ears were still ringing. "What a mess. It'd be easier to use the woods than this."

The tarmac was ripped to shreds, the road now like scattered pieces of jigsaw. He stared after the way they had gone, and then back over at where they had come from.

"Do we want to go to their destination? Or their birthplace?" Jameson voiced Scott's thoughts before the pilot could think through all the arguments for either way. "Wherever we are, Scott, this world is clearly far more dangerous than we had first hoped."

"So, let's vote on it," Scott said.

"I c, cannot make a decision based just on what we have s, seen..." Brains said thoughtfully. "I understand that you want to get us s, somewhere, Scott. But n, neither way particularly appeals right uh, now..."

"I know," Scott sighed. "But I think the Professor's right. We don't want to be going towards those things."

"So we go right." The Professor nodded.

Scott nodded, too. "Right."

"R, right, then..." Brains said. "R, right it, er, it is..."

"The first sign of another vehicle, we're getting off the road onto the left," Scott said firmly. "Okay? Let's go."

Scott's stomach was making loud protests by the time the sun had risen high over their tired, aching bodies. His voice was dry as he grunted. "Come on, guys. We're going to find someone soon."

There was no answer from either scientist, apart from grunts as they continued their forced march. The shattered road did not make for easy footing. Their shoes were coated in dust. Brains stumbled over a sharp piece of the road and scumbled his knees against the rough surface, cursing.

Scott stopped and turned to him. He breathed slowly. "Okay, get your breath back, guys. Five minutes to rest. Then we carry on."

"This is bloody preposterous." Jameson wheezed dryly. "We're going to die of thirst."

"No we aren't. We have to find somebody here. Even if it takes all day," Scott answered, his voice rasping with the dust and heat.

"And what then? I suppose you specialise in survival training...!"

"S, save your energy, Jameson," Brains said firmly. "You'll n, need it. And Scott trained in the, er, US Airforce. He knows how to get us o, out of this. Right?"

"Sure." Scott rubbed at his crusted eyes, failing again to shake off the covering of dirt, or to get any tears to rinse it away. "We'll be fine."

"I doubt that they prepared you for unexplored universes, Mr Tracy." Jameson's snowy moustache was now a brownish dusty grey. He sneezed.

"No. But at least if it has air, it must have water. What else do these trees live on?" Scott drew a deep breath and stood tall again, forcing himself to ignore his hunger. "Everyone keep their ears open for running water, or birds, or anything that might give us a clue about this place." He was snapping back into rescue mode, and it felt good, almost like he was back in control.

"If only we could meet some people. We might have an idea of what to expect from this world," Jameson snuffled. "I can't stand all this bally shuffling around. For all we know the whole world is ruled by mice..."

"Don't you mean Guinea pigs?" Brains muttered, rubbing his sore finger thoughtfully.

"Come on, Professors, off we go. Remember what I said." Scott waited for Brains to get to his feet, and then they were off again.

It felt like ten miles, although it couldn't have been more than six, when Scott noticed that the trees were finally thinning out. Above them was a 'scape of blue sky and hot sun. He hurried on, breaking into a run as they reached the top of the broken slope. "Hey! Look!"

Brains forced his exhausted body to catch up more quickly than it would have liked, stopping next to the tall pilot with a hoarse, dry gulp of. "Oh."

"Isn't it amazing?" Scott said. Brains had no idea how he could still appear so relatively fresh when he and Jameson had almost needed carrying over the last mile and half.

"How can that be there?" Brains said breathlessly. "And how can that be there?"

"We must, r, rest..." Jameson puffed, reaching them. Scott steadied the older man and turned him to look below. The old man gasped. "What? It's...the chances of it..."

"I know."

The three exhausted men peered down, and Scott was unable to not to say how incredible it really was. "It's New York City."

"It's bigger than New York City," Brains said.

"And then some," Scott agreed.

Out in front of them was a long, low plain, covered in all directions by the small cracked shells of concrete and brick buildings. Any free space between them was covered with huge chunks of rubble. Only the path taken by the enormous tanks seemed passable, carved into the flattened debris. To Scott's eye the outskirts of the city - or New Jersey - had taken major damage at some point, although he noted the greenery growing from certain points. It appeared that the rock-filled plain had been there for a fair while.

Beyond it was something that had once been New York. Manhattan become Gotham.

The City had somehow expanded into comic book proportions, going higher and wider than had been allowed in their time. Even from their vantage point the towers and buildings were immense, encroaching on the sky. In this dimension, the great statue of Liberty, if that was what she still stood for, was situated atop one of the most enormous buildings, which seemed ziggurat in form. Her silhouette showed her cast in slick black ore, and her torch was actually alight, sending a pillar of yellow flame even further into the sky. Now they gazed upon it, even the blazing sun appeared threatened by the monstrous city's collective intrusion into the heavens.

"Are you sure that's New York?" Jameson murmured.

"It was," Scott said. "Once, maybe..." he squinted up. They were on the coast, he was sure, the horizon shrouded by dark cloud, the scent of ocean teased his senses. But his keen eyes made out a single spire of gold, just visible at the far side of the city. A green flag was flying from it, and the insignia, too tiny to read, was also glinting gold.

For a while they stopped and looked, and caught their collective, thirsty breath.

Suddenly, from behind and above they heard an aircraft approach. "Hide!" Scott snapped. They dove into the cover of the trees beside the road, concealing themselves again from metal monsters.

The aircraft streaked towards the city, their sleek silver shapes leaving seven elegant trails of dark grey smoke in their wake. Moments later, they were gone.

"I, Impossible..." Brains began.

"No way." Scott shook his head, vehemently. "It can't be..."

"What?" Jameson demanded. "This is not time to be all mysterious. Get to the bloody point!"

Scott sank into the grass, staring out at the smoke trails that led to the blackened city. It took a moment or so, and then he said, "They have Thunderbird machines. I...I recognise them. International Rescue use those...Brains, we just saw a fleet of Thunderbird Ones...!"

"Incredible..." Brains breathed, saying excitedly. "We must f, find out what's going on in this place!"

"This world is a clearly a war zone!" Jameson exclaimed. "We can't possibly go down there!"

"Maybe, but we can't just sit here. If we don't go now...we'll never even have the energy to ask for help." Scott frowned. "I don't like it anymore than you do. Less, in fact. But until we have any information at all, I say we take our chances."

"And in that case..." Jameson stared across at the city, and ruffled his moustache. "God help us all."

The walk down the long hot road was, weirdly, the easiest so far. Apparently the monstrous tanks had carved a flat path directly towards the huge city. It was open, which Scott found unnerving after spending so long in the woods, apart from the occasional building. He spotted a tollbooth sticking up, its function long become irrelevant as a fern grew under its shade. "I guess we're in New Jersey all right."

"There's no s, sign of the river..." Brains said, thirstily. "C, can't even smell it."

"Yeah. Just Manhattan up there..." Scott mused. "I think I saw the Upper New York Bay when we were on the hill there..."

"Salt water will do us precious little good, Mr Tracy." Jameson puffed. He was sweating profusely.

"I know. But I bet the people in the city drink something." Scott said.

A noise made him hold up a hand as Brains started to speak. "Hold it." He whispered.

The noise had come from his right...Scott's eyes slid over to the toll booth. He tensed. There.

"There's someone hiding - " Scott said. "Get ready to run." He stared across at the tiny building, not sure what to expect. Someone small was finding their feet. "Hello? We won't hurt you." A head appeared from the side of the tollbooth, only a pair of big dark eyes visible under a thick mop of dark brown hair. "Hey, kid." Scott smiled, spreading his hands. "We're new here, can you tell us where we can find some water?"

The little boy said. "Why don't you have no guns?"

"We aren't from around here," Scott said. "What's your name?" he started to walk slowly towards him.

"Kevin."

"Why are you out here all by yourself, Kevin?"

"Not by 'self." The boy, appearing about six years old, peered up a bit more. "I'm waiting for my sister."

"Your sister? Where is she, Kevin?"

"Don' know," the boy sniffled. "Gone t'get food."

"Food, huh?" Scott stomach gave an involuntary reminder of its present empty state. "You know where we can get some?"

"Hold it!" He heard a girl's voice, and turned to see its owner running towards him over the rubble, dressed in a coat about three sizes too big for her, and carrying a battered satchel on her back. She could only be about twelve or thirteen years old.

As Scott turned to her she stopped dead and raised a gun that appeared huge in her thin hands. "Let him go, Mister." She was trembling. "I don't c, care who you are, let him go!"

"I'm not here to hurt him. I was just asking about getting some dinner." Scott raised his hands halfway to show how unarmed he was. "Or at least a drink. It's kinda hot out here today."

"Liar!" She was seriously frightened, Scott realised. "I know who you are, you don't need to ask for water."

"Who am I, then?" Scott asked.

Then another noise along the road caught his attention. It came from a big vehicle, there was a cloud of dust rising as Scott jerked his head around to look. Mounted on top was a worryingly large gun, and a green flag with gold letters flickered at the side of it. He called to the two scientists. "Brains? Hide!"

"Where?" Jameson replied first.

The girl shouted in a panic. "You can't take us! You can't!"

"Take you?" Scott took a step towards her. "Where? We have to get there now!"

"Please!" she lifted the gun. "Take me, leave my little brother - !"

"Where can we hide?" Scott demanded.

"You're the General." She began to edge around him. "You can't come with us. Come here, Kevin."

"I'm not a General." Scott was puzzled. "We can help you, just show us..."

"No!" Kevin ran to her side and she started to move away, gun wavering. "Keep back!"

"All right." Scott didn't want to get arrested. He also didn't want to push the girl anymore than he had to. "I'm sorry. But I'm not a General. You can trust me. Wait!"

She was already running. The sound of the vehicle had stopped.

He heard the unmistakable bark of a rifle even as she crossed the ground ahead of him. Scott cried out as the girl collapsed in front of him, without thinking he ran to her side. Another bullet skirted his feet, and he felt another tear into his side as he tried to shield the crying little boy.

Blood was leaking into the material of his shirt. His heart yammering, he scooped up Kevin and bolted for the slight cover of the tollbooth. The gun glinted on the ground by the girl's body, but it was too far away. Scott dived for cover even as there was a shout from the roadside.

"Hold it!" it was a woman's voice. "Don't attempt to escape. Give yourself up and the Emperor will be merciful."

Scott looked through a crack in the concrete wall. Brains and Jameson were on their knees. As the older scientist tried to say something, the woman who'd spoken hit him over the head with a pistol, knocking the Professor into the dirt.

Scott cursed quietly. "Who are you? Why did you kill that girl?" he shouted.

"The girl was trying to escape from a unit of the Golden Army," the woman shouted back. "You have thirty seconds to surrender to us or I execute the two men here." Brains and Jameson both had guns aimed at their heads.

Scott winced. "I see." He looked at Kevin. "If I give myself up what happens to the boy?"

"He will not be harmed," the woman said. "He is a subject of the Emperor. If you come here quietly there will be no more deaths."

"Do I have your word?" Scott said. The bullet had torn harder than he liked, his ribs hurt. He could feel the material at his side sticking wetly to the wound.

"You have no choice. Trust me or your friends die."

"Okay." Scott was about to stand up. It took concentration. "Be brave, kid. She's right. I don't have any choice. Stay close, I won't let them hurt you."

"'kay..." the little kid was sniffling quietly, and Scott gripped him protectively as he got to his feet.

It was even harder to do than he expected, the simple motion making him dizzy and light-headed. It was getting impossible to ignore the throbbing pain beneath his arm. Scott walked stiffly towards the soldiers, carrying the boy and trying not to stumble and jar the wound any further.

There were twenty men in the unit - he couldn't tell if any might be women. Under the thin layer of dust that covered almost everything, he could see their uniforms were a deep military green, and emblazoned on their whiter, crash-style helmets was the initial GA. Each one carried a black rifle whose make he didn't recognise.

The woman, the sergeant, had a collar around her neck with gold markings on it. As he grew close enough to see it clearly, the stern expression on the woman's face changed swiftly into amazement. There was audible surprise from the men around her.

She hurried over and helped him personally, taking the weight off his left side. He refused to let Kevin go, letting her help as she spoke. "Sir, I didn't realise that it was you. The Emperor ordered so many searches, we all thought that the Battle of Boston was your last."

"Emperor?" Scott frowned. "What battle?"

"Don't worry, sir. We'll get you back to the War Temple. They'll look after you." She called to one of the men as they joined her unit. "Jones, call for a Devil Bird. It'll get him back faster than anything else."

"Sir." The young soldier started a message on a radio mike that dropped down from the inner edge of his helmet.

"Those Grissom followers are monsters, sir," she continued. "We'll find whoever did this to you and get them taken care of."

"I thought you shot me," Scott murmured.

"No, it was Jones." She took a pistol out of her side pocket and used it to shoot the young soldier as he finished sending the message. He dropped like a stone. "I'm sorry again, sir."

"No! Shit." Scott felt sick. He wanted to lean over and empty the contents of his heaving guts onto the baked earth. But his guts were hollow, and he had to settle for a dry heave of revulsion.

Kevin was wailing by now. Scott said sharply. "It's okay, don't cry, I won't let them do anything..."

"Don't worry, sir, he'll be taken for reorientation as soon as we return to the city." Holden said.

"Reorientation?"

"So that he fits in," she smiled proudly. "Once he's slaved to one of the city fathers he'll forget all this and be happy again."

"No." Scott looked at Brains. "No, he..." the wound was worse than he thought. The bright path looked narrower, and he knew his vision was going. "Wait..."

"Don't worry, sir." The Sergeant's voice drifted after him. "You'll be back with the Emperor before you know it." As he passed out he heard her add, "Guys, I smell a promotion." And there were cheers from the men.

Brains watched in horror as Scott passed out, the thick blood from his friend's wound staining the grey suit a deep red. As cheers rang out, the Sergeant professionally wrapped up the pilot's injury with the jacket and shirt.

"Will he b, be okay?" Brains asked.

She pierced him with sharp blue eyes. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm a f, friend of his. We were, er, travelling together," Brains said. "Will he be all right?"

"I'd think so." She finished tightening the bandage. "That moron Jones...I knew he'd never make it through the first year." She looked at him. "We heard there were life-readings out here. Never thought we'd find the General."

"The General?"

She gave Brains a strange look. "So, you're his friend?"

"I am. Yes."

"Good. You can explain to the Emperor where his best man has been for the last ten weeks."

"Oh." Brains paused. "Oh, uh, his best man?"

"Yes." She ran a hand through Scott's hair. "I always hoped he had survived. He's a hero all right."

Brains heard familiar retros then, and a second later the sky was full of Thunderbird One's roar. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or terrified, and settled for uneasy.

The ship set down on the road and the familiar hatch opened on the side. Up close, Brains could see this was no longer a rescue vehicle. For a start, the livery was very different, its engine section decked out in a similar pale green and white to their captor's uniform. Devil One was embossed in black and gold lettering along the silver length of the ship, removing any trace of International Rescue. There were more differences, Brains tried to catalogue them as the pilot spoke. "Sergeant Holden?"

"I have General Tracy and two companions here for recovery." She saluted.

Brains was frozen for a moment. Scott was a General, and appeared to be known by the same name. Who on earth was he then? Clearly no one that they recognised, at least for the moment.

"Bring them aboard, Sergeant."

The boy beside Scott huddled close to the pilot. Brains remembered what Scott had promised him. "Uh, the boy should come with us."

The sergeant frowned. "Give me a good reason why?"

"Scott was v, very concerned that he received the, er, proper attention." Brains hoped that hit the right note. "He was v, very specific about it."

"You care to give anymore details about that?" she demanded.

"N, no." Brains shook his head. "It was the, er, General's decision."

"We can't fit anyone else aboard, Sergeant," the pilot announced.

"Take him instead?" Brains said. "Please? The General doesn't want to be, er, separated from him."

The sergeant paused for only a moment. "Right." She looked sharply at the men. "Bring the boy, too. This guy can stay with us until we get back to the city."

"Sir."

The soldiers carefully carried Scott up to the flight deck. Kevin and Jameson followed. Brains was dismayed to see the Professor's head was bleeding. "You h, have to take me to them soon," he said.

"You can ride with us," the sergeant said. "There's a spare seat."

The 'Devil' took off, and Brains critically eyed the lack of care taken with the powerful ship. Either the engineering or the pilot was faulty, or possibly both, because if Scott ever treated the exhaust that way Brains would ground him til he worked it out on the training machines. It had appeared impressive, but the sparks would cost dearly for the repair crew later.

Concern for Scott grew a new pile of worries in the pit of Brains' stomach. If Scott was discovered as an impostor, however innocent they pleaded, he had a very bad idea of what would happen to them. In the passenger seat of the oversized jeep, he glanced back and saw crows circling the still body of the unfortunate Jones. He leaned forwards, letting his head sink into his hands. Dreading what lay ahead.

There was noise that made Scott think of Thunderbird One's early test flights, when it was harder to control and his own abilities with the ship had been less refined. Brains won't be pleased at all, he thought groggily, before thought went back to distracting him with dreams and darkness.

The clearest dream was the kind that repeats an old event in your mind, as if it would be relevant the next day. It was sharp and uncluttered, and Scott could clearly see Thunderbird Two landed on the far side of the flames. There was some tension, and the weather was icy, but Scott was about as happy as he ever was with the rescue situation.

The huge fire at the Somotlor Fields in Russia had been blazing for some time, but putting it out with a well-placed charge was, according to Virgil, "our equivalent of a cat stuck up a tree," which Scott partially agreed with.

Firefly looked tiny next to the towering flames, trundling towards them with its shield defiantly lowered as Virgil picked the best vantage point. A little more shifting, and his voice appeared over the radio. "Ready to go, Scott."

"FAB. Good luck." Scott backed away to the shelter of the building's site. Everyone else had gone, sent away by Scott for their own safety. Scott was therefore surprised to see a figure wrapped in cold weather gear standing in the ice and snow only a few feet away.

"Hey there!" he shouted across at them. The figure gestured for Scott to come nearer. Something about him - Scott frowned. "This site was evacuated because-"

"My brother is here. Please, help me to find him?" the stranger replied.

"Your brother?" Scott drew nearer. "Wait a minute..."

"I need your help." The man waited until Scott got close enough, and then, with a strange sense of premonition, Scott saw him draw the gun. "You're going to fly me out of here in Thunderbird One, International Rescue."

Scott tensed. "No."

"You will obey or I kill your brother when he is finished. Keep your hands in the air." The accent was obscured by the guttural voice, almost snarling with glee. "This is too easy, I am almost disappointed."

"You set the fire!" Scott said.

"Correct. Now come here." The man gestured with the gun.

Scott tried to keep his distance all the same, walking more slowly than his captor desired. "Look, I'm not going to do what you say. I'm not going to let you take a Thunderbird out of..." He blinked.

The stranger's big eyes were boring directly into Scott's - at once dark and light, the paradox ensnaring the strong-willed pilot even through the snow, through his anger. Scott heard the voice again, "Do as I say. You will take me in Thunderbird One."

Scott's momentary panic was soothed. He would...he must do as he was ordered, "Yes."

The man smiled and threw back the hood of his large black coat. He had red hair and a flushed, pockmarked face. The colouring made his dark eyes appear to bulge. "Good. I can see that you are going to be very valuable, I think."

The explosion from the Firefly's fire-charges threw them both off their feet. Scott skidded into the thick drift of snow, the shock of ice searing flesh blasted him back to himself. He let out a yell and dived at the stranger. Furious, with one extremely good punch the pilot gained the upper hand and pinned his enemy face down onto the snow.

Shaken by the speed with which he had nearly been captured, Scott privately thanked Virgil for his sense of timing. "Who the hell are you?"

The man didn't move. As he straddled his back, Scott noticed that the top of the man's hair had come loose, flapping in the chilly breeze. Scott pulled at it and it came away. The man was wearing a wig. Curious, Scott turned the stranger over, while keeping his weight against any resistance. He put a knee over the man's chest and saw a line of flesh-coloured putty between his forehead and face. It was a mask. Scott pulled at it, unable to resist seeing what lay beneath.

The real features were deep, he was from somewhere mid-Asian, and his age looked to be over forty at least. Scott stared down at his enemy. "Nice try, buddy..."

The man's big black eyes opened. Then he smiled. Scott was about to speak, then something whacked him over the back of the head and he slid onto the cold ground.

As a dream, the pain was barely an echo of what he remembered. It was just a fading of the scene, and a blur of voices. Scott didn't wake up, and continued to remember the events of a few years ago, his mind staying there in the past even as a Japanese surgeon worked to mend the tear in his side.

Virgil had been shouting something, and then his memory skipped forwards to the debriefing in his father's study.

"We'd have had him if he hadn't had backup," Scott said for the tenth time. "I didn't see or hear the guy behind me."

"Your ears were probably still ringing." Virgil was sitting next to Scott, stopping him from pacing around as the team debriefed each other on the events at the oil well.

"Scott's just sore you took him to the hospital rather than chase the guy," Alan said.

"And I'm glad he did," Jeff rumbled. "Head wounds are nothing to mess with."

"Sorry, Father," Alan looked down and Scott nodded warmly at him.

Lady Penelope was participating in the debriefing too, via her videolink. She spoke her part at last. "Scott, your description of the hijacker matches that of a well-known criminal, although the description itself has been extremely difficult to confirm."

Scott asked eagerly, "So who is it?"

"I believe we have encountered this gentleman several times before. He's been a problem for everybody even before International Rescue began operating. But I have succeeded in confirming his most widely accepted alias. His real name remains uncertain."

"That's all right, Penny," Jeff rumbled. "We'd like anything you have to go on at this point."

"Few people have seen his true face. That is why the World Police have elected to give him the moniker of 'The Hood'. Most fitting, in my opinion. There are theories that he could be, or at least be related to, a man named Belah Gaat. I regret that that remains...unconfirmed."

"You did great, Penny," Jeff said. "Thanks to you, and to Scott, we're one step closer to one of our worst enemies..."

His family faded away as Scott sank into a deeper, now dreamless sleep, unaware that a man dressed in gold armour was watching over him, his dark eyes gleaming with wonder.

UNIVERSE #42: ENEMIES

Brains had been watching the city loom closer with a growing sense of dread when the driver keeled forwards, blood and brains covering the Sergeant. The shooting began in earnest, and the car spun out of the road. Brains tumbled onto the rubble with a cry, badly jarring his wrist.

The soldiers that survived the crash were getting under cover, trying to spot their attackers. Brains saw the tiny silver device land at their feet just before it went off, leaving little behind he wanted to dwell on. He began to scramble away. Then he felt a boot press against his head.

"You don't look like the usual army slave." The boot's owner had a vaguely familiar voice. Brains was suddenly curious to look up. "Who are you?" it demanded.

"H, Hackenbacker." Brains coughed.

The boot was swiftly moved away from his head, and the voice said. "Lift your head."

Brains obeyed. His jaw opened wide and stayed there.

Dressed in a makeshift combat outfit, wielding a long rifle and wearing a look of equal surprise as he stared down was, "Virgil?"

Professor Jameson woke with a painful headache. He tried to sit up and was overwhelmed with a spinning sensation, as if he was still falling through the space between worlds. When he finally got his bearings, and was convinced that the world wouldn't fall apart if he lifted his head, he managed to reach the glass of water that had been put beside his bed. To his relief, his spectacles were there as well, and he put them on and squinted around.

On second inspection, he could see that he was in a hospital. A grandly designed one, he noted. There was a poster of a big bald man's head at the far end of the room, and in the bed nearest him there lay a man with dark hair. "Scott?" he tried to shout, his throat still clogged from thirst and dust. "Mr Tracy!"

The half-open curtain was pulled aside, and a woman dressed in long green and white robe and skirts curiously popped her head around it. Jameson was elated. "Rose!"

The woman who looked exactly like Doctor Rose Weaver turned and looked at him, puzzled. "Hello?" Her accent was strange, as if she'd been training herself to watch how she spoke. But she was friendly. "Did you hear my name earlier? I saw them bring you in with Scott. You must have helped him, I can't begin to tell you how very grateful I am."

"I'm sorry?" He had no idea what she was talking about. "Dear Rose, I thought we'd all been killed. It turns out it was all a bally dream."

She laughed. "Maybe it still is." She turned her head as Jameson heard more people come in. "Oh. I gotta go. What's your name, sweetie?"

"You don't know me?" Jameson sat bolt upright, then fumbled to balance himself. Rose hurried over and steadied him. He fought nausea and stared up at her. "You really don't know who I am?"

"Sorry, sweetie. Should I?" She tilted her head. "I've never met you until today, I'm sorry."

"Then I'm still in the Alternate Dimension. World 42." He sighed deeply. "At least we're safe, now. Mr Tracy, I and that other young fella went for quite a walk."

"That's right. Scott's just over there," she beamed. "Are you feeling a bit better now, Mr..?" She handed him the glass of water, which he drank too quickly and soaked his moustache with.

"My name is Professor Charles Jameson," he said, and lifted her hand and kissed it gently. "And I'm very lucky to have met you in this godforsaken world. Very lucky indeed. You're just as pretty as I remember."

She was obliged to blush. "You're somethin', Professor. Hope to see you again, soon." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a big smile before leaving the cubicle. He saw her head over to where he was now certain Scott Tracy was lying. Things were coming back to him now. The young man had been shot, and then some blaggard had hit him over the head. No wonder they were both in hospital.

But he suddenly doubted that they were so safe.

Brains repeated his name. "Virgil?"

"Brains?" This Virgil looked more aged, more haggard than the one he knew, but the young pilot's voice was unmistakable, and his broad smile was the same as ever. "Brains, we heard you were alive, but I had no idea you were wandering around the Barrier."

"I was being taken to the, er, Emperor," Brains said. He found he had to stop himself running and hugging the other man.

Brains' joy at seeing his friend was not mutual. Virgil looked at him strangely, the smile fading. "We thought the Emperor had taken you for good!"

"N, no." Brains had to catch his breath as there was another explosion from the crash site, "Did you attack the jeep?"

"Yes." Virgil started walking fast. "Come on, we have to get out of here. This place will be crawling with more Golden Army bastards any minute, now."

"Where are we going?" Brains asked breathlessly.

"Underground," Virgil said. "The Devil Birds can't get us from there. We're going to meet our friends."

"Oh. That's a relief." Brains somehow managed to keep up. About five hundred metres on they reached an old pile of criss-crossed bridge girders. It occurred to him that this would have been about the location of the Hudson River. "What happened to the water? What is this place?"

"Huh?" Virgil located a catch that Brains couldn't see and a small hole opened under the steel and rubble. There was a ladder rail just visible at the top. He said. "The water went after the last few bombs. Where have you been?"

"N, not around here...this is all kinda new to me..."

"That's what I thought. After you." Virgil gestured with the gun. Brains detected a steely look in what had never been a severe face. There was suspicion there, and Brains was dismayed.

"Virgil...?"

"I said get down there, now!"

The hole was dark and Brains couldn't see anything as he began to climb down into it. It led to an old tunnel. When he reached the bottom his feet sunk into mud. He smelt damp filthy air inside. Virgil dropped a flashlight down so it landed with a wet splash, and pulled out a smaller gun. "This is gonna be pointed at you until I'm down there. If you try to run off, I'll aim to hurt. But I might kill you by mistake."

The black sense of humour was a new twist, Brains sniffed as he reached the soggy, muddy underbelly of the tunnel. He forgot Virgil's aggressive behaviour, though, as he put a hand over his nose and peered around. It appeared about the equivalent age and design of Venice's sewer system. Nor was it very stable, there were leaking cracks in the ceiling and along some of the redbrick walls. The tanks that thundered overhead could not have been much help.

"Home sweet home." Virgil landed with a splash and grinned wolfishly. "Almost. Let's go. We have a lot of tunnel to get through, and if you're lucky I won't have to blindfold you for the last two miles." He lifted a bare arm, revealing scars in the dim light, then picked up the flashlight, pointing it so it blinded the little scientist. "Move."

Brains hurried to obey.

He hadn't been joking about the long journey. Brains splashed uncomfortably ahead of Virgil, only changing direction when Virgil barked, "Left here," or, "Right at the next corner." Until, finally the little scientist stopped walking altogether.

"I can't..." Brains sank against the cracked wall. "I need to rest..."

"We're almost there, Hackenbacker." Virgil's shadow seemed to smile, he shone the torch into the other man's face. "Christ. You look kinda sick."

"It's been a, a long day," Brains replied. "And I still d, don't understand...why are there Thunderbirds b, being used as warships? What happened?"

Virgil said. "You tell me - you built them."

"N, no. I would never..."

"I thought it was because the Emperor can make you do whatever he likes when he gets his hands on you. We all figured you'd been taken when the Devil Birds started showing up and killing everything. It was too fast for them to have been made without your help." Virgil looked disgusted. "Now you're going to tell us everything you know."

"Virgil..." Brains panted. "Wh, what is going on?"

"Where have you been for the last five years, huh?" Virgil sounded angry. "How can you act like you don't know?"

Brains sent him a weary look. "Uh, just imagine that I was in a, er, coma. For at least five years. And tell me what the hell happened to New York."

Virgil seemed to snap and flung his whole weight against the scientist, smacking him into the wall and pressing the gun into his cheek. "Bullshit, Professor. Everyone knows what happened here. Especially you. I could just about buy it if you had a collar, just, but you don't have a mark on you. You helped him willingly, didn't you?" He had never looked quite so out of control.

"N, no!" Brains struggled uselessly, terrified. "Virgil, please believe me. I, I'm not the guy you know as Brains � I'm...you w, won't believe me if I told you...! I'm n, not from here! Please, you must have known who I w, was. I would never build a machine like that for him! Never!" The gun was leaving a deep groove in his cheek. "I don't even know wh, who the Emperor is!"

Virgil's muscles tensed, and then slowly he seemed to relent a little. "What the hell are you talking about? How are you not from here?"

"It was an experiment. It went totally wrong! The Hood in our world caused it. Now Scott's his prisoner, so's the Professor and I'm here all by myself..." Brains was shaking with fear, "And you w, won't believe me but it's true! It's all true!"

"How do you mean 'your world'?" Virgil spoke more softly but no less fiercely.

"This is a different universe. I'm not meant to be here." Brains shut his eyes against the gun, squeezing small tears from his eyes. "I'm not meant to be here...Virgil, I'm not meant to be here..." he repeated it a few more times.

Virgil let him go, and Brains slid down almost to the mud beneath him. Virgil stood looking down at him, puzzling over the little scientist's explanation. Finally he said, "We have to get back, fella." He was less gruff now, perhaps more intrigued than suspicious. "Actually this is where we have to blindfold you." He wasn't friendly, not yet, but he was fractionally gentler when he helped Brains off the floor.

"It's p, pitch black..." Brains had to point out.

"Yes." Virgil hefted the gun again. He tossed him a bandanna. "Put this over your eyes. Put your arms over your head. And walk."

"Virgil," Brains said as he obeyed. "Can you at least tell me who the Golden Army are? How he got those Thunderbirds?"

"They aren't Thunderbirds anymore. We got wiped out like everything else."

"How?"

The gun barrel prodded Brains' neck again. "Shut the hell up and walk, Professor."

The Professor was slightly alarmed. He had been given food and a tablet of something for his headache. Nothing had seemed particularly threatening. The curtain had opened again, and Jameson saw that Mr. Tracy had been removed.

A shockingly thin young man all dressed in black was then in the way. "Hello."

"Hello," the Professor answered through a mouthful of mashed carrots. "Who the devil are you?"

"For now, Professor, I will be asking you the questions." The thin young man smiled, and Jameson began to summon the strength to bluster a response to his rudeness. "But you can know me as Mark."

Then a nurse wheeled in a tray that contained a machine and several needles, and another two men dressed in black stood behind her. The thin man kept smiling, showing a row of too-perfect teeth.

The nurse tugged the curtain tightly shut and walked away as howls echoed through the hospital.

It was a long, roundabout two miles before Virgil called a halt. "We're there." Brains heard the pilot knock hard on a metal panel. "Let us in, Bale. Password is RROR." He added some coded knocks on the panel.

"That you there, Grissom?" a woman's voice asked, slightly muffled.

"Who else would it be?"

"Nice work today, big guy." A combination of locks clicked and then Brains felt the air change. It felt slightly fresher and smelt more pleasantly human. "You had a good test with that equipment?"

"It worked fine," Virgil answered.

"Who's he?" she asked. Brains shifted uncomfortably.

There was a pause, and then Virgil answered, "Is Glen around?"

"Is this guy safe?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. I'm taking him to the holding cells."

"Reeves brought in another one," Bale said.

"Who?"

"You missed a Sergeant at the site. He said he'd tell you about it later."

"Fine. I'll see him when I've locked this one away." Virgil pushed Brains forwards, warning him to mind the step.

Once inside the building Brains heard people, talking, laughing, cursing in different accents and languages. From a distance away he also heard the regular explosions of what he hoped was target practice. The cool air was a pleasant change from their sewer-bound journey, smelling of hot food in some places that made his stomach rumble. They seemed to pass through a lot of metal sliding doors, until they finally got to a room where Virgil ordered, "Take the blindfold off, now."

Brains did so, blinking in bright overhead light. They were in a metal cell that contained the necessaries and little else. One whole wall was a big mirror which Brains felt had to be a two-way job. He was going to be observed.

"Sorry about the lack of home comforts," Virgil said. "I guess you can catch some rest for now, Brains. Or whoever you are."

"Oh."

Virgil grinned � Brains detected a slightly manic edge to it. His heart sank. "Don't worry," the pilot said cheerfully. "I don't think we'll have to hurt you; not for a while, anyway."

The door slammed and he heard Virgil lock it up. Hungry, tired and sick at what he had learned, Brains lay down on the hard surface that technically served as a bed. Despite his exhaustion it still took a while for him to give in and sleep.

UNIVERSE #42: ROSE

The air smelt warm and intoxicating, like Kyrano's orchids, as awareness slid back. Naked skin was soothed by silk and cotton sheets. He realised had been woken quietly by the sound of a woman singing - something about Heaven and how sad she was. And now Scott forced his eyes to open, his surroundings focussing into blue and grey stone walls and a large set of very black or blue drapes beyond the bed. To his dismay he couldn't get his too-heavy body to respond. When he tried to speak his still-dusty voice croaked uncomfortably, setting off a coughing fit.

"Scott!" a woman was at his side. She was clothed in elaborate swathes of dark green and white, her highly decorated hair piled high and shining with jewels, and her delicate hands passed him a big glass of water. Scott ignored her protests as he greedily drained the whole thing. The cool liquid hurt as he swallowed, like the dust had ground it raw. "Your throat?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Take this." She took a spoon from a small curved jar by the bed. "It's honey."

Scott took the spoonful she gave him, the sweetly sticky taste immediately soothed his mouth and neck. "Thanks." He meant it.

The woman brushed a gentle hand through his hair. "I can't believe you're alive." She said.

"Neither can I." Scott looked at her properly now. "Doctor Weaver? Is that really you? You're here? In this world?"

"You're teasing me." She pouted.

"No..."

"You know I'm Rose. Don't you?" she grasped his hand and leaned into him. "I'm your wife."

"My wife." Scott looked at her again. "Rose. How long have we been married, then?"

"Scott," she said, unreasonably frightened, "you're trying to trick me."

"No," he smiled up at her, not quite seeing just how his other self had found her attractive. She seemed a little too desperate to please.

To emphasise this Rose responded to his smile with a deluge of emotion. "You really need reminding about me?"

"I really, really want to know." He nodded. She seemed a little � not slow � he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Rose held out the wedding ring proudly. "We were married by the Emperor himself, four years ago. It was a huge ceremony. The Emperor had won the American War." For a fraction of a second, she looked unhappy, but quickly covered it and looked away. "You'll get your memory back, Scott," she said.

Scott wasn't sure he wanted to know, "I...there was a kid. And my friends..." He tried to get up. "Before I was shot, I had two people travelling with me. Two men. Do you know where they are now?"

She supported him while he tried to move his legs. "The Emperor's personal doctor took care of you. He said you needed to rest. I'm here to take care of you."

What that actually meant was hardly lost on Scott. "Screw rest," he said. "Can you tell me where they are or not?" He started fighting gravity to find his feet. "And where the hell I am?"

She seemed taken aback. "You have a direct order from the Emperor to rest."

"Screw the Emperor too." Scott stood tall at last. "Tell me where I am."

"You are teasing me," she said.

"No, Rose. I'm confused."

"All right. You're in your bedroom. This is the War Palace. We're in the capital of the Empire of the Golden Army. You're safe, with me, at last. Please, come to bed." She tried to embrace him. He firmly pushed her away, slightly annoyed by her puzzled - but relieved - look.

"War Palace..." Scott crossed to the drapes and pulled them apart. It led to a balcony, and he kept walking, fascinated by what lay ahead.

Directly opposite him he saw the city's tallest building up close, the great golden Ziggurat with Liberty mounted on top. Her flame pierced the grey-streaked sky. The rest of the city panned out below, in varying levels of reflective glass and gleaming chrome. Scott swung his head left and right, and realised that they were in the highest building of them all. Disliking this view without any form of flight machine under him, he backed up.

Rose was watching him. "I forgot how long it's been since you were last here." She murmured. "I knew that if you weren't killed, you'd find your way back to the Emperor."

"Why would I want to go back to the Emperor?" his voice strained.

"You're..."

"I'm not teasing. I just want to know why I'd go rushing back to him..."

"You're his General, his most trusted servant. You were very close to him, Scott." Seeing his confused expression, she said, "I'll call for the doctor again, they'll know what to do to bring your memory back."

"Where are my clothes?" He turned to her. He was only wearing loose pyjama pants, and although he was hungry too, getting dressed and finding someone he knew was suddenly a much higher priority.

Rose glided quickly over to him and tried to kiss him. She smelt of the cloying perfume that he'd detected on awakening. "I've missed you. Come back to bed."

"I don't even know who you are," Scott said. He pushed her firmly to one side. "I don't belong here."

"Did the terrorists do this to you?" she demanded. Scott was alarmed to see her silently cry floods of tears. "Is that why you're pretending not to know who I am? Was it Jameson's idea?"

"Jameson? The Professor?" Scott touched her arm gently, and she looked away. "Listen to me, Rose. It's important. Where was the Professor?"

"He was in the hospital with you. He seemed nice." She sniffed. "I, I don't know if he's still there. I was sent up here, to take care of you. The Emperor ordered me to take care of you." She wouldn't look at him, rubbing at her eyes, blurring the makeup so it ran across her cheek.

"Do you know who Jameson was?" Scott asked her.

"No," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He reassured her "I'll tell the Emperor it isn't your fault, Rose. Are we really married in this place?"

"Yes," she answered. "I...I love you. I prayed every day for you to come back. But he said you were gone, he...he even gave me to Mark Barker." She screwed up her nose in clear revulsion.

"Who?"

Rose gave a short, bitter laugh. "How can you do this to me? You're even sicker than you used to be." She looked away. Scott saw she had tiny white scars just above each ear, mostly hidden by her uncomfortable-looking hairstyle. It wasn't a good sign.

Scott said. "I don't belong here, Rose." He held her awkwardly, trying to calm her down. She seemed to flinch. What sort of man did she think he was? "Rose, listen to me. Get me my clothes and I'll find some way out of here myself."

"You can't..." It occurred to him that he hadn't ever seen anyone actually wring their hands before.

"You have to. Rose, I'm not the man you think I am. Where I come from..." He stopped. The severity of his situation had just struck him, and he stopped to ask her. "Can you show me where the closet is?"

Rose responded better to being given an instruction and opened a door hidden behind the smooth marble walls. It revealed rows of dress uniform and other smart military clothes.

"No jeans?" he asked, and Rose laughed, nervously at first, then joining him in the sense of the ridiculous. Scott dug out a black uniform, noticing the five stars of General on its jacket sleeve. The badge also had wings on it. At least he was still a pilot. Scott dressed determinedly in the matching black trousers and tugged on obviously new shiny black boots. Because the skin was still tender beneath his arm, he had only managed to painfully pull on the grey vest that went on under the uniform jacket when the door opened.

The elderly Japanese man who entered looked pleased to see him. "Ah, General, you are awake at last."

"Evidently." Scott's side twinged when he raised his hand.

"Thank you for coming, Doctor Kusa." Rose smiled. Kusa ignored her.

"I see that the wound you picked up on the Barrier is still causing you problems." The man was at his side and lifting Scott's vest to check the condition of the stitches. "What made you go to such an awful place, General? You could have just signalled us." He peered up at Scott. "Unless you forgot about that?"

"I forgot a lot of things." Scott said evenly.

"Like where you have been for the last ten weeks? If you were injured, then I imagined you would be more badly hurt than you are. You were very lucky, General."

Scott sensed him looking for answers and, as he had none to give, elected to keep his mouth shut.

"He's still very tired." Rose said then. "Doctor? He's not himself." She looked nervously at Scott.

"The Emperor wanted to see him as soon as he was fit. And I think he is. After some readjusting, I am sure he will soon become the General you knew."

Scott's stomach churned. He decided it would be better not to mention any of his friends "How much readjusting do you think I need?" He tried to make it sound light.

"I request first that you join me and present yourself to the Emperor," the doctor smiled thinly. "He will be very interested in what you have to say, General, and I am sure that he can jog your memory for you."

"No, please..." Rose clung onto Scott's arm all of a sudden, her eyes bright. "It's too soon!"

"Wait..." Scott fed off her obvious panic. "Doctor, you'll explain what you're going to do � I order you as the General..."

The doctor opened the door wide for Scott, and outside in the high corridor there were two big guards waiting. Scott stopped short, eyes darting for an escape route. The two guards expressions showed they knew what he was thinking, and would enjoy tackling him should he give them the opportunity.

Scott forced himself to calm down.

"That's better, General," Kusa praised him, patronisingly. "Your wife will help you dress for the Emperor. That bullet wound is rather awkward, isn't it."

Rose already was helping him get his jacket on, slowly. Scott pulled it around him, finding it fit perfectly. In the mirror, he looked the epitome of severe military authority.

Kusa shook his head. "General, we are anxious to find out where you have been for the last ten weeks. The Emperor is grateful for your work in the Boston war, but he wants it made certain just what you remember. You don't remember very much, do you." It wasn't a question.

Scott shook his head. He was sweating through the vest. His side ached now, and his mouth tasted too sweet and sticky.

"Come with me. I hope that our guards won't be necessary."

Scott looked warily at the two men, big, muscular brutes more gorilla than human. He shook his head. "Not for now, Doctor."

The corridor was another example of the huge interior space of the building. Scott looked to the end where another big set of double doors waited. The scale was grandiose, the d�cor extravagant. The walls were all green and gold and white, hung with drapes and decorated with pictures. At each end of the personal gallery there was an urn with a flame burning in it, smelling faintly of a musky incense. Someone had pulled back all the individual green curtains that framed all the paintings. Scott's heart skipped again. They were of his four brothers, and his father, and Penelope...all their pictures were lined neatly on the outer wall of his apartment door. A large stone bench standing on an island of white flagstone was situated opposite them.

Scott stopped to stare and the faces of his family stared back. Each one showed them wearing slightly different clothes from the ones on his Earth, although their positions were mostly how he remembered. Then Scott noticed that the canvasses appeared scorched by a fire. To the other side was a tall teak cabinet that contained more photographs.

"A worthy shrine to your family," the Doctor approved as they went.

"I made a shrine?" Scott frowned.

"The Emperor said it would focus your mind. Soothe your soul. I take it you have also forgotten why that is."

"For now." Scott pulled his gaze back and they reached the double-doors, that led to another corridor � blue this time � and then turning into an ornate lift. The ride was smooth, until it stopped with a thud.

Then the lift doors opened, and Scott was greeted by a vision that belonged only in his deepest nightmares.

UNIVERSE #42: TRUTH

Brains had managed to get just over three hours of sleep when he heard the door clang again. Virgil marched in, followed by a man who looked like, "John?"

"The one and only," Virgil said.

Brains shrank as John's expression darkened. The blond man didn't speak, and Brains was uncomfortable with the way he was staring at him. It was like something in the astronaut had snapped, making his behaviour stranger even than Virgil's.

"You need to call me Grissom and him Glen, okay?" Virgil said.

"Oh. Because...?"

"Because if the Emperor or his General ever got word that members of International Rescue were still alive, both would tear the world apart trying to find them." A dark-haired man of medium height - certainly he looked shorter compared to Virgil or John - had also entered the small room. Despite that, he radiated a presence, a sense of purpose. He wore similar makeshift combat gear, armed with a knife and a small gun holstered at his waist. "We are already a thorn in the Golden Army's side."

"Who are you?"

"He's our leader," Virgil said.

"We are what you might term 'rebels'. I prefer to see us as Separatists. Boston Separatists, Mr Hackenbacker." The man extended a hand, and Brains shook it, only realising a moment later that he was still filthy from the sewer trek. The man's accent was educated, with a twang of the Midwest about it. "My name's Adam Reeves. I am very glad that Virgil managed to find you."

"I was, too," Brains agreed half-heartedly.

"Perhaps you can clear something up for us."

"W, What?"

"First of all, tell us how you got here. And how there's another man who looks almost exactly like you still working at the laboratories in the War Temple," Reeves said.

"We know it can't be you - the other one has a control collar. It doesn't come off without leaving a scar," Virgil said.

"A control collar?"

"We'll explain it all later. First, I want to know what you can tell us. I want the truth, and we're going to make sure you tell it." Reeves seemed extremely kind and reasonable.

Brains wasn't fooled. Lie to this man and it would not get past him. It was an impossible situation. Brains sighed. "I already told Virgil, y, you won't er, believe a word. The way I got here, to this, er, war zone, it's too incredible."

"Try me all the same," Reeves said. He had a friendly, patient manner that Brains wished was for real. "These men knew you pretty well, didn't they? You made plenty of incredible things when they were members of International Rescue. Did you fly?"

"I wasn't with the s, same International Rescue team," Brains said. "But, I am the chief engineer where I came from." He would give anything to be back in his workshop, sweating over a deadline right now, or even joining in with the games of the over-athletic Tracys.

"Where did you come from?" Virgil demanded.

Brains took another shaky deep breath and started to explain.

The woman made her way through the crowded streets of the monstrous city. She was carrying a baby, or at least a bundle that most assumed was a child. Her destination, among these subdued, broken people, seemed to be the golden Spire that threatened to pierce the sky. She clutched her bundle tightly and fought her way, sometimes, in a struggle to reach it.

The men and women wearing the collars occasionally beat the crowd back with batons, their faces alive with pleasure at what they were doing. The crowd bayed for their Emperor.

By the time Brains had finished explaining his misadventure there were more confused faces than before.

"Parallel universes?" John said. Brains was unnerved by the dislodged spark of sanity in his eyes. "What kind of crap is he trying to sell us?"

"Would you prefer he was a clone, John? Or a robot?" Reeves certainly had authority. He had listened respectfully to Brains' entire tale, nodding and only interrupting occasionally to clarify who was who in what Brains was starting to call Universe 0.0.

"What if he's a lookalike?" John said.

"If he's a spy, he'd come up with a better story than that Tales of the Goddam Unlikely crap we've just heard," Virgil said. The two brothers glared at one another, both their arms folded.

"There's no logic in the Emperor sending in someone like him, either," Reeves frowned. "There's no sense in pretending you don't know anything about what's happened. And you don't look like you've been surviving for years on the bones and bad water in what passes for streets around here." He nodded to Virgil and John. "If he's telling anything like the truth, then we need to change our minds about a lot of other things."

"Guess I was wrong, fella." Virgil's face melted into a grim smile.

"John, go and get him some food and water," Reeves said.

The older blond astronaut nodded stiffly and left the cell.

"Thank you for g, giving me a chance," Brains nodded. "Now, c, can someone tell me how Scott became a General and why you two," he looked from Reeves to Virgil, who was unconsciously grinding his teeth, "are in some kind of terrorist organisation?"

"We're not terrorists," Virgil was quick to point out.

"You b, blew up an Army jeep, Virgil."

"You tell him, Virgil,." Reeves said. "I, er, I mean, tell him about what happened here. If he's going to be any use at all, he's really going to need the whole story. Do you mind? I have to check on our other operation."

"Oh." Virgil nodded. "No problem, sir."

Brains felt more relaxed as the bigger man sat in the chair the Boston leader had been using and directed a far friendlier expression towards him. As always, once Virgil had been reassured, he was back to his more laidback self. Mainly compared to how he was five minutes ago. Brains heard him still grinding his teeth.

"Are you sure you want to know, Professor?" Virgil asked him.

"Uh, I guess I d, don't have a, er, choice," Brains said with a twitch to the left side of his mouth. The gesture was returned by the pilot.

"You're right. But count yourself lucky you only have to hear it." Virgil scratched his head, ran his right hand through his short-cropped hair. "Where am I gonna begin...?" He clenched his fist. "Our records show it probably all happened with the first Bereznik Uprising. Massacre was more like it. At least I think that's how it began where borders and bombs were involved. It sent Europe into meltdown, and suddenly everyone was after a piece of the place.

"It was about midway through it that Scott got captured...during a mission at an oil well. I was driving Firefly, trying to stop the fire. It misfired and I was kept there a while trying to reload the cannon. Scott was forced to fly Thunderbird One to a location where they modified her..."

"They took Thunderbird One? How?" Brains forgot to stutter, his amazement was so great.

"The man drugged him or something. I don't know. By the time I got back from the fire it was too late to give chase - don't think I didn't try, though. We almost caught up with him a few times but they'd done something, modified Thunderbird One so we couldn't track him anymore. I think..." Virgil stopped talking.

"And th, then what?" Brains pushed on.

"Five days later, the first attack on London happened. At first nobody knew what it was except us � Thunderbird One being used to destroy and then gone. By the time we got there to help, most of the government over there were wiped out. Then he hit Washington, used the Thunderbird to threaten more people. This caused a distraction big enough that nobody noticed Bereznik launch its missiles. Either that or they were sabotaged from the inside. No one was left to tell us what happened there."

"So wh, what happened after the Bereznik attack?"

"It was nuclear. Backed up by two of the warlords near Russia, and Germany, and one of the new Chinese States. America was invaded before anyone could launch a missile back - by then, most of it was destroyed."

"Oh, my g, god..."

"We went out to see how we could help - to do anything at all to stop so many people dying. All of us, in Thunderbird Two, except for you and Father."

"What about Mrs Tracy? And Kyrano?"

"They died a year before this all happened. I'm glad they never had to see what happened next," Virgil said. "You really don't remember any of this?"

"I promise you, it's all new and, er, disturbing," Brains said. He listened with increasing anger and sadness as the former pilot of Thunderbird Two began to explain the last, horrible part of the world's history. Virgil spoke with deep detachment about the last rescue.

New York was a mess, with hundreds trapped and many injured badly. The International Rescue team had spread out amongst the devastated city to help all those they could find. Even with Scott's kidnapping there wasn't one of them who could bear to leave the innocent to suffer.

Virgil was driving the heavy-lifting vehicles, using the Domo to support a hospital wall so that Gordon and Alan could pull the children free. John was the other side of the street with TinTin, inside the Fire Trucks, trying to douse a pillar of flame.

They all recognised Thunderbird One's retros. Even over the noise of their own rescue efforts, in a few moments of silence they paused and stared up.

A second later the whole street exploded. Virgil rolled inside the Domo, and scrambled to escape it as Thunderbird One flew down for another savage attack.

"The next thing I knew, I was hiding from the soldiers. I learned afterwards that they were the new Golden Army. At the time, they looked like anybody's."

"A, and the others?" Brains understood the brittleness about Virgil now � the raw edge and extra lines on his face. The coldness in John.

"What do you think?" Virgil said.

"No..."

"Almost everybody," Virgil said. "Scott wiped out almost his entire family. And you know who made him do it?"

"No..." Brains voice was quiet.

"The Hood. Our 'glorious' Emperor. The Hood."

UNIVERSE 0.0: RETRIEVE PLANS

"It was the Hood." Lady Penelope said. "Without question. He's becoming slightly easier to find ever since Scott saw him. And finding auctions like these are a speciality of mine."

"Well done, Penny," Jeff smiled grimly. "Where is it?"

"It's taking place just inside the Bereznik border, the Ukrainian side. It won't be easy to get inside."

"Then you'll need us there," Virgil said.

"I should be able to get to it without a problem. However, I would certainly appreciate some help returning the plans to you," Penelope said. "I must get there very soon, as it transpires that the blueprints have drawn a great deal of attention. As long as I can get away quickly it should not be too hard for me to steal them."

"I'm still going with you," Virgil said. Immovably.

"But of course, Virgil." She smiled at him. "I'll forward you the coordinates and meet you once I have collected the plans..."

"But - "

Lady Penelope's image had gone, and Virgil, Jeff and TinTin exchanged glances. They were in the hotel room where Scott had booked a room for that week. Scott's belongings were still packed neatly in the suitcase on the bed. Virgil toyed with its handle from where he sat.

"I'll take Thunderbird One over there. See what I can do before she needs a hand. The sooner we get this done, the faster we'll have Scott back." He strode quickly to the door.

"Virgil?"

"Yes, Father?"

"Come back in one piece."

Virgil gave him an affirmative nod, already focussed on the job he had to do.

"Be seeing you."

The devil himself wouldn't stop him from bringing Scott home.

UNIVERSE #42: EMPEROR

As the lift doors opened, Scott had been marched into a regal room, with incredibly high ceilings and statues all constructed with white marble. Sleek yellow and orange flames licked up the marble pillars from every corner, painting it in shades of hell. The man in its centre was pacing the ground like a lion, his gold uniform, or armour, radiated the light a thousandfold.

Scott was momentarily dazzled, staring at what lay beyond, then he cried out, "You've gotta be kidding!"

The Emperor stopped his pacing, and for a moment did not look in Scott's direction. His already imposing physical presence was enlarged by a huge wall-hanging of the devil's face, glaring out idealistically at his visitors. In a slightly smaller portrait next to it Scott stood tall at his Emperor's side, wearing the same black uniform, his dark head raised proudly, blue eyes enlarged with a fanatic's devotion. A gloved fist was pressed against his heart.

The Hood turned slowly to face Scott, and the features Scott could never forget were a mask to themselves, hiding his emotions. "You look like General Scott Tracy."

"It's the uniform." Scott's quip flopped and died.

"The uniform suits you. And yet - it is not you." The Hood strode up to Scott. Remembering the power of those dark eyes, Scott tried to look away, struggling to avoid their gaze, "Hold him." The two guards forced Scott's head forward, and cuffed him so his eyes fluttered, yanking him up by his hair into the correct line of sight.

It was enough. Scott stared into the Hood's eyes for a moment and was lost.

The Hood traced the side of his skull with a powerful hand, caressing the pilot's blank expression. He continued staring into the now depthless blue eyes, seeking any sign of resistance. Scott's will ebbed away under their relentless power. "Your mind is weak and open to me. Now you will tell me everything that brought you here," the Hood growled. "And I will break you again, if I have to."

Some part of Scott's mind screamed for help, and was swiftly silenced.

For an hour or more Scott stood frozen in place, his body heavy as dead meat. Part of his mind was fully awake in the hideous nightmare. The Hood questioned him and he was compelled to answer every single one, dragged out of the pilot the way a butcher would expertly gut a lamb.

"So you think you came here by mistake," the Hood gloated. Again came that too-familiar touch to his face. "I believe differently." He had made Scott tell him everything by now, and was already deciding how he could exploit it.

A polite knock came from the double doors. A young man, dressed in black with a silver collar around his throat entered. "Sir, the Temple Square is full. We can't get anyone else in. They all want to see the General, sir."

The young man gazed at Scott, flushing slightly. The Hood laughed. "You see how much the people love you, my Scott? You will put in an appearance, at least, while I tell them the good news. Come with me."

Scott obeyed, marching stiffly at his enemy's side.

"What about his collar, my lord?" Kusa stood there eagerly, a strip of metal like a man's watchstrap between his hands.

"I want you to perfect it." The Hood snapped. "This one's mind is not as easy as those fools in the army. He is resisting even now." He glared at Scott. "He feels too much, and he is not from here. Make it stronger."

"Yes, my lord. I'll consult Jameson." Kusa bowed deeply as the Hood and his prot�g� marched to meet their people.

The woman made her way through the baying crowds in Temple Square. Word had travelled fast about the General's arrival. There was definitely an official announcement planned, the fanatical devotion to their Emperor expressed by banners and photographs and chanting for his appearance. Her excuses that she "wanted our lord to bless my baby" allowed her to push far closer than she had hoped.

Then she saw the Emperor and his General stand on the pillar at the other side of the crowded city square, in the shadow of the War Temple - also called the Ziggarut - and the War Palace. It was getting dark and the enormous buildings had long since hidden the sun from the people below.

She couldn't miss her target now. The Spire gleamed. This close, it gave off an electrical energy that made her curly dark hair tighten and float on invisible breeze. There was a deep drone in her ears.

When she finally got near enough there was a guard dressed in black standing there and his eyes roved over her body. "No woman allowed near here." He said. "Not with children at any rate."

"What's that?" another soldier marched towards her. "What is she doing here?"

"I have a message for you, Captain." She noticed the collar at his throat. There wouldn't be much time. "This is for Kevin and Emily!" she shot the guard and his friend in the throat. Then she ran forwards, and hugged the very base of the Spire. She threw the bundle of rags onto the ground. If you had peered deeply, you would have seen a small blue spark glow inside it.

Then the woman and the Spire erupted into a cobalt fire.

It was like someone had set off a bomb in his skull.

Scott, who had been listening, frozen, to the Hood's new plans for tyranny across the world, was sent reeling by the explosion. There was screaming, yelling. Most of it came from the Hood and the collared people all around him.

The shock had numbed Scott, so it took a moment longer than usual to notice that he could move again. He leaped away from his enemy and charged out, desperate to get clear before the chaos ended.

He was about to climb down the dais to the street when powerful hands grabbed him by the neck and under his wound, both squeezing hard. Scott let out a howl, kicking as hard as he could, punching awkwardly behind him with his fists. His assailant was unmoved and snarled, "No." The left hand slid under Scott's ear. "Follow me," the voice commanded.

Staring at the back of the Hood's bald head, Scott was disgusted by how happily his feet obeyed the tyrant's order. His thoughts still pounded to be set free.

He saw some of those wearing collars looking equally dazed, a few were screaming and being restrained by soldiers. He heard them yelling, "Stop him! Don't let him take me again! Help me!"

As the Hood passed, they shrank back, aware of their fear of him. Scott found he could turn his head, just about, as if the Hood was having trouble keeping a grip on his mind. He heard voices that the Hood was struggling to control.

Once they were inside, it appeared that The Hood had also noticed Scott's attempts to resist. "Interesting. I'd forgotten how much the original version of you fought me. That was before he killed his brothers."

The pilot felt sure his blood would boil and his eyes burst from their sockets with the fury that detonated inside his skull. The other him - the one who died fighting for this monster - had probably been driven mad by that knowledge. Broken, the Hood had called it. Scott didn't know what that would do to him, and had no desire to ever find out.

UNIVERSE #42: HOSTAGE

Brains was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling in his cell when Virgil barged in without pausing to knock. "Professor! You awake?"

"S, still am." Brains said ruefully.

"You gotta come with me. It looks like you were right about this other Scott!"

He dragged Brains down the corridors and into what looked like a mess hall full of other rebels, soldiers and children, all clapping and looking surprisingly happy. It had a big plasma screen attached to one wall. The picture it showed was grainy with snowy reception, and was in the process of being rewound too quickly to see.

"This came in about half an hour ago," Virgil told him. "I'm sorry I even doubted you, Professor."

The picture stopped and paused. Brains gasped. The Hood, in all his golden finery, was standing on a podium below the tall golden spire, while a silent, intense looking Scott stood beside him, a shadow in his black uniform. "The Emperor's prize. Scott Tracy, hero of the Golden Army," Virgil said in disgust. "They're saying he's back from the dead. But that's impossible."

"Why's that?"

"I'll show you in a moment," Virgil grinned. "Watch."

The speech was all about the return of the mighty General. Scott came forwards, his eyes bright. He wasn't himself. "He is recovering from cruelties inflicted by the Separatist monsters!" The Hood was bellowing. "But he has returned to us with skill and strength, and will soon be flying again!" the crowd bayed and cheered.

"Scott..." Brains was horrified. "He, he got Scott..."

"No," Virgil murmured. "Not yet."

"Huh?"

The explosion in the background, around the spire, caused the audience in the mess hall to yell and scream, cheering its apparent destruction. As it was surrounded by electrical blue flame, the Hood seemed to stagger, holding his head. Scott looked startled and began to run away. Brains' heart leapt - but he saw the Hood pounce a moment later and Scott followed him away. Then the cameras stopped running. The final shot was of the Spire in flames.

The rebel leader, Adam Reeves, was standing in the front of the room by the screen. He lifted his hands and the clapping died away. He spoke clearly from the front of the room. "You were right to be pleased, friends. It is a great day - but only a temporary reprieve. The bomber acted alone."

The people were puzzled.

Reeves explained. "The bomber's name was Judith Irons. She lost her children yesterday. She was part of a much larger plan of ours to sabotage the Spire. With their deaths, it appears she couldn't wait and tried to stop the Emperor single-handed. He has been injured by the blast, and it may have freed a few of his commanders - and the General, temporarily. But it was not a concerted effort. And now it may be harder to get inside. No one is to leave the base until I am satisfied that efforts to search for us have returned to acceptable levels!" He glanced along the room, seeing his people nod in agreement. There were some shocked faces, too.

"The Spire...?" Brains asked.

"It's the transmitter for the Hood's mind control," Virgil said. "It's his most powerful weapon, next to the Devil Birds."

Reeves had moved to the door where they were standing. "It's too soon, but it's given us an idea of how badly we can disturb him. I'm going to be following reports from our spies all day." He patted Brains on the shoulder. "But it proves that everything you said was true beyond doubt. I'll show you why."

"Okay." Brains still didn't seem he had much of a choice.

They walked down a series of long grey corridors divided by metal doors. "This was a prison, wasn't it," Brains said.

"That's right. The most secure place you can think of," Virgil said.

"Uncomfortable but useful," Reeves added.

The next room they entered had a view into a small cell barely more comfortable than the one where Brains had stayed. Reeves said, "Here's the other half of our proof, Hackenbacker."

There was a man on the bunk near the mirror-glass. He was doing sit-ups. Brains' eyes widened.

It was Scott. The one that belonged here. Going by the scarring across his bare torso and up to his neck, he appeared to have been badly hurt at some point. There was a red line like a collar around his throat. He was close enough to touch through the mirror-glass. Brains saw a tattoo that read 'G.A.' and the icon of the snake writhing in flames on Scott's left upper bicep.

Virgil said, "Scott was leading the Devil Bird squad against a base of ours in Boston. The battle was almost his last. He got shot down by our fire."

"We found him in the rubble," Reeves said. "He's been in our custody for the last ten weeks, recovering until he becomes useful."

"He's a hostage." Brains said.

"Exactly," said Reeves. "We've kept him locked away, out of sight. We were going to see if we could persuade him to help us."

"But he's...different," Virgil said. His expression had deadened in the same way that John's had. As he spoke Scott had stopped doing sit-ups and was sitting upright. Appearing to grind his teeth, he began to rock slightly from side to side, like a bear in captivity.

"What did they do to him?" Brains said.

"You see that line around his throat?" Reeves asked.

"Yeah..."

"The Emperor uses a collar to control the lead people in his army. It's sort of a back up to his own powers of persuasion, as far as we can tell. It continues to brainwash its victims. The Emperor can send messages to those he brainwashed, and they can influence others in a similar way. We managed to remove it, but we really don't know what else it's done to him."

"Oh." Brains stared at this scarred and damaged version of his friend. He put a hand gently on the glass. Scott had wrapped his arms around his torso, his body shaking slightly as he rocked back and forth.

Virgil was already standing back at the door, looking away. He can't bear to see him like this, Brains realised.

"H. how do you know so much about it?" Brains' mind was ticking over faster than he could think. "H, how did you remove something like that?"

"I didn't, but I got the next best thing. The guy who helped the Hood to develop it," Reeves said grimly. "We only tried to bring him back last night, after we got you here. But so far Scott's resisted all the effects of the drug we were working on. I'm testing it on Sergeant Holden - we captured her the same time Virgil found you. But with Scott..." he glanced at Virgil. "It's like he doesn't want to come back."

Brains stared at the figure in the cell. "Have you spoken to him, Virgil?"

"He's been out of it for weeks. No, I haven't spoken to him." Virgil looked away again.

Brains pondered this. "M, maybe it's time that you did."

"That's what I said, old man."

"Jameson!" Brains' head snapped around.

This Professor was nowhere near as well fed as his counterpart. He had the same twinkly blue eyes that looked friendly but fiercely intelligent, and he was dressed in a grey labcoat with overalls underneath.

"Virgil has been somewhat reluctant to speak to his brother - can't say as I blame him, what?" Brains noticed Virgil's face tighten in response. "But the collar has been removed. He should be returning to his normal self, but it could run deeper than simple brainwashing. The Spire has set me back a day," Jameson tutted.

"The Professor was checking out the effects of the explosion on the Spire." Reeves said.

"Yes. Most fortunate. Yes indeed." Jameson started to clean his glasses on one of the few clean parts of the lab coat. "But I am anxious to get the good General back together. He's been suffering for a good while, now."

Virgil said nothing.

Jameson had not greatly enjoyed his time at the new laboratory in the War Temple. He was fairly pleased that the interrogation had confused them more than it had him. The smiling, thin man, Mark, had quickly been satisfied that although this Jameson was similar to the one who had escaped with the Separatist leader three years ago, he was actually someone else. His tale was considered extraordinary, but exploitable.

As a result he had been bundled into the laboratory that used to belong to his doppelganger, and put to work making the hideous 'collars' more effective and less likely to break.

He had seen Mr Tracy being paraded around the building, too. He hadn't been collared, he was relieved to see. But the young man was in great danger � the Professor was reluctant to do the work in the first place, but when he had been instructed to 'make a collar that will give me absolute power' over Scott specifically, Jameson had concocted a web of lies convincing enough that the Emperor and the sly Dr Kusa had slunk away.

The last straw had been the suicide bomb. The Emperor had charged into the lab, sending Jameson's assistants (brainwashed ninnies, the lot of them) scurrying for cover. The work would be tricky to complete. Jameson had finally realised that he knew far more about 'his' work than any of the poor bastards around here - even the Emperor.

He hoped that if he postponed its completion for long enough, there would be some way to get out of this awful place.

At the very least, he could find a way for Mr Tracy's collar to be rendered less damaging. The Emperor clearly favoured the General. Jameson dearly hoped any means he could give the young man to resist that evil, powerful man would help them to escape this underworld sooner rather than later.

UNIVERSE 0.0: AUCTION RAID

It was winter on the Ukrainian border of Bereznik, Europe. Though the snow was thick on the ground, and in treacherous woodland, Virgil Tracy and Lady Penelope were running for dear life. "I thought you knocked out that guard!" he panted.

"Clearly...he must have the constitution of a bull!" Penelope replied.

The building behind them exploded as they reached FAB1 and Thunderbird One, sending Virgil and Penelope skidding into Parker's side.

Penelope stepped back as Virgil said, "Drive out of here. I'll take Penny with me." He was puzzled when Parker didn't respond.

"Virgil..." Penelope nodded her head behind him.

Virgil turned. A man, looking slightly scorched, his melted skin revealing fresher flesh underneath, was pointing a gun at them. "I thought we left you in there..."

"We all make mistakes," the Hood snarled. "You cost me a great deal of money. I think I can salvage it by taking you, the woman and this Thunderbird with me."

"What makes you think we'd let you?" Virgil demanded.

"Apart from the gun?" Penelope murmured.

"Exactly. Now do as I say. Or I shoot her." The Hood was trembling with cold fury.

"Don't listen to him, Virgil..."

"Okay, okay. Please don't hurt her!" Virgil raised his hands high. He saw his enemy waver slightly. There it was, he spotted the reason � blood and possibly broken ribs. "I'm going to go and open the ship."

The Hood's split lip curled in amusement. "The woman is a pleasant weakness. Your brother was going to let you die at my hands."

The oil well, Virgil shivered. "He had more sense."

"I agree," The Hood said.

Virgil typed in the code to Thunderbird One's hatch. Even though he was ready for the blinding flash, he barely closed his eyes in time. The Hood cursed and Virgil and Penelope launched themselves at him. Penny kicked the gun away and Virgil punched him so hard the rest of his facemask started hanging off.

As the Hood rolled unconscious into the slushy snow, Penelope began to wake up Parker with a small pill broken under his nose.

"What 'appened?"

Penelope told him briefly. "...and it's an awfully good invention. As long as one is ready for the flash," she finished.

"Brains thinks of everything," Virgil said. He finished tying up the Hood with rope from FAB1's trunk.

"Quite fortunate," Penelope agreed.

"We'll drop him at the New York PD on our way," Virgil said. "Let's get him into the ship."

"When we arrive in New York I'll go straight to the laboratory. I believe your father is making great strides in getting it ready."

"Yeah." Virgil grinned at her. "He had a feeling you'd succeed."

UNIVERSE #42: HELP

Late night had thrown the War Palace into shadow as the Emperor and a stern, black-shrouded Scott marched together from the Emperor's quarters. They passed a fountain of five kneeling youths, hugging their pale marble bodies with thin arms, their heads bowed in mourning or respect. Rose had been sitting amongst them. She jumped up as she saw them and dropped a deep bow to the Emperor, who noticed her approach with a sneer on his face. He hardly deigned to glance at her.

Instead he halted and turned to Scott. "I release you for now. Go with her to your quarters and save your strength. Soon you will be mine again." He passed a hand over the younger man's face, looking into his eyes and then releasing them. Scott wavered as if drunk, and the Emperor steadied him. The Hood glared at Rose. "Take care of him, woman. Keep him comfortable. Have him ready by eight tomorrow."

"Yes, My Lord," she replied, not meeting his fierce gaze. Without another word he stalked past her, his interest now elsewhere.

Leading the dazed pilot back to his rooms, Rose sat him on the bed and watched him slowly come out of the trance. She gave him another glass of water � and gasped as Scott suddenly knocked it aside.

"The Hood! The Hood is in charge!" he shouted. It was like a switch had flicked and he was in panic, springing to his feet and backing hurriedly away from the bed.

"I know," she said gently.

"I have to get out of here," he said.

"I know," she said. "You were lucky, Scott."

"Lucky?"

"If he'd been able to put a collar on you, you'd be his slave like all the others." She started picking up the bits of broken glass that had smashed on the flagstone floor. "That poor suicide lady saved you. The Spire's damaged for now. That'll slow him for a little while, I guess."

"The Spire?"

"It's a transmitter." She threw the glass neatly into the nearby bin. "If you were Scott � you're not the man I knew, are you."

"No," Scott answered.

"I was afraid he'd taken you away again." Rose looked up. "But you still don't have long."

"What can I do?" he asked.

"There's nothing." She closed her eyes. "I used to be smarter, you know? I used to be able to think, and I'd probably have it all figured out by now..."

"Those scars," he pointed, lightly touching the two white lines above her ears, "Did the Hood do that to you?"

"I knew him as Belah. He used my research, and made me work on you to develop the drugs." she hugged him, her body trembling, "The moment I saw you, I loved you. It wasn't long before he knew it. I used to lower the dosage..." She gazed up at Scott. "He found another guy to help him, and said that if I wanted to be with you, he'd release me from the project. Then he operated on me. I..." she frowned. "Then you died..."

"I'm sorry," he said gently.

"Your heart's poundin'," she noted, lifting her head from his chest.

"I'm scared." They exchanged an awkward smile. "I heard the Hood talking," he added. "The Spire won't be fixed for almost a week."

"It's a delicate piece of metal," she said. "Shame it wasn't destroyed."

"But it has slowed him down. He can still...still get inside my head, but it wears him out. He's got a lot of voices in there. Talk about carrying all your eggs in the one basket..."

"That's what the collars were for," she said.

"There must be something I can do." Scott frowned.

"No," she said. "That's the point, Scott. We're finished."

UNIVERSE 0.0: RECONSTRUCTION

By morning the next day, Virgil finally arrived at the Tracy Engineering labs and ran inside.

There he found things in a state of organised chaos. The blueprints were on display on the nearest computers. Rose was instructing the assistants they'd hired on exactly what to do. She flapped a hand at Virgil.

"How's it going?" he asked them.

"Rather well, I believe," Penelope said. "I trust that our guest is enjoying his time at the State's expense?"

"I made sure they took him in," Virgil said quietly. "They were matching him up with Scott's description from the one time we got a look at him."

"I hope they remember to blindfold him," Penelope said.

"They were careful," Virgil nodded. He noted the frantic building-work. "How long do you think this'll take?"

Weaver had finished with the assistants for now, and she appeared pleased. "If you'd asked me a couple weeks ago, sug', I'd have said at least a week for basic construction. Plus a five days to calibrate. Bare minimum." She smiled as Virgil's face fell. "Don't worry, darlin'. With all this help I'd suggest we're down to two days construction and an afternoon to calibrate...it sure is amazing what you can do with a 900 budget increase."

"That is amazing," Virgil said.

She grinned.

"What can I do to help?"

Her eyebrows raised. "I don't know - what can you do, sug'?"

Virgil grinned at her. "I can follow blueprints, Weaver. I've got a Degree in it. Where do you want my wrench?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

In the securest cell in the New Jersey police precinct, the Hood snarled from his effectively blinded position while the best World Police interrogators tried to get him to confess. Other than that he didn't say a word. The interrogators had noticed that whenever they mentioned International Rescue, his heart rate and blood pressure went off the scale.

World Police Detective Kusa scowled. "He won't crack. It's harder to do this without eye-contact."

"He's too dangerous for us to take that chance, Bill," Detective Christina Bale said. She hooked a thumb at the outer door. "Let me question him directly about the lab fire. Maybe we can clear up this bullshit about parallel worlds."

"I'm guessing that those plans were for something pretty important, Chris."

"Yeah, but a machine that lets you hop across dimensions? C'mon." She took a swig of bad coffee. "The Tracy son, the Professor and the engineer are all missing and I bet this sonuvabitch knows where they've been taken. All of them are worth a fortune."

"Yeah, but how do you know they weren't killed in the fire?"

"I don't. But Tracy senior seems to think they're alive, even if he's soft towards the science fiction." Bale finished her coffee and made a face. "Damn, that stuff's awful."

"All right. We're giving you five days to question him. Special circumstances," Jude grinned. "Starting now."

"Great. What about his lawyer?"

"He hasn't named one. I guess that would mean confirming his identity. It sucks to be the man of a thousand faces, huh?"

"Lucky for us. Send in some more coffee, will you?" She headed for the interrogation door. "This bastard is mine."

UNIVERSE #42: INTERVENTION

All he knew was that he wanted to be out of this dark place and back in the light. To soar in open air. Flying in the hot sun.

Instead he was cold, and trapped, and unbearably alone. The powerful yet loving voice of his master, that had comforted him since his brothers were killed, had disappeared some time ago. He was lost, adrift without any guidance or support. The basic physical exercises helped a little to stem the boredom, to keep his broken body supple and strong if the voice ever came back. He missed his master's constant reassurance, and the void he used to fill.

The voice he heard now was vaguely familiar. Not his master's, not remotely like it, but just as welcome. It was impossible, of course, but something stirred in the back of his over-strained mind. It stirred heat through his thoughts for the first time in a long while. His vision cleared briefly, turning outward to acknowledge the source of this warmth.

He couldn't speak. It was utterly impossible. The man with the burnt honey-coloured eyes sat across from him, and now he had stopped talking. He tried to lift his head and ask him to keep speaking. The man glanced away and he nearly died of loneliness again. "I think he's noticed me." The man's voice made his heart thud faster. He stared at him intently, willing it to continue.

"I think he sees you, Virgil. The drug must be getting through." Another voice, another he vaguely recognised, came from out of his sight.

"Can you see me, Scott? Are you okay?" The man leaned over and touched Scott's arm.

Scott remembered back to his training. The Emperor was leaning over him, his big powerful hand resting on his limp arm. "You are safe. We will destroy those who killed your brothers. Trust me, and you will be the most important person on this earth." The Hood had stared into Scott's mind while the collar had been fitted. "With this I am always with you...you will know what I do, and feel what I do." And Scott had begun to like the power this gave him. He was free from seeing their faces when his master was there.

"Scott?" Virgil said gently.

"All dead," Scott said. He glanced up, his voice hollow. "If you're all dead then how come you're here?"

"Thunderbird One didn't get us all," Virgil said quietly. "It attacked the street. I was in the Domo."

"No. No it was the Bostons...not me." Scott shook his head "The Separatists killed them all. You were killed." There were tears falling down his face, but without any emotion, no other indication that he even felt grief or pain.

Virgil almost growled in his throat, having to force the rage down, "No, Scotty. The Hood made you attack us. Don't you remember?"

"When I heard, you might be alive...he said you'd been taken by the Bostons. They...they hurt you before they..." Scott's shoulders trembled briefly. He started rocking again, his blue eyes sightless, mumbling. "I couldn't save you, Virgil. They killed you. Tortured you. He said I was too late to save you."

Rage was replaced by the need to comfort. Virgil kept a hand on Scott's arm, gently rubbing the skin, feeling how it went from warm to cold and then back.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I thought you were all dead." Scott moved unexpectedly fast, reaching out. It wasn't an embrace. Virgil choked as Scott gripped his neck with both hands. "You can't really be Virgil. He said you were dead. This is a lie."

"No!" Virgil gulped, putting his hands over Scott's, trying to stop the pressure as they squeezed his throat muscles. "He lied! The Emperor lied to you � he's a criminal, Scott! It's Virgil, don't...!"

Scott stared blankly into his face as it reddened. "You were killed," he repeated. But there was a flicker of life behind his expression. Perhaps uncertainty.

Virgil risked putting one trembling hand out, wrapped it around his brother's rigid arm. Over the snake tattoo. The pressure eased, enough for him to gasp, "Scott, you gotta listen. It's me and I want you back."

Scott stared at him. Then he dropped him, moving rapidly away, gathering knees under his chin, arms now tightly about his chest. He began rocking again, locked inside himself. Virgil winced at his throat, still feeling how the fingers dug against his skin. He looked at the mirror.

"Are you okay?" Brains' voice inquired.

"I'll live," Virgil growled.

"Give him time to rest, Virgil," Reeves said. "I'll try him again tomorrow. Let the drug do its thing."

"We almost had him back." Virgil patted Scott's shoulder gently. His brother barely reacted. "Maybe it'll work for longer next time."

"I'll modify it overnight, then," Reeves said. "I thought we'd get him sooner than this. The Hood's really messed him up if he won't believe you're even there." He paused. "I'm sorry, Virgil."

"He could stay that way," John said practically. "We can still get the Emperor to bargain."

"He has another General now," Virgil said quietly. "One who wasn't hurt. I don't know if we should give him the chance to get hold of them both."

"I've just got to get the other Scott away from him," Brains said. "Before he's given the collar."

"We will," Reeves said grimly. "But we're planning something to destroy that Spire and the Hood once and for all. John'll show you."

"Yeah," John grinned. "Come with me."

"The collar just isn't quite ready yet, My Lord," Jameson fudged desperately as the Emperor stalked back and forth, his lip curled in fury.

"I want more results, Professor. Don't make me send Mark to you again."

Jameson swallowed painfully. "N, no need of that, old boy - M, My Lord, I mean." He shuffled his notes, looking down at the spiky interior of the collar. "I assume that you want the v, very best you can possibly get for this man, and I intend to give it to you. I sincerely...do."

The Emperor leaned in close to the Professor. His breath smelt of spicy hot food and strong wine. "I cannot tolerate their voices any longer! Fix this, Professor, and give Scott to me by tonight or your existence will be suffering without end!"

"R, right," Jameson stammered.

"Good." The Emperor snarled. He started to leave. "I want this in under twelve hours. The Spire will be fixed by then."

"Y, yes sir."

Jameson had to sit down, his hands and legs shaking as the laboratory door slid closed.

"I'm sorry, Mr Tracy." He rested his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry..."

"So you see, up until now the main problem we've had is the collars and that damn Spire. I believe that our best bet is to break in here, and here, where the defences are at their weakest. Once our other spies have disabled the tracking station, we should have a window of about five minutes to arrive."

"T, tell me more about this, er, planned attack, gentlemen." Brains interrupted a possible squabble, noticing how Virgil and John were never at ease with each other.

"Okay. Now, we were hoping that you could help us with this. We've managed to get some help from our other subject, formerly Sergeant Holden. She's given us a list of all the vulnerable places to hit first. Then we can get through here, and here." Reeves brought up a map of the monster city and its surroundings. "I think if we can get a big enough distraction at the front entrance we should be able to go in the back way."

"That's g, good. But what kind of distraction were you thinking of...?"

"That's where this gets kinda risky," Reeves said. "Luckily, we have a few machines and some big guns of our own."

"And we have Scott," Brains said. "When he gets his memory back he will b, be invaluable."

"We can't rely on him. Not at the moment, Hackenbacker. What the Hood put him through..." Reeves glanced at Virgil. "We'll get ready first thing tomorrow morning."

"I want to try out the new drug on Scott tomorrow," Virgil said suddenly.

"You can see him," Reeves nodded. "But before the meeting in the morning. We'll work on him later."

"Yes, sir," Virgil said.

"It's late, guys. Time to call it a night. We'll pick this up at 10am tomorrow." Reeves saluted them. "Good work, everybody. You make me proud."

UNIVERSE 0.0: BREAKOUT

The Hood wasn't ready for it. But he was unsurprised when there was a huge explosion at the side of the building. He leapt up from the bed and stuck his hands out through the bars, trying to peer out at what was happening.

Smoke rose around the door into the cell block, then the door blew out and a dark-haired man in body armour came charging in. The Hood could hear a helijet in the background.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

The man blew on his fingers where they'd touched the hot metal and said. "You're welcome, you sonofabitch."

"Get this door open!"

"Keep your hair on," the man grinned. "Get aboard, and put this on." He handed the Hood a flak jacket of his own.

"Next time, Reeves, don't take so long about it," The Hood snapped.

Outside the building, Detective Bale ran out to where the rest of the Precinct were currently trying to keep order, shouting above the noise, "Kusa! Stop that thing from leaving!"

"We can't shoot down a helijet in the middle of New Jersey!" The man shouted back. "I'm afraid we'll just have to track him instead!"

"That bastard's getting away!" she screamed.

"We'll try and stop him!" Kusa shouted. "Be patient!"

Bale squinted up and tried to aim her gun at the figure leaping across to the waiting aircraft. She almost got a shot, but the helijet banked quickly and then accelerated.

"Shit!"

She stared at the wreckage of the police station. Then up at the vanishing dot of the Hood's escape craft.

"Next time you sonofabitch," she hissed, "I'll make sure you get exactly what you deserve."

UNIVERSE #42: SHADOWS

He was shivering again. Thoughts moved through his mind like schools of fish, changing direction, a million pieces in groups too complicated to distinguish. He was getting closer to them, starting to pull together shiny pieces of memory before they slipped away again. Too much - his master had made him feel all better, the demons in the shadows were always kept at bay. Master kept him safe and sound.

His master. So safe, so powerful. He would die for him. He whimpered. He should have died, he had wanted to, desperately wanted death because he -

The Thunderbird streaked through the sky, he was unable to feel its glorious, joyful strength beneath him, numbed by black eyes, compelled to -

The green Thunderbird far down on the ground, smooth sides hugging the broken earth, the smaller vehicles like ants working on fire -

His vision blurred out, smoky blues and greens, he realised he was crying no, no. Black as night, heart burnt to cinders, so much smoke and fire -

Comfort, please, please so small so many people no more can't -

Fire on them. Do not damage the Thunderbird.

He was breaking. He was going to fall apart and snap and shatter and he would gladly fly his craft headfirst into the sea if it meant he was spared this -

Do it.

Breaking, breaking, hand on trigger, so hurt, so can't -

His throat was squeezed tightly. He choked.

Do it and I can help you.

Please...

Do it. Use my strength. You are mine, remember that, it is not your fault.

Warm comfort. It made him sick. Soothed by images of love.

You are nothing. You will do as I want.

His fingers tightened on the trigger, the Thunderbird screaming toward the street where the Domo was working, and the Firefly dug into the fire.

Fire and this pain will stop.

Pain.

Shattering pain. The small vehicles blasted by missiles.

He'd fired. Oh god, oh god -

It broke.

Well done.

Soothing sensation again.

LIAR

"I'm here, it's me." He heard Virgil's worried voice.

Virgil here, in this place. This prison, but Virgil...

Here, now.

BROKEN

You did well.

ALL DEAD

YOUYOUYOUYOUYOU

He felt like shit.

His whole body rocked back and forth, bile dripping from his mouth, numb but so cold. He took a while to get used to feeling back inside his body again. The hardness of the floor under hands and feet, harsh lights in his eyes, his fingers and toes clenching and unclenching as he instructed them to, all by himself.

Muscles went into spasm, he kept rocking, shaking it out, enduring it as his brain, denied itself for so long was a noisy jumble of urgent questions.

How long?

He choked and looked at the chronometer. It blazed in red the time and the year.

Impossible.

Scott's lungs filled to bursting - no breath - FIVE YEARS -

Five years.

He scrambled off the floor onto his knees. His body ached. The mirror in front showed him why.

I was lost. Lost me. Who...

He put a hand to his throat where he hurt most. Needle holes all around it. The back of his head violated. He backed away from his reflection.

"Scott," he said, staring at the man he saw. "Scott Tracy."

He didn't recognise the mad, wild-eyed figure, half-starved, his chin dark but recently shaved, his hair combed but too long. The image blurred and he stared through it, feeling tears cascading down his face.

The Thunderbird he flew had killed so many and every time he heard the Hood and he was so very pleased with him - they were such a powerful team - so clever and all his, his Master the Hood, his new Father, his...

"All of them..."

The street was in flames and in the video screen he could see Alan on fire and Gordon's broken body and the Domo Virgil was crying out in pain.

The Hood. I promise to help you forget. Made me do it. How much it hurts. Stop resisting and it will not hurt. It was YOU be mine black eyes and pain in his throat. Stop caring Virgil, Virgil, Alan, John, Gordon, Not your fault. LIAR. All of them killed. Hate our Enemies with me Gordon, Father help - oh god, no your home was destroyed. Keep their portraits, we retrieved I'm so sorry, so sorry. Fire burnt all gone. All gone.

The blur started to disappear. Hood.

Scott Tracy was trembling. He heard the too-familiar purr from behind his reflection.

You belong with me.

"Shut up!" he yelled at the mirror.

The Hood appeared in it behind him, his dark eyes gleaming, his powerful body going dark as a mouth opened in his chest and his long arms grabbed Scott and pulled him forcefully towards him.

Good boy.

Scott screamed. He was up off the floor, smashing the mirror with his fists. "Bastard!" he lifted the chair where Virgil oh god no I thought he came back and I strangled "Fucker!" he smashed the glass again.

It shattered in a rainbow arch around him and his muscles made short work of creating a gap big enough to get through. The observation room beyond was not locked. Scott marched through it into the corridor.

A man Scott didn't recognise was standing outside Scott's cell door. Keys poised.

"How did you...?"

Scott kicked the man in the stomach, wrestled him to the ground and snarled, "Get me out of here. Now!" He grabbed the keys and jammed the man's own gun into his ribs. "Fastest and quietest way to the Emperor's City."

The man squirmed. "I, I'll take you. Don't kill me!"

"Move," Scott snapped.

The holding cells in the rebels' base were checked every two hours. The former General of the Glorious Golden Army had been gone for an nearly an hour before the alarm was raised.

John surveyed the scene. "He went ape-shit." He stepped around the smashed glass from the mirror, frowned. "I told you not to leave that chair here, Virg."

Virgil ignored John. "We've gotta go after him. Where did he leave from?"

Reeves had already ordered a massive search. His radio was buzzing with a call. "Go ahead."

"Sir, it's Lieutenant Bale. I'm at the south entrance."

"Bale?" Reeves had already started to move. "Anything on our prisoner?"

"Yes, sir. It looks like he stole one of our helijets. He killed Bryant and Deckard and took off with a hostage."

"Shit." Virgil could be heard kicking the pile of glass.

"Thanks. Try to trace it for me." Reeves looked anxiously at the others. "This is worrying."

"Why are we wasting time here, then?" Virgil was marching for the door. "We have to go. Now!"

"We'll find him," John said grimly. "Wherever he's going."

"No." Reeves shook his head. "No, this is just the opportunity we've been waiting for." He glanced from face to face. "This might be the best chance we have. If the General gets back there then it won't matter if we weakened the Hood yesterday or not - but if we launch our attack now, we're going to stand a chance of knocking out his control and getting to the War Temple when it'll really make a difference."

"But Scott might be..." Virgil looked up. "I might be able to catch up with him. Please, let me go after him."

Reeves shook his head. "Virgil..."

"He was getting better," Virgil pushed. "He was remembering things. Look at the mess he made of this place - he could feel again."

"And what if he feels like telling the Emperor every darn thing he's found out?" John demanded.

"Then I'll stop him," Virgil said. "Adam, I have to at least try. He's..." Virgil glanced at John's angry features. "At least let me try to catch up with him. I'll be able to shoot him down before he reaches the city."

"Virgil..." Adam sighed. "Okay. Be careful. Take a White Arrow and fly under their radar."

"Thanks."

Rose had fallen asleep beside Scott as the sun had risen. He lay above the covers, still in his black uniform, still staring at the patterns on the ceiling. There was no way out, she'd said. And despite his very best efforts, that appeared to be true.

Rose murmured in her sleep. They'd stayed up talking until just a few hours ago. She snuggled against him through the blanket, looking quite beautiful now, her blonde hair strewn lightly over the pillow, hiding the marks where the Hood had cut away her memory.

He heard them coming down the hall, dead on time - nearly 8am, two seconds, one...the door opened.

"General...!" An earnest looking young officer and the two guards Scott was so familiar with came in, looking ready for Scott's best efforts at resistance.

"Sssh." Scott put a finger to his lips, having to steady it because it was trembling. "She's sleeping."

The Hood pushed past the others and grabbed Rose by the hair. She squealed and was thrown to her knees on the floor.

"Hey!" Scott leapt up. "You sonovabitch!"

"You will not call me that." The Hood's eyes flashed and he flung a punch that sent Scott sideways. Bruised now, Scott welcomed this invitation to throw a return punch, but two strong arms had him a second before it landed, lifting him helplessly up and away.

The guards began to haul him from the room, the pilot yelling in impotent fury. Rose flung herself at them, trying to pull them away from Scott, battering on their thick muscled arms like a bird against a bear. They flung her to one side, she rolled to her feet.

They weren't expecting her to snatch up her pointed shoe and smash the heel onto the head of the nearest man holding the pilot. The big man howled, dropping Scott, covering his head and the blood that poured from it. He started to twitch and jerk like a puppet with broken strings.

The guard held onto Scott tightly. The pilot struggled. "No!" he yelled as the Hood gave a fierce blow to Rose's arm, and her wrist audibly cracked. She screamed, dropping the shoe, struggling to get away from her vicious emperor.

"Get him out of here!" the Hood snarled. "We have wasted enough time!"

The guard looked impassively at the twitching body of his partner and then bundled Scott from the room, crushing the unhealed wound until the pilot could hardly move.

His lip curling, The Hood stared briefly after him, and then snarled at Rose. "You can watch him become mine like you did the last time, and then you are next. No more games with you." He dragged her with him by her hair, pulling it hard with every step.

Sobbing and trying to keep up with him to stop the pain, Rose found herself imagining what the other version of her would be doing. She would be trying with all her heart to free Scott from this awful world. She wished that the other her would hurry up. And she was at least partly right to hope for it.

The rebel's underground hangar was becoming a hive of activity as the word that their attack was imminent spread like wildfire.

Amongst all the activity, Virgil was quickly prepping the small White Arrows fighter ready for launch when Brains pulled up alongside him on a motorised cart that had zoomed down the hangar's tunnel. "V, Virgil, wait a second!"

"Hey, Professor," Virgil greeted him. "I'm about to go after him, this had better be important."

"Th, thank goodness I c, caught up with you! I, I've got two things for you. I hear that we're starting the... Here - in case the Hood or one of his subordinates tries to, er, stop you with hypnosis, we have these to p, protect you from their abilities. I'm sure you'll be glad to hear," Brains was clearly enjoying the chance to show off his own skills at inventing, flipping open the box with a flourish.

Virgil peered inside. "That's a lot of sunglasses."

"Th, that's right. I designed them myself - these should protect you, w, when you go up close the Hood or someone he's collared."

"I like them, Brains." Virgil picked a pair up and put them on. "What made you come up with that?"

"Just remembering what Scott said, on my Earth. How it was the light in the Hood's eyes that made him, er, succumb to the Hood's p, power. And Jameson knows the basics. I think this should protect you."

"Great." Virgil nodded. "We could all use these."

"E, exactly. Jameson found me the parts, and then it was relatively easy to, er, mass produce them."

"The collars are the worst," Virgil said. "If you've been drugged like the population has, then it gives them - and the Hood an edge over you. Most of the poor bastards in this city have been affected. Thanks a lot, Brains."

"B, but I have something else." Brains pulled a metal object out of his backpack. "This device should give you a better chance of reaching him without running into any immediate trouble. It's a, er, cloaking device. It'll muffle the sound of your ship and bounce the radar, until you get within, er, visual contact, at least," he hopped down off the side of Virgil's jet, "It's only a prototype - again, er, Jameson did a lot of the groundwork. But I, er, I think it'll do some good. Attach it to the back of the cockpit."

Vigil peered at the strange piece of whirring metal. "Well, if you say so. Er, thanks."

Brains beamed. "Aw, th, that's all right. Just come back in one p, piece!"

Two minutes later, Virgil was blasting off into the morning sky. There were dark clouds looming that swallowed his ship a moment later.

Scott flew around the edge of the city in the stolen helijet, his cold blue eyes scanning to check it was as he'd left it. In an unarmed helijet like this, it would appear more like he was travelling from the city to visit his pilots. He saw a Devil Bird approaching, a silver streak of pure energy, and his stomach burned at the sight of their perversion of his beloved ship. He smiled grimly.

"Hey, you Devil," he called over the channel he fervently hope was still the right one. "This is General Tracy calling Bird 666, over."

"General?" the voice was from the past, one he recognised as a young officer who'd been arrogant and careless, but had so much natural talent that Scott had recommended him immediately for the Devil Fleet. "General is that you?"

"Yes, Fisher. I'm commandeering a Devil right now. Let me in. Code GG7. Confidential."

"Sir!" The Devil Bird flew in close to the helijet. "I'll escort you to the Devil's Nest." It flew far ahead, showing off, its motors screaming with the effort.

"Understood." Scott stared ahead, at the city. Soon.

Virgil had caught up with the helijet, seeing that it had headed not for the city. He recognised the layout of the land, seeing how close they were to a known Devil Bird nest. He frowned, and decided he'd have to try and shoot him out of the sky long before Scott or any of the flight crew noticed. He thanked Brains - he'd never have been able to get this close without him. He prepared to open fire, and then he saw he'd been spotted.

Scott heard Fisher yelling, "Unidentified craft on your tail, sir! I'm going to take it out, you just sit tight."

"I hear you." Good, that'll keep them all busy. Scott flew the helijet nearer still to the Nest.

Virgil cursed as the Devil ship flew hard after him. His enemy was a fairly good pilot, but he had no sense of refinement for the controls, pushing the ex-Thunderbird above and beyond what she was really supposed to do. Still, Virgil cursed - he was under attack and Scott was getting away.

He turned the Arrow into a sharp spin, taking her up into the sun. The Devil Bird followed, and Virgil fired at where, in his dimension, Thunderbird One kept her most delicate sensors that helped Scott to know everything from up and down to the proximity warning. His missiles connected with the Devil, his enemy stretching the engines too much to be able to turn on a hairpin. The pilot was good, almost making the mind-bending turn, but Virgil's missile hit home. A black hole had hit the sensors, and Virgil took advantage of it to get as far away from the Devil Bird as he possibly could.

His heart sank. Scott had already landed, the dogfight had cost him precious time. Virgil flew high overhead, seeing the massed ranks of silver Devil Birds. All the Thunderbird Twos, which he'd seen used to build the City one piece at a time, were kept over at the Golden Barracks further north.

He stared down at the helijet. "Now what..." It looked like he'd have to go back and report this, and then join the main attack. He'd failed.

Scott jumped out of the helijet and was met by a group of excited Squadron leaders. Scott had not bothered to waste time looking for extra clothes during his hurried escape, although he had taken the top half from the man who he'd forced to help him escape. His Devil squadron seemed a little puzzled by his appearance.

"Sir, are you all right?" It was a blond man Scott also vaguely knew.

"I've never been better," Scott said. He eyed them all coldly. "I have important news for the Emperor. He's in danger. I need to take a Devil to the City. Get my Bird ready for me."

His authority remained stamped on their psyches. They fell over one another to obey. "Y, yes, sir!"

Scott charged into the officer's locker rooms, changing swiftly into combat trousers and a vest, putting on over them a green and cream coloured flight suit, pulling on black boots and lacing them rapidly. There was a chance he'd need to blend in. He took a large kit bag from the showers.

His next stop was the armoury. The clerk tried to protest - "Sir, you may need to sign papers for all of these..."

Without hesitating, Scott used the butt of the 10mm he was holding to knock the man cold. Then he went about filling the bag with a big pile of ammunition and a small arsenal. The blood thumped in his brains, the purpose feeling good, the cold metal under his fingers better still.

He ran back to the airfield, and with barely another word to his comrades, took off in his Devil, aiming for the city.

Virgil circled high above the airfield trying desperately to hide from the prowling Devil. Brains' camouflage device was starting to malfunction. He was in danger from the ship he had attacked and he knew it, once visual contact was made he was finished. But he was reluctant to give them a steer to the Rebel's base, and still more reluctant to leave Scott behind.

Then he saw another one take off from the Nest, and cursed, certain it had seen him.

The big silver ship dwarfed the White Arrow, moving past him smoothly at a phenomenal rate. It barely stopped to notice him, and its team mate sped towards it.

Scott gave a small sigh of relief as he took off. This had been even easier than he'd first hoped.

Scott was annoyed to see Fisher's Bird come alongside him. The other man's voice sounded like he was in pain. "General, boy am I glad to see you. That goddamn jet attacked me. My sensors are all messed up - sir, you've gotta get it!"

"That White Arrow attacked you?" Scott had deliberately ignored it. He had other things to worry about. "Oh. Fly underneath me, Fisher."

"Sure, sir."

Scott escorted the other craft back to the base. When he was sure they were directly over it, he opened fire on Fisher's Devil.

The craft exploded into flames and crashed onto the hangars and ships that lay below. In moments most of the base had become an inferno, Devils going off like firecrackers.

Virgil couldn't believe what he'd just seen. The new Bird in the sky had just used the minimum of ammo to blow up the most dangerous aircraft base this side of Tennesse. It flew upwards in a graceful curve, spinning the silver wings with undisguised pleasure in flying. Then the rogue Devil flew on its way, the engines purring.

Certain that it was Scott, recognising the pattern of flight, and the fresh care taken by the pilot, Virgil continued his pursuit.

Scott radioed the War Temple. "This is General Scott Tracy calling the War Room. Do you copy, Colonel Gatiss?"

A few moments later he heard the Colonel's voice. "General! I thought you were with the Emperor?"

"I'm looking for him. Can you put him through to me?" Scott intended to track the signal.

"No. No, I'm afraid he's locked away in the War Temple labs at the moment, sir."

Shit. "Which one?"

"Er, Ten, I think."

"Ten's been reopened?" Scott frowned. I thought Jameson left.

"Y, yes, sir."

"Colonel, there's been an attack on the Nest. I need to see him right away. Leave the defences open for me."

"Right away, sir."

Scott closed the line. He felt the Devil Bird purring under his control, the power of the ship and the smooth act of flight pulling him into total focus.

Now he knew where to find him, the rest would be easy. And if the little White Arrow following him wanted to watch him do it, then who was he to complain. None of it would matter soon, anyway.

Virgil was certain Scott knew he was following him. For some reason he hadn't attacked, or made any attempt to contact him. He'd blocked all radio messages Virgil had tried to send to the ship. Virgil cursed. Scott was heading directly for the city now. He would have to be careful not be caught by their tracking stations, too. He flipped on his own radio. Reeves, you're never gonna believe this...

"Calling Blue Fox," he said. "Come in. This is Blue Wolf, over."

"How's the hunt, Blue Wolf? You're on a secure channel, now." Reeve's voice came from the radio.

"Target has changed aircraft. Letting you know that all Devils have been blasted into next week. The Devil's Net has been completely destroyed by Blue Brother, only his Devil is flying," Virgil told him. "I can't get through to him, though. I'll keep following."

"Our business is about to commence, Blue Wolf," Reeves said. "Stay on target, but be prepared for fireworks."

"How long?"

"You've got 'til 0900 before the defences are down. Monitor, do what you have to, but the party will start there and then."

"Understood, Blue Fox."

Scott saw the long golden Spire rising for miles out of the morning smog, sinking up into the soft black clouds that hung overhead. Hope this hurts, you bastard. He opened fire on its base and the surroundings with everything she had, watching with satisfaction as it started to crumble, teeter and fall.

In happier times Scott would have laughed at the glorious sight of the hated Spire collapsing into the black War Palace, at the explosions and confusion he could see and hear, bursting into life.

Instead he silently landed the Devil Bird next to the Black Liberty on the roof, and pulled the artillery out, attaching it to his body, ready to begin his descent into the War Temple.

Virgil couldn't believe it. The whole city was in uproar. He yelled, "Calling Reeves - attack as soon as you can!"

"What's happened? We're getting a flood of reports..."

"Scott blew the crap out of the Spire and the Palace! Go!" Virgil howled with joy, "He's bringing the bastard down!" He saw Scott leap out of the ship and head to the entrance under Liberty's pedestal. "Shit, I think he's going in. Don't let anyone attack the Temple."

"Sounds like he's done most of our work for us," Reeves answered. "Amscray, will you? We're on our way."

UNIVERSE #42: CLOSER

The Emperor strapped Scott into a metal board that held him upright, arms and legs tight at his side, while a collared Brains and a reluctant Professor Jameson was at work laying out the bits of a large leather and metal collar, its spikes sparkling with the artificial light. "I almost have it ready, Emperor." The Professor spoke quietly, sadly.

"You sonovabitch," Scott snarled, but whether at the Hood or the Professor it was difficult to tell. He fought even harder The Hood began to unbutton the top half of the pilot's black uniform, pulling aside the silver buttons with a gleeful grace.

"Think more carefully, my Scott. It would be a pity to have to break you all over again. It's a shame I can't destroy you the same way as your other self." The Hood pulled the material aside, seeing the hard stomach muscles flex at the cold air, and laughed. "But then, Jameson hasn't created another Portal for me, yet."

"No!" Scott howled. His face went bright red with the effort of trying to pull his arms free. "Touch them and I'll kill you! I'll tear you apart with my own hands! You fu...!"

The Hood struck him. "The Gods have seen fit to give me another chance to destroy International Rescue, and to have their guilty leader as my servant. This time, you will not be on active duty. You shall stay within the Palace, at my side."

There was silence for a minute.

"What about her?" Scott asked, feeling his side twinge.

Rose was tied by her hair in front of Scott, on a tall piece of experimental equipment. She had been gagged, her hands handcuffed to her sides. The Hood had ripped the top of her dress and blood from her nose trickled down to her cleavage. Her bright blue eyes pleaded something to Scott, overflowing with horrified tears.

"She was too stupid to learn any better. I will see to it she loses all of her mind, not just what was convenient." The Hood punched Jameson's shoulder. "Get on with it, Professor."

"Now, look here old chap," Jameson rubbed his shoulder, still trying to assemble the rest of the collar, "I finished the Spire for you, didn't I? Give one a moment."

Scott waited for the Hood to pounce. The Emperor raised another hand to strike the scientist.

Then they felt it. The rumbling of the earth five hundred storeys below.

A second later, the Hood was screaming in agony.

Scott had encountered surprisingly few problems on his way down to Lab 10. He got past, partly thanks to being well known, and partly because he was armed to the teeth.

Most of the people he went past were also a little distracted by the results of the his attack on the Spire. As he'd hoped, there was sheer chaos. The collared guards were lying dazed or scrambling to escape for themselves - Scott took their security cards. Some scientists were wandering around looking confused. Anyone else was just shit-scared.

All the same, it took him about twenty minutes to reach the right section of the building.

Scott made his way like a bull charging, taking the stairs rapidly, blasting through doors he couldn't open. Unlike the cavernous rooms and sweeping drama of the War Palace, the Temple was a tight maze of smaller corridors, and most of them looked identical. Scott asked his way several times before getting to an area he recognised extremely well.

The main labs were all on floor 500, away from prying eyes. There was more room here, greater space, more smell of disinfectant and electrical wiring. Scott glanced around, his gaze falling on the big white door at the end. On it, the stencil '10'.

Scott stalked towards it, moving the rapid-fire gun up to shoulder height, his teeth grinding loudly while he pressed his jaw tight against its barrel.

He moved forwards.

The Professor had almost finished untangling Rose's hair from the bunch of wires, having freed her arms from the handcuffs with keys Scott had taken from the Hood.

The pilot was crouched over their enemy, attempting to tie him up, strapping him against the board where he had been held. He called to Brains - the collared little scientist was happy to help him as Scott pushed the unconscious older man into position and snapped the bracelets tightly.

"We have to hurry, Professor." Scott said.

"Indeed we do, Mr Tracy," the Professor helped Rose to her feet, "How are you, my dear?"

"I'll...ow." She clung to the Professor with her free hand, her legs wobbly. "Just peachy, what do y'all think?"

"Can you lead us out of here?" Scott asked.

"I think so," she smiled.

"Great. We have to find transport, get as far away from the city as we can."

"It'll be difficult. The Devil Birds patrol the Barrier every day."

"We'll find a way. We always do." Scott smiled.

From his uncomfortable position - Scott had not been gentle in getting him into the straps - the Hood gave a moan.

"Bastard's coming around." Rose sniffed.

Scott turned to him. "In that case, we'd better..."

The door opened.

Scott came face to face with himself.

Virgil realised that he had to follow, no matter where Scott went. From his vantage point in the White Arrow, he could see how the destruction was spreading, and how the fearsome city was crumbling to bits. People were escaping, at least he hoped that when the Spire had broken they had had the sense to run. The centre was all ablaze. He knew that the War Temple, although standing, was next.

That left absolutely no choice at all. He had to get in and warn Scott. Now.

"Blue Fox, I'm leaving the Arrow. If it gets bad, don't worry about me."

"Blue Wolf. Pack is ten minutes from city, over."

"Great! Be seeing you."

"Virgil!" he heard Brains exclaim in the background.

Virgil grinned and brought the little craft around to approach the top of the Ziggurat. He hit the eject button.

The craft let him go, plummeting in an arch to hit the centre of the city square. From above Virgil made out the symbol of the Golden Army, and the Arrow landed right in the snake's eye.

He could steer his seat now, and aimed for the very top where Scott had left the Devil Bird. His parachute fell to one side, as he began to land on the roof, dragging him with it. It took a brief struggle with suddenly numb fingers before Virgil was free and able to roll out of the 'chute's way. It fluttered past him and fell over the edge at his feet. He stood up and saw it catch fire in the heat rising from the base of the Ziggurat.

It was getting dangerous to be around the centre anymore. He could see the Rebels' craft heading above the Barrier, coming to destroy and reclaim. For a moment he felt guilty that he wasn't with them.

He ignored it and headed after his brother.

Scott stared at Scott. Clear, concerned blue eyes met those simmering with hate and bewilderment.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The two Scotts took a long moment studying the other. The fascination was unavoidable, hypnotic. Scott saw how Scott's throat had been marked by the awful collar, how he sweated and his body shook with adrenaline, teetering on the brink of his strength.

Scott saw how Scott wore the black uniform of the General, how he seemed perfect and unharmed, warm-eyed and glowing with purpose. Pride. He momentarily forgot his purpose, looking in wonder at this vision of himself from a very long time ago.

"Where did you come from?" the Scott holding the gun demanded.

The Scott dressed in black backed up slowly. "E, easy. It's a long story."

"You're another one of his tricks, aren't you. Where is that bastard?"

"Scott." The deep, guttural voice was in pain.

"Show me!" Scott raised the gun. "Where is he!"

"No, listen..." The other Scott marched forwards and shoved his double aside, hitting him in the side so he had to grab the lab table, trying to keep his balance. It hurt badly again.

The Hood lifted his head and smiled, looking into his General's eyes. "My Scott."

The other Scott's hand tightened on the trigger. He stared back at the Hood, hanging helpless from the restraints. His grip faltered. "I..."

"Scott!" Rose shouted.

"Make them untie me, my Scott. Now!"

The other Scott turned around and aimed the gun at Rose and Jameson, his eyes fixed and sunken.

Scott got slowly, painfully to his feet. So this is how it ends.

The Hood began to chuckle, the guttural sound growing into laughter that echoed across the laboratory and out into the maze of corridors.

Virgil pounded down the corridor on floor 500. He'd tracked Scott to the general area through a combination of broken doors and a lucky break from a scientist named Arthur who claimed, "The General has gone mad and wants to find Lab 10," and then, with Virgil threatening his life slightly more, had added, "I'll show you the way! Don't panic!"

Virgil had been helped this far. His guide had then been lost in a crowd of people frantically evacuating the site, many screaming and panicking. It was like watching a world collectively lose its mind. Seeing Virgil had really not helped very much.

The building rumbled every so often. Virgil recognised the first assault of artillery. The rebels were here, then.

He heard a loud whistling noise as he reached a big door marked, LABS 8-15. A moment after, the expected BOOM sent him flying as it shattered the door and the surrounding walls.

The Hood was free. He gazed on the two Scotts with undisguised pleasure, saying to the scarred and murderous ex-General, "So you did survive! When we are in a more secure place to talk, we must find out what you have learned."

His former General was unresponsive. His scratched arms trembled, his vest soaked with sweat. "How did you get here?" the Hood demanded, taking one of the AU Scott's guns and holding it on his prisoners.

The other Scott answered tonelessly, "My Devil Bird."

"Ah, yes," the Hood approved. "You used it to destroy my Spire, didn't you."

"I did." The other Scott's mouth twitched, Scott noticed the faint lines of satisfaction there.

"For that, you will add another death to your list of loved ones. Kill Rose Weaver!"

The scarred AU Scott shook all over. Tears ran from his eyes, a flow of emotion from a motionless face. He began to aim the gun at his wife, helpless to resist, the Emperor's will still too ingrained. Rose shrank away, crying harder now. "Please, Scott, please, please..."

"No!" Jameson jumped in front of her.

"Get out of the way, Professor. Get over here, you are joining us now," the Hood snarled.

"He will have to bally well shoot through me before he hurts her!" Jameson shouted. Rose tried to find shelter as her husband hesitated.

"Professor, no..." Scott made to move on his double, on the Hood. He glanced away as the Hood swung his gaze toward him.

"Kill her now!"

The room exploded.

Virgil felt the whole length of his body crack as he tried to sit up. The cramp was unbearable, he let out a yell of agony. With a wrench he lifted himself up and stood, leaning against what was left of the wall. He blinked. There was a giant hole leading directly through the three walls in front of him, and the city stretched out beyond that. Parts of it were in flames. He coughed, smelling the thick black smoke that rose from the destruction below.

He staggered along the loose rubble, hearing voices, a woman screaming for help. The door to Lab 10 was hanging off, and he ducked under it.

The woman was crying and shouting for help, and a second later Virgil could see why.

A man he recognised as Professor Jameson was hanging perilously from the edge of what used to be the floor, over the edge of the building. "Jeez." Virgil carefully made his way over to him. "Hold on - I'll get you." He crouched down and took hold of the man's arm. "I'm going to grab you by the arm, okay? When I say three, you let go, and grab me with your other arm."

Jameson's legs scrabbled frantically at the side. "Bally...stupid..."

"You're the one dangling." Virgil said. "Come on. On three..."

"One." The Professor stared up at the younger man.

"Two..." he heard the woman behind him say as he did.

"THREE."

Virgil yanked the Professor up by his shoulder and caught his other hand just as the bricks that had supported them began to come away. Virgil stumbled backwards, felt the woman catch him by his flak jacket and tug, felt the Professor's leg scrambling for purchase on the unreliable lab floor.

"Th, thank you, young man," Jameson panted.

"N, no problem," Virgil grinned. He stared at the path of destruction. "Oh, no."

"What's the matter, sug'?" the woman asked.

"I heard - the guy told me - Scott was in this building. In that part of the building." He stared at them. "Did you see what happened to him?"

"No," Jameson began.

"I did," the woman said. "But who the hell are you? You look kinda familiar..."

"I'm Virgil Tracy. I'm his brother," he said.

The woman shook her head in amazement. "But you were..."

"Killed. I heard." Virgil panted for breath. "And I recognise you..."

"I'm his wife."

"No kidding..."

"This is all very well." Jameson was heard to mumble. "But shouldn't you be going after both Scotts now? The Emperor took them away just a few minutes ago."

As if to underline the importance of the Professor's statement, the ground around them gave a worrying rumble.

"We have...have to get Scott," she said, worriedly. "I think they're going to use the Devil Bird."

"I saw it." Virgil said, beginning to run. "Come on."

"I can't believe you're still alive," she said, joining him and pulling the Professor alongside her with her good hand. "It sure is nice to meet you, Virgil Tracy."

"What's your name?" Virgil asked.

"Rose," she replied, "Rose Weaver."

"Nice to meet you, Rose," Virgil said, "Run!"

They ran from the shattered room as the rest of it crumbled inwards. Virgil, the Professor and the woman got out of the whole lab corridor bare seconds before it opened up a whole section of the Ziggurat. They stopped running only when they were deeper into the building again.

The Hood was limping, and he was tired, Scott could tell as he and his Universe 42 counterpart led the way out of the complex and up to the heavens. The Hood was limping and he was tired, but Scott could feel the weight of that wretched mind on his own, and the will-sapping power that held him tightly and refused to let him go. It was a strain for the sonovabitch, Scott could also feel, keeping total control of him; of his insane, scarred self from this universe, and the little scientist, whose collar had now been rendered utterly ineffective.

The Hood may have been exhausted, but he wasn't about make it easy for either of them. They were at the top of the Ziggurat, the Devil Bird gleaming where his scarred double had left it. As he admired it, Scott coughed violently on the smoke that bubbled out of the burning city around them.

"An awful mess," the Hood was saying, looking at the destruction, "But now I have two of you and the scientist to help me make this city far greater than before. Reeves has not beaten me, yet."

Sounds like a load of shit to me, Scott thought baldly.

The Hood turned on him, "Your thoughts are not your own. Shut up!"

The corner of Scott's mouth twitched, he couldn't prevent it, his delight at seeing this man he despised so frustrated was the best thing that had happened all day. He did a mental dance to rub it in. With a roar the Hood struck out, hitting Scott square in the stomach with his booted foot.

"Open the hatch," the Hood snarled at the AU42 Scott, who wasn't crouched over, winded.

From his position on the floor, Scott saw his other self reach up to dial a code into the entry panel. He heard a ticking noise, a sense of premonition, a laugh. The Hood was close behind his captive, "Quickly!" he ordered.

The alternative universe Scott flicked a group of switches on the Devil Bird's entry code, and dropped and rolled to one side. All by himself.

A liquid blasted from the opening above the door. Scott saw it spray the air, coating anything within five feet in a fine mist. Wherever it lay it began smoking, burning. Acid - Scott scrambled backwards.

The Hood screamed, clawing at his eyes, rubbing his golden sleeves against them, howling. Then he lifted his head. To Scott's dismay he appeared to have missed the worst of it. The Hood threw himself at the Scott who had set off the Devil Bird's defences.

"Scott!" Scott was startled - the voice was unmistakable, and about the last one he had expected to hear in this hellhole. It was Virgil's voice and it came from the top of the stairs, out of the dark - almost lost in the noise of the shifting bricks underneath; Scott felt it, the War Temple was starting to groan under the pressure of internal explosions and outer bombardment.

"Virgil! Is that you?" He bellowed.

A yell dragged Scott's attention back to his double. The other Scott was crying out as the Hood grabbed him, gripping him and shaking him like a rag doll. For a second it seemed like he would fight back, and then the top of the building cracked. The floor close to the two men was cracking, sending both men skidding sideways. The Devil Bird, amazingly, stayed stable. The other Scott aimed a punch at the Emperor's head, which connected briefly. The Hood appeared to have supernatural resilience, grabbing the scarred Scott's head in what looked like a frighteningly strong grip. He flung him, hard, against the side of the column that supported the Liberty statue, and he went limp. "Pathetic," the Hood snarled.

Scott saw his double go down and had climbed to his feet; he began running towards the Devil. He wasn't about to let the Hood escape; more importantly, the bastard had the only form of transport available.

The Hood sprang in his way, the golden armour coated black with burn marks from the acid, now Scott noticed a side of his face had clearly taken the worst of it. For a moment Scott saw himself reflected very clearly in the other man's eyes. Then he knew that even bloodshot, and burning, they were too powerful to resist for long. Scott found himself as paralysed as a rabbit in a fox's glare.

The Hood continued to cast his spell as he approached, nonono...Scott's last thoughts howled. The Hood was focussing only on him. He was going deep under their power and nothing could stop him. Welcome back, General, the Hood snarled viciously inside his head.

The alternative universe Brains flung himself at the criminal. The spell broke for a second, and the Hood grabbed Brains by the throat and started to crush the life out of the young scientist. He dropped him contemptuously when he was unconscious. Scott blinked, on his hands and knees where he had sunk, trying frantically to clear his blurring thoughts.

Looking anywhere but directly at the Hood, he saw a vaguely familiar figure running towards them as he backed up. Virgil? It can't be! he wondered; the Hood was advancing, Scott was watching his feet and noticed that the Emperor was also fighting to keep his balance while the roof cracked again under their feet.

"Scott!" He heard Virgil again. The warning. It was his brother. Virgil? The AU Virgil? Oh my god...His half-brother had appeared from nowhere, running to help him. The ground was cracking, he continued to try and find his feet, the Hood too close, his half-brother still out of reach. Scott had time to notice the physical marks this hellish dimension had left on his brother, but it was definitely Virgil. Virgil who, against all odds, was here at the end with him.

Somehow, Scott didn't find this such a huge surprise.

The Universe 42 Virgil shouted, "Scott! Catch these!"

His brother threw a pair of sunglasses at him. Scott grabbed them out of the air with renewed energy, getting around the Hood, shouting, "What are these for?"

"Put them on! Now! They'll stop him!" The world shook again, the sky filled with flashes of artillery fire. Scott caught his balance against the thunder, putting the glasses on. He turned back to the dark shadow above him.

The Hood glared down, expecting to pick up where he'd left off. He could see the older man's bulldog face, the sneer, the cruel certainty that he would win with his unnatural powers. Scott realised - the glasses worked. The eyes did not have him. He grinned up and launched headfirst into the Hood's stomach, winding the older man. They both crashed onto the floor where Scott fought to disable him.

The Hood grunted, struggling as Scott attempted to punch, trying to free his arms. Scott's weight kept him down as it had on the oil field, the pilot pressing a hand down over those eyes; he tried to get purchase to knock his enemy's head against the stone. But the Hood was stronger than he had hoped, and even now Scott could feel his abused muscles struggling to keep him down. It seemed impossible, his enemy supernaturally strong. Grimacing, he concentrated on smothering his enemy's vision, the Hood had an arm free and was swiping at the sunglasses, at Scott's face, snarling in hatred.

"Virgil! You've got to help me with this...!" Scott felt another rumble go through the stone floor. The attack on the city was increasing, and a missile had hit the statue. Parts of the pillar splintered in all directions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his half-brother forced to find cover.

A big piece of rock from the statue hit Scott as it teetered. The force as it smacked into his shoulder sending him sprawling backwards, paralysed with shock. In a flash the Hood found his feet, laughing, "Stupid fool." He placed a foot on Scott's now bleeding shoulder and pressed down. As the pilot screamed out, he snatched off the protective sunglasses and flung them away, "Yes," he sneered angrilly, "There is more than one way to make you bow down to me."

Virgil stopped five metres short of the two men, as the Hood snatched up his gun from where it had slid and aimed it at Virgil. "NO more brothers. Or women. Or hope," he promised. "I shall take all that away." He glared at Virgil, who covered his eyes and took a step back.

Rose and the Professor, arriving just after Virgil did, saw the danger and did the same.

Satisfied that they were now prevented from doing anything, the Hood began to open fire. Virgil dived for cover, sheltering behind breaking brick and concrete. Virgil spotted Brains' body on the floor near Jameson. He bellowed, "Get Brains out of here! Go to the ship!"

The Professor nodded, and he and Rose Weaver went to help the little scientist. Virgil turned his attention back to the Emperor and scanned the area for a way to help.

Scott heard his own cries of pain. Cries coming from further away. He had to see. It hurt to move. The Emperor's hypnosis had left him feeling light-headed, almost weak. And the acid surprise had failed, leaving him with a severe headache and the smell of his own burnt flesh in his nostrils. Scott pushed himself awake, the world swayed from the knock to the head, but he could see. He could see so clearly. There. The Hood. Red light throbbed behind his eyes. Hate that began in his stomach and made bile strong as the acid fill his scarred, damaged frame.

Scott made himself get up, made his muscles help him to stand, and saw the other version of himself writhing on the floor, utterly helpless as the Emperor lifted his gun. This was the moment. He was going to kill the Emperor. It was simple. The Emperor's attention was focussed on trying to open fire, while crushing the unscarred, unblemished Scott's shoulder, he saw the double tried to rise up in a final desperate lunge, and be subdued with a punch to the face. He had won again. The Hood. The Emperor, the master, the gutless fucking criminal.

He saw himself at his mercy, and heard himself scream.

Virgil, John, Gordon, Alan, Father I'm so sorry...

He hurt so much.

I see you. I see you. NOT ME. You broke me...

He charged forwards and crashed into the Hood, the sheer force of his attack sending them both rolling onto a sunken level of the Ziggurat. Scott smashed into him as they rolled and the rest of the world dropped away. Only hate, no brothers, no hope. All gone. All of them were gone except him. He snarled, "YOUYOUYOUYOU." Scott's fist came down again and again, the force of his rage lent him unnatural strength that matched the Hood's. There was nothing left, now. Nothing left for him anymore but cold thought, colder hatred and white hot rage.

The Hood buckled under his former General's assault and screamed for help. Virgil pelted across the rumbling ground trying to help his brother against the Emperor, while Rose ran to the Scott lying on the floor. She cradled his head in her hands, wincing as she heard the battle between ex-slave and master continue. She felt Jameson's arms on her shoulders.

"We must get them out of here!" Jameson said to her.

"I know." She glanced around. "Come on, Charles, help me get him to that Bird."

Jameson looked over at it, lifting Scott as gently as he could by the black material of his shirt, "You do realise that the Devil is still locked, don't you?"

"Then we'll improvise!" she said.

Virgil could barely keep his footing on the crumbling rock and stone. Bits of the column were shattering as they fell around him a few at a time. He slid and narrowly avoided the jagged edge of another block, cursing, he yelled, "Scott!"

He tumbled forwards, and looked down, seeing Scott and the Emperor a few feet below. From the looks of it, the Emperor hadn't stood a chance.

Scott felt his master's body shuddering under his hands, the screaming of the once harsh voice now sounding shrill with fear. It was the only sound that pierced the roar of blood boiling in his mind. He smashed his master in the ribs using all his considerable strength, and beat the other man's face over and over again. Scott's rage had no end, no chance of mercy. He barely felt the body beneath him twitch and die. It made no difference.

The systematic pummelling began to take on a therapeutic rhythm of its own, Scott lost in feeling his right arm swing in slow motion, his body turning with the power of every punch to take another swing with the left. His master's blood splashed across his burning face, the white spittle from Scott's mouth falling into the flesh and skull-bone he had exposed, rolling across the smashed lips and swollen tongue. The world grew to a single point of hot light, and red and gold stars were all he would ever know.

The body beneath him had become completely lifeless. He didn't even notice, his scarred frame was now only powered by the need to keep killing, to destroy; he was bathed in splatters of red and the ground shuddered underneath him. He didn't care anymore.

Virgil was afraid.

He watched Scott continue to beat the motionless body underneath him, although the Emperor's cruel face had turned to an unrecognisable, jellied mess. Scott was trembling in exhaustion and in pain, still trying to beat the dead man into an even bloodier pulp. The ground was rapidly giving way, and yet Scott seemed ready to fall down to hell with his former master.

"Stop it!" Virgil coughed, wary of the now very shaky ground under his own feet as he got closer, "Quit hitting him, Scotty. He's dead. He's finally dead."

At first he thought he'd been ignored, or that his brother was beyond hearing. He walked a little nearer, almost losing his balance as he did. His stumble was heard. Virgil, standing half up, half-down, stared back into a pair of bloodshot blue eyes, and a face that was empty of the man it used to be.

Virgil felt his legs shaking as he stepped near again. Oh, god, what do I say, what do you say?

The roof continued to shudder ominously. No time for the big rescue, then.

His brother continued to look, but not react, not appearing to see beyond the glaze of bloodlust.

Does he even recognise me? Virgil swallowed. "Scotty. It's Virgil."

The face tightened in a frown. His body sank back, slightly away from the corpse, wavering on its haunches.

"Scott, it's Virgil." He reached out his arm, "He's gone now. It's all right. He's gone."

The blue eyes flickered. Virgil grabbed to keep his balance, his brother turning on him with a bare snarl, not understanding at first.

"Scotty, come on. You got this far." Virgil gritted his teeth, moved another step towards him. "Scott, come back. Please." The ground began to give way. He could see flickers of the levels below, and heard the scream of a rebel jet pass overhead. No fucking time at all. "Look at me! You didn't kill me! Scott! It's Virgil - I'm staying until you move your ass over here, Scotty! I'm not losing you again! You hear that? I'm staying with you whatever happens! If you go, I go with you!" He put out his arms, "Come back!"

Scott got gradually to his feet in an awkward movement that felt like it took forever. Virgil kept his eyes locked on his older brother, willing Scott to move towards him. He wasn't sure if it was him or the ground that was trembling. He whispered, pleading, instructing, hoping, "Come here. You can do it. Come back." The world was shuddering all around them now, all over, all going, all being destroyed and sucked back into hell.

Scott stumbled towards Virgil as the ground fell away.

"Shit!" Virgil grabbed hold of Scott, his hand slippery against sweat and blood on his skin. He held on for all he was worth, dragging and pummelling him onto safe ground, one whole side of the ziggurat finally crumbling away. He saw the Hood's broken body follow the bricks and clay down into the bowels of the War Temple.

The next moment he was holding Scott tight and they were both panting for breath. "Virgil?" Scott's voice was a whisper against his ear. Don't say it and it won't come true.

"It's me."

"Virgil..." Scott lifted his face, tears beginning to appear, shaking his head. "It...can't be you," he stared, "But I...I see you."

In relief, Virgil hugged him fiercely. He felt Scott's hands around the back of his throat, and he tensed for a moment.

Instead Scott's hands slid down to Virgil's back and returned the embrace, wrapping arms tight around him. Scott hid his face against Virgil's neck and let go of the poisonous fear and grief he'd locked up inside for much too long. Torn between urgency and relief, Virgil rocked him gently. "It's okay..." He closed his eyes, and thanked the gods for this second chance. "Scott, we're okay. You're back. We're safe from the Emperor now." The earth shook. Virgil grimaced. "But we have to leave. Right now."

"What the bally hell is he doing?" Jameson exclaimed from under the Devil Bird's wing, watching the brothers reunited as the rest of the roof began to reach its death throes. The rest of the survivors joined him.

"I'll get them." Rose ran over. "We can't leave without them anyway!"

"She's right," Jameson nodded to Brains. "There's nobody else to pilot this ship."

"I can do that," Scott said. His breath came fast, his arm at a strange angle. He looked fierce all the same. "I just have to get in the damn thing, first."

"Mr Tracy, how on earth..." Jameson began to ask.

"N, no way, Scott. Look at you." Brains said suddenly. "I bet I can f, fly it. I helped him to, er, build it, after all."

Scott frowned, but he nodded, "How's your neck?"

Brains put a hand to his throat and felt where the Emperor had left the bruises. He swallowed self-consciously, "I'll h, have to er, try to ignore it."

"But how the hell do we get inside?" Scott said.

Rose got halfway across when she saw Virgil pull Scott to his feet. She was shocked at how exhausted they both looked. But even more by the pillar of flame that was falling ever closer to them. "Virgil! Liberty's going to fall! Move, Virgil!" She willed her husband to hurry, for his brother to help as she ran, desperate to help them.

Virgil grabbed Scott by the hand; already running, he dragged the silent figure of his brother along with him. Glancing ahead he saw the Devil Bird begin to slide, and forced himself and Scott to go faster. Rose met them halfway and helped them to make the next few metres back to the Devil Bird. "We can't get into the ship!" she panted.

The side of the Bird smacked against the base of the pillar where Black Liberty was teetering, its flames now began jetting out uncontrolled. Rose, Virgil and Scott reached it, and Virgil yelled at his brother, "Scott, open it!"

Breathing hard, hardly able to see through stinging eyes, the scarred Scott punched in the correct code on the ship. Then he doubled over, nearly falling to his knees. Virgil pretty much threw him up inside the machine, followed by Rose and the others who'd made it too. He felt his body scream in protest as he clambered aboard, pushed up by Jameson. Rose strapped herself in next to her real husband, Jameson on her other side.

Brains had leapt into the control seat and was trying to get the Bird to lift off. Rose heard the other Scott yelling instructions; the Scott who was her husband stayed close to Virgil, looking exhausted and shocked.

Her worry at her husband's state was diverted when the ship started to sink towards the ground, and she felt her stomach flip as its weight dragged it down into the flames and rubble below. "What's wrong?" she cried.

"D, damage to one of the r, retros!" Brains looked panicked, "I c, can't get her to go!"

Then Scott from universe 0.0 lunged forwards and punched a key that Brains seemed to have missed. He yelled. "Fire retros! NOW!"

Adam Reeves watched the Devil Bird explode upwards away from the inferno, its paint scorched, its body now gleaming bright silver and blue as it rose above cloud and smoke, and twirling up into glorious sunlight.

It must have been the effect of the sun reflecting off silver, the ship's speed further confusing things; but Adam was certain that, for a second, the Bird's appearance flickered, and a purplish light hit that area, winking briefly on and off. Then he released his breath as the ship continued to soar.

UNIVERSE 0.0: REUNITED

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. "Is it working?"

"We'll soon know, sug," Doctor Weaver replied, tweaking the buttons on the big monitor next to her. "Give me two more minutes."

"Okay." Virgil tried not to pace back and forth too much. "We're so damn close."

"Calibrating now. We've done amazing work, Virgil. Sorry it took a few days more than I was hoping."

"You're sure this will bring him back?"

"Count on it," she promised.

Virgil exchanged glances with his father, who was observing the action from the side of the laboratory.

"Hey, the computer's ready," Weaver announced.

"Finally." Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. Now or never.

The strands of DNA, pictures and soundwave data were patched in to the system. Every conceivable form of Brains, Jameson and Scott's presence on Earth had been recorded and carried to the Portal's location systems. Virgil watched anxiously as it started to warm up. They'd worked on this for a while now, fine tuning it. Trying to replicate something that had already caused untold damage. If it never worked again he didn't care, but it had - it just had to work now.

"Almost there, Scott," he whispered.

The Portal began to glow. It spun, whirring and clicking, the tremendous force draining his muscles of strength, and his head emptying of thoughts for a second. The spell passed - Virgil said anxiously, "Weaver?"

"I have life signs..." she peered at the monitor, "Okay, we have them!"

"Let them in?"

"Hold your hosses, Virgil. Gotta scan 'em for signs of disease, or..." She smiled. "It's saying they're okay. I'm going to let them in."

The side of the Portal lifted, exposing chilly air and three shivering occupants.

Jeff and Virgil were ready to meet them, with blankets and hot drinks, and a medical unit set up discretely on site just in case. The first to emerge was Brains.

"Hey!" Virgil cheered. The little scientist was shuddering, he blinked through frosted glasses.

"W, we're home?" Brains asked.

Jeff grinned and passed him a hot coffee, wrapping a blanket around him and saying, "Thank thunder you're all right."

Next, Jameson emerged, Weaver gave a cry and covered him with kisses and a big blanket of her own. The Professor looked dazed, but coherent enough to mumble about the terrible state of things "...in World 42, really quite, quite unacceptable, but I really must tell you what happened to Mr..." Taking sips from the coffee Jeff handed him, he stammered, "I don't suppose, there's any t, tea..."

"Of course, sweetie," Weaver came over and passed another cup to him, "I was brewing it for when you got back!" She grinned, still hugging and kissing him.

The two Tracys were already after the last person. "Scott?" Virgil leaned towards a third figure, who had not yet emerged from the Portal's freezing interior, "Hey, is that you in there?"

He entered the freezing chamber, and saw his brother lying there on the ground, his shoulder at a strange angle. Alarmed, Virgil knelt beside him and carefully wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, rubbing it against his shivering body. "Scott, can you hear me?"

His brother's skin was too pale, but his eyes flickered, he looked out through matted lashes, and said huskily, "Am I smiling?"

"I think so," Virgil couldn't contain the grin, hugging him tight, letting trickles of tears soak into the warm blanket. Scott winced a little but was unwilling to relinquish his own grip, holding tight with his good arm.

"I'm back," Scott shivered. "Virgil?"

"Yes, Scotty," Virgil grinned, his voice muffled by the blanket, the torrent of relief, "We found you."

"You always do," Scott smiled. Then his eyes widened in panic, his breath coming quicker, "What - Alan, was with us. The Hood attacked - what happened, is Alan okay?"

"He's getting better, Scott. He escaped the lab, but, the fire put him in hospital. He was talking after a couple days," Virgil hurriedly added, "Don't worry about, him, Scott. He'll just be glad to have you back..."

"Let's get you out of here, son," their father's voice echoed in the chilly metal interior. He was grinning, too.

Virgil sheepishly pulled Scott to his feet, helping him to make the short journey to the medical suite. Sitting his brother on the small cot, he handed Scott hot coffee, watching him sip it as the doctor ran checks on the three reluctant travellers.

They were patched up, with only Scott told to rest a day before travelling, "A concussion is nothing to mess with," the doctor told him sternly.

"I heard that somewhere," Scott replied.

"And the same goes for your shoulder, son." Jeff smiled. "It's been bound up for a reason. Take care of it,"

"Yes, father." Scott had a big lopsided grin all the same. "Can I go and see how Alan's doing?"

"Later, Scott. We'll transfer you to the hospital tomorrow." Jeff looked over at the white door of the medical area, then. Frowning. "I have to speak to the police. There's been an investigation through all this. I should go and tell them to stop looking. I still can't believe you're back."

"Neither can I." Scott blinked. "I hardly remember how I came back at all..."

Doctor Weaver said, "We were worried - we almost brought back the wrong you. We found two of your signatures very close together."

"I had a double, he sat next to me in the Devil...Ship." Scott drank the coffee. "He was...quite badly hurt. We put him in the seat beside me."

"What was the world like?" Weaver asked.

"And why were you in a black uniform?" Virgil added.

Scott half-shrugged. He clenched a fist, wincing.

"Never mind that for now. We'll do the debriefing whenever you're fit to go through it." Jeff said, smiling, "I'm just glad you're back. I'll...go and let the family, and the police know you're all safely home." He walked reluctantly from the medical chamber, leaving the three travellers to recover.

Virgil stayed beside Scott. His older brother raised an eyebrow, "You don't have anywhere better to go?"

Virgil shook his head, "No. Not really."

"I'm not going to run off and find Alan, you know," Scott murmured. "Much as I want to."

Virgil smiled, and heard Scott's voice slip a little as he instinctively fought off exhaustion. "Well, you might go after him in your sleep. You're a tough man to stop, Scotty. Luckily I know your weakness."

"Oh, really? Pity there aren't still two of us..."

That got Virgil wondering. "So, what was your double like?"

Scott finished draining his second cup of coffee, and thought for a moment, "I didn't really know him, I guess. He was hurt, and we almost lost him...but he'll be okay now." The soft pillows and clean sheets were finally claiming him. Virgil saw him slide deeper into the bed.

"How come?" Virgil asked quietly.

"He had some help finding his way back," Scott smiled. He looked sleepy, as if sheer exhaustion was catching up with him. There were scratches and bruises that Virgil wanted to know more about, and a whole of story to tell. But all that could wait. It was more than enough to let him rest for now.

Virgil pulled the sheet around him instead. "Help from who?"

But Scott was already asleep. And as he slept, Virgil watched over him.