#this is catherine

[thirdstreetthunderbirds]

She appeared young; a child just shy of adulthood. It was her appearance that deceived most people, as her young, clear face was unmarked by the troubles and horrors that plagued the lands that she walked. In fact, most wondered and called her lucky; she was untouched, untroubled. They were more wrong than they were aware, she was, in fact, older than most of the people that she encountered, although this was not that hard a feat. The land had been ravaged, war-torn. There was only a few that she had encountered that could remember the time before the war, and even then, they were slowly dying out as the years passed. Most remembered nothing but war, the weary, poverty-stricken world that consumed their entire existence. 

Maybe she was lucky, then. She had been born before the war, before the struggles; she was a little over three hundred years, although she was not sure of her exact years as it was hard to keep an accurate record of the years that had passed. She tried, valiantly, but even then, years had passed in a haze, a darkness as she struggled to acclimatise to her new existence. It had taken her a great many years to accept that she was going to appear as a young child for probably the rest of her life, but she had gotten there. Slowly, and with much rage, but eventually with a weary resignation. It was at that point that she had dedicated her life into helping rebuild the scattered and broken populations across the land; it was not her country, not any more. Those barriers had been forsaken a number of years ago, just as the fires came and her people fell to sickness. She was just a child. A child! Maybe she was lucky that she had been so young, as she could barely remember what her life had been like Before; she always called it that, in her mind - Before, symbolising everything that she had been and would never be again. Innocent, hopeful. Well, she could still be hopeful, have faith in the communities that scattered the land like leaves on the eastern, ocean breeze. Of course, there were dangers in the new world, but she had grown adept at navigating them- a necessary evil, unfortunately. 

Oh, dear. Her thoughts were often abstract and rambling, and flowed from one thought to another like one of the old rivers that had long become stagnant and dead. Hm. Maybe not a good analogy then. So. She had been born before the fires had come, and had been just a child; thirteen, fourteen years old, she wasn't entirely sure. Her memories were remarkably clear, for someone of her age, but she did tend to forget things, get muddled from time to time. Her brother - a twin, a rarity, even in the age of prosperity - had grabbed her and run. He was more world weary than she was, although perhaps they were the wrong word for it; he simply had more experience at surviving than she did. She often heard of his exploits, of his friends and him running through the streets, staying awake until the dawn came and it was time to return home; it was not time to remember those tales, although this experience saved their lives, despite their young ages. Although her brother made sure that they had food, had shelter, she made sure that they stayed healthy, and free of sickness. They were both remarkably bright for their ages, but specialised in different areas. He was street smart and world-weary; she was knowledgeable of all manners of things, from what foods were needed to keep from malnutrition, from how to build water filtration devices that made sure that they had fresh water to drink. There were other things that they were both knowledgeable on, but they worked together to survive. And for a time, it worked. 

The world was more dangerous in those days. It was still dangerous now, obviously; to say that there was no danger in the world was naivete, ignorant and was likely to result in a quick death. There were certain areas of the lands that were inaccessible and would kill you with a slow, creeping warmth that pervaded your very bones and eventually dragged you down to the ground to sleep and die; if you survived the sleep, you were left with a weak and frail body. She had, in recent years - although the sickness she was describing had lessened over the centuries, old books she had read had confirmed her suspicions; the cause of the illness would never truly leave - seen the telltale burns that stretched over backs and arms; although, these were more found on prospectors who had ignored her warnings and had ventured into the dead lands. 

Casting her mind back again, come now! Focus. Yes, the invisible cause of the rampant sickness was a constant worry on her mind. But, there were other, more tangible worries that her brother and she had to worry about - the city. The world that she had lived in, centuries ago, would be unrecognisable to most people; not, to say, that there were many people who were there before the fires! Her brother had died, a great many years ago. And, as far as she was aware, she was the only person who was afflicted with this... unageing. But none of that now. The city. Her country had been one of the greatest in the world - the biased view of a child? Perhaps. But, she was extremely fond of her country and her land. While isolated, she loved it with all her heart; it defined her, helped her grow. Alas, even her small city had not escaped the fires that ravaged the world that day. She did not want to remember, even now, and as the years had passed, she gradually came to terms with her history, her trauma. Still, it hurt, a dull ache that lingered in her chest despite the years gone by. It would probably never fade. She had seen her home, her city burned to ash, and there was nothing but the dead lands that blanketed the fallen tomb-like shells of the old buildings. Well, she may as well call them tombs! Enough people had died there. It was a stroke of luck that had saved her life that day- she and her family had been visiting friends south of the city, two days of travel. You could travel longer and further in those days, so when the fires came, she was sheltered in the cool, emerald green forests of the south. Her family, too, and they had survived the sickness that had spread across her lands in the resultant weeks. She could still remember the dull, hazy glow on the horizon - not her city, but another major town. There was only one city in her state, with the rest of the land being populated by small towns. They were spared most of the wrath, the fires; most was directed towards the east, across the great desert, the great divide. She did not know if anyone had survived over there; it was certainly possible, but she had not been over east in a number of years - not since Before. It had also been a great many years before she had seen the city that she had once called her home again; her parents had fractured, split, and had died apart. It was she and her brother that had made the trip - alone, mind you; none of the people they had come to call friends could be persuaded to travel north. It had been a long, tiresome journey. Her land was not known for being welcoming, and even two children who had grown up playing in the fearsome heat and dancing in the destructive storms that ravaged the coasts found the trip troubling and difficult. Food was scarce and water was often polluted and undrinkable. It had taken them nearly a week of walking to reach the outskirts of the dead zone, and at which point, they had travelled east; there was no point entering such a desolate place, and would have just lead to death. The hills were of more comfort; there was a settlement! A small one, with only a handful of souls, but they were welcomed none the less. It had been nearly three years since the fires, and these people were clinging to life; stubbornly, and with great tenacity, as only their people could. There was sickness, however. The dead zone had started to invade the lives of the people, polluting their bodies and the land on which they lived. 

She did the best, she really did, to help them. But there was also people there, people more experienced than her at healing, who could do nothing for the dying. Their focus had been turned to the living, to their remaining people - it was hard enough to survive without wasting supplies on the sick. She understood their rationale. She did. But how was it fair to leave the sick and dying without giving them a chance?

But she was young. And, although she had become a fair healer in recent years, this was beyond her skills. 

So they moved on. At her urging, mind you, but the pair had remained there for nearly two months. Not long enough to get sick, but at this point, she was unaware of her ability, her growth. That would come later, not for many years, when she had begun to wonder at her brother's ageing face, and her own, unchanging one. But yes, later. 

It was how they spent their next few years; wandering. They covered most of what had been their land, from the storm ravaged coasts to the north, to the almost untouched farms of the east, and the edge of the desert beyond - and, of course, the emerald green forests to the south. They had remained largely unchanged in recent years, having been well away from the fires of earlier years. She was thankful for that, honestly. The south was, in her opinion, the most safe region of her land, although the boarders that was marked by the old, great highways were never safe, regardless of where you travelled. Bandits and pirates often used them as ways to travel great distances, and travellers on these paths never fared well. So, as such, her brother and her travelled overland. While the road was hard, and there were ever present dangers, it was less risky than the more well maintained highways. 

It also wasn't uncommon to meet other travellers on the road; although it was often hard to tell whether these people meant well, or were possibly looking for a new target. It was hard to trust people, in this new world. Although, every so often, kindness was shown. She really did her best to be kind to people, but as the years wore on, and the constant disappointments hung over her mind, she gradually became more and more suspicious. 

That being said, some of her fondest memories of travelling were meeting other, weary travellers on the overland roads and sharing food, news and a little bit of comfort. She could recall one time that she had been travelling north in a great haste - her brother had fallen ill with a disease that caused great rashes to erupt on his body and had come down with a great fever. Even with the best treatment she could give, he was fading - so she had made the decision to travel north to the city dead zone. It was dangerous, and reckless, but what other options did she have? Her brother was dying, and even under strict quarantine, there was every possibility that the illness could spread to the camp. She believed that she had identified the correct disease, based on the patterns of his rash, the fever and his watery excrement, and had explicitly told the head healer in their settlement that the medications being given would not help. The paracetamol would, for fever, but it was a viral infection, and would need antivirals to help combat the illness.

She had pushed herself too hard, too fast. Nearly three quarters of the journey had been travelled before she collapsed by the side of the road, too exhausted, too hungry to carry on. She had nearly thought that her time had indeed come, when she had woken in a swag so patched with fabric that she couldn’t tell the original colour of the material. Opening her temporary shelter had revealed a man, possibly around her age - although, it was hard to tell sometimes, people always looked older, more worn than their true age - poking a stick at a small fire. 

She bit back a warning, the urge to scold him for such a reckless action - a fire! With the land so overgrown and dry, a stray spark would cause a raging bushfire that would likely never end. She could still remember a number of fires in her youth, plus numerous ones that had happened After. But, she paused. This place... a way-point, of sorts. While she had been all over, she still had much to learn about the secret hideyholes and ways of her new land, it seemed. She was lying in the desolated remains of an old campground, the shells of burnt out cars marking the borders. There was a low, flat area that had been recently swept and covered with sand, and the small fire was burning in a circle of carefully placed rocks, which was, of course, being tended by her mysterious saviour. While the old gumtrees surrounded their camp and kept them mostly hidden from view, the highest reaching leaves had been clipped back - at least around the camp. The undergrowth had also been cleared, and there appeared to be a small, barren shack hiding in the shadows of the foliage. This was a well travelled and well used camp, and the care was obvious. 

Glancing up to the sky revealed a vast expansion of stars, the milky way shining brightly through the olive-green leaves that were casting shadows across the clearing. Night had fallen.

[thirdstreetthunderbirds]

Shit. Shit shit shit! What the fuck was she doing? The cacophonous sounds of heavy, steel caps thundered behind her as she took off down the alleyway. It was dark, the greasy, dirt caked floors giving her little grip on her worn down runners. Barely illuminated, the moon was currently hidden behind a thick curtain of grey, angry clouds that caused a stifling humidity to hang in the air. 

It was hot. And was going to storm. Soon. 

Actually, that might be her best chance. Maybe her only chance?

She didn’t know what would happen when the men chasing her would catch her. No. Not would. She could get away from this. She’d survived worse. Come on!

Her legs were burning, as was her chest. Her lungs heaved in and out as she struggled to catch her breath as she pelted through the alleyway. This was a shortcut. She knew these streets like the back of her hand. About a hundred meters, a right turn, a jump over the steel, chain linked fence with barbed wire on the top (which only she knew how to circumvent; she’d come through here before. Not for a while, granted, but still. She was desperate.) Even so, it seemed like the pack behind her weren’t lessening up. Their pace was steady, relentless. She could run - sprint, even - for a long time, but when the men had tried to drag her into their waiting, inconspicuous looking sedan (which, now she thought about it, had seemed odd; who parked a nice sedan in this neighbourhood? It’d be looted before sunrise,) she’d bolted. She’d panicked. And now she was going to die because of it.

She was at the corner. Lashing out with her right hand, she hooked a curled fist around a convenient pole that allowed her to fling her weight around the corner without any regards for her speed. She wasn’t slowing down. She couldn’t.

Another couple of meters. More burning in her legs. She was going to collapse soon. Jump! Come on! Hooking the soft tip of her shoe into the brick wall, she latched onto the fence with her right hand, her left scrabbling for purchase on the grotty wall. A brick sticking out, missing, anything - or else she’d slip. Digging her nails into the wall, she felt the mortar give slightly under her weight, made weaker by the hanging moisture in the air. Hey, whatever worked, right? It gave her enough grip to kick up and off the wall, vaulting high enough to clear the low part of the rusty, barbed wire that lined the top of the fence. The alley was backed up onto private land, and if she could get some distance between her and her late night companions, she might be able to escape. She didn’t know what they’d do to her when - no, if! - they caught her. She’d seen their badges, their tattoos. Not cops, no. 

The Saints were one of the most notorious gangs in the city, and now they were coming after her. She wasn’t sure why. 

No, that wasn’t correct. She had a feeling she knew why. She’d had dealings with the underground crime world before; nothing too bad, just helping a couple of people that had been shot up on the street. Maybe two, three weeks ago? She worked shift, so everything tended to blur together after a while. They’d been wearing blue. Another gang, perhaps? She honestly didn’t care much for crime, not when she’d seen three people gunned down in broad daylight in a driveby that had left two people dead and the last one in a critical condition in the local hospital. She’d managed to save his life, but his injuries hadn’t been as severe. A call had to be made. The one most likely to survive, chosen. And she’d saved his life. But she’d been stupid to assume that helping a rival gang on the edge of disputed territory wouldn’t have gotten back to the Saints. And now she was paying for it, having to run for her life. 

But. Did they want to kill her? They could’ve just shot her down like those other men. But they hadn’t. So... maybe they wanted her alive?

She wasn’t sure what was more terrifying. 

A flash of lightning, so severe that it seemed to carve the sky in half, struck somewhere in the distance. Not too far, because - BOOM -

Holy shit, that thunder was loud! 

And had followed almost instantaneously after the lightning strike. Which meant that the storm was almost on top of them. 

She was streaking across the abandoned parking lot now, some fancy private parking lot for the big wigs that worked at the company that owned this land. It didn’t matter - CRACK!

A gunshot split the heavy air like a whip, and she threw herself forward instinctively, attempting to protect her head and torso. It also meant that she collided heavily with the pavement, scraping her arms painfully. She was up again within a second, arms and legs protesting, but the adrenaline pushing her on. Had that been a warning shot? Or had they missed because of the darkness, which coiled around them like a veil, hiding both them and her in its’ embrace? She was wearing all black; it was certainly possible. Or maybe it was because the storm had finally decided to release its downpour to the earth, soaking everyone in the vicinity. Anyone could miss a shot in this weather. 

The lightning turned the sky purple as it struck again, causing the area to smell vaguely of ozone and burning. Shit. She needed to go. It was the distraction she needed though, as she came across an embankment that formed a natural - or maybe manmade, she really didn’t give a shit at the moment - barrier on the edge of the car park. It was getting treacherous, the dirt beneath her shoes turning slippery and dangerous beneath her. One wrong move and she’d break her ankle. Or snap her neck. Either one. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

Death now, or death later? So many choices.

She gave a jagged, frantic laugh as she slid down in the mud, arms outstretched for balance. It wasn’t too deep, and if she made it to the bottom, she might be able to hide in a storm drain, or conceal herself within the thick, congealing mud at the bottom of the ditch. 

She got to the bottom with a slight splash, fingers digging into the soft earth for balance as she cast her gaze around frantically. The shadows were looming, tall and obscuring her sight. It was so dark that she could only make out vague shapes in the darkness that seemed to reach out to touch; to consume. But then she shook her head. That was the fear, the adrenaline. And she still needed to run.

Easier said than done. The mud was thick, viscous; threatening to take her shoes with every step. She was tempted to just ditch them and to try climb up the other side of the embankment - it wasn’t too tall, but with the rain currently lashing at her face and arms, the area was quickly turning into a muddy, dangerous quagmire. She’d never be able to climb out of here. She’d fall back down before she could manage. 

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and she glanced up quickly, frantically. Thankfully, no figures appeared at the top of her current cover, (cover being used only in the widest terms - she currently felt like she was drowning with the amount of rain she was being hit by and she was now standing in nearly twenty centimetres of muddy, brown sludge. Still, she couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see her, so it counted.) and the brief flash of light illuminated, just for a second, a dark, metal structure sticking out of the side of the muddy wall. A storm drain! She scrambled forwards, using her hands, her aching legs, anything to get her closer to her goal. She was tired, she was wet, she was scared. She also didn’t want to get eaten by a killer, shape-shifting clown. No. Bad brain! She really needed to stop reading Steven King books. Or maybe she just needed to get her brain in fucking gear and to not think of weird shit when she was currently running for her life. 

The storm drain was tiny. Also rusty. But she could worry about that later - hadn’t she had her shots already? Her scraped palm grazed against one of the rusty walls; yay, tetanus - and what the fuck was she going on about? This was crazy! Or maybe she was. Certainly possible. 

Regardless of her current train of thought, she folded her body into the hollow opening. It was a tight fit- she was fairly lanky, all legs and arms - but she made it work. Somehow. Probably the adrenaline. She was out of the rain, thank fuck. She was still soaking, still terrified - she couldn’t hear a thing over the pounding rain, bloody cacophony, holy shit - so who knew where those men were. Maybe ladies too? She hadn’t really gotten a good look at her attackers. 

Settling down against the corrugated iron wall, she banged her head against the metal wall with a curse. What the honest to god fuck was her life? Running for her life through an abandoned car park at some fucking hour of the night, hiding in a (hopefully hidden) storm drain, abrasions and bruises all over her arms and a dried, bloody nose from where she’d been punched?

She’d saved one life. Just one! And apparently, it meant an attempt on hers! Groaning, she winced, pawing at her face. Swollen. Hot. Probably broken. Fucking great.

But it meant she was alive. And not dead. Well. That was the same thing, she supposed.  But she wasn’t going to wax philosophical while hiding in a storm drain. 

The rain outside was a constant roar against her temporary shelter. It was both comforting, as well as a pain in the ass. It meant that she was (hopefully!) well hidden from the men (or women) chasing her, but she was also trapped. She could always try to move, keep going, but she was so tired. Her legs hurt from running, her arms hurt from the abrasions that were currently scabbing up, and her nose hurt from the possible break. This was so shit. She wanted to cry. And scream. Honestly, with the rain, she probably could. But she also wanted to sleep and wake up in her bed, alarm clock blaring up for work. She wanted to be warm, not cold and muddy, stuck in a cramped storm drain with her clothes starting to stick and chafe. 

She did cry then, just small, tiny sobs that came of their own volition. Maybe if she fell asleep, she’d wake up somewhere else. Hah. What a cliche. 

It didn’t stop her from hoping. 

[thirdstreetthunderbirds]

So, I am really bad at driving, if you couldn’t tell

[thirdstreetthunderbirds]

“Eb! EB! Oh, for fuck’s sake- Eb, where the hell are you?!” Boots was currently lounging on a chair in the living area on Tracy Island, bored out of her fucking mind. She was also hyped out of her mind on a couple cups of coffee. The Tracy boys were currently on a three ship rescue operation, but, even when pestering Scott, she still hadn’t been let along. Something about how the last time they let her on a rescue, she ended up “punching the living daylights” out of a particularly irritating rescuee- rescee? Oh, she didn’t fucking know. She hit someone, and pissed someone else off. Honestly, she didn’t see why it was such that big of a deal. She fractured his eye socket, sure, but when she knocked him unconscious, it made it far easier to transport him off of the teetering truck that he’d somehow managed to slide halfway off a bloody mountain. Like, who did that? 

Anyway. No rescues for a while. And she didn’t want to deal with all the political bullshit of her normal job, so she was hiding on Tracy Island. The woman was tempted to hijack the GDF database with the help of Kinzie or Matt, give her something to do, like hunting down criminals, or some shit like that, but she’d already pissed off Colonel Casey this month, and she didn’t really want to push it further. She also didn’t want to bother Grandma Tracy, for fear of being roped into cooking with her, and Brains’ was down in his lab, so that was a no-go either. Once Brains’ got working on a new project, he tended to get severe tunnel vision to the point that he ignored pretty much the whole outside world. Kayo was gone at the moment, too, off doing her normal stealthy thing with Lady P, so Boots couldn’t bother them either. That left Eb, the only human left on Tracy Island that she could harass. 

Speaking of her lieutenant, the lilac haired man staggered out from the direction of the guest bedrooms, looking extremely irritated. Boots just managed to stifle a snicker at the sight of her friend; he was off at the mainland until pretty late the previous day, and had probably gotten just under three hours sleep. He seemed to be very well aware of that fact, as he made a beeline straight for the lounging woman, and without a word or a chance to get away, flopped straight down on top of her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Eb- get OFF! You’re heavy, you asshole!”

The man in question just grumbled something into the pillow his face was smashed up against, fairly incoherent. He started to relax slightly, just as Boots gave a massive heave, sending his ass to the ground. “Why the fuck are you so heavy, you ass?”

She received a shot of Eb’s bloodshot, bleary eyes, and smirked as he gave her an eloquent wave of his middle finger, before turning to the carpet. Boots just prodded him with her foot, drawing out a pained groan. “Can’t you just let me sleep? Go bug someone else...” He started to doze again, but jerked awake as Boots nudged him in the side. 

Making a noise of annoyance, she flung her arm over her eyes with a groan. “I can’t. Everyone else is off the island, and I didn’t want to bug Grandma Tracy or Brains.”

There was quiet for a moment, before Eb shifted his head to face her. “So that left me, did it?”

“Well, yeah. Who else is going to cure my boredom? Fucking MAX?”

Eb just snorted a laugh into the carpet. “How the hell are you the President of the United States?”

Boots waved her free hand in the air lazily, laughing. “Ask the good people of America and their bullshit political system; I honestly have no fucking idea.”

The man next to her fell still for a minute, and Boots wasn’t entirely sure if he’d fallen back asleep before he shifted to the side, and with what seemed to be a monumental effort, sat up straight. Rubbing his face with the heel of his right hand, he glared at the smirking lady besides him, before jabbing her in the ribs with his other hand. “Oi! Hey!”

Eb laughed, snickering at the irritated expression on his friend’s face before grunting and standing up. Shaking his head to dispel some of the fogginess, he started making his way to the kitchen, intent on drinking at least three cups of coffee before Boots decided on something crazy to do that would likely be extremely destructive. 

He’d just downed his second cup of coffee before his friend’s chaotic hair, dangling over the ledge above the kitchen caught his attention. Her face appeared a moment later. “What?”

She grinned, excitedly, before motioning to his coffee with a free hand. “Better put that in a thermos, we’re going out on a rescue!”

Eb blinked, staring up at the excitable lady, before raising a sceptical eyebrow. “Even after the punching incident?”

Boots laughed, somewhat manic. She’d had far too much coffee, god damn. “Well, I don’t see Grandma going on a rescue, do you? Come on, let’s take out ship.” And she vanished in a flash, yanking her head back.  

Rolling his eyes, Eb just grabbed a spare thermos, and with a second’s thought, grabbed a second one. He was going to need a lot of coffee today...

[thirdstreetthunderbirds]

“Em? EM!” Boots yelled as she traversed the White House halls, not too soon after she had spoken to Kinzie. It was probably pretty irritating, hearing the President yelling the walls down at nearly four in the morning, but she honestly didn’t give a shit. This was important!

Instead of a door slamming open, like last time, an air vent from the corridor on her right slammed open, clattering on the ground with a large smash. A very disgruntled, sleepy Em poked his head out from the air vent with a scowl, giving Boots a flat look. “What’s with all the fuckin’ noise, Boss?”

Boots snorted a laugh as her extra-terrestrial friend dropped the metre and a half drop, landing lightly on the patterned carpet with a thud. He stood, lithely, in front of her. He looked about as tired as Kinzie; messy hair, hung off green bags under his eyes, a scowl etched into his features. Crossing his arms, he raised his eyebrow. “Why do you look so bloody awake?”

The woman laughed, mirroring his posture. “I drank three cups of coffee an hour ago. I’m gonna be bouncing off the fucking walls in a few minutes.”

“Of course. Why were you yelling my name at whatever time this is?” The alien finally grinned, relaxing slightly. Boots smiled, nodding towards the closest room. It was an unused office, with a desktop connected and sitting on the desk in the corner of the room, a couple chairs place haphazardly around. It smelt musty and unused, but it’d do for the moment.

“I need your opinion on something. Also, why were you in the air vent?”

Em shrugged, perching in one of the chairs. Boots sat across from him, crossing her legs. “I was going back to my room to sleep, but I couldn’t be arsed. So, air vent.”

The woman shook her head with a laugh. “I’m not even surprised. So I’m gonna guess you haven’t seen the news recently?”

“No. Should I have?”

“There might be… a problem,” Boots sighed, running her hand through her hair, “This might seem a bit strange, but… were there any other alien species in the universe that you knew of?”

Em paused, fixing her with a piercing look. “Boots, why are you asking me this?”

“… International Rescue picked up some radio signals from deep space. The scientific community is going nuts, saying that it’s a sign that ‘we aren’t alone,’” She rolled her eyes, but went on, “And I wanted to know -if that were true- is there the possibility that they’re hostile?”

He sighed. And paused, thinking. “Do you know where the signals were picked up from?”

“I’m not too sure. Definitely past the asteroid belt, maybe past Uranus? Not sure how far out the signal was, so don’t quote me on that. But around that point… Em?”

Her friend had suddenly gone very pale, looking at her with wide, almost frightened eyes. “Are you sure?”

“What? Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

“Oh shit. Shit!” He stood, suddenly, before beginning to pace. “Boots, you’re sure?!”

“Yes!” Now she was beginning to freak out, seeing her normally unflappable friend so unnerved. He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick, before he looked back to Boots.

“That’s really bad. Really, really bad. They’ll kill everyone! And if they find me…” His eyes widened a fraction, and he sat, suddenly. Shaking his head slightly, Em just stared off into space, barely blinking.

“Em…? You alright, mate?” This was reminding her eerily of her interaction with Kinzie, earlier, but being slightly more alarming. He stared off into space for a couple more seconds before focusing back on the redhead.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine… It’s just a shock.” He shook his head, before glaring at the floor, then at Boots. “We need to be ready. If it’s really the Zin… then we need to be ready to fight. Like, fight to the death, fight. We’ll die if we’re not ready for this.”

“Do you know the aliens that are coming?”

Em sighed, making a seesaw motion with his hand. “I can make a good guess. The Zin are the only people that really have the technology to travel to this solar system from deep space. They’re…” He paused, falling silent for a moment. With a shake of his head, he pressed his lips together, taking a sharp breath in before continuing, “Those… assholes… are the main reason why most of my species’ is dead. Why most of the other sentient species in the milky way are enslaved. If they come to Earth, they’ll give you humans two choices; assimilate or die. We have to fight. They’ll give us no choice.”

Boots listened, and after Em trailed off, nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of. I spoke to Kinzie. She’s going to let the others know that we need to prepare for this… invasion… and we’re going to put a plan in place to fight these aliens. We’re going to be ready to fight, and we’ll win.” She laughed, reaching out to slap her friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry Em. We’ll be ready.”

[thirdstreetthunderbirds]

When the President disconnected, rather abruptly, mind you, John Tracy sighed. It wasn’t his first time that he had interacted with someone as... different, as the current President, but it could be very draining sometimes. 

Opening a line to Tracy Island, he found the rest of his family has congregated around the communication hub and were watching him with a range of expressions reflected on their faces.

Bemused, amused, slightly worried. Confused, mostly. That had been an odd call.

Lady Penelope was also listening in, and given her position as a member of the World Council, she knew slightly more about the woman than the rest of them, who they had mainly heard about through the media coverage of a recent stunt or attack on a particularly incompetent world leader. 

“Well, that was... interesting?” John remarked to his family, to a chorus of agreement, mainly in the form of non committal grunts. 

Lady P sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. The way she was speaking, it sounded as if she actually believed in alien life.”

“But aliens do exist!” Alan piped up from his position next to Gordon, before quieting down. He’d lost a friend when Em had disappeared, after saving him, and was holding out to the faintest hope that he was alive. Somewhere.

Scott sighed, giving a sympathetic glance towards his youngest brother. “We know they do, Alan, but no-one else does. Imagine how it would look if we told the world that aliens existed and we’d kept it a secret?” He shook his head. “We’d be ostracized.”

The other members of his family fell silent. At that point, Brains decided to speak up. “I’m m-more w-worried about B-boots. I-it really s-sounded like s-she b-believed in a-aliens. C-considering how m-much power she has...”

“What if she decided to do something?” Gordon supplied from his laid back position on the couch, leg slung over the legs of his little brother, who had resentfully let him keep his legs there. 

“That is a possibility. Given her reputation for being rather... unpredictable, we may have to keep an eye on her,” Lady P paused, collecting her thoughts before resuming, “Although, she has never been one to risk lives unnecessarily. If she does decide to do something, there will be no major threat to human lives.”

“That’s the main thing, though. Lady P can keep an eye on Boots, and can inform the World Council if they need to step in.” Virgil informed from his position next to Scott, eyebrows drawn.

The woman nodded, a smile gracing her features. “She is known for having problems with authority, given her past, but if we approach her on her own terms, there should be no major issues.”

Silence fell and everyone looked to Scott. He was their leader. He’d have final say on how to proceed. The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. Eventually he looked up and nodded. “I agree with Virgil. Lady P can keep an eye on Boots, and can let us know if she plans on doing anything drastic. Other than that, everything proceeds as normal. Everyone understand?”

The various faces in the room nodded. Scott sat back down with a sigh, next to Virgil, while everyone else began to wander back to their various duties. The holograms of Lady Penelope and John also disappeared, leaving Scott to muse in his own thoughts. 

This would be interesting.

[thirdstreetthunderbirds]

She missed flying. She missed her VTOL. She missed-

Well, she missed a lot of things. Not to say she couldn’t still fly! And she had her snazzy new ship that Brains had built that could fly faster than anything she’d had before, but still. 

She missed being able to fly proper- well, not to say she still couldn’t fly, but-well, it was -ugh! This was just... why was trying to explain this so- god damn it!

She still could. But there was a difference. Like, flying in her new plane? Good. Great, even. Flying with the Thunderbirds and racing Scott in Thunderbird 1? Fuckin’ amazing. But being able to really fly, without the planes, without the assistance of a wingsuit, or a parachute?

That was what she really missed. And yeah, she got it. Zin bad. Humans good. But bloody hell, they had some really cool tech. And the Simulation? When Kinzie first rigged her up, told her all that technical bullshit and then let her loose on the city? 

It wasn’t really flying. But it was close enough. Still took her breath away, like the first time she’d skydived over Stillwater, all those years ago. The freefall, the absolute chaos of flinging yourself out of a plane six kilometres up, knowing that if you fucked up, you’d die... and then the silence. Being suspended. Seeing everything, from the city, to the ocean, to the sky stretching off into the universal void... Shit, still took her breath away. Even after landing, she’d been soaring. 

It was one hell of a high. 

She’d done plenty of falls since that first jump. But... still. Never was the same afterwards, of course. But hell, the adrenaline, the free-fall, the speed, the flight? She lived for that. Lived for the moments where the only thing she could hear was the wind roaring past her and the only thing she could think of was - then! now! Legs swinging out, straps cutting into her shoulders and sides, and the graceful decent onto whichever poor soul had pissed them off that time. 

But when she was gliding, falling, racing forwards with no fear of damage, of death... it didn’t lose any part of the charm. If anything, she loved it more. The knowledge that it was her body, that it was her power, her choice- that going as fast as she wanted, as hard as she wanted wouldn’t kill her- shit, that just made her push herself harder. To get faster. To see what crazy shit she could pull off in the next jump, the next fall. And if she flew her plane as high as she dared to try, only to jump out once her wings touched the starry void above, to really live for just a few, crucial minutes- well. 

That was private business, wasn’t it?