I don't know what this is or where it came from. All I know is that it is really weird.

I don't own the Thunderbirds, and I am making no profit from this story.

At first, Alan doesn't look up from his breakfast when a flannel-clad figure strides into the room. He just mutters, "Morning, Virg," and adds another teaspoonful of sugar to his oatmeal.

"Good morning to you too!"

At the unusually bright, cheery reply, Alan's head snaps up, and Scott, who's just coming inside from the pool deck, stops short.

"Gordon?" they say in unison.

Gordon stands in the middle of the kitchen and poses with his hands on his hips, a huge grin splitting his face. "What do you think?" he asks, slowly spinning in a circle so they can get the full effect. "Like my new look?"

Scott clears his throat. "It's, uh…it's kind of, um…familiar, somehow."

Alan can't find any words at all as he gapes at his brother.

Gordon's hair is shockingly black – even his eyebrows are smudged with a bit of dye. He's combed it to try to look like Virgil's hair, and he hasn't done too bad of a job considering the differences in their hair types. His clothes, though, are spot on and are perfectly sized for him, showing that this is some sort of a planned prank. He's even got the big brown boots.

Gordon looks unbelievably smug, and something clicks in Alan's brain. He knows the way his brother's mind works, and he says, hesitantly, "Wait. Just hang on a second. If you're Virgil, then is Virgil…?"

With perfect timing, a tall, broad-shouldered figure skulks into the room at that very moment, and Alan lets out an involuntary squeak of surprise before he can cover his mouth. Behind him, he hears a gasp from Scott.

Virgil stops and glowers at them, the dark expression on his face a stark contrast to the cheery print on his Hawaiian shirt. He's wearing rolled-up jeans and loafers to complete the costume, but as strange as the clothes look on his older brother, Alan finds that it's Virgil's hair that he can't take his eyes off of. It's yellow – very, very yellow. Alan hates to think what chemicals must have been involved in turning Virgil's dark hair that neon shade – and he wonders what could possibly have induced Virgil to undergo such a transformation.

"Virgil," Scott says weakly. "That's, uh, a little different, huh? I mean…wow." He stops speaking abruptly as Virgil spears him with a glare.

"Don't. Even. Ask." Virgil growls, his deep voice rumbling low in his chest.

Scott and Alan freeze as Virgil lets out a huff and stalks toward them, but he merely casts a cool glance in their direction and then opens a cupboard to find some breakfast. "We got any decent food around here?" he snaps.

"I usually have scrambled eggs, toast with jam, orange juice, and bacon," Gordon pipes up brightly.

Virgil's shoulders tense, and he defiantly pulls a bagel from the cupboard, shuffling toward the toaster. Before he takes three steps, though, the klaxon sounds, and as one, the brothers drop whatever they're holding and hurry up to the lounge.

John spares his mismatched brothers just one long, thoughtful blink before he shrugs the family situation off and begins detailing the rescue.

After they have enough information to get going, Scott glances dubiously at his brothers and says, "Well, I guess Thunderbirds are go!"

Gordon lets out a whoop and races toward the painting of the rocket. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day!" he exclaims.

Virgil stares balefully after him, then trudges reluctantly toward the elevator Gordon normally uses.

Alan starts to open his mouth, but Virgil sees the movement.

"Don't ask," he grumbles.

Scott and Alan cast each other one last, confused glance, then shrug and carry on.