The Mechanic wasn't loosing but he wasn't exactly winning either. His aim was to …... capture? ….. kill? …... the Hood, and International Rescue was trying to stop him. Not because they thought the Hood was worth saving, but because they could. That was just who they are. But who could blame them if they were having a little fun keeping the Hood out the way of Project Sentinel - making the falls of Thunderbird One's escape capsule a little bit longer than absolutely necessary, the turns a little tighter than they had to be.

John could feel the amusement from his family in their calls to each other, the way they gave a woop at each transfer. But he could also feel their conflict – the thought of having to put his family in danger in order to save that ….. man... it made him feel sick in a way that zero G never did. Which was why he was still here on Thunderbird 5 and Brains had gone to the giant satellite to shut it down. Sure John was closer and a hell of a lot more comfortable in space, but he was needed where he was. He kept a steady stream of data to the other craft, prioritising and reanalysing with each blast from the giant lazer. He had tasked EOS to produce predictive algorithms to better understand the capabilities of the weapon, but at the moment his data, and his concentration was essential. It needed a human touch. Not being in the thick of high speed, high altitude maneuvers meant John was the first to notice that the Sentinel had not stopped firing because the Mechanic was giving up, but because he was readying the machine for one massive blast. He was also the first to notice that it was moving, reaiming.

John pulled up a holographic representation of the machine, better to study it's movement.

"EOS, extrapolate the target please." What is he doing? John thought to himself. It didn't take EOS long to review the data to create a new display. John watched as the satellite reorientated and the sickness in his stomach took on a new meaning. He opened a comm line to all.

"Guys, we have a new situation."

"We're a little busy, John" Came Scott's terse reply. "Can you tell them we'll call them back?"

John didn't have time to explain before the Mechanic stole the moment from him, hacking into their displays and projecting his image to them all.

"International Rescue, you will cease. You will leave the Hood for me and I will stand down. Continue this childish game and I will turn my Sentinel on one of your own. You have one minute."

The Mechanic's imaged changed to a number, the number 60. John gasped out the words as it flicked to 59 and he was filled with dread.

"The Sentinel is now pointing directly at Thunderbird 5."