Fonziebirds: Trouble With Tracys

[Bea]

Chapter 1: In the Dark of the Night

The light flickered and sputtered as the lit candles burned steadily. Across the room, a figure moved. The light shone off a dark head of hair and forehead. Knowing his slave awaited his order, he spoke in a low tone that sent shivers through the man standing behind him.

“Bring her.”

The first man did not even turn around; he knew the slave would obey. He was too scared not to obey. A feeble light showed a twisted grin escape his normally emotionless face. The door was flung open, and two strong men came in, dragging a small, struggling figure. The shadows enveloped it, making it impossible for any to see the expression of loathing and something else on its face. Fear.

“Leave us.” Soon they were alone. The small figure stood, barely able to contain the shivers of fear running through its body. The man walked slowly towards the small figure, eyes gleaming strangely in the candlelight. They seemed to almost glow red.

“And how are you today, Miss Jerome? What, no answer? Surely, you must have something to say.” A slight chuckle rent the air. Before the small figure could make a sound, the man’s white covered arm made contact with her head. She fell. Hard.

“Did that hurt, my dear? Tell me, were you scared?” The figure, now laying half way in the shaft of light, did not utter a sound. The man studied it as the legs, covered with white pants, struggled to lift the body off the unforgiving ground. His white shoes slipped and slid until they found traction. As soon as the shadowy figure stood, an invisible wall of force was flung from the man to the standing figure, which was sent flying through the air until the small body made contact with the stonewall. Amazingly, there came no sound from the obviously hurting figure: no sharp cry of pain, no voice begging the torment to end.

“Still nothing? My dear, how long do you think you can keep this up? You have remained strong, which is admirable. But how long can this last? Sooner or later, I'll win. I'll succeed with you as I'll succeed with International Rescue.” As he said this, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close to his face. The candlelight fell full on his face, highlighting the hard, determined face and cruel, cold, dark brown eyes. This same fickle light continued to shield the young lady’s face from sight.

“In fact my dear, soon the Fonziebirds will be no more, thanks to me, the Candy Man. And your last hope'll be gone, won’t it, dearest?” He flung her to the ground and pulled something from his shoulder holster. The girl flinched and raised a hand in a pitiful attempt to stem the horror to come.

As the man raised the whip to strike, his cold voice echoed through the room. “The Fonziebirds, like you, will be mine.”

CRACK.

[Bea]

Chapter 2: Just a normal day

“Thank god it's been so quiet around here lately. The pressure and strain were really starting to get to us all, Dad.” The young man stretched and moved to a more comfortable position in the chair. He looked over to the older man sitting across from him.

“I know, son; twenty rescues in two weeks is insane. I’m glad these last few days have been peaceful...” The two men jumped up quickly as what seemed like tons of freezing cold water spilled over their heads. Turning quickly to look behind them, they saw, respectively, their brother and son Richard (a.k.a Richie) shaking with laughter with a water hose in his hands.

“Richard, you...” Howard Tracy was, unusually, at a loss for words. However, his second oldest son Warren (a.k.a Potsie) knew precisely what to do. Braving the spray of water still shooting from the hose, he rushed his younger brother. Years of training, both in the Air Force and later with International Rescue, came into play as he grabbed his brother and quickly rendered him incapable of further harm with a headlock. He then picked up his trickster brother and threw him unceremoniously into the large swimming pool. Comically brushing his hands together, Scott turned to his father.

“Well, as peaceful as possible with him,” jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “around.” Howard chuckled, and moved to sit back down in the now drenched beach chair. As he moved towards the chair, music began coming from his side pocket. As Howard pulled out his cell phone, he noticed peripherally that all of his terrestrial sons were glancing over, eager to know who the caller was.

Howard quickly flipped open the small phone, and saw the caller was his oldest son, Arthur (a.k.a Fonzie), who was serving his duty up on International Rescue’s space station. As the cell phone’s song continued, he paused briefly, thinking about his handsome son. Fonzie was home only a few months out of the year, because he served his duty aboard Fonziebird 5. Not that either one would complain. They both knew the whole Tracy family had to make sacrifices so International Rescue could function. Even though they did not mind too much, since it meant saving lives, sometimes selfishly, Howard wished they could live the life of billionaires, as they pretended.

Mentally shaking himself, he said, “Hey, Fonzie.” Immediately, he heard his son’s voice, he sounded amused.

“Yo, Dad. Just wanted to check in with all of you. Tried to contact you in the control room but obviously you weren’t in there. Just thought you might want to know that this lull looks to be around for a while. Nothing goin’ on.” Howard nodded and smiled.

“Thanks, Fonzie. Guess it must be kinda boring up there right now.”

“It ain’t too bad, dad. My book is keeping me busy right now. I’m just choosing some photos the telescope Al installed up here took the other day. I’ll send some down to you later. They’re fantastic.” Howard attempted to smother the smile that was trying to break free. Of his sons, only Fonzie and Charles (a.k.a Chachi) had shown any inclination of sharing his love of space, though by necessity, Chachi was a pilot of Fonziebird 3. Potsie came close with his love of flying jets the fastest and wildest ways he could. However, none of the brothers would ever, tell another of their brothers they were not interested in what the other one was doing. Potsie especially made sure he knew the interests of each of his brothers and took active interests in them.

“Thanks, son. I know the others will want to see the images as soon as possible. Anything else we need to know?” Both of them would have liked to talk for hours, but they all knew that Fonzie needed to constantly monitor the radio waves Fonziebird 5 picked up for potential rescues. Besides, communications with base needed to be kept strictly for business purposes. Howard sighed internally. This was one of the problems with a secret family rescue organization. But the rewards far outweighed the problems, most of the time.

“No, Dad. Everything fine for now. See you later.”

“Good-bye, son.” Fonzie signed off and Howard snapped the phone cover down with more force then necessary. Potsie glanced at him, then walked over and laid a hand on his father’s shoulder. He gave him a slight squeeze, nothing more. In this family of all men, one gesture was usually all it took. They had been through the fire together and knew each other better then most families did. They all knew, and they all understood. And they all wanted to continue, despite the bad times.

Howard Tracy cleared his throat and nodded. Potsie walked off and started a low conversation with Ralph.

Just another day in the life of the Tracys. So they thought.

Across the ocean, in the small town of Maryville, Tennessee, two young people were parked at the overlook above the town. Jason and Meredith had been “going out” for six months and both felt that they were finally in a relationship that was going somewhere. This was their favorite spot, because of its secluded location. In between kisses, Jason asked Meredith if she would be willing to wait until he finished college before marrying him.

“I just don’t want to make the mistake my dad did and have to constantly worry if the plant will take my job or not. I want to be able to provide for you and our future children.”

Meredith was about to answer him when they heard two muffled thuds. Suddenly, their world was turned upside down. Jason’s head hit the steering wheel while Meredith hit the dashboard. Both were knocked instantly unconscious.

Two hours later.

“Calling International Rescue! Calling International Rescue!” Fonzie raced to the control board and switched on the microphone.

“International Rescue, what's the nature of the situation?”

“I’m the mayor of Maryville, Tennessee, and we have two of our young people trapped halfway up a cliff which overlooks the town. There was an overlook up there, and they seemed to have parked up there. For some reason we still don’t know, the cliff just crumbled and sent them straight down. Luckily, a tree stopped them halfway down, but it looks like it will give way at any time. There has been no contact with the two victims. Can you help us? None of our rescue equipment can get near the area.” Fonzie let a brief grin escape. Here was a supposed “hick” mayor who had just given out his information in the most orderly manner ever. Fonzie was very impressed: no screaming, no wailing, and no hyperventilating.

“Sir, International Rescue can help you. If you'll stand by, I will contact base and let them know the situation.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you! Thank you!”

“Yo, Fonziebird 5 to Base. Fonziebird 5 to Base.”

Back on their tropical island hideaway, Howard was seated behind his desk in his office while Chachi, the youngest Tracy, was watching a small TV from the sofa in the corner. Howard was so glad to have his whole family together for the summer, as Chachi was at school for most of the year. The rest of the family was spread out at different jobs around the island. Howard was about to go join his youngest when a small beep echoed through the room. Howard and Chachi’s eyes instantly focused on the plasma screen on the desk. A quick push of a button brought Fonzie’s face onscreen.

“Go ahead, Fonzie.”

“Dad, the mayor of Maryville, Tennessee just called and requested our help.”

Howard leaned over and pushed another button on the desk. This was the klaxon, which could be heard in every corner of the house and let everyone know at once that International Rescue was again needed. While the three Tracys waited, Fonzie filled them in on the details. Thundering footsteps precluded the rest of the people Howard Tracy called family.

Potsie was the first one through the doorway. Not giving him a second to slow, Howard said, “Potsie, set out in Fonziebird 1. Fonzie'll brief you on the way.”

“F.O.N.Z.” As the rest moved to give him space, Potsie hurried over to the wall behind the desk. Here was a huge picture showing each of the boys and Howard in front of the house. Suddenly, the picture began to fade and six portraits took its place, Howard and his sons in their IR uniforms. Potsie’s portrait swished to the side, revealing a platform. Stepping onto the platform, the portrait slid back into place and the platform dropped. Potsie gripped the handrails tightly as he felt the platform’s freefall begin to slow. When it came to a stop, he got out and ran to his ship, a large silver ship with the words “FONZIEBIRD 1” written vertically down it. Potsie moved quickly to the pilot’s chair, and started the preflight checks. Potsie quickly changed into his off-white uniform with the blue piping. He was glad they had decided against implementing the bright blue uniforms with the sashes and the hats. Besides being less practical, he had felt the bright blue uniforms would be the same as having a sign on the back saying “Shoot me, I’m International Rescue.” Walking back to the pilot seat, he buckled the safety belts and saw that the preflight check had showed everything was normal.

Flicking a switch, he asked, “Fonziebird 1 to base, do I have clearance to launch?”

His father’s voice came over the speakers, “F.O.N.Z.” Potsie pushed both of the levers forward and smiled briefly as he heard the engines power up. With a roar, the great ship raced upward through the swimming pool, which innocently hid the fastest jet the world had ever known.

Potsie leveled her off horizontally and checked his instruments. Fonzie had sent enough info into the computer to tell him where to head. He pointed his plane towards the California coast and pushed the speed up to 7,500 mph. The radio crackled to life.

“Fonziebird 5 to Fonziebird 1.”

“Fonziebird 1 to Fonziebird 5, go ahead, Fonz.”

The bushes moved ever so slightly as if a wind had rustled them. The firemen and police, who were standing around waiting for the famed International Rescue to show up, didn’t notice. If they had, at least one would have wondered, since there was no wind.

“Fonziebird 2 to Fonziebird 1. Pots, do you read me?”

“Reading you strength 5, Ralphie. Fonz brief you on the situation?”

“Yeah. I’m 25 minutes from danger zone.”

“F.O.N.Z. I’m landing now.”

Potsie landed his plane as close to the cliff as he felt was safe. He didn’t want his VTOL rockets to cause the car to move anymore. As he stepped out, he saw a few people hurrying to greet him. He began unloading the Mobile Control unit.

“International Rescue? I am the mayor of Maryville. We are so grateful you have come.”

“Well, it’s our job, to give help where it is needed. My name's Potsie and I have some buddies right behind me. I need some place big for them to land.”

“They can land in my field mister. Right over there. It’s close by. I’m Mr. Robertson, Jason’s dad.”

“The young man trapped up there? Right. Thanks. That helps a lot. Could some of you help me set up my Mobile Control unit?” Within minutes, it was ready.

“Mobile Control calling Fonziebird 2.”

“Go ahead, Mobile Control.”

“Ralph, I've got your landing coordinates. Land quickly, then get over here. We need to talk about how to affect this rescue.” Chachi glanced at Richie. That didn't sound good.

Fonziebird 2 landed and began raising itself so that the pod door could lower. Potsie already had the police chief assign men to guard both vehicles because the Tracys knew from experience that there were several evil people-the Hood being the first to come to mind-that wanted nothing so much as the Thunderbird craft and International Rescue’s secrets. Ralph, Chachi and Richie ran over to where Potsie was seated.

“Okay, guys, here’s the situation. Two teenagers, Jason Robertson and Meredith Baker, are trapped in that car.” Potsie pointed above them to where a blue car swayed slightly in the branches of a tree. “The Police Chief tells me that they believe the car was parked on the overhang above,” he pointed still higher, “and it seems the area where the car was parked crumbled.”

Richie’s attention was held by the still crumbling cliff face. “Why did the overlook collapse now? Did they have any reason to believe that it was unstable?” Potsie shook his head.

“I don’t know, and right now that’s not our concern. Out concern is getting those two people out of the car and to safety.”

Chachi spoke up, “Potsie, how are we going to get to the people?” Potsie smiled at him.

“We’re going to winch down one of us to the car. They will ascertain the stability of the car and the shape the passengers are in. Then we will use the winch to lift them up one at a time. Any questions?” Ralph nodded.

“Who’s the lucky one?” Potsie winked.

“Well, since we need someone to operate Fonziebird 2 and keep her steady while they are being winched down, you’re out. You’re the best pilot of her, and we will need your expertise. I’m out because I've got to man Mobile Control. Richie’s out because he has the greatest experience with winch control. I guess that leaves...”

“Me! It leaves me,” Chachi fumed. “I knew it. I’m the smallest and weigh the least. It had to be me!”

Richie winked and said, “’Sides, these two are too old. They wouldn’t be able to do it.” Potsie and Ralph rolled their eyes. The “old” jokes were getting... well...old. As everyone moved to his assigned positions, Potsie grabbed Chachi’s arm.

Lowering his voice he said, “Be careful, Chach, Okay? This is tricky, and...well we sure wouldn’t want to lose you. Who else would we torment?” Chachi gave Potsie a warm grin.

“I’ll be careful. After all, who else do you have besides Rich to crack old jokes at you?" Potsie sighed as Chachi walked toward Fonziebird 2 to get into his harness. It was so hard as field leader to send your own brothers into harm’s way. But as he had said, this was their job. What was that line...“with great power, comes great responsibility.”

[Bea]

Chapter 3: The Rescue and the Surprise

Ralph activated his VOTL rockets and lifted off. The large, green ship lifted off and quickly moved over the small blue car. Ralph made sure he was much higher then he should be, then activated the down thrusters in short bursts. The car and tree started to sway.

“Ralph! Stop!” Reflexes born of constant training hours and the trust in a brother born of years together helped Ralph shut off the thrusters just before the rescue turned into a retrieval operation. Ralph wiped sweat from his forehead and then rubbed his sweaty palms on his uniform. He had almost blown it. A crackle from the radio signaled Potsie’s call.

“Hey, Ralphie. It’s Okay. The tree held. Thank God your reflexes are so quick. You Okay?” Ralph ruefully shook his head. Sometimes he thought Potsie knew him better then he knew himself. Of course, the reverse was also true. He probably knew Potsie better then Potsie knew himself.

“Fine, Pots. Just a little shook. If you ha...” Potsie sent him a look.

“There is no reason to feel like that, Ralph. Now. Lets rescue some people. You are at a good height and I think that Chachi can get to the car without worrying about too many trees or their branches. Better send him down with some cutters though. He probably will have to clear some stuff out of his way.”

“F.O.N.Z.”

Chachi triple checked the last hook and sent Richie a quick thumbs up signal. Richie nodded, then flipped a switch. Chachi leaned over to look down at the ground. Despite Ralph’s good piloting, they were still much higher up than Richie would have liked. His specialty was water, he had a fear of heights. That was especially funny, since the plan had been all along that he would go into the space program after he graduated from school. Then, he knew Richie was going into the WASPS next year. But for now, he was still a kid. However, ever since the huge incident with the Candy Man, both his father and his brothers had been giving him more responsibility. Chachi was reveling in it. So, yes he would kid Potsie about not wanting to go, but in reality, he would do this and more. It felt so good to be trusted by his hero brothers. He looked over to his closest brother and nodded. Then he stepped out into thin air.

Within 30 minutes, Chachi was beside the car. He cautiously opened the driver’s side door. The boy, Jason, was slumped over the steering wheel. Chachi didn't like the angle of his neck and radioed Richie.

“Okay, Chach. I’ll send down the neck brace along with the VLS (visual life signs) and the back board.”

“F.O.N.Z.” Chachi turned his attention back to the young man. Man, he's only a few years older then me. Probably Rich or Ralph’s age. I sure hope he doesn’t die. He's still got so much life to live.

A sound made Chachi turn and see the orange backboard. He put the neck brace on Jason carefully, and then began the problem of getting him out without hurting him further. A groan caused him to raise his head too quickly and it made contact with the top of the doorway. Rubbing it ruefully, he glanced at the young woman, who was now blinking at him groggily.

“How are you, Miss?” She winced as her hand encountered the large bruise on her forehead.

“Aside from a headache as big as Mt. Everest, I’m doing pretty well. Jason! Is he Okay?” Chachi shook his head.

“He’s not doing too good. If I come around and help you out of the car, could you lie on the backboard and let my bro...buddy winch you up? That would allow me more room the get him out.” Meredith nodded. Chachi quickly radioed Richie and Potsie and filled them in on the change of plans. Soon, Meredith was being lifted to safety and Chachi was once again stuck with the problem of moving Jason, when he should not be moved. His wristwatch suddenly beeped and Potsie’s face appeared in the face.

“Chachi, a Mr. Thompson is coming up to assist you. He's a trained medic and we all agree you will need help moving Jason since he's unresponsive. Rich'll let down the line to him and winch him up to you position when he gets to the tree. Sound good to you?” Chachi sighed with relief.

“F.O.N.Z.”

Richie radioed Chachi and told him Thompson was in position. Chachi was soon shaking hands with a man roughly his father’s age. He was worried the medic would comment on how young he was but Thompson was too worried to notice that the International Rescue operative was only sixteen years old. Quickly, but with infinite care, the two rescuers moved Jason to the backboard. As they strapped him in, they both let out a breath they hadn’t known they were holding. Chachi hurriedly hooked the young man to the VLS and was relieved to hear the steady beeping. Jason was not in the greatest shape but he was holding his own.

Richie winched the young man up and quickly moved him on a hovercot to Fonziebird 2’s sickbay. He then hurried back to the winch controls. He sent the winch down, while radioing Chachi. Mr. Thompson was quickly winched up and shown to the sickbay where he got to work on Jason.

Richie radioed Chachi to get him ready for the line. Suddenly, a wind shear rocked the huge ship. Ralph fought the controls and finally, the wind slackened. The radio crackled to life and Richie relayed his bad news to his older brother.

“The line’s snagged in a tree 5 meters away from Chachi. I’m going to have to climb down the line and untangle it.”

“Rich! That’s too dangerous! There has to be another way.” Richie shook his head.

“Just keep her steady, bro.”

All of the Tracys could hear the interchange. Howard’s face went a shade whiter and he rested his head on his arms. Fonzie stood stock-still. Potsie gripped the control panel, while Chachi stared helplessly up at the opening where his brother was making a hard decision. One slip and a Tracy could die.

Ralph swallowed the goose egg sized lump in his throat and slowly nodded. Richie got a safety line and attached it to the harness he was already wearing. He placed the two magnets on either side of the hold, and then checked to make sure they were secure. When he was certain, he stepped out into the air. The line held. Exhaling the breath he was nervously holding in, he flicked the switch on the control box on the harness and was slowly lowered to the twisted line.

Chachi could see his brother moving slowly to the cable. He saw Richie land near it and stop the line. Alan radioed Mobile Control.

“Pots, Rich’s reached the winch line and...yes, he’s got it untangled. He’s taking it with him and will soon send it down to me...Pots? Are you there? Do you copy? Pots, answer me!”

Thirty minutes earlier.

“Boy, you guys sure do a great work. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. My son probably wouldn’t have made it. By the time the police and volunteer fire department had got to them...” Potsie smiled at the appreciative father.

“No problem sir. I’m just glad our operative found them alive.” Potsie nodded to a man who had come up next to Mr. Robertson. The rather large man was wearing dark clothing and was tall. Robertson shook the man’s hand.

“Mr D'Maggio, good to see you. Warren, this is Mr D'Maggio. He moved here only two weeks ago, but he's already become a part of the community. He helped fix the sewer problem we’ve had since the line was put in and is helping all of us paint the courthouse.” Potsie smiled at the man while a shiver ran up his spine. As unobtrusively as possible, he turned on the Mobile Control’s recording device. He didn’t care what Robertson said. Mr D'Maggio was one scary man.

Mr D'Maggio bowed to Potsie and said “Thank you for saving those two young people. They're our future. Thank you.” Potsie nodded and they turned to watch Jason being lifted up. Suddenly, Mr. Robertson dropped to the ground. Potsie rushed over to him and checked his pulse. Everything was fine; it was almost as if he had just fallen asleep. With this thought, Potsie jumped to his feet, while turning around at the same time. There stood Mr D'Maggio with a syringe in one hand and a gun in the other, pointed straight at Potsie’s heart.

“Warren, there's no reason for this to end in violence. Just drop your laser pistol and put your hands on your head. You're going on a little journey.” Potsie’s blue eyes turned almost grey with the steely glare he shot at the man.

“Alright.” Slowly he let the gun drop, and then put his hands on his head. He knew no one would notice. Everyone was about 10 meters away, watching the rescue. D'Maggio moved slowly over to him, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Just as he was about to snap the first one on Potsie’s wrist, Potsie’s leg shot out and tripped him. Soon they were wrestling, each one giving the other some good punches. Abruptly, Potsie stiffened and then went limp. D'Maggio looked up at one of his operatives. He nodded, holding up an identical syringe to the one used on Robertson.

D'Maggio kicked Potsie off him. The master had said the Fonziebird men would be difficult. He was glad he had listened and brought several men with him. The operative spoke softly to him in their ancestors' native Italian.

“Is this the one the boss wanted?”

“Yeah. The leader, the one we'd find behind the control box. See, the blue edges on his uniform. Yes, this is him.”

“Shouldn't we bring the box too, sir?” D'Maggio held up his hand for silence. Over the speakers of the control box he could hear the one his boss hated the most; “Pots? Are you there? Do you copy? Pots, answer me!”

“No, they're calling him. They'll soon investigate. Call the men. We gotta get out of this place.” The operative bowed and hurried off the gather the men. D'Maggio grabbed one of the limp arms of his prisoner and started to lift him up. However, Potsie’s limp body proved heavier then he had expected and he lost his hold on the body. As the limp form fell to the ground, D'Maggio instinctively reached out and tried to grab one of his arms. The sound of tearing fabric was accompanied with a slight thud, as Potsie’s body hit the ground hard. Cursing silently, the man let go of the scrap of cloth that had been left in his hand and picked up the unconscious Potsie. He had to move from this place. Someone would soon come and investigate.

[Bea]

Chapter 4: The Shanghaiing of Potsie

As soon as Chachi was inside the ship, Ralph hurriedly shot Fonziebird 2 up. He quickly landed and helped unload Jason and Meredith, who had lost consciousness. When they were loaded into the ambulances, he ran with Richie to Mobile Control; Chachi had headed there as soon as Fonziebird 2 had landed. Both Ralph and Richie had heard Chachi screaming for Potsie to answer and both had heard the silence that had followed. When they reached Mobile Control, they were stunned by what they saw. Chachi was holding onto a scrap of cloth and staring at nothing while one of the fireman and a policeman were hovering around a man lying on the ground.

Ralph walked up to the man they all knew as the mayor and asked, "What happened? Where's Potsie?" The mayor looked at him sadly.

"We don't know. We were all standing over there watching the rescue, when we heard this young man," pointing to Chachi, "screaming for Warren. We hurried to see what was going on. When we got here, we found Tad...uh Mr. Robertson where he is now and no sign of your friend or Mr D'Maggio, who was with them." Ralph nodded, trying not to show how worried he was. The fireman stood up and approached the mayor.

"Mr. Dixon, Tad's been drugged. We found a mark on his arm made by a syringe and besides, he ain't truly asleep, just unresponsive." Eyeing Ralph, he said, "We know a lot about drugs. Too many of our young people are into them." Ralph nodded; he was so numb that he could not think of anything to say. He glanced over at Chachi and then slowly made his way over to him. Placing one artistic hand on his kid brother's shoulder, he knelt next to him.

"How're you holding up, Chach?" Chachi didn't answer but passed him the piece of cloth. Ralph glanced at it and then took a closer look. It was from his brother's sleeve. And right in the middle was a small pinprick of blood. They must have drugged him too; though by the looks of the ground, I'd say they fought first. Unexpectedly, he felt someone tap his shoulder. Spinning swiftly around, he found Richie standing there with the saddest look Ralph had ever seen.

"What?" Richie shook his head and grabbed his arm. He led him over to the Mobile Control and pushed a button. Suddenly, voices could be heard.

"Thank you for saving those two young people. They are our future. Thank you." One of the rescue men looked around before his eyes fell on the control unit.

"That's Mr D'Maggio's voice on the recording. Hope you guys can find out what's happened to your operative and him. We're moving Tad now, catch you later." None of the Fonziebirds operatives heard him; their whole focus was on the recording.

Ralph would have hugged Potsie if he were here. He had turned on the recorder. Ralph didn't understand why but he hoped there would be a clue in the dialogue telling them what had happened. Then he tensed as he heard the next line.

"Warren, there's no reason for this to end in violence. Just drop your laser pistol and put your hands on your head. You're going on a little journey."

Ralph was listening very hard now. This Mr D'Maggio guy's obviously part Italian and if he is, he's most likely working for only one person...

"Alright." Sounds of a scuffle ensued, then silence. Ralph was about to walk away when Richie held him back.

"Wait." Then he heard it. Someone was speaking in a foreign language. It sounded like the languages he heard when they were rescuing people in Italy or France but he did not think it was either of those languages.

"Pots? Are you there? Do you copy? Pots, answer me!" A few more words in the unknown language, then there were the sounds of someone walking away, someone laden down with something. Ralph couldn't help himself. He slammed his fist down on the button to stop the recording and walked off. Richie just stood there gaping. Ralph never let anyone see him angry or flustered. He was the cool headed one of the bunch. However, Richie couldn't fault him for the outburst. Ralph and Potsie were closer then any of the other brothers; they often seemed to act as one on rescues. For one to lose the other was unthinkable.

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Potsie's limp body was thrown in the back of "Mr D'Maggio's" black caddilac. With a squeal of tires, the caddilac zoomed away from the rescue scene out onto the highway. Eugene's lips moved in such a way that one could call it a smile, though most wouldn't as it radiated pure evil. He would be paid well for this...service. His boss wanted the field leader of the Fonziebirds and Eugene was bringing him. His operative was sitting in the back seat with the IR leader, checking to make sure he was alive. He gave a quick nod. Thirty minutes later, Eugene parked the caddilac next to a small plane, which they were hiding on an abandoned airstrip. The rest of his team were already prepping the plane and hiding the vehicles they had stolen for this operation.

Eugene pulled the still drugged Potsie from the backseat and carried him over to the plane. In the main hold, a medical gurney was set up. Potsie was unceremoniously dumped on it and strapped in. Eugene was about to hook an IV onto his arm when he noticed it. Muttering harsh obscenities at his men and himself, he tore the watch from Potsie's arm and stomped outside the plane.

"Guard him," he barked to the nearest man. He quickly disappeared inside. Eugene turned on the rest of his men.

"Sticky, take this. Drive out to the large lake a few miles back and drop it into the water. But before you do, push this button. Not now, you fool! Do this and then take this money and fly back to base. We'll be waiting for you." The man nodded and hurried to do his leader's bidding. Sticky had served with Eugene on many of his...jobs for their boss and they trusted each other, at least as much as two men in their situation in life can trust.

Eugene marched back into the plane, only to find their prisoner slowly gaining consciousness. Eugene sent the guard to copilot the plane and he smiled as the plane lifted off. The rest of his men would use different commercial airlines and arrive back at base within the week. Their master knew how to move without being seen and had taught this crack team of cutthroats a good bit of his tricks. Eugene's focus was caught by the groan issuing from the man lying beside him.

Potsie slowly blinked his eyes that many women had called "killer blue eyes," though he and his family did wonder if he would be as handsome if his father were not a billionaire. His eyes were having problems focusing at the moment and his head ached terribly. While still trying to get his uncooperative eyes to focus, he tried with his other senses to figure out where he was. The sound of an engine, a plane engine that he was not piloting, peaked his interests. What am I doing in a plane, but not piloting it? His mind, which was sluggishly trying to start up again, reminded him that he had been at a rescue. This confused him further. If I was on a rescue, then who's driving Fonziebird 1? And why can't I seem to move anything below my neck? Am I injured? No. That didn't seem right.

He blinked. Yes, he had seen something move. Suddenly, his world came into brilliant focus, and just as quickly, his heart sank. There was Mr D'Maggio, who he had fought with before the world went dark. This was definitely not Fonziebird 1 so he must be a prisoner. Slowly turning his head fully to the man next to him, Potsie opened his mouth and tried to speak. No word would come out.

"I imagine your mouth feels a little dry right now. That's to be expected since we had to drug you. Now, Warren, you're on a plane. We're taking you to our...boss who's pretty anxious to see you. However, to make sure you don't give us any more trouble, I'm afraid I'll going to have to drug you again. Just hold still, Mr Tracy." Potsie tried to not show the shudder that went through his body. This man knew who he was. He knew that IR was in fact the Tracy family. Only a few people were privileged with that info, and only one knew it that would do this. As the man inserted the IV needle into his skin, Potsie tried to speak again. This time, as he felt his mind slip into the darkness, he forced the word out.

"Candy Man."

[Bea]

Chapter 5: Crushed Hopes and Despair

Fonzie jumped up from his chair so fast that it was sent skittering across the room. Richie had been informing him of Potsie’s disappearance when a loud beep echoed through the space station. Fonzie ran over to a small control panel. This was the tracking station for the watches worn by all the members of International Rescue. Fonzie frantically pushed two buttons, then let out a shout of thankfulness. Potsie’s signal was coming in clearly. Fonzie let out a quick prayer of thanks that his brother had been able to turn the tracking signal on. Running back over to the main control board, he hailed his younger brother.

“Rich, I got Potsie’s watch signal on the tracking screen. It’s at position S290-4r5.”

“F.O.N.Z, Fonz! Thank God! Ralph's really starting to scare me.”

“Well, he is the closest to Potsie.” Richie nodded. As he signed off, Richie glanced over at his older brother. He was hoping with all his might that they would find Scott soon. He did not want to see his brother have a nervous breakdown.

“Ralph, Fonzie got Potsie’s tracking signal and gave me its current coordinates. The three of us can go in Fonziebird 1; it’ll be faster. You'll need to lock down Fonziebird 2; I’m sure the mayor won’t begrudge a few of the police officers watching it for a bit longer.” Ralph nodded then suddenly threw his arms around his brother. Richie was deeply shocked.

“Thanks, Ralph. I guess…I must be acting like an idiot. It’s just…” Gordon just shook his head.

“Don’t apologize.” Ralph gave him a warm smile, then hurried to lock down his bird and inform the mayor of the extended need of his officers. Within minutes the sleek jet had risen and was shooting off towards the small electronic signal that represented hope to these young men.

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Fonzie looked at the button and sighed. He had been putting this particular action off as long as he could, but it could no longer be helped. Their father had to know that one of his sons was missing. He had not been contacted since Fonzie had accidentally let him hear the interchange between Richie and Ralph. He had assured Howard that he was okay right before Chachi’s shout sent their attention scurrying to Potsie. Now it was time. He hated this. He hated it more then anything, but within a few minutes Fonziebird 1 would be at Potsie’s signal; so there was nothing to worry about, right? Fonzie wished he could convince himself of this. Something told him this was far from over.

“Fonziebird 5 to Base.”

“Go ahead, Fonzie.”

“Dad…whoa.” Howard knew instantly that something was wrong. His eldest son had the ability to tell quickly and concisely the facts. When Fonzie paused or was at a loss for words, Howard knew he was about to hear something he did not want to.

“What is it, Fonzie? Just tell me.” Fonzie swallowed. Howard was trying to help him, but it was useless. Nothing could make this easy.

“Dad, we fear that Potsie’s been…taken. Ummmm…we got a recording that sounds like he was struggling, then there's silence. Ralph, Rich and Chach ran to Mobile Control, but he was gone. There is good news though. We're tracking his signal, and they should be there any minute now.” Howard couldn’t move or speak. He couldn’t even tell Fonzie off for not contacting him sooner.

“I’m…sorry, Dad that I didn’t contact you sooner, but we…hoped we would find him quickly. I’m sorry.”

Howard sighed then looked up.

“No, Fonzie. You don’t need to apologize. You were right. You would have wasted time if you had contacted me before, time that Potsie might need.” Howard fixed his eldest son with steely eyes. “Keep me informed though.”

“F.O.N.Z. I’ll leave the link open, Dad. Is that okay with you?” Howard nodded. He looked down at his paper littered desk and let one lone tear caress his cheek. His son, his second eldest son. God, may he be safe. A slight noise caused his head to snap up. There stood Al, the scientist who had become a good friend since the beginning of International Rescue.

“Mr. Tracy, what is it?” Howard got up from his desk; his head slumped to his chest. Still not answering, he walked over to the opposite wall. The wall that was one huge picture and yet more then that. It was a picture of himself and the five people he loved most in the entire world. His sons. There they were, wearing suits and ties, standing proud and strong.

“Mr. Tracy?” Howard turned to the Italian genius. Al had been with them since International Rescue’s infancy. Without his phenomenal mind, IR would have quite literally never gotten off the ground.

“Al, Fonzie just contacted me. Potsie…well…Potsie’s missing. It looks like he might have been kidnapped. Fonzie's tracking the signal from his watch.” Al gave an audible sigh of relief. “And the boys are heading towards it. I just…hate feeling helpless.”

“I know, Mr. Tracy. But your sons know what to do.” Howard walked over to the Italian scientist and placed one hand on his fat shoulder.

“You’re right as always, Al.”

---------------------------------------------------

Ralph landed the sleek jet as close to origin of the signal as he could. When the three Tracy brothers had disembarked, Ralph set Fonziebird 1 in lockdown mode. No one would be able to get in except him or Howard. Potsie turned on his personal survivor tracker or PST and watched as the blue dot winked innocently. “I’ve got him, Ralph.”

“Good. Let’s go. And keep an eye out. The person or persons who took him could still be around.” Chachi fell into step between his older brothers. He hoped they would be able to find Potsie aliv…well. He winced slightly when he thought that and Richie noticed.

“You okay?” he whispered. Chachi nodded. Right now, they needed to concentrate on Potsie. He would be fine when they found him, not before.

-----------------------------------------------

Sticky pressed his body closer to the tree. He silently cursed the damn machine that would not start. Though his boss had seen to it that all the men knew how to drive a car, he had not seen fit to teach them what to do if something went wrong. The car had innocently run out of gas, but to Sticky it appeared that the machine had ceased to function. He sighed. It would be a long walk to the airport, and he did not know the language well enough to ask directions. Suddenly, he heard a slight crunch near him. Here they are, he thought. He would have to wait until International Rescue was gone before setting out. He only hoped they would not find him. Chachi noticed the dot was very near to them.

“It looks like it’s just up ahead.” As he said this, he ran forward, ignoring the frantic cries from his two brothers. Unexpectedly, he came to an abrupt stop. He looked stupidly down at his boots that were now half submerged in the mud by a huge lake.

Ralph came up behind him, trying desperately to blink away the tears that were running down his cheeks. Richie checked his tracker, and then checked it again. There was no mistake. The signal was coming from just a few feet from them, under the water. Without a thought, Richie started stripping his uniform off. Ralph started to do the same. As he did so, he turned to Chachi.

“You stay here and keep a lookout. We’ll try to be as quick as we can.” Chachi nodded. No one wanted to say what was foremost on their minds; was Potsie down there…dead?

Quickly and effortlessly, both Tracy boys waded in and swam out a ways. Richie turned back to Chachi.

Knowing what his brothers wanted, he called out, “Just a couple feet further, that’s right. Now, about five strokes to your right. There! Your right over it.” Both Ralph and Richie disappeared from sight.

Sticky saw everything from his hiding place. International Rescue had found the watch, almost with no effort at all. He had failed. Surely, with all their equipment, they would soon spot him too. But, not if he could help it. He slid unobtrusively from his hiding spot and silently slinked over to the young man, the one his boss hated the most, standing by the lake. He would take at least one of them out before running. Then his boss would be proud. He would kill the one he hated the most. If he had stopped to think, he would have realized that it was the last thing his boss wanted done.

Richie pulled effortlessly away from his older brother. This was his element. He might not be able to compete with his older brothers in some areas, but they did not have a prayer when it came to swimming. He scanned the bottom of the lake. Soon he would have to go up for air. If they could not find the watch…or Potsie, then he and Ralph would have to have Chachi get the underwater gear from Fonziebird 2. Suddenly, a bright light blinded Richie momentarily. Then he saw it: Potsie’s watch, two feet away. Lungs bursting, he made a grab for it and missed. A second grab was successful, and he quickly headed for the surface.

Chachi saw the signal move slightly, and then up to the surface. One of his brothers must have found Potsie’s watch. In another part of his brain, Chachi hoped that the watch was all they had found. Though it would make finding Potsie almost impossible, the hope of him being alive was better then the alternative. First Ralph’s then Richie’s heads broke the still surface of the water. Chachi waved to them, and they began to swim towards him. Abruptly, Ralph stopped and began shouting at Chachi. Chachi couldn’t understand what he was saying, but just then, a small snap behind him warned him of the presence of another human being a second before it knocked him down to the ground. Hands wrapped instantly around his throat, the youngest Tracy struggled and began to kick at the man who was on top of him. It was a futile effort. Just as white spots began appearing before his eyes, the man suddenly slumped forward. Standing over him were two sopping wet figures. Richie reached out a hand and helped Chachi up. Meanwhile, Ralph was bending over the prone figure of the man who had attacked his brother. A groan emitted from the man’s throat and Ralph quickly rose, grabbing his laser pistol off the ground at the same time.

Sticky shook his head. Whatever had hit him, it felt like it packed the same force as a semi. Glancing around without moving his head, Sticky saw two pairs of off white clad legs. Then the world fell around him, and he felt himself being pulled up to a standing position. Two pairs of hands grasped his upper arms while the IR operative with the green piping lifted Sticky’s head, which was lolling around as if his neck had no strength left. The man spoke, but Sticky could not understand what he said. Besides, he would not tell them anything. If his master found that he had told anything to the detestable International Rescue, Sticky’s life was less then worthless. Letting his arms hang limp, the fingers of his left hand fumbled with a small pocket on the side of his pants. Slowly and carefully, he pulled out its content: one cyanide pill.

Ralph sighed inwardly. They were not going to get anything from this unknown man. From his looks and the unknown language on the recording, Ralph would almost have bet he did not even understand English. With a flash of brilliance, he hailed Fonzie.

“Ralph to Fonziebird 5.”

“Go ahead, Ralphie.”

“Fonz, we found Potsie’s watch at the bottom of a lake.” Hearing Fonzie’s quick intake of breath, Ralph hurried on.

“We didn’t find Potsie, only his watch, with the tracking signal turned on. We also found, or rather Chachi was attacked by a man. He looks Italian, and I don’t think he knows English. Could you try to talk to him, or at least get an idea of what language he does speak?”

“Sure, Ralphie. Turn your watch so I can see him. I’m turning the recording device on now.” Fonzie began asking him the same question in many different languages.

“Who are you?” Each time the man showed no sign of comprehension. Fonzie was about to give up when the man stiffened, then threw off both Richie and Chachi’s holds. Before any of them could react, he thrust a pill into his mouth and smiled.

“I'll never tell you, International Rescue. You'll never find your comrade 'til it's too late. Then you'll wish he was dead. Live with that. Boss, guess what I did for yo…” Horrified, the Tracys could only watch as the man stiffened unnaturally, and then slumped to the ground. Chachi, since he was the closest, bent down and felt for a pulse. There was none. The unknown man was dead, and with him, any hope of finding Potsie.

After several horrible minutes, Ralph stirred first.

“We have to get this body to the police, it’s their job to discover all they can about this…suicide. Then…I’ll call Dad.” The younger Tracys exchanged glances. They knew that was going to be a hard conversation. Virgil unlocked Fonziebird 1 while Richie and Chachi carried the dead man up and into the ship. Within minutes, the IR members were giving their accounts of the death to the police. After pledging to send all their information to Fonziebird 5, the police and firemen quit the scene. While Richie and Chachi stored Mobile Control in Fonziebird 1, Ralph sat in his pilot chair in Fonziebird 2. Flipping the radio switch, he got Fonzie to patch him thorough to Base. Drawing a deep, fortifying breath, Ralph addressed his father.

“Dad…”

“Ralph, how are all of you doing? Do you have news of Potsie?” Ralph chocked on his words. He could not do this. He could not tell his father. Hanging his head, he spent several seconds studying his hands.

“Son?” He looked into his father’s haunted eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

[Bea]

Chapter 6: The Games have Begun

Eugene debarked from the small airplane and looked around. There, standing by the small metal storage unit for the plane, was his master, his dark head gleaming in the steamy Italy sunlight. Bowing to his boss, Eugene waited for the order to rise. When given it, he waited for leave to speak.

“What do you have for me?” Eugene shivered. His boss wasn't one to suffer fools or failures. Luckily, he was neither.

“I've got the one you wanted, Boss. He wasn't that difficult to capture. I disposed of his watch as you requested and turned the signal on too. He's drugged and has no idea where he is. Do you want me to bring him out?”

“Yes. Well done, Eugene. You'll be greatly rewarded and have my lasting pleasure. Take him to the audience chamber and chain him to the furthest wall. I want him to awake in total confusion.”

“Right, Boss.” Bowing low, Eugene went off to fulfill his boss’s request.

Eugene carried Potsie's limp form into what could only be called a throne room. One of his boss’s lesser slaves followed him over to the wall facing the door. Eugene deposited Potsie’s body into the slave’s arms while he picked up one of the manacles hanging from the wall. Roughly, he shoved it over the limp hand and locked the manacle around his wrist. He quickly repeated this and signaled the slave to lean Potsie against the wall. Eugene expertly moved the chains so they gave the prisoner some freedom to sag but would cause maximum pain too. As soon as the slave let go of him, Potsie slumped forward. For one split second, it looked like the chains would not hold. Then with a metallic clang and a painful jerk of the arms, his body stopped. For one moment, Potsie’s eyes flew open and a grunt of pain escaped his lips. Then his lids shuttered close and he slumped against the chains.

The heavy footsteps on stone made Eugene spin around to face the noise. His boss, the Candy Man, walked over to the young man hanging ingloriously from the wall. His eyes narrowed evilly as he studied the helpless figure. Swiftly, his foot shot out and hit the young man squarely in the chest. With a gasp and a groan, Potsie’s eyes shot open. Blearily, he gazed at the shadowing figure in front of him. Suddenly, his eyes flew wide open. Gathering his strength, he planted his feet under him and pushed himself up. Standing erect, he glared at the evil man in front of him. Summoning up all the hate and loathing he felt for the man in front of him, Potsie spat his name in his face.

“The Candy Man.” Bowing slightly, the evil man gazed triumphantly at the bound man. Here was the key to International Rescue. Since IR was made up of the Tracy family, they were very willing to protect their own. When one was in danger, the others focused all their attention on rescuing and helping that one member. The Fonziebirds would be crippled by their fear and sorrow over Potsie’s disappearance. Pain. Ah, causing the Tracys pain was like balm to his restless soul. He hated them, hated them more then even he cared to admit. At every turn, they had frustrated his plans. But no longer. His plan was perfect. He would not fail.

Looking into Potsie’s pain-filled but steely eyes, the Candy Man’s mouth cracked into what could only be called a grin. But grins were never made to look like that particular one. It sent shivers of fear down Potsie’s spine. Before he could react, the Candy Man’s left arm lashed out hitting his head. Potsie’s head smacked against the stone wall causing his eyes to momentarily lose focus. Before the prisoner could regain consciousness, the Candy Man struck. Karate chops to the chest, ribs, arms and head were alternated with kicks to the knees to cut his legs out from under him. Each time that happened, Potsie’s body would start to fall only to be painfully jerked to a stop by the chains around his wrists. After several minutes of these attacks, the Candy Man stepped back and surveyed the damage. Potsie hung limply supported only by the manacles. Blood was running down from a cut on his forehead and his breathing was hoarse and painful. The attacks had left him unconscious and he would not be waking up anytime soon. The Candy Man allowed himself one genuine smile. The games had begun.

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A silent and heartbroken group landed on Tracy Island. Ralph, Chachi and Richie, who had flown Fonziebird 1 home, met again in the lounge. There, the entire family had gathered. Their father was sitting behind his desk desperately trying to appear brave while the tear tracks down his face betrayed him. Marion was holding her daughter Joanie while giving Howard the support he needed. Al, who was fruitlessly trying to keep the tears at bay, was seated on the sofa in the corner. Finally, Fonzie’s picture was lit up. However, no one could see his face. His head was in his hands and all anyone could see was the back of his head and his heaving shoulders.

Chachi went instantly to Joanie, leaving her mother to comfort Richie. Ralph stood just by the wall portrait and looked up at the figure of his brother. Ralph could not cry, he looked rather worried. He could only stare stupidly at the picture of his missing brother. Ralph knew in his heart that Potsie was not dead. If he was dead, no one would have removed his watch and disposed of it as they did. This thought scared him more than the thought of his missing brother. Only a few people knew the secret of the watches the Tracy men wore and most were in this very room. There was only one person who knew the Tracy’s secret and would commit such a reprehensible deed: the Candy Man.

Howard’s eyes latched onto his middle son. Slowly raising himself out of the chair, he moved over to him. Tenderly, he wrapped his arm around his worried redhaired son. Ralph flinched. He would not give into the tears that threatened. He had to be strong for his family, for Potsie. He would be… A sob ended all his thoughts and he finally gave into the fears and griefs that haunted him.

Finally, his tears slowed and then stopped. Amazed, he looked around the room. Everyone had left. Only he and his father were still there. Marveling, he then noticed that he was somehow seated with no knowledge of how he got there. Howard glanced at him.

“Are you better now, Son?”

“Yeah, Dad, thanks. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Ralph, don't apologize. Now, tell me everything you know.” An hour and a half later, Howard leaned back against the sofa. This had been planned. It had to have been, which meant that the crumbling overlook was no accident. Someone had deliberately plotted and carried out an attack against his son. There was only one person with the knowledge, cunning and most importantly, the hatred to carry it out. Ralph caught his father’s eyes and nodded. He knew what Howard was thinking.

The Candy Man.

The next day, a cloud hung over the tropical paradise of Tracy Island. After breakfast, every member of International Rescue, including Fonzie and Lori Beth via tele screens gathered in the lounge. Richie, Chachi and Ralph debriefed everyone on the rescue and the subsequent disappearance of Potsie. When they had sat down, Lori Beth raised her question.

Beautifully flicking a stray dark hair from her face, she queried “Has anyone identified or translated the language the attackers were using?”

Fonzie answered her. “We have a recording of it but I ain’t had a chance to do anything with it.”

“Could you play it now?” The polished American accent had a slight hopeful tone in it. Everyone was praying for a clue to this mystery. Perhaps this was it. Fonzie pushed a button on Thunderbird 5’s control panel, and soon everyone could hear the recording from Mobile Control.

“Thank you for saving those two young people. They are our future. Thank you.”

Everyone tensed when they heard the next phrase.

“Warren, there's no reason for this to end in violence. Just drop your laser pistol, and put your hands on your head. You're going on a little journey.” Joanie teared up when she heard the man threaten Potsie’s life. Potsie had always been there for her like the older brother she never had…and now he was gone.

“Okay.” No one breathed during the sounds of the struggle; then they heard someone speak again but this time in the unknown language. Before anyone could puzzle on how they could discover the origin of the language, Marion drew in a surprised breath. All the Tracys, Al, Joanie and Lori Beth turned to look at her. Her eyes grew wide; then she hastily signaled to Fonzie to stop the recording.

Turning to the large group of people gaping at her, she said, “I can tell you what they're saying. They are speaking a dialect from ancestor's native Italy. I know the dialect quite well as it was the one spoken by the people in the district my family home was in. Please, Mr Arthur, play the recording again.” Fonzie complied at once.

Marion began translating. “He said ‘Is this the one the boss wanted?’ Then, Mr D'Maggio answered 'Yeah. The leader, the one we'd find behind the control box. See, the blue edges on his uniform. Yes, this is him.' The other asked ‘Shouldn't we bring the box too, sir?'" Everyone heard Chachi scream, “Pots? Are you there? Do you copy? Pots, answer me!” Then, Marion began translating again.

“Mr D'Maggio said ‘No, they're calling him. They'll soon investigate. Call the men. We've gotta get out of this place.’” Everyone remained silent long after the recording ended.

Chachi was the first to voice the question foremost on everyone’s mind. “What would the Candy Man want with Potsie? I mean, it would have been simpler for him to just kill Potsie there on the scene. Why set up a rescue then kidnap only one of us?” No one could voice an opinion. But everyone knew he was right. Howard looked into the faces of his loved ones and saw confusion and fearful thoughtfulness, the same feelings he was experiencing. Then his gaze fell on his faithful retainer. Marion’s expression was fearful and troubled. As Howard was studying her, Marion caught his eye. Knowing what her employer was about to ask, she unobtrusively shook her head no. She should not say what he feared to the whole group, they were already traumatized enough. There was only one reason to take Potsie alive, to torture him, hold him for ransom or possibly both.

[Bea]

Chapter 7: Tenderness in the bowels of Hell

She heard the heavy footsteps heading for her cell. They were coming for her. Just the thought made her long to crawl into the corner and cower. But she would not. She would be strong. He had taken almost everything from her but she wouldn’t give him her pride. Squaring her thin, scarred shoulders, she stood and waited for the guards to claim her for the daily…session. Shivering slightly in the humiliating, inadequate clothing she was forced to wear, she waited while the guards questioned the slaves who had come to get her. This was for their protection. Their boss would be severely…displeased if she should disappear. A key scraped in the lock, and the heavy door swung open. While the slaves blocked the doorway, the guards advanced on her, baring a curious device. She stood stock-still and betrayed no emotion while one guard brought one part of the device around her waist. The metallic band snapped into place and locked. Then the same guard grabbed onto her wrists while the other thrust a manacle over it and locked it into place. This was repeated with her other hand. Now she was ready. The two slaves grasped her upper arms and dragged her down the corridors. With every dwindling inch of freedom, the young girl became more and more anxious. By the time the group had reached the door to the throne room, she was struggling violently. A quick rap at the door brought her back to her senses. She would not show weakness to him. It would only lead to worse things. The door was thrown open and she was thrown in. A shadow passed over her prone figure pausing briefly as if to enjoy her discomfort. Before she could push herself up, the figure passed on and the door slammed shut. The click of the lock echoed through the chamber mixing with another sound. The girl laboriously got up as it was difficult to push herself up with her hands shackled.

Glancing around, she immediately spotted the unconscious figure hanging from the wall. Though she had seen many things during her imprisonment here, still the sight shocked her. She fearfully checked all the corners and all the shadows. Though she thought he had passed her when she had been lying by the door, she learned quickly here not to trust anything. However, her examination was not as thorough as it would normally have been. The sounds she had heard before where coming from the man hanging limply and obviously painfully from his shackles. It was his breathing that was echoing through the chamber and it didn’t sound normal. Knowing how he worked, the first thing he had done was rough him up a bit and show him who’s boss. And his usual method was to bruise or break a couple ribs and let people suffer.

Footsteps whispered softly over the rough stones until the girl stood near the unconscious figure. His ribs needed to be bound immediately; but it wasn’t as if she could just ask for supplies. She looked desperately around the room, looking for anything that could act as a bandage. Her hands strayed to her hair and she started doing her nervous habit. She would grasp a patch of hair and give it a tight squeeze, then grab another handful and begin again. Suddenly, there it was. The solution was wrapped in her hair. The young woman quickly unwound the long silk scarf that was woven into her hair. Long cascades of dark hair fell to the small of her back. As she approached the figure, his uniform caused her to cease all movement. There on his right breast was the logo of International Rescue and on his right sleeve was spelled vertically FONZIEBIRD. The Candy Man had done it. He had kidnapped a member of International Rescue. This man could not have any idea what the Candy Man had in store for him.

Well he would not succeed if she had anything to do with it. Though she knew from experience that no one had ever escaped his clutches, she would work until her dying breath to see that the Candy Man did not get his evil way. Her shoulders back, eyes steely, she swore she would help this man escape.

Carefully, and with tenderness, she undid the front of his shirt. Careful not to touch his painful ribs more then necessary, she quickly wound the long, sturdy silk piece around his torso. Getting as tight as she could without causing more damage, she neatly tied it off and did up his shirt again. Next, she checked his wrist and winced. Since he could not hold himself up, the metal of the shackles was eating into his skin. She was back where she had started. She had nothing to use as a cushion for his wrists. Looking around she came back to her slave outfit. It resembled something out of a desert movie. It looked like a small, turquoise two-piece swim suit that had see-through white silk sleeves and leg and mid-drift coverings. Completing the ensemble was a pair of turquoise silk slippers and at one time, her hair wrap.

Thinking quickly, she carefully tore the white silk from around her mid-drift. He had more need of the cloth then she did. Tearing it long ways, she went first to the right wrist. Carefully she grasped the limp arm and moved the wrist until there was enough room between it and the manacle to insert the cloth. Gently, she moved the cloth around the wrist until it was soon protected by a thick wad of silk. Quickly, but as gentle as she could, she repeated the process on the left wrist. Standing back to view her handiwork, her eyes were drawn to his lowered head. For a moment, all seemed, relatively, fine. Then, for an instant, her eyes caught a drop of red fall onto his uniform from the left side of his forehead. Swiftly, she tore off her left silk sleeve and folded it several times.

She stood right next to the unconsious figure and placed her right hand under his chin. Slowly, she lifted his chin up until she was looking him squarely in the face. Instantly, she jumped back and fell backwards a good ways from the still unconscious figure. Her mouth opened but no words came forth.

Slowly and deliberately, she got up and returned to the side of the unconscious man. She once again carefully lifted up his face until she could see his entire visage. Her eyes grew wide. There was no mistake, it was him. She opened her mouth and spoke his name but no words came out.

Potsie?!

No. It was impossible. Potsie and International Rescue, impossible! And yet, it made perfect sense. The Tracys had always been caring and kind to others. She knew that from personal experience. Potsie, in particular, had been a sweet and kind boy though he had hid his caring nature under a gruff and in control attitude. She was now even more determined to help International Rescue and foil the Candy Man’s scheme.

Tenderly she wiped the trickle of blood, then, by tearing of her right sleeve, she made a compress and a bandage to wrap around his head. Standing back to survey her work, she noticed that he was beginning to wake up. She was extremely nervous about that. Would he remember her? Would he remember how…?

Potsie slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t want to. There didn’t seem to be a part of his body that didn’t hurt. Wearily, he raised his head, only to be confronted with a pair of lareg brown eyes. Before he could react, the young woman in front of him leaped backwards, landing on her butt and instantly curling up into a little ball. For several long minutes, neither said a word. The female studied the floor and pulled her arms tighter around herself. The man studied the young lady. He didn’t know quite what to think. The girl was dressed in something that was little more then a bikini. This was made of a blue-greenish cloth that looked like silk. Her legs were further covered thanks to a white see-through material that didn’t quite hide the fact that her legs were marked with lashes and old scars. These also covered her arms, which must have been clothed with the white material at one time. Her dark hair flowed down her badly scarred back and onto the stone floor. She looked so scared and vulnerable that Potsie’s heart went out to her. He had to help this poor creature.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I think I’m in the same fix as you are. My name’s Potsie. What’s yours?” The girl slowly raised her head. Their eyes locked, and Potsie felt a swift pang in his gut. Those deep blue eyes told a story for all to see. It seemed that all her fears, all her pain, all her shattered hopes and dreams were written in those expressive eyes. Yet, there was a nobility, a strength at their core that held the promise to never quit. Her face was almost elf-like in appearance and held a child-like vulnerability in its structure. She had a beauty that was not limited to the exterior but instead was internal and radiated out to enhance her physical beauty in a way Potsie had never seen, except once. He mentally shook his head wanting to be rid of that thought.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. Won’t you tell me your name?” The girl shook her head. Her eyes narrowed for a second and her brow furrowed. Then, looking directly into his large blue eyes, she put the fingers of her right hand against the middle of her throat and tapped gently, shaking her head simultaneously. Potsie had no clue and suddenly the light bulb came on.

“You won’t tell me your name because you can’t. You’re scared, aren't you?”

"Yeah, I sure am." the girl nodded sadly.

“I’m sorry.”

The girl looked him in the eyes and he could read in her eyes as clearly and said “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

“Are you okay?” She shook her head, then using her right hand she pushed away from her to her right, pointed to herself, then gestured to the floor. Potsie was amazed that he could understand and communicate with her.

“I guess you're right, Potsie!” Lips twitching ever so slightly up, she looked him in the eyes when she spoke.

“Man, there has to be a better way for us to speak about this.” The girl frowned, thinking deeply. Then she raised both of her hands, which were still bound by the shackles.

"I guess you're right." Jennifer said as Potsie laughed softly.

Waving his hands slightly, he said, “I don’t know what the Candy Man's up to but he won't get away with it.” The girl smiled for the first time.

"You're right. It was going to be hard if you could. This may be stupid to ask, but you're with International Rescue, right?" Potsie nodded.

“That’s where I learned to stand up for the rights of others. Helps with communication and lets us operatives talk to each other when we don’t want people to know what we’re saying. How long have you been here?”

"Sadly," she answered. "I’m not sure. I know it has been a few days but there is no knowledge of time here, at least not for the slaves and prisoners."

“Will you tell me your name?” Potsie asked as she nodded.

“Jennifer.”

“Jennifer? That’s a pretty name. I once had a…anyway. Do you know anyway out of this joint?”

"No. There's none that I know about. Don’t think it wasn’t for lack of trying. But all you get for your troubles is this." She turned around and let him see the full extent of the damage done to her back. When she turned back around, she noticed that Potsie looked a little green around the edges.

"Sorry. But I thought you’d need to know what you were dealing with. He's ruthless. He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants. When physical threats and violence do not work, he always has emotional and psychological tortures at his disposal." Potsie nodded.

“I’ve never personally met the Candy Man before but my d…commander and a buddy have. What he did to us…he's got no honor. That’s why we must get out of here, both of us.”

Jennifer could not raise her head as she felt salty tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Finally, when she knew she had her emotions under control, she raised her head. Potsie found himself staring into the largest, darkest eyes he had ever seen. Jennifer raised her hands.

"Both of us."

[Bea]

Chapter 8: Pain and Punishment

It had been ten days since Potsie had been brought to the Candy Man’s lair, nine days since he had met Jennifer. On Tracy Island, the family lifelessly went about their lives. Al locked himself in his lab and frantically worked on a new idea. Marion worked out the menus and cooked for the large family. When this did not occupy her, she spent the time cross-stitching a pillow for Potsie if…when he came home. Spreading it out, she picked up silver thread and began outlining the body of his ship. Silent tears fell from her eyes as she wondered if he would ever see it.

Chachi and Joanie explored every inch of the Island until they would know where they were blindfolded. The young brunette had found it was better to keep Chachi busy so he wouldn’t think about his older brother too much. He was retreating from everyone and Joanie was going to put a stop to it even if it killed her.

The rest of the family was busy in the lounge. Howard, his sons minus Potsie and Chachi, Lori Beth, Tom and Marion were busy making plans for their biggest search and rescue mission: to find one of their own.

“Marion, you’re sure that both of the men’s accents were from your ancestors region of Italy?”

“Yes, Mr Tracy. I'm quite sure. I spent most of my youth there.” Howard nodded.

“Then I think we should concentrate our search in that area. Now,” he said spreading out a map of the area, “this is the part of Italy we're focusing our attention on. It's still a very large area and there's no way we can scan it from the air. That would tip off the Candy Man. There's no doubt that he'd kill Potsie rather then give us the opportunity to rescue him. I won't take that chance. We'll be splitting up into groups of twos and threes. Always watch your backs and keep on your guard. We don’t need more of us to be captured.” All nodded their understanding and agreement.

“Alright. Tom, Lori Beth, I need both of you to pretend to be holiday tourists. Lori Beth, I believe you told me you have contacts there?” The elegant, young heiress nodded her dark head and smiled. She could easily play the stupid, rich kid, eager to see how the other half lives. But she was sharp as a tack and knew how to listen without seeming too. She was the perfect spy.

“Fonzie, you and Richard are to set up a look out post on the highest mountain in the area,” he explained, pointing to the lone mountain in region. “Get permission, claiming to be doing scientific observations up there.” Fonzie had a college degree in Astronomy and had already written a well-received book on space. It would be easy for him to convince the right people to let him set up his equipment. If they dropped the name Tracy enough, they would get permission. What would seem as an innocent observatory would in actuality be an amazing tracking station. Fonzie and Richard will listen to all radio frequencies and, with a new invention of Al, all phone conversations, too. Howard would never let anything that sensitive be used by anyone but his sons whom he trusted. Fonzie and Richie would also be coordinating the search and, hopefully, the rescue.

“Ralph, you, Marion and I will be backpacking up and down the district, looking for any suspicious activity.” Ralph nodded. He knew it was fruitless to try to talk his father out of going on the rescue. Howard was determined to go, and besides, it would probably be worse for his health to remain home, worrying about everyone else. Marion had to go with them as she was one of the only ones who knew the language.

Howard nodded one last time and let the map roll on itself. As everyone was about to leave, he pulled Howard aside.

“Make sure you continue to monitor communications with Fonziebird 5. If Potsie should escape, he'll attempt to contact us that way.” Fonzie agreed and hurried off to pack. Operation “Old” Retrieval, named as such thanks to Richie, had begun.

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The Candy Man left Potsie alone for a couple days, letting him heal and worry about what was to come. During this time, Potsie saw no one but the slaves who fed him and occasionally exercised him. On the third day, a door off to the side was thrown open. Potsie strained until he could see who it was.

Walking smugly in all his princely glory, the Candy Man moved over to the throne sitting on a slight dais. Sitting down in it, he motioned for a slave to leave. He then turned and regarded Potsie.

“I hope you enjoyed meeting my slave Jennifer. She's been with me for quite sometime and is showing promise.” Potsie saw red as this evil man discussed his destruction of Jennifer as a human being with humor.

“She's not your slave!” Chuckling softly, the Candy Man turned and regarded Jennifer herself as she was pushed into the throne room. Potsie also saw her and his heart went out to her.

She had a new costume on today and anyone could see by the tightening of her jawline, she was none too pleased. It consisted of a dark tannish colored silk bikini with long silky streamers hanging from the waist and middle of the arms. Her dark hair was intricately braided and draped around her head. This time, her hands were free but a metal chocker was fastened around her throat and a chain was attached to it. The male slave handed the chain to his master and left. Jennifer stood as still as a statue and seemed to see nothing. She was not facing Potsie yet he saw her throw imperceptible glances in his direction. This silent tense time went on for several minutes.

Suddenly, the Candy Man jerked the chain hard sending Jennifer flying straight at him. She landed in a heap at his feet and was unable to rise as she tried to gasp for air.

Potsie strained against the chains that held him and yelled “Let her go! Leave her alone!” Before he could shout anything else, movement from Jennifer caused him to pause. Secretly, she whispered just one word to Potsie as soon as the Candy Man glared at him again.

"No."

The Candy Man slithered over to Potsie until their faces were inches from each other.

“What did you say?” Potsie couldn’t keep the loathing inside anymore. He could see Jennifer slowly getting to her feet, eyes blinking furiously, trying to keep tears from spilling over. He kicked the Candy Man between the legs. Instead of exploding as Potsie had thought and hoped, he clapped his hands. Three slaves came to their master’s side. One quickly handed him a gun and he took his time holding it to Potsie's head. Then he gestured to the two goons standing by, one holding a long whip. Quickly dropping it, he hurried with his fellow slave to Jennifer and grabbed her. Potsie was horrified.

“Your quarrel's with me! Don’t involve the girl!” The Candy Man coolly examined him.

“I want you to see what'll happen if you ever do that again. Besides,” he said as he began walking towards his throne, “this is more painful for you then if I had them whip you.”

Much to Potsie’s surprise, Jennifer did not struggle. Instead, she stood still as they removed the collar and then forced her towards the middle of the room. Potsie had not noticed it before but there was a large circle there with wrist and ankle cuffs placed in strategic places. Jennifer was forced to lie down on her stomach while her hands and feet were bound. Potsie didn’t know if it was on purpose or by accident but she was turned so they were looking eye to eye. Jennifer’s eyes were wide with fright but she was trying desperately to remain calm.

There was a vast expanse of silence. Then, the Candy Man raised his hand. Jennifer could see it reflected in Potsie’s emotion-filled eyes. She saw it fall and prepared herself for what was to come. Still, she flinched terribly when the leather cut into her skin. Though no sound escaped her lips, Potsie only had to peer into her brown eyes to read the pain, both physical and mental, she was experiencing. Potsie heard repeatedly the crack of the whip but he did not register the knowledge. His whole being was focused on the eyes that seemed to scream for the brunette herself. Jennifer’s eyes were fastened on Potsie’s face. She would not give into the pain; she would not give into the pain. Potsie’s heart broke as he saw one, lone tear creep down her cheek. And the sounds continued.

CRACK.

[Bea]

Chapter 9: Operation “Old” Retrieval

Fonziebird 2 landed on the tarmac of the Italian airport in the middle of the night. The airport police escorted the huge airplane into an oversized hanger. They then left so that International Rescue could lock down on their own. No one was to know that a Fonziebird had landed on Borneo, especially in the region of Sabah because the Tracys were sure the Candy Man had spies working for him. IR had once saved the head of the airport’s life and when Howard called him on the videophone, sound only selected, he had been very willing to help them. Only handpicked men had been there to assist with the landing. Ralph had a hurried conference with the airport’s head and then ran over to where Howard was giving last minute instructions to the search and rescue teams.

He was in full commander mode now. He had to be because he knew that if he allowed himself to be the worried father, it would completely undo him. He thought back to the incident roughly a year ago with the Candy Man. He remembered looking into each of his son’s faces when they realized Fonziebird 5 would be their tomb, seeing their strength and willingness to lay down their lives for what they believed. He remembered he worried for Chachi through the whole time, yet it had been unfounded. His youngest had proven himself beyond all expectations and Howard had been proud of him and was still proud of him. Now, Potsie was in deadly danger, if he was not already…NO! He would not think like that. They were a rescue organization; they would do what they did best: rescue.

“Lori Beth, you and Tom stay in Venice. See what you can find out from your contacts here, also just find out all you can about the criminal organizations around here.” The young brunette nodded and gestured Tom to get the shockingly pink car ready. Before she left, she looked at each of the Tracy brothers, Marion and finally, Howard. These brave men, who almost risked their lives daily so that others might live, did not deserve to be put through this hell. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer on Howard. He still had not noticed that her attitude towards him was not strictly friendship, but then as she had told him, girls were generally the first to figure things of that nature out. So, until he did, she would stand by his side and support him in any capacity she could.

“He'll be safe, Mr Yracy. We'll find him. Me and Tom'll be praying.” Howard nodded, then grabbed the offered aristocratic hand. Shaking hands, she hurried over to her car and drove off. Fonzie and Richie moved to stand by their father.

“Boys, the airport head has given us full use of one of their planes. Take the equipment up to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Set up and begin scanning all frequencies. Keep the plane, we may need it.” Fonzie and Richie nodded. Shaking everyone’s hands, the two men walked steadily to the waiting aircraft. With a last glance at his departing sons, Howard turned to the remaining family members. Everyone stood around severe and silent. Shouldering his survival pack, Howard started to walk out of the hangar. Turning to his remaining son and faithful friend, he looked them hard in the eyes.

“Let’s go get Potsie back.”

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Lori Beth sat in what was the equivalent of a seedy diner in Venice. Dressed in the “stupid” tourist rendition of the local dress, she sipped watered down a soda. While most people thought of secret agents roles as one rollicking adventure, the truth was that most of her time was spent in waiting-in breathless anticipation of news. Staring at her cup, she wondered if it really was watered down. Shaking the melodramatic thought from her head, she concentrated on the door for a brief second. She was waiting for her informant, Tomasa Panessa, who was to have met her at 2:00. It was now 2:25 and Lori was beginning to get worried. He had never been late for a meeting before. Something was wrong. When you had been in the field as long as she had, you acquired a sense for danger or you died very quickly. Lori Beth had an inimitable danger sense. She could tell a mile away if something was wrong. And right now, as some would say, her spider sense was tingling.

Looking around surreptitiously, she gave a quick, unobtrusive shake of the head to the obviously American man sitting at the table near the window. He quickly got up, paid his bill and left. Lori gave one last look around and then paid her own bill. Walking jauntily out, she was quickly helped into a shockingly pink car and was whisked off to her hotel. Tom had barely closed their door when Lori Beth suddenly grabbed a charm on her bracelet and turned around quickly. The small man, who had been standing in the dark corner, quickly raised his hands above his head. Lori sighed and lowered her arm, letting go of the small revolver charm. This, thanks to IR’s Al, was a working replica of a revolver which was very handy in tight places. However, they were safe for the moment. She inclined her head gracefully to the stranger.

“Signor Panessa, it's great to see you again. How have you been, Sir?” Signor Panessa bowed sincerely to this wonderful young woman. She gave so willingly to others that he could not live with himself in his selfish cowardice.

“Signorina, I must beg your forgiveness.” As he said this, he fell to his knees and wept bitterly. Lori was just slightly disconcerted. She was at a loss as to how to deal with a grown man sobbing at her feet. Her training held as her quick mind searched for a way to acknowledge the man’s words without dealing a blow to his pride.

“What are you talking about, Signor? What've you done?” She winced inwardly but allowed not a microscopic bit of it to show. Not her best line but she was slightly off kilter as it was.

“I did what you asked. I listened in to conversations, talked to friends and gathered information for you. But I was overheard. A large man came to my house today and threatened my wife and children. I had to swear to him I would not come to you but you have always been kind to them and me. I have a debt, one I will never be able to repay, but I must try.” Lori Beth wasted no time. So the Candy Man was threatening her people now; well, he was messing with the wrong woman. She may not have shown her best the last time she faced him, but she had had quite enough of losing. He would not be able to carry out his threat; she would not let him.

“Tom, the car please. Signor Panessa, I believe you. We're dealing with a ruthless man who'll stop at nothing to stop my…employer. We're gonna take you to your family. I'm sending all of you to Milwaukee. You'll be under my protection.” Panessa bowed once again. This lady was an angel of mercy; his family would be safe. As he watched her eyes turn steely at a private thought, he almost felt sorry for the Hood. This woman was sweet and a perfect lady but she was dangerous.

---------------------------------

Fonzie and Richie hurried to set up the command center. The top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa was not extremely cold, just annoyingly so. Hurrying as quickly as they could in order to keep their bodies warm, they unpacked the plane and began to set up. As soon as the heated tents were set up, Fonzie sat at a bigger version of Mobile Control in the biggest one. Flicking the switch that powered up the consul, he glanced out of the tent to his second youngest brother. Richie was just finishing the placement of the last antenna on the snow covered ground. Fonzie sighed. This…situation was hard on all of them. Potsie was the second oldest. He had been there for all of them. He knew just what to say and do. He knew how each of them dealt with things and what each one couldn’t deal with. He would listen to everyone’s problems but never open up about his own so much like his father. He was closest to Ralph and Fonzie but Fonzie was usually in the space station. He amended that thought; he was always in the space station. Ralph was often the one who held Potsie together when the breaking point was reached. And Potsie did the same to Ralph. They were as close as brothers could possibly be, as thick as thieves. It had been true since Ralph was born and on through their teen and now adult years. Potsie loved, admired and protected Ralph while Ralph worshiped, loved, and protected Potsie. Fonzie closed his eyes in silent prayer as his thoughts turned to his younger brother. As rough a time as he was going through, Fonzie knew that Ralph was right now going through his personal hell.
---------------------------------------------

Ralph rolled over in his sleeping bag for the hundred thousandth time. He had been trying to sleep for the past five hours but so far it had been extremely elusive. He, his father and Marion were heading for the plantation Marion’s father had owned. From what Marion had told them, it was a large, beautiful place; or it had been when she had left. It was approximately three miles from the infamous mine where the man now know as the Candy Man had run a slave operation. Howard had rescued Marion there and ever since then Marion had been a member of the family. It was also where the Candy Man had almost died and where his undying hatred of International Rescue had been born. The mine and the house still belonged to Marion’s older brother which the Tracy’s knew as the Candy Man.

It was going to be a long, hard journey, taking many days. Howard had thought about using a vehicle, but had rejected the idea. He hoped that by hiking across country they would avoid detection by the Candy Man’s minions. Ralph’s greatest fear was that they would be too late. If anything happened to Potsie… Mentally shaking himself, he rolled over once again and tried to sleep.

[Bea]

Chapter 10: They Would Pay Dearly

Potsie shifted and smothered a yelp of pain. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as his arms were held at such an unnatural angle. Flexing his stiff and sore arm muscles, his breath came out in a hiss of pain. Sometimes he wondered whether the physical torture was worse then the mental and emotional tortures the Candy Man was constantly putting him through. Other times, he knew the answer.

He looked over at the pitiful figure lying on the harsh stone floor. Good, Jennifer was still asleep. Potsie could see her breath softly and how peaceful her face was. Her face was only peaceful when she was asleep. When she was awake, her face was lined by either the horrors she had seen or the pain she had suffered. Potsie could not tell which of these caused the distortion. She had been whipped several times since Potsie had been brought here and he felt awful. The Candy Man was using her to break him and what made Potsie feel so bad was it was working. He had all but given up on either of them getting out of this dump. He only hoped he would die before he was broken. He did not want to speculate what would happen if the Candy Man used a mentally broken Potsie against his family.

The next day, the Candy Man held his first party since Potsie’s capture. All of his higher acquaintances as well as those operatives that were enjoying his unusually high favor because of Potsie’s capture were there. All experienced great pleasure at hurling insults at the unfortunate young man. A jazz band entertained the vast number of guests while slaves wandered around carrying refreshments. Jennifer had told Potsie not to be surprised at anything. The Candy Man was a businessman and he had to keep his employees happy. He also had to show his acquaintances how wealthy he was.

The Candy Man walked in and everyone bowed to him except for his business acquaintances. He was holding a beautiful chain, if one can be called that, which was attached to a collar hooked around Jennifer’s neck. Potsie knew she had told him to not be surprised but her costume was…well shocking. The bikini parts were all red with gold embroidery. From her waist hung long strings of beads that enhanced every movement made by the small, emaciated form and streamers of different colored silk hung from her forearms and collar and her hair, which hung down to the small of her back, was braided with streamers likewise. It was like she was some glorified pet. Potsie couldn’t bear the way all of the men were leering at her. If only he could get free, he would show all of them what he thought of them. Jennifer must have seen on his face what he was thinking because she looked him right in the eye and carefully shook her head.

As soon as the Candy Man sat on his throne with Jennifer forced to sit on the floor beside him, the band began to play a lively Charleston song. Executing complicated twists and turns, the dancing guests moved their bodies in ways Potsie had seen his father could when charleston dancing. This went on for some time until the band stopped playing for the Candy Man. Bowing low, they waited for him to pass judgment. He stood and grabbing a bag a slave handed him, dropped it in front of the leader, gold spilling out of the open mouth of the bag. Kowtowing still lower, the band moved off.

A gong was sounded and simultaneously, the band played again. The dancing group began moving to the music. Potsie turned bright red at what was going on in front of him. This was degrading not only to him, though he had always been taught that a man should be better than to grab a woman around the waist but to Jennifer as well. By the stony visage she had, he knew she was as disgusted as he was. The Candy Man must have noticed his discomfort because as he glanced at Potsie, an evil expression lit up his face. Suddenly standing up, he raised his hands for silence.

“It seems to me that something's missing from this little party we're having. Why, it must be that Jennifer has yet to entertain us. We must all beg that she would deign to show us her…talents.” There was much chuckling among the men gathered round him. Potsie turned red at the insinuations the Candy Man was making. Jennifer, with a look of fear and loathing etched on her face, was staring at nothing. With a flick of the Candy Man’s wrist, Jennifer was dragged in front of him.

“Let’s see if you have more strength then last year.” Everyone was watching eagerly, almost as a hunter watches its prey. Jennifer fought harder then Potsie had ever seen her fight. A third slave came over and grabbed her wayward head. Slowly, with great difficulty, he forced her to face the Candy Man. He grabbed her face with one of his large, calloused hands and moved in until their faces were inches apart. Potsie could see the Candy Man’s face and he saw his eyes become red and his pupils become cat-eye slits. Struggling desperately against his chains, Potsie started to yell at Jennifer to not open her eyes. Before he could get a sound out though, he found himself quickly subdued and hands roughly covered his mouth. Jennifer struggled and strained for some time before finally falling limply against the restraining arms of her captors. The Candy Man stepped even closer and whispered in her ear for sometime. Potsie could not move, could not think, could hardly breathe-even aside from the fact that multiple hands were covering most of his face. The Candy Man had hypnotized her and Potsie knew from what his family had told him-what Al had told him of his encounter-that he could make you do anything he wanted. Jennifer had told him before that she had never been able to free herself while under his control. What would happen now?

Suddenly, Jennifer stood straight up, head lifted high. The brief surge of hope that filled Potsie’s heart was quickly dashed when Jennifer unhooked the chain attached to her collar and then wrapped her arm suggestively around the man she hated most in the world. Despair pushed out all the hope that had just filled Potsie’s body and left a vacuum. Jennifer was under the Candy Man’s complete control.

“My dear, all of my guests are bored. What do you say to an exhibition of your skills?” Potsie’s eyes narrowed. What skills? Jennifer nodded and moved to the center of the room. Facing the wall where Potsie hung, restrained by both metal and muscle, she motioned him to be unchained. The men holding him looked to their master for guidance, but he only nodded and seated himself back on his throne.

Potsie tried to prepare himself as the men loosened the metal cuffs from his battered wrists. But it was to no avail. His knees buckled as his boots encountered the stone floor and he landed in a heap. He rose as quickly as his shaky legs allowed, planting them so he would not fall over again. As soon as he was up, Jennifer started for him but was stalled by the voice of the Candy Man.

“Not yet, my dear. He won't be much of an opponent now. Give him time, he needs for his legs to get use to supporting him.” Jennifer stayed where she was, her eyes focused on Potsie as if she were evaluating him, for what he could not say. He searched her eyes trying to find his friend in them but to no avail. The Candy Man had her under his complete control and she could do nothing to break free.

As soon as his legs stopped shaking, the Candy Man nodded to him and offered one bit of advice. “You better defend yourself, International Rescue.” Potsie knew what he meant but he was afraid in a way he could not explain. He knew that this was technically not Jennifer, at least not in her actions but he could not bring himself to hurt her. What was he going to do?

Before he could think any further, Jennifer struck. Drawing her leg back, she let go and high-kicked him in the head. Potsie went back and down, coming to a rest just short of the stone wall. He did not even get a chance to pick himself up before she was on him. Quickly, she wrapped her thin, scarred arm around his neck and applied pressure. Potsie could feel his lungs straining for the oxygen being deprived them. As his vision blurred and black spots dotted the crowd in front of him, he threw himself forward, pitching Jennifer over his head. Totally unprepared for his action, the young woman hit the ground in a sprawl.

Potsie eased himself off the hard floor and stood, his lungs sucking in all the oxygen they could. He watched as Jennifer leaped to her feet. She stared at him, gauging him as an opponent, not recognizing him as a friend. Then suddenly, she came straight at him.

They traded blows for several minutes; some finding their mark but most were blocked as the two knowledgeable fighters traveled up and down the room. Soon, however, Potsie’s abused and malnourished body began to slow down. The seasoned combatant she was, Jennifer took full advantage of this, pressing him harder and harder. Suddenly, there came a blow he could not block in time. Jennifer’s arm slid between his defenses and hit him squarely in the throat.

Potsie felt his larynx pushed roughly back by the force of the blow. Coughing and chocking, he collapsed to the stone floor. He could not get a breath. He knew that if he did not calm down, he would hyperventilate and then be in serious trouble, but he could not seem to stop.

The Candy Man stared down at the Tracy son, watching him struggle for a single breath. When Jennifer moved in to finish the kill, his single word command halted her in her tracks. His guests had greatly enjoyed the exhibition, never realizing the emotional trauma going on around them. All they could see was the violence.

Jennifer stood there, staring at nothing. However, there was an inner battle being waged. Her conscious self was fighting a desperate battle against the Candy Man’s control. At his next voice command, she felt her body move towards Potsie, despite her fight to stay where she was. He then told her mind to attack the defenseless man in front of her.

Potsie was still trying frantically to catch his breath when he felt the foot connect with his rib cage. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt the bone give way under the force of the strike. For several minutes, blows rained down on the hapless man and soon his skin was covered with a mixture of sweat and blood. During all this, a blow hit his broken ribs. The force of the blow knocked all the breath from his body and he began coughing uncontrollably. Soon his coughing brought up blood from his pierced lungs.

When Jennifer saw Potsie coughing up blood, something rose up within her. She fought as she never had before, battling with everything in her to break the hold the Candy Man had over her. Suddenly, the control over her snapped in two. Falling to her knees, she immediately began offering him what medical attention she could.

Potsie, while fighting for every breath, felt a rush of pride for Jennifer. He was worried about her and for himself; he knew he was in a bad way. Nevertheless, at the same time, he could not deny the pride he felt at what she had done. She had finally resisted the Candy Man’s mind control over her. She had fought him, truly, for the first time.

The Candy Man was furious. She had broken his control. She had fought him, Jennifer, who had only a week ago had been inches from the breaking point. Not only had she resisted, but she had beaten him in front of his guests. Both she and the Tracy boy would pay. They would pay dearly.