#and feel the more cutesy style of this drawing would make for an odd tone next to it

[synthetic-rust]

Diesel shunter OC

(Technically they’re a rework of Den for my AU, but he strays so far from canon that I consider it a separate character at this point lol)

[apricot-kingdom]

Random Yugioh ideas/headcanons/au’s and basically things I just usually consider when writing them or ideas I had, mostly the Bakura’s and Ishtar’s Names used for yami’s and Hikari’s: Ryou (Hikari), Bakura (Yami Bakura), Thief (Thief King Bakura), Malik (Hikari), Tau (Yami Marik), Yuugi (Hikari), Yami (Yami Yuugi), Atemu (The pharaoh) Under the cut

if twins the Yami’s are the younger twins not the Hikari’s and usually Malik and Tau (Yami Marik) are usually the youngest despite being tallest. Yami isn’t necessarily always Yuugi’s twin, their the same age but Yuugi’s still just older and they found Yami one day either by him just showing up and them taking him in, or him being taken to Grandpa’s shop by someone who assumes the quiet boy is Yuugi

Thief (Thief King Bakura) is a huge family man, he’s ultra friendly, fluffy, happy and everything else. He’ll definitely hug you and befriend you. He’ll call you little brother or sister or just count you as family regardless, and whilst he holds a large section within himself full of hurt, hatred and everything else. And if he lets it out, you’ll definitely need damage control, so never hurt his family. He’ll be after you and you’ll regret even crossing him. He’s kinda short so it’s easy to just look past him, but he will not lose his second family, he will not allow that to happen. He’s absolutely terrifying when he desires to be, it’s hard to believe sometimes but his friends/family know better

Tau (Yami Marik) is a selective mute, it depends on the situation. (Au wise.) But most part its because of childhood trauma thinking his voice is demonic somewhat, but he’ll talk to you, its just more —more exclusive who he’ll talk to, or in another situation its because he wants to try being whole and in a way hearing his own voice, makes him kinda still feel apart of Malik. Either way he’ll only talk to you if he’s comfortable, otherwise he’ll write, ignore or sign to you. When he does speak, his voice is like venom, it’s always deep and somewhat scary/pissed off sounding or he has a smug amused tone he can use

Tau called Malik’s father Daddy, because the man was so formal, he knew it was damn childish. But it sure enough was a good blow to the man who desired to be called nothing less than father by his children and Master by Rishid (Rishid’s too good for him anyway). So Tau goes around calling him Daddy in the most cutesy childlike tone he can muster. He does so out of mere habit even years after killing the guy

Like Tau Yami (Yami Yuugi) is often silent, he’ll talk a lot to Yuugi. More so than anyone, and he’ll definitely speak up if someone needs defending. He’ll fight for the side he regards are right or for friends. However most times he only otherwise speaks to say things he finds absolutely important to do so, or ask an odd question now and again just about life, Bakura (Yami Bakura) can usually stir up an argument though

If Malik and Tau are twins, and both receive the initiation, unlike Malik, Tau gets demonic wings instead of angel ones

Tau has little to no interest in sex -sorry to people who write him purely as something that just really wants to sleep with Ryou or someone. I think he has more important things to him he needs to think about. Like firstly learning to move on from hate and become a whole person, learning to trust, learning basic human touch, he would much rather what people probably call vanilla things, holding his hand as you walk, leaning on him in movies, sleeping beside him in bed (this one is important because sleep is one of the most vulnerable states a person has and your trusting him), just trusting him, giving the benefit of the doubt, it confuses him but he just adores it. Surprisingly to most, these days when there’s no giant revenge scheme going on he actually really really enjoys the mundane things of life and finally receiving the love and care no one offered him in the first place

Tau changes his name a lot, he’s often concerns himself with being Malik, he does not  want to be Malik. Not any more. He’ll let you know when he changes it, sometimes the name can last nothing more then that day, other times it can last months. There’s still one he usually circles back to regardless of all this and most times if others know he’s chosen a name he wants for a while they are more than willing to help him with getting it legally changed regardless of  the amount of times they do it

Bakura/Thief have a motherly tendency/urge, Ryou is pretty caring in the sense he can play nurse, but Bakura/Thief have a strong protect my children type thing. They’ll make sure your fed, shower, do your teeth, get some sleep (they were bad at first because they forgot how much sleep someone should get), but all those basic things

Art wise: Ryou: He’s better at writing stories, and draws a chibi like thing now and again Bakura: He draws stick figures, and can’t draw well at all. He gets paint everywhere humanly possible but loves it and is slowly improving Thief: He does either complex Egyptian stuff or finger painting. No in between Malik: Prefers to take photos of other things Tau: He’s basically a professional, mostly avoids too much realism and goes more Manga style. It started as an anger management activity but he found he actually quite enjoyed it and it allowed him to express himself better

Bakura wears hearing aid’s (Au) I don’t really have a reason for why. I just started writing him with bad hearing and I incorporate into their backstory, so Ryou/Bakura’s Mum was completely deaf and thus didn’t hear the horn or any warnings and died in a car accident with Amane. Bakura’s not deaf completely but he does need hearing aids for the rest of his life and he can struggle hearing things too softly spoken or farther away sometimes

Malik is actually very camera shy. He loves taking photos of life to capture everything he was missing out on in childhood on film to keep forever. Except he hates to be in photos himself, he’ll avoid it if humanly possible. I think so because he always hid behind everyone to the very end of his arc, behind each of his minions and then just in the back of others minds, behind his brother and his Yami, stood behind the group going to the last duel, you know? (I mean he was trying to blend in the background during Rishid’s duel but I also don’t think despite his fashion he’s actually a very showy person, he enjoys being dramatic and such but can get put off by too large of crowds. I think this is slightly related to just his upbringing, he was brought up with just his family. So whilst he has a powerful personality, so many people can still be a concern to him. He just tries to not let it get in his way too much if plausible)

Bakura and Malik rely on each other for comfort more than anything just finally having someone there by their sides who has a great pain, something no one will probably ever fully understand. And they can talk about it the other will listen without hesitation, but they also understand you don’t always have to say something

Malik isn’t keen on horror, he’s low key traumatised from flashes of his fathers murder and his back, he respects others like it and can put up to it til a point and jokes about similar things but otherwise he’d prefer not to watch it if possible

Malik and Tau prefer cartoons over realism, it’s easier to understand and just more comforting, even if people comment their watching things way too young for them. F*** those people, they can watch what ever they want

Meat actually makes Malik and Tau sick from the lack of it in their diet so they don’t eat it purely on that basis and that’s how they grew up. No other reasoning behind it

Malik is actually stronger than Yami Marik, and as a villain he actually is one that has the support of family and friends to support this. Just hear me out on the strength thing, sure Tau takes over when he’s mentally torn and worn out. That’s because Malik’s in fact at his worse, usually he’s able to keep Tau locked away within him, so in a fight I do believe Malik would win even if I think Tau would have more visible muscle. Tau’s more about mind games and tricks to assist him

Also Yuugi is stronger than people give him credit for. He may be small and look a tad squishable. But remember he was in a burning building struggling between completing the puzzle, pulling the puzzle, holding onto it whilst his two friends one of which use to  be in a gang pulled him desperately from it and he wouldn’t let go. They actually decided they had a better shot of pulling the metal spike out of the concrete or whatever that thing was made from then they did removing an almost passed out Yuugi from his puzzle. So I’d say Yuugi’s pretty damn strong

Hiroto and Ryuji fight over girls constantly but they are basically together and this is just them trying to flirt. Truthfully they can only flirt on those they aren’t actually interested in, they’re masters until it’s someone they like like and then it’s like c*** what do I do which is how they get with each other

Thief is the king of pick up lines, puns, flirting in general. Where Atemu can’t flirt to save his life and he tries hard but its barely recognisable and he almost always screws it up. Thief finds it amusing and loves that he tries. However on the other spectrum. They’ve been dating and living together for like a year now and Thief only just figured out because they were on a date and he said they should go on a date sometime. They’ve been acting as an exclusive couple up til this point, he just honestly didn’t notice it just enjoying the ride

despite dating and Thief going as far as to call Atemu his future hubby before they even get engaged. Sometimes Thief admits that a large part deep within him will always somewhat hate Atemu, and blame him. He’s tried moving on but sometimes it can just fire up. They don’t always talk about it sometimes they don’t just talk and merely sit together or sometimes he just gets upset and Atemu tries to just be there. Not always try to understand or even offer pointless advice more so just be there for Thief regardless And thief will also admit, sometimes he avoids saying Atemu’s name using all his childish nicknames he can make up because of their history. And sometimes even the  name can just bring all that back up for him. He truly loves Atemu and it does make him feel guilty or upset but Atemu always reassures him its ok to feel the way he does Just a little bonus note: Thief’s death pack on Atemu has changed, he still declares if Atemu’s to be killed, he’ll be the one to do it. But now more so its, we’ll be together til death does us part and even then he promises Atemu he’ll never be able to get rid of him

Mai is Jonouchi’s big sister (Adopted). She took him in as her little brother and Serenity. They often fight over what’s on tv and she shows Serenity how to put on make-up and perfumes. Goes clothes shopping and stuff. She had a big house growing up but no one to share it with, but now she may not have as big as place but she’s got a proper family

Ryou’s Dad Hideki is the king of dad jokes

Whilst Amane was still alive and a baby, Ryou excitedly took her into school for show and tell. He was really proud of his sister from the day she was born and wanted all to see. In saying that he was protective of her with others, when anyone was around his little sister he was ensuring to watch them with her even falling over a few times from leaning too far to keep an eye on them

Bakura always makes friends by pure accident and he doesn’t realise for ages. Then he freaks out about it. Because. How. When why. What the. But then their his and they are never gonna go anywhere.  That or if its where he shares a body with Ryou he does it originally for his own cover, but then after time he starts just going there in general and before he knows it and yes he doesn’t know it he’s friends with the lot of them. Plus sometimes Ryou just taps out with them and at first he got irritated because he didn’t want to deal with that but he doesn’t remember at what point he stopped even noticing if anything it made him happy When he realises he has a huge c*** moment and just takes a few days to process and figure it out in his head

Au Thief, his village did burn down or everyone was killed regardless. He’s still the soul survivor, and going to another town no one knows exactly what to do with him. But they figure out he had an Uncle currently in Egypt. So he’s taken to him, Hideki Bakura. An archaeologist. Hideki takes him back to Japan to meet his other two sons Ryou and Bakura, who he acts as an older brother too now

Thief and Atemu are mostly the shortest, however instead in Au’s. Their usually Yuugi and Ryou’s cousins who had to move in due to other things back home

When Ishizu tries to display things from their home, at the museum. Malik and Tau constantly steal them. With the excuse. ‘It was mine first and you stole it from me.’

Thief is blind in his scarred eye

Bakura’s first name is Florence, and no. This has nothing. NOTHING. To do with the abridged series. Its just his name, he got it from his mother. It was a family name and whilst he often hates it and loves Japan because you can use your last name without question. But no matter how many times he fills the paper work out to change it. He never does, he can’t. Deep down its apart of him and he actually does want to keep it. He likes it. People he’s close to can call him Florence or Flow for short (or Thief calls him Flow Flow)

Yuugi and Bakura like doing puzzles together it’s oddly calming and allows Bakura time to nut out his own thoughts and if either one wishes to speak they are both open minded to what is being said. They listen to piano music a lot during this time

Bakura hates to admit it but he actually really enjoys the mundane things, cooking, doing the washing, things that just remind him he’s alive

When Tau can’t express himself, emotionally or otherwise. Too frustrated or anything like that, he often draws animals to represent people finding it easier to explain that way rather than words, he’s a lion, Ryou’s a bunny, Malik a fox, Bakura a cat, etc. I kinda imagine him drawing them a bit like how they look in Kamy’s animal au. So others know to look for them in his books and if the lion ever looks down it's a good time to start trying to comfort him. Since he’s not always the best and expressing himself verbally he’ll scream maybe but otherwise he often keeps it bottled up somewhat like Malik did when he created him. So Ryou and such know to look at how the lions doing in his books because if its not doing well something might be wrong

Bakura, Yami (Yami Yuugi), Tau, Atemu, Thief and Malik were confused as frig when they were introduced to video games but after learning about them they are get every possible console to play them, in group games like Mario Kart and such, Bakura and Thief might stand in front of Yami or Atemu whilst playing or put his hands out, Malik pokes out his tongue. Thief can not sit still, sure he does try to get in Atemu and Yami’s way, but he still doesn’t always do so on purpose, he jumps up and kicks out, gets on the edge of his seat, jumps off the couch everything. Malik will talk and yell at the game and has been known between him and Tau to throw their controllers at the screen

Ryou gets sea sick easily, Bakura’s really confused at first when he jumps on a boat in Ryou’s body, he’s basically sick the entire time and from then on he knew to take the pills

Malik and Tau can’t swallow pills. They just can’t, they try really hard but their unable to force themselves to swallow and spit them out time and time again, they even try the hide it in your food and it doesn’t work

Thief is a neat freak, and he cleans when he’s pissed off these days. And since all his  things are clean and in place he’ll break into his ‘friends’ places and clean and if someone’s home, he’ll rant to them. Atemu often makes a tea and just sits nodding. Whereas others like Bakura, Tau and such will purposefully make messes as he tries to clean so its a contest if they can mess it up faster then he can clean it Malik tells him off for touching his garage because it may look like a mess and sure it probably was but thats how he wanted it and he knew where his things were. Malik made a wall of people not allowed to  clean it has two things under it, a note saying ‘ANYONE WHO IS NOT ME MALIK ISHTAR’ and then a photo of Thief which he wrote ‘ESPECIALLY YOU’ beneath beside the note

Diabound is kinda like a vampire, because whilst yes he’s a snake man he’s a snake so  your telling me won’t bite anyone, he can fly and instead of turning into a bat he turns into a white snake and slithers up you the hugs warmly around your shoulders as he gets ready to bite (Not really a- anything? Just something I thought about kinda just figured I’d throw it on the end because why not?)

[heather1815]

My little test subject: Chapter 13

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, and chapter 12

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

Warning! This fic contains: Foul language, scenes of torture, use of medical tools, drug use, self-harm, suicidal tendencies, violence, self-neglect, blood, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

Matt narrowed his eyes as he glanced out the window. The days are getting shorter. He observed, taking note of the sun’s position in the sky. And the nights are getting colder. Soon winter will be here. It was hard to believe that it’s been exactly eight months since Tom’s untimely demise. He never would’ve thought he and Edd would be able to cope with the pain they had felt back then; but they are moving on. Slowly, but surely.

“Matt? You alright in there?”

The sound of Edd’s voice coming from his living room snapped Matt out of his thoughts. He opened the microwave and pulled the freshly-made bag of popcorn out. “Coming!” Reaching toward the cupboard, Matt poured the salty treat goodness into a bowl. Before leaving, he stopped by the fridge and grabbed a can of coke. He bought a boxful the day before and left it in his freezer just on the occasion Edd would come over to his place. This will surely keep Edd in a cheerful mood.

“Have you picked a movie yet?” Matt asks, stepping out of his kitchen and into the living room. When he didn’t get an immediate response, his gaze landed on his friend; who is currently sitting on the magenta couch with his legs crossed. He’d invited the brunet over to his apartment in hopes of rekindling their shaken friendship with a casual movie night. Edd was fumbling around with his phone, staring at the screen intently and a little coy smile on his face.

“Edd?”

The brunet looked up startled, almost as if Matt had caught him doing something wrong. “Wha- what?”

Matt jumped back started, careful not to let any of the bowl’s contents spill over. “Whoa easy there!” He laughed, albeit a little uneasily. “I asked if you picked out a film?”

Blinking rapidly, Edd shook his head. “No- sorry. You were taking some time, and I guess I got distracted.” He rubbed the back of his head apologetically. Matt didn’t miss the way the brunet’s eyes flicked briefly to his phone screen.

“It’s fine.” Matt shrugged it off. “What you doing anyway? Are you talking to someone?” He tried to peer closer to get a good look at the phone, but Edd swiveled out of his range of sight.

“It’s nothing.” Edd replied briskly. He must’ve realized how odd his reaction was, and immediately relaxed and added with a sigh. “It’s just some prompt requests and offers. Nothing tremendously exciting.”

“Oh right, yeah…” Matt chuckled half-heartedly, trying to lighten up the mood again. He sat down next to Edd on the couch, setting the bowl of popcorn between them. “How’s the- how is the art coming along?”

Breathing an exasperated sigh, Edd stuffed his phone away and leaned back on the sofa. “Not very good.” He admitted. “I haven’t been able to draw anything worthwhile for some time now. I just can’t find any motivation to do so.”

Matt patted him on the back and offered his friend the coke. “Ah cheer up! Maybe all you need is something to relax over and refresh your head.” He reassured. “A good movie afternoon with some snacks will surely do the trick!”

Edd regarded his words and smiled. “Guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Matt laughed. “Just you wait, you’ll be back to drawing in no time.” He clasped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. “Now; what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road!”

He handed Edd the remote control for the TV. They started flicking through the various movies available, searching for something they’ll both enjoy.

“We’ve watched plenty of horror films in the past. How about an animated one for a change?”

“Sounds good to me!” Matt agreed enthusiastically, grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing it all into his mouth.

They navigated through the large selection of movies displayed on-screen, occasionally expressing their thoughts to each other whenever they pause by a possible choice before moving on with their search. Being a lover of all things animated, Edd isn’t picky when it comes to animation. He has some preferences, sure; but he isn’t about to turn up his nose if a particular style doesn’t appeal to him. He likes cheap, crappy horror movies for Christ sakes, his taste isn’t exactly refined!

After nearly half an hour of browsing and discussion, they eventually settled with a stop-motion flick. It was on Edd’s watch list since it first came out, though he never got around on actually watching it, and Matt was a sucker for the awkward movement and, in the ginger’s opinion, “cutesy” animation. So they shrugged their shoulders, decided “why not?” and selected it for their afternoon movie section.

Edd pressed play, sat back, and took a sip of his cola as the logos came on screen.

After what he’s been through lately, watching a film with Matt of all things really never crossed his mind. Probably because it seemed so mundane and… out of the norm from how he usually spent his days. Moping around, and doing nothing particularly exciting with his time until night fall. Mostly because all his attempts of performing tasks that usually brought some sort of emotion out of him, whether it be a positive or negative one, was replaced with empty numbness despite Edd’s best efforts to cope.

They duo sat there, watching the movie play out in silence, save for the occasional comment here and there and the sound of munching popcorn.

About twenty minutes into the film, when the main character was attempting to converse with their dead relative for guidance before being chased down by evil ninja-witches, and Edd’s attention was fixated on the screen with interest; loud noises could be heard coming from right outside of the apartment. Although obnoxious and kind of distracting, Edd didn’t pay them much mind.

Just lousy neighbors. He figured dismissively, eating more popcorn. They’ll leave soon enough.

However, the sounds hadn’t eased- quite the opposite happened, in fact. The noises coming from the hallway outside only grew louder in frequency, followed by voices that weren’t even trying to keep their tone down.

Edd shifted in his seat with clear discomfort. He debated with himself whether he should go out there and outright tell them to be quiet, or try his best to ignore and pay attention to the film. He shot a questioning glance at Matt, wondering what he preferred but the ginger didn’t turn to look at him as he raised the volume of the TV to its highest setting.

Upon closer look, Matt seems uncharacteristically stiff and rigid for some reason.

Edd brushed his doubts away, and turned his attention back to the screen. He tried his best to focus on the movie but every time he felt even slightly immersed in the story and characters, his mind would drift away back to the noises. A familiar tingle of dread made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but Edd couldn’t tell why. Something in particular about the voices outside set this feeling off in him, however he could not put a finger on it for the life of him.

The loud bumps and knocks that accompanied them didn’t help matters.

Growing increasingly restless, and unable to keep his curiosity down and neither the alarm bells ringing in his head; the brunet finally conceded.

“The hell do you think the neighbors are up to out there?” Edd prompted with feign nonchalantness as he took a sip of his beverage.

“Meh, who knows?” Matt shrugged indifferently while grabbing a chunk of popcorn. “Probably nothing exciting.”

Edd wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He couldn’t help the lingering suspicion that Matt might be hiding something from him, and it might be connected to the neighbors out there in the hall.

A tremor coming from his pocket jolted him out of his thoughts. Taking the phone out, Edd read the message.

(RF): So can you make it tonight?

He went to unlock the phone in order to reply when his eyes briefly flickered over the date displayed above the message:

Friday, 6th of July.

There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary for this date. However, something seemed to finally click into place in his head. The loud noises outside. The neighbors who wouldn’t stop talking. Matt’s stiff posture. It all made sense now.

It’s moving day! Edd deduced with a start. The people making so much noise are our new neighbors; and they are moving in to the apartment next door. Tom’s apartment. His posture deflated with a pang of sadness when he realized what it meant, but quickly brushed it off. He shouldn’t feel sad- he already knew this was happening one way or another, and leaving the apartment vacant to gather dust won’t change the fact that Tom is dead. It’s best to put it to good use for someone who actually needs a place to live.

Even if it meant-

Edd grimaced at the following thought.

Even if that the person leaving in the mornings to check the mail wasn’t his grumpy, eyeless friend; Edd knew this was the best course of action to take.

He breathed out a heavy sigh. Taking a second glance toward his orange-haired friend with this new information in mind, it’s no wonder Matt looks so stiff and uncomfortable. He thinks I’ll get upset if I figure out what’s really going on out there. Edd resisted the impulse to bristle at the insinuation that he may be too emotionally weak to think rationally. He couldn’t hold this against Matt. Tom was still kind of a sore topic to touch upon whenever he was mentioned between them, and Matt was just doing what he thought was best in his own anxious way. Edd can’t really fault him for that.

A loud bump disrupted his thoughts. Edd shifted his focus to the noises coming from the hallway, trying to hear what they were saying. Funny enough, the voices stirred an itch of familiarity within him; though he couldn’t quite place it. He’s definitely sure he heard these voices before… but where?

Edd shook his head. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this, and he is fairly sure he lost some pivotal plot points from the movie. “Alright, that’s it.” He jumped to his feet.

Matt looked up at him, startled. “Where you’re going?” He asks worriedly through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I’m going to tell our neighbors to pipe down. They are making too much noise, and I can barely hear what’s going on in the film.” The brunet crossed the short distance between the couch and the door.

“Wait, Edd! It’s fine- really!” Matt cried out, scrambling from his seat to try and reach out for him. “I- I don’t wan- I don’t really mind the noise all that much. I can try to-”

“Matt!” Edd abruptly cut him off, an edge of impatience in his voice.

The ginger instantly clamped his mouth shut, and fixed his worried blue gaze on his friend. Realizing he sounded harsher than he’d intended, Edd shot him an apologetic glance over his shoulder; his posture sagging as he released a tired sigh.

“It’s fine, Matt.” He tried again, this time with a much softer tone. “I mean it, really. I know what’s going on and you don’t need to hide it from me anymore. It’s okay!” Matt ducked his head down in shame, his gaze downcast. When he lifted his eyes again, Edd was surprised to see sorrow and guilt brimming in his friend’s stare. It honestly unnerved him in a way. What’s the big deal?

Figuring Matt was just upset he got caught trying to keep things from him; Edd shrugged it off as him simply being overly emotional.

“I know things haven’t been exactly the same between us since… you know. But you don’t have to keep every little thing that has to do with Tom a secret from me.” Edd continued uneasily. “I know you mean well, but I am not unstable. We’ve discussed about renting out Tom’s apartment, and I might’ve been upset at first, but we both agreed it was the best course of action to take.” He grabbed the door handle as he spoke.

Matt’s eyes widened. “Wait, Edd-!”

“Calm down, it’s fine.” The brunet opened the door just a crack. “I’m just going to tell the neighbors to quiet down a little, nothing worth so much drama. Maybe greet them into the complex while I’m at it.”

“That’s not what I-”

“I won’t lash out at them over this. You worry too much, I’m telling you it’s fine!” Edd insisted. He opened the door before Matt could make another protest, and he peered out into the hall.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know you guys are new but could you please keep the noise down a bit? We’re trying to watch a movie and-”

He froze. His words instantly dying out on his tongue when he saw two men he had never thought he’d see again standing before him; their belongings scattered around the hall whilst in the process of moving to their new apartment.

One of them was leaning back on the door frame of an apartment on the opposite side, sipping on a can of coke- diet coke, Edd noted with vivid disgust; while the other man was half-way through removing their belongings from a crate. They don’t appear to have changed much since the last time they’ve seen each other.

Edd stared at them in disbelief. After all the crazy adventures he’d gone through, he had thought nothing else could shock him, but for a heartbeat he forgot how to breathe.

Staring curiously back at him, both looking perplexed and mildly confused, were none other than Eduardo and Mark.

“Eduardo?”

“Loser-? I mean- Edd?!” Eduardo blinked at him in disbelief. “You live here?”

“Uhhh, yeah?” Edd answered, highly uncomfortable with the situation that he’s gotten himself into. Edd isn’t exactly sure what their current stances are now. Are they still rivals? Are they… cool now? It’s hard to tell after a whole year of not seeing each other. Doesn’t help that the last time they crossed paths ended up being a terrible tragedy for both groups. “What- what are you doing here?”

“What’s it look like?” Mark retorted, dusting his hands as he settled the crater down. “We’re moving in, of course.”

Edd’s blood ran cold, and he gulped apprehensively. What did he expect? There is literally no other reason why they would be here now, today of all days, with their stuff all over the place. After a second to recompose himself he prompted. “You- you two are sharing the flat together?”

“What? No. There isn’t enough space for the two of us in one apartment.” Mark clarified, surprising Edd with his assertiveness.

In the past, Eduardo had always been the more vocal one of the group. But now the dark haired brunet was just standing in silence with his favorite beverage in hand, his face giving nothing away.

“Eduardo’s taking the vacant apartment adjacent to yours, while I’ll be living in the one across from his. Simple as that.”

Though he’d already guessed, hearing his suspicions being confirmed out loud only made his blood run cold with dread; chilling him to the core. Out of everyone in this town looking for a place to live, Edd internally winced. Why did it have to be Eduardo of all people to move in Tom’s apartment?

Sensing anguish welling up fast inside his chest, Edd decided it was best to end this interaction immediately. It’s bad enough running into them when he wasn’t even sure what their relationship is; he doesn’t need the humiliation of showing vulnerability in front of them on top of that.

“That’s, uh, great I guess.” He choked out stiffly; attempting to clear his throat to mask the uneasiness that he felt. “I’ll be heading back inside now. Sorry for interrupting.”

He was half-way behind the door when Eduardo called to him.

“Wait, Edd.”

Edd stopped, but didn’t step out again. Instead he merely peeked from the remaining gap of the door, his heart growing colder by the second. He could hardly stand to look at the other man. He’s always so cocky and arrogant and pleased with himself. . . . He recalled with nagging frustration.

Then Edd realized that he seemed different now from how he had been before the incident. He hasn’t made a single snarky remark to me… yet.

“We heard what happened to your friend.” Eduardo murmured, seeming uncertain of his own actions. It was weird to see the usually brash and arrogant man be so hesitant and act sympathetic. But he held a look of genuine sadness in his eyes. Edd grit his teeth at the indirect mention of Tom. You weren’t supposed to know about that! “I’m sorry.”

Edd stared at him, unsure how to respond. He tried to choke out a “Thank you” because he knew that was what he was supposed to say. But his throat felt as if it was full of ash, and his grief rose until he felt it might burst out of him.

Still, he kept his emotions in check. His eyes blurred with sadness, Edd only gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement and headed back inside.

The door clicked shut behind him and his strength vanished, leaving only a familiar numbness that he’d grown so accustomed to the past days. Edd’s shoulder’s sagged and his gaze was downcast.

“Edd?”

He looked up at the sound of his name. Matt was still sitting on the couch, movie paused, his knees hugged to his chest with his face half-hidden as he stared at Edd with wide dismayed eyes. “Are you okay?”

Edd’s mind was whirling. He couldn’t think beyond this moment; he only suspected his best friend’s involvement in the situation. He narrowed his eyes. “Did you know?”

Matt let out a long sigh, closing his eyes briefly as if he had to nerve himself for what he was about to say. The he faced Edd again.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but there was never a right time.” His blue eyes were seared with guilt.

In other words; you were afraid to make me upset. Edd couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his thoughts. Although he appreciates the sentiment, he would’ve appreciated more if he’d been warned ahead of time to better handle the situation. Doesn’t Matt know by now that keeping things from me don’t make them go away, but make them worse?

Edd took a deep breath. “Why did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?” Matt prompted, clear confusion evident on his features.

“About Tom!” Frustration made Edd hiss through gritted teeth. “Why did you have to tell them what happened?”

“I didn’t!” Matt’s eyes were genuinely mystified, and Edd realized the ginger was telling the truth; he hadn’t revealed Tom’s terrible fate to their so called former rivals. “The landlord must’ve probably mentioned to them or something. I would never say something so personal to those guys! I promise!”

For a moment that lasted a heartbeat or perhaps a full minute, Edd simply stared at him. Tension easing off his shoulders, Edd finally decided to relent and spare Matt from further distress. He looked away and sighed; running a hand through his hair as he went to sit back on the couch.

“Edd?”

“I’m fine, Matt. Just press play on the movie.” Edd leaned back with arms crossed over his chest. He kept his gaze on the screen, but could still sense the ginger’s gaze on him.

He heard Matt sigh in defeat and the film resumed; though neither of them appeared to be paying any real attention to the rest of it, now that tension was thick in the air between them.

Edd stared at the screen blankly, admittedly enjoying the aesthetic of the animation but never getting quite sucked in to what’s going on; when a slight tremor coming from his pocket caught his notice.

Edd pulled out his phone to see another message, realizing with a start he’d forgotten to reply to the message before.

(RF): Eddie?

(RF): Oi! Don’t leave me hanging bud!

He began to type back, glad to have something to distract him from the awkward occurrence that he’d just gone through.

(EG): Sorry!

(EG): Got kind of sidetracked…

(EG): But yeah, I can make it!

An instant reply popped on screen.

(RF): Splendid! :D

(RF): Same time and place sounds good to yah?

(EG): Yup

(RF): Great!

(RF): Till then

Edd closed his phone with small grin, feeling moderately better than he did now that he has something to look forward to at the end of the evening.

(Meanwhile…)

Wind swept across bleak and icy mountains, carrying with it flurries of sleet. Dark clouds blocked out the sun entirely from view, casting the landscape in shadows that only subsided for a split-second by the occasional flash of lightning that ripped through the sky.

Patrick stood firmly still amidst the storm, umbrella in hand, as he watched the soldiers work about the runway. His eyes squinted against the heavy rain and the strong, howling winds buffeting both his hair and uniform wildly in the air.

A pair of white lights appeared in the distance, heralding the approach of a helicopter. The steady sound of the rotating blades reached Pat’s ears above the clamor of the storm, and before long, the aircraft itself came into view.

He observed in silent anticipation as the helicopter neared the helipad. One of the soldiers stood right in front of it, acting as a marshall, and used the glowing batons in each hand to signal the aircraft forward to land.

The helicopter’s door slid open before the craft could even fully touch the ground, and a figure jumped out, seemingly not caring about the horrible weather he exposed himself to. If anything, he appeared to relish the freezing sting of the gale and rain against the injured side of his face.

“Home sweet home.” He sighed contently.

“Welcome back, Red Leader.”

Patrick greeted him with a courteous dip of his head, extending the umbrella over his leader’s head to shelter him from the rainstorm. “It’s good to have you back, sir. Hope you had a pleasant flight despite the dreadful weather.”

“Indeed.” Tord regarded his surroundings with a wistful glance.

After having to travel to four different bases in a matter of months, dealing with the idiocy of some of his soldiers and putting them back in line, Tord had longed to return home and resume his work on more important matters that actually deserve his time and attention.

He raised one hand and flicked his fingers, signaling for the soldiers who had been accompanying in the helicopter to move out. The soldiers exited the aircraft at his silent order, bringing with them a sealed tight crate. It was labeled “confidential” on the side with big letters, and etched in red.

“Should I know what is it that you got there with you, sir?” Patrick inquired, his gaze following the mysterious box with curious intent as the soldiers carried it inside.

“All in good time, Pat.” Tord smirked. “Although frustrating at times, my time away has also been very fruitful. I managed to gather information that will prove to be most pivotal for our research.”

And that’s all he would say in the matter.

Tord headed for the hangar’s exit, Patrick following right behind him, walking at a brisk pace. The Red Leader, although acknowledging the presence of his soldiers with a curt nod as they walked past him, barely paid them any mind. He has more pressing affairs to attend to, and he was eager to see his test subject’s development up close after being gone for so long.

“So, how’s subject #1826 doing?” Tord brought it up as soon as they got into the elevator, and out of earshot from the other Red Army members.

Patrick shot him a side-glance as he pressed the -3 button. “I thought you already knew the answer to that by now. We have been updating his progress all along after all.” He said, closing the umbrella and letting it lean on the side of his leg.

“Yes, well, the last update you sent me was nearly a month ago and I want to know all the precise details.” The Norsk stated, a hint of impatience edged in his voice. “Did he behave?”

“Yes, sir. He behaved exceptionally well in your absence.” Pat replied. “Perhaps you should consider leaving again to keep on Tom’s good graces?” He teased, a small smirk forming on his face.

“Oh ha ha! How clever of you!” Tord fake-laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he narrowed his eyes. “Astounds me how you didn’t become a comedian instead of working in this dump.” He paused, his tone softening. “Still; it’s good to know he wasn’t being difficult with either of you.”

Sighing, he ran one hand through his partially wet bangs. “How is he otherwise?”

Patrick shifted his feet. “His physical condition has improved drastically since we first acquired him. His body mass and weight are back to normal measures, all his injuries have healed, and there is no trace of sickness in him. Truly, he is in the best shape possible and I think you’ll be glad with the end result.”

“Is Paul putting him through more advanced exercises now that Tom’s faring better?”

“Yes; and I believe they are in gym as we speak, sir.” Pat continued. “We also altered his diet plan. We are serving him three meals a day, with small lunch breaks in between like fruits or crackers.”

“And his mental condition?” Tord pressed.

Pat’s gaze drifted away. “I’m not entirely sure. Thomas is very closed off, and it’s hard to read him.” His shoulders slumped and he leaned back against one of the elevator walls.

Tord blinked at him with surprise. For the first time in a long while, perhaps because he hadn’t seen the Polish soldier in months, Pat looked genuinely tired.

“Pat?”

At the sound of his name, the Red Army general immediately composed himself with a tiny shake of his head. “Mentally; the results are still inconclusive. I need to perform a few more sessions to be sure.”

Tord regarded him for a moment longer.

“You think he might be ready for the experiments?” He demands. His eyes narrowed.

“Soon; but not yet, sir.” Patrick responded, clearing his throat. “Since we don’t know much about the serum’s nature, we have no way of knowing if it has any correlation to the subject’s brain activity.” He went on. “If were to start the experiments on Tom with the slightest chance of him being unstable, we have no idea how well that would translate with the serum.”

Tord looked at Patrick and solemnly nodded his line of reasoning. “Very well.” He conceded.

“Also-” The General added hastily. “The shipment of the purple stuff you ordered from our suppliers arrived last month. I took the liberty to store it in the lab for your use when the time comes.”

“Did Tom see it?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Good.”

The elevator’s doors slid open. Patrick stepped out; expecting his leader to do the same, but glancing back over his shoulder the Norsk remained unmoving.

“Aren’t you heading for your office?” Pat suggested. “Being gone for so long, I thought you’d be dying to return to your quarters.”

“Later. I want to check Thomas’ progress for myself first.” Tord answered briskly. He was restless to see Tom again, and how much he’s changed. “Contact me should you need anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

They both nodded curtly and the lift’s doors closed.

Alone in the elevator now, Tord raised the palm of his robotic hand and placed it over the panel in the wall where a scanner is situated next to the buttons. It is meant to read soldier IDs for clearance reasons. Not everyone is allowed to take the elevator, and some floors are off limits; especially the -5 level, where the serum experiments are being held in.

The scanner read the small screen that his palm displayed, and the confirmation sound rang above him. Tord pressed the button and leaned back as the lift set in motion once again. He was absolutely ecstatic to see the progress his test subject had made.

(Meanwhile…)

Breathless and sweating profusely, Tom sprinted as fast as his tired body would allow. He panted but kept on running despite his body’s pleas to stop. His heart was hammering against his chest so hard that Tom felt as if it lodged against the bottom of his throat, and nearly suffocate him. Blood roaring loudly in his ears.

He leaped over the obstacles standing in his path smoothly, regardless of his rapidly decreasing energy. Tom’s mouth felt parched, and it was tough to swallow. He was tired, and yearned for a pause to rest; yet the exercise felt rejuvenating to his being.

Using one last surge of strength in him to make it through the end of the lap, Tom pelted for the finish line. He felt eyes following his movements as he did so, and Tom risked a quick side glance to the far right of the tracks where Paul was standing. Although brief, he accidentally made eye contact with the Red Army commander; the latter even giving him an encouraging nod and a flashed a little, friendly smile.

Tom snapped his focus back to running, shaking his head dismissively. The world seemed to slow down despite his speed, and everything turned a shade darker. A sudden weight manifested on his back and coiled around his shoulders, like a snake constricting against its prey. Tom resisted the instinct to flinch when he sensed a cruel pair of sharp hands press up against his jugular.

“Don’t be fooled. ~” The voice hissed in his head. “You know they are after only one thing, and that’s why they are treating you so decently. ~” It reminded him sternly. “It’s all a ruse. Nothing more than an act for you to let your guard down. But now that you are onto them, they’ll start to get desperate to regain your trust. You better not forget that! ~”

I won’t.

The voice vanished; allowing him the chance to complete the rest of the circuit.

Upon crossing the finish line, Tom skidded to a halt and hunched over to his knees, panting to catch his breath. His forehead was coated with sweat and his face was flushed red with heat.

“44 seconds!” Paul exclaimed, pressing the stop button on his stopwatch. “You are 8 seconds slower than last time; but considering this is your fourth lap today, I say it isn’t all that bad.”

Tom did not respond. He was too busy catching his breath back to his lungs to properly process the results.

“Think you can do 2 more laps?” Paul prompted, handing him a water bottle.

Tom snatched it out of his hand, still not speaking, and tipped the bottle into his mouth. A little bit more desperate to quench his thirst than he’d intended to, he drank the water clumsily and some of it dribbled down the corners of his lips and dripped off his chin and onto his sweaty shirt.

“Sure.” He finally answered, breathless. “Just uh- just give me five minutes or so.”

“Still having the lungs of a pug, I see?”

The unexpected, and yet familiar voice made Tom stop mid-swig and choke on the water. Spitting out what remained in his mouth, Tom looked up with wide eyes; thinking perhaps it was just the voice playing another prank on him. But there was no dark haze clouding his vision, and no ghostly limbs holding him. Not to mention the speaker sounded smooth and cool. Sure enough, Tom’s fears were confirmed when his gaze landed on the imposing figure standing by the gym’s entrance. A coy smirk was plastered on the man’s face, hands folded neatly behind his back, and his one visible eye was glinting with what appeared to be a mixture of enthusiasm and interest.

Paul instantly straightened himself and saluted the Norsk as he strolled into the room. Tord acknowledged his commander with a nod as he approached, before turning his attention to Tom. “Hello, old friend.”

A wave of dread and resentment spiked through Tom at the sight of the Norwegian man. He narrowed his eyes. “F#ck, you’re back already?”

“Thomas! Is that any way to greet your leader?” Tord pretended to gasp, his eye sparkling with amusement.

“You’re not my leader, much less my friend.” Tom growled.

The Red Leader did not respond to his remark. Tord stepped closer to him, his gaze raking over the Brit with interest. Patrick wasn’t kidding when he said Tom made a full physical recovery. The test subject who had arrived in the base underweight, sickly pale, and gaunt all those months ago has made a miraculous improvement.

Tord began to circle him, taking a closer and more detailed look at him.

Tom’s skin tone took a healthier hue despite not getting any sunlight, and his frame is no longer frail bone and skin. He wasn’t wearing any bandages, and Tord could see that most of the bruises were healed except for a few faint scars. He’d developed a good mass of muscles too; most notably on his arms and torso. His legs and thighs have also grown sturdy and fit from the exercises, and the dark bags that had accentuated his eyeless sockets have disappeared. Despite being a sweaty mess right now, Tom looks generally better than he did since the last time they saw each other. The pictures certainly didn’t do him enough justice, and Tord was all the more glad he took his time to see Tom’s development for himself.

On his part, Tom was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the lack of personal space between him and the Norsk, and the intense gaze roaming his body didn’t make it any better. He kept his attention on Tord as he circled him, making sure to keep the Norwegian man on his line of sight at all times. Tom did not enjoy the way Tord was looking at him, and he found himself glaring at the man pacing around him.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Tord murmured under his breath, nodding in approval as his gaze wandered Tom’s form from top to bottom, and back up again one last time. His gaze eventually settled on Tom’s unique black eyes, and he cocked his head to one side with a tiny smirk. “I see the life of a soldier is treating you quite well.”

Tom turned to him fully and narrowed his eyes. “Uh, I think you mean the life of a test subject? At least that’s the official term from what I’ve heard?” He pointed toward the number tag on his shirt, as if to prove his point. “Still; can’t say the same for you.” He gestured to the burned side of the Norsk’s face.

“Anyways, where were you before I interrupted?” Tord quickly changed the subject, and switched his attention to Paul; seemingly ignoring Tom’s comment altogether.

Prick. Tom fumed irritably, taking another sip of his water bottle. Commie’s been here for five minutes, and he is already grating on my nerves.

“I’m having test subject #1826 run laps around the tracks, sir.” The Red Army Commander reported, showing him the timer on the stopwatch.

Tord eyed the numbers with a critical eye. “Decent, but I wouldn't go writing home about it.” He hummed pensively. “Mind if I stay and watch? It would be a good way to learn where his strengths and weaknesses lie for when I begin his training.”

“Training?!”

For the second time that day, Tom spat out his drink. He wiped his face clean with the back of his hand, and shot the two soldiers an incredulous look. “What training? What are you talking about?”

The Red Leader pinched the bridge of his nose with sigh, his lips quirked upward in the form of a small grin. “Oh Tom, you mean to tell me you haven’t pieced it together?” He teased. “I know you’re dense, but surely you must’ve suspected something out of the intense exercises we put you through? All of this isn’t just for the sake of keeping you fit, you know. If that were the case, I would just have you running on a treadmill with a bottle of Smirnoff hanging on the other end and it would probably work just as well!”

“The hell you talking about?”

“What do you think? You are going to be a soldier, Tom.”

Tom froze with shock at his words. He felt as if he’d been hit in the chest by a ten-pound sledge hammer, and was standing there stunned and staring in disbelief at the f#cker who assaulted him. For a second, Tom hoped he just imagined or misheard what Tord said; however, judging by the clear satisfaction on the Norwegian’s face it was evident he’d heard correctly.

Anger soon replaced shock, and Tom clenched his fists with a scowl. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to say. What? Why? F#ck? No? Uh? Knowing he would make a blunder of himself if he attempts to speak, Tom resorted to follow his most basic urge at the moment.

He flung the water bottle at Tord’s face.

Foreseeing his moves, the Red Leader effortlessly caught it mid-air before it could strike him. Tord felt Paul shrink back in shock beside him, looking back and forth between him and Tom anxiously; anticipating the situation to escalate any moment now. But Tord was calm- in fact, he was amused by the eyeless man’s antics.

He looked at the bottle in his hand, then turned back to Tom. “I’ll let it slide, this time.” He warned.

His comment seems to stir Tom’s fury further, and the Brit marched up to him stiff-legged until they were practically nose to nose. “No. There’s absolutely no f#cking way I will ever be another one of your stupid soldiers!”

Tord frowned. “Your future is non-negotiable at this point, Thomas.” He pointed out matter-of-factly. “You signed your life over to the Red Army when you took the deal, remember?”

“To be a test subject for your stupid plans. That’s it. I didn’t know about this garbage when I agreed!” Tom snarled.

“Admittedly, at the time this wasn’t part of my plans either. But after giving some thought on the situation, I realized it’s the best course of action for you.” Tord reasoned coolly. “We can’t afford to transport you out in the middle of the battlefield. What’s the point of a super-secret weapon if it’s impractical? You’ll be of much better use in the front lines, where you may shift if we ever need to turn the tides of battle to our favor.”

Tom stumbled backward, hardly believing what he was hearing. Being the commie’s test subject was bad enough; but now he wants him as a soldier too? Tom shivered in disgust at the thought of being just another one of Tord’s stupid, brainless, and obedient pawns. The image of wearing the ridiculous red and blue uniform made him nearly visibly retch.

From the sidelines, Paul stepped closer to them. “Sir, I sincerely urge you to reconsider.” He spoke up. “All Red Army members joined by choice, and Thomas should get the same rights as they did.”

Tom glanced at him in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Paul to jump to his defense against his own leader’s judgement. However, Tom was quick to crush any presumption that Paul was doing this out of some resemblance of care he may have for him.

Tord turned to his Commander with narrowed eyes. “I already gave him the choice to join us, and he did so willingly.” You forced me into it you prick! Tom bristled at the reminder of the threat put over his friend’s lives. “I don’t see why I have to give him a second chance if he’s already part of our organization anyway.”

Paul shook his head, looking troubled. “Pat’s not going to like that, sir.”

“Then Pat can discuss this with me himself.” Tord retorted through gritted teeth, his patience running thin. Paul sighed in defeat, dipping his head toward his leader and stepping away again.

A sudden pressure increased inside Tom’s head and his gaze darkened. “Shouldn’t you be happy? You’re getting promoted from lab mutt to loyal hound! This is the greatest thing you will ever achieve in your miserable existence. Might as well commit to the position. ~” The voice commented ponderingly with a hint of a chuckle, patting his head forcefully. “Or… you should take this as a bigger incentive to go through with your plan. Whichever you prefer. ~” The hand patting his head grabbed a hold of his scalp, sinking nail like claws into his skull and pulling hard. Tom winced. “Vacation is over! Time to start acting, or else! ~” The heavy weight constricting his brain seemed to uncurl and release him, and his vision dimmed back to normal.

“Now then, if there aren’t any further arguments perhaps we should resume with your exercises.” Tord clasped his hands together, straightening his posture and with his chin raised to assume a more authoritative appearance. His one gray eye gleamed back at Tom mockingly, as if daring him to challenge his power.

Tom glanced back at him, muscles still stiff with outrage- or maybe it’s just from all the exercises he’s done so far. He wanted to argue. He wanted to keep on defying him for every little thing, and throw insults at the commie’s face. But what’s the point of any of it anymore? Not give Tord the satisfaction of obeying him? You would think with the constant desire to die floating around in his head, he would have gotten better on his priorities, but evidently not. Tom’s rivalry with Tord is not something easily brushed over no matter what circumstances they’re in.

Mustering all his self-control, Tom simply sighed and nodded briskly. “Fine.” He begrudgingly relented.

Catching Tom’s gaze, Paul cleared his throat and nodded solemnly. “Two laps.”

Tom took a deep breath and walked over to the starting point, well-aware of the Norsk’s gaze following him. He took position; standing with his feet about shoulder-width apart with his right leg just behind the starting line- and waited for Paul to give the signal.

From the corner of his vision, Tom could see Tord standing off to the side of the tracks next to Paul. Tom elected to ignore his presence, and pretend he wasn’t currently in the same room as him; or that he was standing in such a close proximity of the Norwegian man. He caught a glimpse of Tord’s robotic arm and remembering what happened the last time he’d been present on his physical evaluation, Tom stared at the device intently- silently urging it to glitch again to get Tord out of the room. It’s times such as these Tom wished he’d been given psychic powers along with the rest of his gifts.

“And… go!”

At the signal, Tom pelted away at once as Paul pressed start on his stopwatch. Tord watched Tom race through the tracks, his gaze pinned on the eyeless man as he leaped over the obstacles at a decent speed.

Not taking his eyes off the test subject, Tord addressed his Commander. “Anything unusual happened while I was gone?”

“Unusual, sir?” Paul echoed, raising one eye-brow in confusion.

“With him.” Tord nodded in Tom’s general direction. “Has he demonstrated any odd behavior changes as of late?”

Paul shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir.”

Tord pursed his lips, unsatisfied. “Any more fainting episodes?”

“Negative, sir. Ever since his withdrawal subsided, Thomas hasn’t displayed any signs of fatigue or illness.” The Commander fidgeted. “Although he does get sluggish from time to time, and he often complains about headaches.”

Tord hummed thoughtfully, his hand trailing over the designs of his prosthetic one continuously. “And what are you giving him? Pat mentioned you changed his diet according to the improvement of his condition.”

“Normal meals. Mostly what the mess hall serves for the day, with the exception of red meat.”

The additional information caught the Red Leader’s interest, drawing his attention away from the tracks to look at the man beside him intently. “No red meat? Why is that?”

“Tom made his distaste abundantly clear when we served it to him the first time.” Paul admitted. “After that, he insisted on only fish and chicken.”

Interesting bit of trivia. Tord narrowed his eyes. He was brought out of his thoughts when Tom raced past them, panting profusely as he crossed over the finish line. His face was flushed red with the heat of the exercise, and his pacing was slow, if a little sloppy.

As soon as he reached the end, Tom collapsed to the floor; chest heaving as he fought to catch back his breath.

Tord looked over to Paul.

“50 seconds- slightly slower than last time.” He states, showing him the timer on his stopwatch.

Tord frowned. His stamina leaves a lot to be desired. He thought exasperatedly. Then his aggravation gave way to determination. But I know he can run much better than this!

Fortunately, Tord knows just what exactly he needs to bring out the best of the eyeless man.

He walked up to where Tom was splayed on the floor, still panting. Tord loomed over him with his arms folded behind his back and nudged the test subject’s body with one foot. “Get up.”

Tom looked up at him. “Yeah yeah- just uh- just give me a second.”

“It’s already been a second.” Tord stated firmly. “C’mon. The sooner you are done with this, the faster you can take a shower. You smell awful.”

At the insult, Tom’s gaze drifted from the ceiling to glare at the Norwegian man towering over him. Wincing at the effort in his tired limbs, Tom heaved himself to his feet. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He spat.

The Brit walked back to the starting point and readied himself into position. He still occasionally swayed from side to side, having not fully recovered yet; however, he patiently waited for Paul to give him the signal.

Watching him intently, Tord managed to suppress the grin the threatened to form on his face as he played his plan over again in his head. Let him have a head start.

“And… go!”

Tom rushed away immediately. He pushed himself forward despite the constant protests of his body for him to stop and rest, but he’ll only be able to do so after he’s done with the dumb exercises. Tom’s chest tightened with the lack of breath, and he felt his lungs practically screaming. The world seemed to close around him, but he pushed onward, his vision narrowed to a tunnel, fixed only on the tracks.

Suddenly, the sound of thrumming and fast footsteps catching up to him reached his ears. Before Tom could fully process it, Tord appeared right next him; matching his pace effortlessly. Tom looked at him in bewilderment.

“What the f-?!”

“Why so shocked, Jehovah?” Tord taunted knowingly. “At the rate that you’re running, even a crippled turtle would outrun you.”

Tom scowled. “Give me a break, you stupid commie! This is my sixth lap today to your first – cut me some slack, will you?”

Tord smirked. “Grouchy much?”

They jumped over the obstacles standing in their way together, with Tord taking the lead by a few inches ahead of Tom. However, despite his lazy speed it was clear the Norsk was only pacing himself to stay in step with the tired test subject. He can ditch him any time he wants but opted not to yet just to aggravate the Brit further.

While Tord leaped over the barriers in his way with smooth precision, Tom was clumsy in his lack of energy and his foot accidentally caught the upper-edge of the obstacle; slowing him down as he staggered forward and knocked the barrier to the ground. He quickly put his hands out in front of him to prevent himself from face-planting the floor.

“Classic stupid Tom! ~” Tord laughed, leaving him behind as he raced on ahead. “Watch your step, or you’re just going to keep eating dust.”

Fuming with anger, Tom hared after Tord as fast as he could. No way he was gonna let the commie get the best of him.

“Take it easy!” Paul called after him. “It’s not a race, remember?”

Tell that to Tord! Tom raced harder.

“C’mon Thomas, don’t be like that. Second best is nothing to be ashamed of!” He heard Tord laugh way up ahead.

His lungs ached. A cramp stabbed his ribs. Tord was already halfway back. At this rate, the Norsk would be able to lap him by the time he reached the finish line. How can he run that fast? He’s a smoker! Tom thought incredulously. He forced himself to keep going. The floor flashed beneath him as he fought for each breath. Tord stopped running and stood next to Paul by the end of the tacks to watch him. Dragging in another breath, he hurtled the last few meters and skidded to a halt beside them.

“I- I did! Ha ha…” Tom cheered pathetically, throwing his arms up but giving up half-way to let them rest by his sides. “In your… face!” He pointed at Tord, jabbing him on his chest weakly.

“The best soldier is the one who’s still fighting at the end of the battle. Don’t use up all your strength in the first fight.” Tord advised coolly.

Tom frowned. “Whatever; just give me the damn water bottle.”

Deciding he had enough fun tormenting the poor Brit for today, Tord obliged to his request and tossed the bottle over to him. He turned to Paul. “How was the time this lap?”

“42 seconds! He did much better this time around.” Paul exclaimed.

Of course he did. Tord thought smugly. Tom would never let me best him without trying. All he needed was a little motivation. And though it was not his intent, he actually had a lot of fun racing Tom; even if it was just to nag him into hurrying up. It reminded him of the good old days when they had physical education together as children.

But Tom can still improve. He pushed the childish thoughts aside and shifted back to his leader persona.

“I think Thomas needs a little demonstration on how it should be done.” Tord decided. “Paul, will you please do the honors?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul tore away, following the line of the tracks at a steady pace.

Tord beckoned Tom over. “Watch him closely.” He ordered as the Brit neared and stood beside him. Upon closer inspection, Tord realized how completely spent and unsteady Tom was on his feet. He placed one hand on the eyeless man’s shoulder to steady him. He immediately felt him tense in his grip, and Tom tried to brush him away; however, although his grasp was not firm, it was persistent and kept Tom from nearly falling over.

“See how much space he covers with each step. Watch how he stretches forward each time his feet leave the ground. Speed is vital, but you need to be in control of the speed.” Tord murmured.

Tom watched attentively how Paul curved his leg with each stride. The Red Commander was at ease with his movements as he raced through the tracks, and doesn’t appear to be the least bit tired by the time he skidded to a halt beside them.

“One last lap. Got your breath back?” Tord asked.

Tom sighed. “Yeah.”

“Don’t aim for speed.” Tord warned. “You need your strength later.”

Tom dipped his head and walked over to the starting line. As soon as Paul gave the signal to go he broke into a run, not pushing hard at first but gaining rhythm and speed as he crossed the tracks. He focused on each bound, reaching out with his feet a little farther before they touched the ground. He pushed harder with every stride until he was aware of nothing but the steady thrumming of his feet and the way his breath fell in time with his pace. He was suddenly moving with ease and hardly noticed any shortage of oxygen in his lungs.

“Much better! You got 32 seconds this time around.” Tord’s voice surprised him. He’d completed the lap of the running track already, so focused that he hadn’t seen him. He pulled up, slowing to a halt before turning and strolling back to his side.

“Nice work, Tom.” Paul acknowledged him with a dip of his head. “I think we’re done for the day. Go ahead and shower.”

“Yes!” Tom breathed in relief. “Thank god, I thought I was about to throw up my lungs all over the floor from so much exercise.”

Tord rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Thomas.” He flashed him a knowing grin. “You’ll get used to them in time.”

Merely scoffing in reply, Tom picked up a fresh change of clothes and headed for the restroom in the back of the gym. Tord watched him leave, getting farther away until he entered the bathroom and disappeared from sight.

“So…”

Paul’s voice jerked Tord out of his thoughts, and he blinked in confusion. “So?” He echoed.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were planning to make Tom a soldier?” Paul crossed his arms, staring at him as he patiently waited for a reasonably good explanation.

Tord sighed. “I had a hunch Tom might’ve grown attached to the two of you, and vice versa, in my absence. I didn’t want to potentially sour this little trust triangle you got going on by having either of you feeding him that information.” He admitted. “Tom has a tendency to take things a lot more personally than they’re intended to be. He’s… interesting that way.” He paused, running his organic hand through his locks. “He wouldn’t have taken it well had you or Pat told him. It’s best to have his anger target someone who already had plenty of experience in the past.”

“Hm, and have three people be disappointed in you as opposed to only one – yes, very good planning on your part if I say so myself, sir.” Paul muttered somewhat condescendingly. “You could’ve just ordered us to not tell him, if that were the case!”

“It wouldn’t have worked – Tom would’ve just taken that as a bigger offence.” Tord stated coolly. “Anyway, It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done, and now you know.”

Paul tsked, his eyes gleaming in anticipation of trouble ahead. “You’re the leader. But Pat ain’t gonna like this one bit. You know how he is with keeping vital information from the two of us.”

Tord shrugged stubbornly. “Patrick will just have to accept the decision.”

“If you insist, sir.” Paul frowned. “However, I must remind you that our schedules are kind of in a tight fit. Between dealing with the formal aspects of the base and evaluating Tom’s condition twice a week; it will be hard for either of us to find time to oversee Tom’s soldier training on top of all that.”

“Don’t worry, Paul. I already took all of that into consideration when I made my decision.” The Norwegian man dismissed his concerns. “Which is why I had my schedule re-organized to fit in time for Tom’s training.”

Had he been drinking, Paul would’ve surely spat it out all over the floor by now. “You’ll mentor him?” He sputtered, staring at his leader incredulously. “Is that a good idea, sir?”

Tord crossed his arms. “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked, feeling annoyance beginning to sour his good humor. “This isn’t the first time I personally train soldiers; and Thomas is a special case.”

“Because you two don’t get along.” Retorted Paul matter-of-factly. “Leaving you alone with him is the biggest recipe for disaster I ever heard. Anything goes wrong, and you’ll immediately go at each other’s throats – you said so yourself! Wouldn’t it make more sense to have either Pat or I to mentor him? You know… someone he actually trusts?”

Tord hesitated. There was some truth in what Paul said, but Tord knew that he couldn’t give the task to any other person. He had to have Tom under his own guidance to keep a close eye on any signs of the serum affecting his performance, and make sure he stayed loyal to the Red Army. He knew the most logical choice would be to have either of his most trusted soldiers to train him. Yet something made him reluctant to give Tom to either of them. They don’t have quite the same extensive knowledge about Tom the way that he does.

“My mind’s made up.” He stated curtly. “He’s part of the Red Army one way or another, so he’ll have to get used to my presence eventually. We can’t keep delaying that, so might as well cross that bridge as soon as possible.”

A curious, and yet somehow teasing hum reached his ears. Tord turned to Paul, blinking in surprise when he noticed the Commander staring at him disbelievingly. He narrowed his eyes in return. “What?”

“Sir… do you still harbor feelings for him after all?”

Tord’s mechanical fist immediately clenched. Paul’s words have probed a Pandora’s box of emotions he’d so carefully locked away and abandoned in the deepest part of his subconscious; buried beneath an endless pile of duties and future plans he would so often lose himself to, in order to feed his ambition and aspirations as an army leader, and thus, keep him blissfully ignorant of their existence.

His mood turning stone cold, Tord was quick to grab a hold of himself before he could be swept back to the contents of that particular box, and fixed Paul with a deadly glare. “No, I don’t.” He snarled, straightening his posture to a more authoritative attitude. “Tom is nothing more than a test subject, who just so happens to be the key to victory to my conquest for world domination. Other than that, Tom means nothing to me. Are we clear on that fact?”

Paul opened his mouth to reply, when another voice cut in.

“Hey Paul! I think the ventilation system in the bathroom is busted – it’s way too hot in there!”

They looked up just in time to see Tom exit the restroom, wearing only pants as he dried the bare upper part of his body with a towel.

Tord’s face heat up at the sight of Tom’s shirtless form standing several feet in front of him, melting away all remnants of his anger as he stared at him in awe. His one-eyed gaze raked over the eyeless man’s features, tracing every detail of his well-built and toned chest. Tord realized with exhilaration that Tom was still wet and coated in water as the tiny specks caught the light and gave his appearance a more radiant look, and the Norsk watched as the eyeless man dried himself slack-jawed in amazement.

“Well, I can certainly see why you’re called the Red Leader.”

Paul’s teasing remark cut through Tord’s thoughts and he immediately blinked back to reality. With greater difficulty than he cared to admit, Tord tore his gaze away from the shirtless Brit, and glanced at his Commander who’s looking up at him with a smug expression.

Tord froze, feeling panic rise within him. “Was my staring really that obvious?”

“You were practically drooling, sir.” Paul replied simply, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice as he gestured toward the moisture coating the Norsk’s chin.

Flushing in embarrassment, Tord wiped away the dampness from his chin with the back of his hand. Despair seized Tord, as the terrible realization that Paul had been right dawned on him.

No… no! This cannot be!

What was supposed to be nothing more than a childish crush for Tom – something Tord had taken great lengths to get over and forget about in order to pursuit his goals, has come back to haunt him. The emotions he worked so hard to shoot dead and bury six feet under, have risen from the grave like a strike of lightning through his body.

He risked another glimpse of the eyeless man, mortified at the notion of Tom having seen his slip up and dumbfounded stare. Tord breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed Tom had been too busy drying himself to really pay attention to what they were doing. His stare lingered a couple seconds longer and watched the Brit put on a shirt; all the while despising the familiar fluttering sensation stirring in the pit of his stomach as he admired the sight.

Anger and frustration flared up inside of Tord, quickly squashing down these invasive emotions with an iron fist. I am the Red Leader, and future ruler of the whole world. He reminded himself solemnly. I cannot be distracted by insignificant emotions – they lead to weakness, and I am not weak! He’d already made an exception for Paul and Pat in his life, he can’t afford to be soft-hearted now.

“First you want Tom as a test subject, then as a soldier… next step I guess would be to have him as your-”

Tord did not let the Commander finish his sentence. He spun around, looking furious, and Paul instantly regretted his words as he was grabbed by the front of his uniform by the Red Leader.

“This changes nothing.” The Norwegian man stated, his voice deadly quiet and yet very clear. “Mark my words; if this ever gets out to anyone other than the two of us, the soldiers will be wondering why we haven’t had a taco Friday for the last two years, capiche?”

Paul blinked at him, more bewildered than afraid by his leader’s threat. “Yes, sir.”

“Uh… am I interrupting something?”

Tord let go of Paul at once, and they quickly composed themselves as they turn to address Tom; who’d been standing there for a while in clear confusion.

“Ah yes! The ventilation system. Right.” Tord cleared his throat, straightening himself. “Paul, would you be so kind to have a look at it while I escort Thomas to his quarters?”

“I can walk there by myself, you know.” Tom remarked dryly.

“Oh, I am sure that you can!” The Norsk grinned, his voice smooth and condescending. “However, there are some things that I must discuss with you.”

Tom groaned in exasperation and appear to roll his non-existent eyes, but remained quiet as he walked past Tord and headed toward the gym’s doors. Tord chuckled softly under his breath and followed suit, keeping pace with the huffy test subject.

Paul hadn’t uttered a word throughout the exchange, but Tord noticed that his eyes were glowing with amusement as his gaze followed the pair leave. His interaction with Tom was obviously entertaining the Commander greatly. Tord felt a self-conscious prickle ripple through his skin, and he looked away awkwardly; keeping his gaze anywhere else as he exited the gym with Tom.

As soon as the doors slid shut behind him, Tord felt instant relief flood through him.

Together, they trekked through the long corridors of the lab level. Tord appeared to have something on his mind, and Tom grew increasingly impatient.

“Alright.” Tom began with a weary sigh. “What’s so important that you just had to make me put up with you for longer than I would’ve liked?”

Stifling the laugh bubbling in his throat, Tord merely regarded the eyeless man walking alongside him intently. Tom already hasn’t taken the news of his soldier training very well, so imagine how he’ll react when Tord tells him that he’s going to be the one in charge of said training? Tord shrugged. No matter what way he goes about it, Tom’s anger is inevitable; so he might as well out with it.

“Paul and Patrick have done an excellent work with your improvement thus far. However, as their duties to the army come first, neither of them will be available to aid in your training as a soldier.” Tord paused and watched Tom’s expression shift slightly as he listened carefully. “So I will be personally in charge of overseeing your training.”

He waited for anger to spark in the Brit’s dark, empty sockets, and a resentful curse to be spat his way as he was pinned to the nearest wall by the neck. But Tom merely looked at him, took a deep breath and said: “Fine.”

Tord turned to him in bewilderment. “Wait… you’re okay with this?” He asked, genuinely stupefied by the reaction he got.

Tom shrugged. “What’s the point of getting angry over something that’s out of my control? Yeah it sucks, but it’s not like I can do anything to change it now.”

Who are you, and what have you done with Tom? Tord nearly said out loud, but curbed his tongue at the last second. Looking closely at the test subject now, he realized how miserable and defeated Tom appeared to be. Even after he’d taken a shower, Tom remained tired. Tord couldn’t help but frown in disappointment. He’d been expecting – anticipating even! – for Tom to revolt like the stubborn little spitfire that he knows and-

Tord slammed the breaks on that train of thought at once. Goddamn it, Paul! Frustration welled up inside of him. Why did he have to say anything? Tord had his emotions and thoughts well under control until he had them pointed out to. Now that he is made aware of their existence one more, Tord is struggling to keep cool and not acknowledge them at any given chance.

Doing his best in disregarding them, Tord jerked out of his thoughts and realized they were standing in front of Tom’s quarters.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss and Tom strolled inside, with Tord peering into the room from the entrance. He was surprised to find that Tom’s living arrangements have gained a lot more character since the last time he’d been here.

There were shelves attached to the wall opposite the doorway, with a limited selection of books. Tord guessed Pat had lent some to Thomas after the latter complained of boredom, and possibly to reward him for his good behavior as well. There’s a simple, cube-shaped, navy blue radio by his nightstand displaying the time and date in neon green numbering; next to a lamp. A stack of blank sheets of paper are kept in one corner of the room, with a few pens scattered around. And glued on the surface of a dart board, hanging on the bathroom door, was a crude drawing of Tord with darts stabbed all over the drawing.

Tord raised one eyebrow in amusement. “I can see you made yourself right at home.” He chuckled.

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want; but I couldn’t stand taking naps all the time, and this was the best Paul and Pat could do for me.” Tom turned around to face Tord with arms crossed over his chest and sighed tiredly. “When… will we start training?” He hesitantly asked.

“In two weeks, more or less.” Tord murmured, making a quick mental revision of his schedule for the next few days. “You don’t have to worry about the specifics. I will come for you when the time comes.”

It dawned on him then that Tom wasn’t worried about missing the training, but rather, dreading it. Idiot. Tord berated himself for his mistake, then followed up with a chain of curses for even caring about it in the first place. Why should the Red Leader care whether or not his test subject is happy with his fate? It’s not his fault Tom hadn’t seen this coming when he signed his life over to him!

And yet… how come he felt melancholic all of a sudden?

It is then that Tord remembers how much he despises when Tom became curt and unresponsive, no matter how much he’d tease the Brit. Tom is no fun when he’s like that. Uh yeah! It’s boredom that I’m feeling – no way in hell this could be a sadness of any kind. He tried telling himself that, when an idea sparked inside his head and he grinned. And I know just the thing to get a reaction out of him.

“Ah! I almost forgot. I got something for you.” Tord practically purred. He fumbled with the inner pocket of his uniform, looking for something. Tom’s eyebrows shot upward in sudden interest, but he eyed the Norsk wearily; as if he were expecting the man in red to pull a dirty trick on him. “You behaved so well while I was away, and you did good today. I think you deserve a reward.”

Tom didn’t know what he was expecting to get, perhaps a box of dog treats because that’s how petty Tord is. However, as soon as the Norwegian man pulled out his prize from his pocket, Tom let out a barely audible gasp as he stared at the familiar teddy bear with the iconic unibrow in place of its of eyes.

“Tomee bear!”

Tord held the plushie out for Tom to take, and it took everything he had to not swipe his childhood bear immediately out of the Commie’s grasp. For all he knows, Tord is just setting a trap for him. How did he get this? Tomee bear is back at- Tom looked at his dear plushie for several heartbeats, his expression turning to one of confusion before settling on shock as he slowly pieced the pieces together and looked back up at Tord.

Horror welled up inside of Tom. “You… you went near them?!”

Tord regarded him with a curious gaze and cocked his head to one side. “Define: near.”

Horror gave way to fury, and Tom bristled with rage. There was nothing holding him back from attacking Tord right here and now. Tord broke his end of the deal, and Tom doesn’t have to obey him anymore.

He was about to launch himself at the Norsk and attack, but Tord had predicted his reaction and pressed a button on his robotic arm. Tom blinked in surprised when his body went rigid against his will, his muscles cramping at once, and found himself unable to move.

“Ah ah ah! Let’s not break your streak of good behavior now, Thomas. It would be a shame if I had to take away some of your privileges so soon after my return.” Tord tutted.

A muffled growl of frustration rumbled from Tom’s throat as he tried in vain to move any of his limbs, but they were all unresponsive and tucked close together against his body.

“Don’t bother. It’s another feature of the chip we have implanted on your spine, remember? Be thankful I hadn’t used a controlled shock this time! Your body is completely paralyzed until I decide to free you again.” Tord went on, messing around with the teddy bear in his hands whilst simultaneously mocking Tom, as if to say: I got your precious bear, and you can’t do sh#t about it! But Tom was more furious at the notion that the Commie went anywhere near the friends he was trying so hard to keep safe and was now parading freely in front of him without fear of any repercussions.

“Guess I can’t really blame you for reacting the way that you did. But to be fair; you never specified the meaning of “near” when we made our deal. So as far as I know, “near” could mean one meter of distance.” Tord reasoned with a shrug, stepping closer to Tom’s frozen form.

The test subject could do nothing but watch as the Norsk towered over him. He couldn’t even shrink back to put some space between the uncomfortable proximity they were in. Tom screamed internally when different types of hands, one made of skin and the other out of metal, cupped the sides of his face. Get off of me! Tom desperately wanted to slap the hands away from him but found himself still as a statue despite his attempts to struggle.

“However, though I know my word doesn’t mean much to you, I can assure you I did not interact with them in any way.” Tord continued speaking. “I admit, I did see them… but they were a well good ten meters away from where I was, and they had no idea I was there.” He paused, his tone softening. “It just so happens that they were visiting your grave at the time.”

Tom stopped his futile struggles and listened.

“They wanted to give your precious Tomee bear back to its rightful owner, and so they left it by your tombstone.” Tord went on. “Me, watching the entire scene from far away, thought to myself right then: “Hm… It sure would be a pity to leave my test subject’s most prized possession to rot here when all Edd and Matt want is to give it back. So why not fulfil their wish?” So I went ahead and took it as soon as they left.” He clarified, peering into Tom’s unique, dark eyes. “So you see? I haven’t infringed our deal at all! Even though you never specified the terms of “near”, I did keep my word and never interacted with them. Which means that our deal still stands in full.”

Edd and Matt are still safe. Understanding slowly dawned on Tom, and his temper cooled significantly. And they… miss me? He felt touched by the implication. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite appreciate the notion with Tord still holding his face and infringing his personal space like that.

As if he had been reading his thoughts, Tord pulled away from him, and Tom breathed a small sigh of relief. “Now that everything is cleared up, I am going to release you from your paralysis, and you won’t attack me.” He instructed carefully. “Then you can either accept the gift I so generously fetched for you or refuse it; whichever you prefer. But one wrong move, and you’re going to regret it. Am I clear?”

An awkward silence met his words. Tom couldn’t speak or nod, so they just stood there until Tord realized that for himself and face palmed. “Uh… make a noise if you understand.” Tord repeated.

He heard a low grunt from the eyeless man in response. Satisfied, Tord pressed the same button on his arm and set Tom free from his statue-like state.

“Ah! You f#cker!” Tom cursed loudly as soon as he could move again. Feeling his muscles were stiff, like he’d just been electrocuted, Tom made quick work to check all his limbs were working properly by stretching and gently massaging them.

Tord grinned, happy he managed to bring out the good old Tom he found so endearing to pester.

Endearing?

Fun! Tord corrected his thoughts, growing increasingly frustrated at himself at this point. This is getting ridiculous.

Choosing to ignore his traitorous thoughts for now and deal with them later, Tord offered the odd teddy bear out to Tom again. The eyeless man paused in his ministrations and regarded Tomee bear with a suspicious stare. He looks up at Tord with the same look; as if to ask him “no more tricks?”

Tord nodded encouragingly.

Tom narrowed his eyes but reached for the stuffed bear regardless. As soon as he had his cherished teddy bear out of the Norsk’s grasp and into his own, Tom was hit with an immense wave of emotions. Tomee bear had been a gift from his father, and since his death, Tom had taken great lengths to cherish the bear by keeping it close to him at all times. Now that he is stuck in this forsaken base, and will most likely die here as well, Tomee bear now serves as a reminder for his friends too.

Tom hugged the plush tightly to his chest and nuzzled it. He could care less if he was being vulnerable in front of Tord right now. The Commie has no emotional connection to the bear whatsoever, and by god, Tom is not going to be ashamed to cherish the hell out of it even more.

Tord watched the scene with growing fondness and a small smile on his face. Even after all these years… He thought warmly. He still loves that stuffed bear with all his heart. He felt a familiar, but not at all unpleasant tingle in his chest.

“Thanks.”

Tord snapped out of his thoughts when Tom spoke to him, albeit reluctantly judging by his low tone of voice. The Norsk flushed in embarrassment. “Oh! Uh y-you’re welcome?” He stuttered, and immediately cringed. Today is not going the way that I expected. He recomposed himself and cleared his throat, lifting his chin with an air of authority to him. “Yes- anyway, I have pressing matters to attend to at the moment, so I’ll leave you be to your peaceful solitude.” He said, recovering from his slip up with what he deemed sufficient grace.

“You do that…” Tom muttered.

Without another word, Tord quickly stepped out of the room and let the door hiss shut behind him. He let out a long sigh of exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it all! Tord cursed, his jaw clenched.

He began to put as much distance between himself and Tom’s quarters, quickening his pace in longer strides as he headed for the elevator, whilst continuously chastising himself for being caught off guard by his weak emotions.  

“This doesn’t change anything.” Tord kept telling himself under his breath. “I lived just fine with these emotions before, and that doesn’t mean I’ll go soft-hearted now. I’ll just have to stay as far away from Tom until his training begins; I can easily neglect these feelings again until then.” And maybe Paul, just in case. Tord isn’t taking any chances. He can’t go back to be who he once was – that version of him isn’t strong enough to face the future he’d planned ahead. Red Leader, on the other hand, is powerful. To lead his army to glory and achieve his goals, he must be more like the Red Leader he had envisioned, and less like the weak dork that he had vowed he would never be again.

Friendship and love are worthless to me in the long run. Tord reminded himself sternly. There’ll come a day when I’ll be so powerful, I’ll have no need for anyone else. And when that day comes, the world will bow down to me. He smirked wickedly at the thought.

However, his thoughts came to an abrupt stop when he turned the corner only to bump into a very livid looking Patrick. The General’s eyes flashed at him.

“What’s this Paul tells me?” Pat demanded. “Is it true that you are going to train Tom as a soldier without consulting us first?”

Faen. Tord cursed his luck.

(Meanwhile…)

Rain fell steadily, drumming on the hard pavement that led between unending rows of city blocks. From time to time a car thundered past, its headlights glaring, and people scurried along their merry way to escape the rainstorm.

Wearing the hood over his head and both his hands stuffed in his pockets, Edd looked both ways and hurriedly crossed the street when he deemed safe enough to proceed.

Harsh yellow light angled across him, and he flinched as a car roared around the corner, throwing up a wave of filthy water that reeked of rubbish. Edd let out a startled yelp as the water slopped around his feet and the spray splashed his clothes.

“Argh, great.” Edd muttered sarcastically, looking down at his wet clothes.

Despite his current condition, Edd was excited to be out here. When his disastrous evening with Matt didn’t go the way they had been expecting to, Edd was looking forward to meeting with Reagan and spend some quality time away from all his problems. He really needed to catch a break.

Barely visible through the clouds, the moon was at its height by the time the Harrybrook hotel came into view. Edd hurried his step, eager to get this night going. He reached the foyer of the hotel and looked around for Reagan but found no signs of him anywhere. Edd frowned. Is he getting ready still?

Pulling his phone out Edd quickly began to type in a text.

(EG): Hey!!

(EG): I’m here

(EG): Wh-

“EDDIE!”

A loud voice practically shouted in his ears and a pair of hands came down and clutched his shoulders in a tight, and sudden grip. Edd did not budge or react in any way. He raised one eyebrow, evidently not impressed and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey Reagan.” He greeted casually, not fazed by the Irishman’s attempts of scaring him.

Reagan frowned. “Wha- ? You didn’t get scared?”

Edd shrugged. “Meh. Kind of hard to get scared when you greet me the exact same way every time we go hang out together.”

Reagan placed one hand over his own chest, where his heart should be. “Are you calling me predictable?”

The brunet smirked. “Well, I’m not calling you original, so…”

The Irishman let out a fake, exaggerated gasp before narrowing his eyes. “So that’s how it is then? Well… I guess this means I just have to try harder from here on out.” His mesmerizing green eyes glowed with mirth. “That’s quite alright; I am always up for a challenge. But I’m warning you now – you’re going to regret it.”

Edd laughed. “Ooh! I am terrified!”

A large grin stretched across Reagan’s face. “It’s sure good to see you, buddy.” He chuckled, giving a tap on Edd’s shoulder so hearty that it almost pushed the brunet off balance. “What do you say we go to a pub and drink, maybe eat some fries, and do some stupid sh#t together?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Alrighty then!”

Reagan looped his arm around Edd’s shoulders, bringing the Brit closer to him as they began to head down the street; jovially laughing along the way.

Following their initial meeting several weeks back, with Edd agreeing to be Reagan’s guide for the duration of his cryptic job; they began spending more casual time together. It mostly consists of them goofing about, doing stupid stuff, and Edd showing the Irishman around town.

They walked though the dim, rainy streets for a while, not caring for the bad weather going on around them. Occasionally Edd would stop and point out something about the town to Reagan, going over briefly about the locations they strolled past before carrying on their way.

They came across a bar and decided to settle there. Reagan burst in with vigorous delight, his green eyes bright like a child’s in a candy store as he sat in one of the stools at the bar stand. Edd followed suit a little slower. He checked his surroundings wearily, inspecting the other bystanders in the establishment before taking a seat next to Reagan.

Edd’s no stranger to bars. He just doesn’t go to them very often.

The bartender asked for their orders.

“Beer. Just beer. Any beer. Doesn’t matter just as long is it is beer.” Reagan told the middle-aged man behind the counter.

The barkeep raised one eyebrow, and then turned to Edd.

“Iced cola for me, please.”

Reagan appeared to scoff and throw him an incredulous look as the bartender left to go get their drinks. “Cola? Really?”

“What?” Edd turned to him in confusion.

“Dude, you now that I’m the one paying, right?” The Irishman continued. “You can have anything you want, and you go for cola?”

Edd shrugged. “I am not much of a drinker.”

The blonde man tsked. “Aiight, if that’s what you are most contented with that’s fine by me.” He nudged the Brit’s elbow with his own and sent a wink his way. “But hey, if you ever change your mind I’ll be glad to abide.”

Edd opened his mouth to reply when the bartender returned with their drinks in hand. Reagan immediately downed his drink in one swig and slammed the glass back on the table. “Another.” He licked his lips clean.

Edd chuckled quietly in amusement. Reagan sure likes his beer. He thought, taking sip of cola. He churned the dark beverage in his glass, his smile faltering. He’s a bit like Tom, in a way. His heart twisted with a sudden and terrible ache in his chest.

Thoughts of earlier events that day returned to the front page of his mind, and they soured any semblance of good humor he had. Edd sighed.

“Why the long face, Eddie?” Reagan asked, snapping Edd out of his thoughts. “You look as if you got plenty in your mind.”

“You have no idea.” The brunet mused bitterly.

“Would you like to share with moi?” Reagan offered, tapping one of his fingers against the marble table in a rhythmic fashion.

Edd bit the inside of his lips unsurely. Although they would tend to tap into heavier subjects once in a while; for the most part, these nightly outings served solely as a good distraction. However, its not like he has anyone else to talk to about these things. Matt is too gullible and dim-witted to comprehend what Edd’s main issue is. Reagan is an outsider who could perhaps have a better angle at things.

“Where to even begin?” He breathed out tiredly and rubbed his own face.

Through the gap between his fingers, he saw a glass of beer slide across the counter and stop perfectly in front of him. Edd blinked and glanced at the Irishman sitting by his side. Reagan nodded toward the beverage encouragingly. “Let’s start with loosening up a little bit.”  

Edd raised an eyebrow skeptically. Again; he has had beer before, and although he didn’t dislike it was far from being one of his favorites drinks. However, the blond’s offer still enticed him. Surely one glass won’t harm anyone?

Making his mind up, Edd grabbed the glass determinably and tipped back his head and started to consume the bitter beverage.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Reagan chanted beside him, edging him on until Edd drank the entire glass. “Wooo!”

The brunet wiped away the foam from his face with the back of his coat’s sleeve, clicking his tongue to taste the remnants of beer in his mouth. Edd sighed. “It’s just… some stupid neighbors moved into my building today.”

Reagan raised an eyebrow, his attention peaked with interest. “Oh? What kind of neighbors?” He questioned. “The lousy type? Party animals? Junkies? The lewd type?”

A shiver of disgust rippled down Edd’s spine at the thought and he cringed. There’s no way in hell he is going to keep the imagery in his head for the reminder of the night. He gestured the bartender forward and ordered a beer for himself. Just in case.

“No. It’s nothing like that.” He explained. “My friends and I used to be neighbors with them before. But we weren’t exactly in friendly terms back then.”

“Rivals eh? Sounds fun.” The Irishman bent forward to listen closely. This information may prove useful, after all.

“Not really.” Edd muttered. “But the thing is…” How can he explain this next part without going into much depth? “There was a gas leak in both of our houses and they blew up.” He half-lied. He wasn’t going to admit the true events of that day to anyone outside of that incident. There were too many risks, and the memory still hurt. “We haven’t seen each other since that day, and now that we are neighbors again I have no idea what our current stand is.”

“Why would it have changed at all since then?” Reagan narrowed his eyes.

Edd flinched. He took a sip of his cola to calm his nerves, but dread was still eating away at him. Had he known his true nature then, Edd would’ve never allow him to return. “Because the gas leak was kind of my fault.” He gulped. “And one of my neighbors – there were three of them then – died that day because of it.”

He waited for a shocked gasp to reach his ears. Instead, Reagan stared steadily back at him and sort of nodded in understanding. “Awkward.” He took a sip of his beer.

Edd looked at him in disbelief. “Woah, you are taking this surprisingly well all things considered.” He pointed out.

“Meh.” Reagan shrugged unimpressed. “Accidents tend to happen all the time. I’ve kind of grown used to it by now, and so nothing really fazes me anymore.”

Truth be told, Reagan knows Edd just lied to his face. The guarded and uncertain tone in the Brit’s voice gave him away. Although he was curious to learn what really happened, Reagan wasn’t about to push his luck just yet. He needs to establish a stronger bond with his target before he can get to the juicy, tragic bits and use them against him. Though he assumes it has something to do with the charred ruins where he first made contact with the brunet.

Still, he’ll let that obvious little lie slide. For now.

“Well, anyway.” Reagan went on as normal. “Can’t say that I blame you for feeling the way that you do with them back in your life.” He grinned inwardly. “What about your friends, what do they think of the situation?”

The reaction he wanted was instantaneous. Although Edd didn’t outright flinch, Reagan did feel him tense up next to him, and it took everything he had in him to keep down the Cheshire-grin that threatened to stretch out across his face.

Edd’s breath wavered and he tried to steady himself. “Matt knew they were moving in.” In Tom’s apartment. He did not dare complete the sentence out loud.

“And he didn’t even tell you?” Reagan exclaimed, pretending to be shocked.

The Brit mentioned his ginger-haired companion to him before, and from what he heard so far, this Matt fellow wasn’t going to be a threat to his goals. But he needed to sever that bond in order to make Edd more susceptible to his manipulation. He doesn’t have to break them apart completely; but where was the fun in that?

Reagan shot him a sympathetic glance. “He doesn’t sound like much of a friend to me.” He observed. “I mean, what kind of friends keep things from each other?”

Edd felt a tinge of defensiveness at the Irishman’s words. After all, Reagan doesn’t really know Matt.

“He’s a great friend.” He responded. “But… well, things haven’t been the same between us since-” He bit down on his own tongue, holding the words before they could get out.

“Since?” Reagan prompted curiously.

Edd shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Could he really say something so heavy and personal to Reagan? The Irishman has certainly been a great deal of fun over these past few weeks; helping him move from his grief and let him forget his problems. But Edd wasn’t quite confident in entrusting Reagan with this information yet.

But I promised I would get over and move on. He recalled. If I can’t even say this out loud, am I doing any progress at all?

Edd tensed, his hands clenching into fists. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in his throat like a hard piece of candy, and were just as difficult to dislodge.

“Before our friend died.” He admitted at last, thinking longingly of the time when he, Matt, and Tom went in all kinds of crazy adventures together. The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he let go of the long-held grief.

The blond man’s expression fell, and he cast his gaze to the ground. “Oh. I’m… sorry to hear.” He murmured sympathetically. “I didn’t mean to – I mean, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine.” Edd cut him off. “It’s been a few months since, but I guess neither of us really got over it.”

The Irishman was silent for a while, his green eyes staring at the brunet with a calculating gaze; whilst concealing his true face inside. Wonder how he would react if he learned that I’m the one behind his freaky friend’s death? He mused with mirth. As fun as the idea would be, Reagan can’t let him know that dirty little secret just yet. He needs Edd to join the Red Army first, or he would never get that promotion. Maybe a few years from now, when we’re both deep into the global domination schemes, I could tell him. Ha. He’ll probably laugh when all is said and done.

Recomposing himself, Reagan cleared his throat to stifle the bout of giggles that bubbled inside of him. “Anyways, about the neighbors…” He continued from where the main topic left off. “I understand how weird this situation is, but do try to play it cool and keep a low profile.” Edd turned to him, listening to his advice intently. “I mean, why should you have to feel guilty for what happened? It’s not like you intended to kill the poor guy!”

“Of course not!” Edd snapped. Then he paused, his humor deflating as he recalled encounter with Eduardo earlier. “When I crossed paths with them today, they weren’t hostile toward me. They were… okay? I guess? But the whole thing just felt weird to me, and I have no idea what it means for our stances with each other.”

Reagan contemplated for a second, his lips pursed. “Do you reckon that maybe they know what happened to your friend?” He asked. “And because of that they think you are on equal ground? Like a: “now you know how I felt back then” kind of deal?”

Edd tensed. The Irishman’s words filled him with apprehension. Could Reagan be right? Eduardo does seem like the type of person who would find justice in such situation. But surely even Eduardo wouldn’t find enjoyment in this? Edd shook the thought away. “I d-don’t know.” He stammered. “Everything’s so confusing at the moment.”

Reagan chugged down his third glass of beer. “Don’t sweat it, buddy.” He gestured toward the untouched beer Edd had ordered a while ago. “Just tip back your head and drink your worries away. You seriously need to relax.”

The Brit glanced at his drink then back to his companion. “God, I’m so sorry.” A flash of guilt flared up inside of him. “We came out here to have fun and I spoiled the whole evening by rambling about my problems.”

He was about to apologize again when a finger came up to his lips and shushed him. “Less talking, and more drinking.” Reagan told him playfully stern.

They clinked their drinks together, sat back, and drank their fill of the bitter beverage. By the time he got all of it down, Edd was feeling tipsy and he swayed a little from side to side.

“By the way, you never quite told me what your job actually is.” The brunet pointed out, his words slurred.

“I haven’t?” Reagan put his elbow on the table and leaned against his hand, looking at the Brit though half-lidded eyes as the alcohol started to take effect. “I am an entertainer. I thought that much was obvious by now.”

“Oh! Like a comedian or a magician?” Edd asked, taking a sip of his cola next to balance out the alcohol in his system.

Reagan grinned slyly. “Not that type of entertainment, silly Eddie. I mean that I am a stripper.” His smile grew wider as Edd choked and spat out his drink. He burst into a fit of laughter and slammed his hand repeatedly on the counter. “Haha! Oh man, you should’ve seen the look on your face! Haha!” He wiped away a stray tear from his eyes.

“H-ha- haha yeah.” Edd laughed weakly whilst coughing. He could feel his throat burn badly from the intensity of choking on soda. He beat his own chest a couple of times to clear the airways. “G-good one.”

Reagan’s laughter died away. “But seriously though, I can’t tell you what it is.” He told the brunet. “I would if it were up to me, but since it is kind of a work policy not to reveal it out in public, I can’t.”

“Woah, are you a secret agent of some kind?”

“Can’t quite answer that either – It goes against the company’s policy, remember?” Reagan shrugged and laughed, teasing the Brit further.

They went back to drinking and chatting merrily. Reagan kept urging Edd to drink more and more, making the brunet relax and put down the sealed tight, steel walls he surrounded himself in. The Irishman payed very close attention to Edd’s ramblings about his life; especially the part concerning his friends and his fears of losing every single person he ever cared about, and how he won’t be able to stand if anything happened to the ginger doofus.

All that vital information Reagan saved away for later reference.

[bill-the-baker]

My journey to Hell

Warning: Long post. Not suitable for dial-up users or those with a short attention span. (For mobile users, just keep scrolling until you see the picture with the inflated Shantae.)

I remember when it all started. It was when I was taking my break from this site (when I should’ve been revising), and I was browsing DeviantArt.

My journey down the rabbit hole began when I came across this account that did fanart involving characters from OK KO engaging in holy Christian activities, like denouncing Atheism as Satanism:

But then, I found out that it was part of this collection...

Most of it was just ironic and intentionally bad art, but then, after some searching, I came across some stamps.

I thought to myself something along the lines of “What the fuck”, and “This must be some kind of a joke. So, I went to this guy’s user page, and it all went downhill from there.

First of all, I must admit, this guy has some form of intellect to him, with him occasionally displaying his expertise with computers, which I can personally applaud.

However, in order to actually get to that point, I needed to go through boatloads of confusing and morally questionable content.

First of all, this guy has made it clear numerous times in the past that he is a sufferer of autism, so it’s likely that you’d find a lot of art based on specific interests, but these ideas and interests are so closed and obscure that they’re truly something to behold.

He describes himself as an advocate for numerous ideas, but they all just appear so trivial. For example:

He really wants to have Luvs (a brand of diapers, by the way) imported to his home country of Australia, Lord knows why:

He protested against McDonald’s on the issue of child obesity, using low quality thinly-veiled weight gain fetish art (more on that later):

He also doesn’t like how Avon (a company specialising in feminine beauty products) has a mostly-female board of directors:

And, to top it all off, he refuses to believe that men can be victims of sexual assault:

(By the way, the generic white man with the Tom Baker-brand thousand-yard stare is how he draws himself.)

He also believes that’s it’s extremely important for cartoon characters (including non-humans) to have navels, and also believes that one of the most important life lessons you would teach kids is why they have one. My best guess is that it’s all just for the satisfaction of his not-so closeted fetishes, but this guy never gives straight answers so I can’t really tell:

Speaking of not-so closeted fetishes, he’s also made a hefty load of fan-art of cartoon characters for the raising of awareness on child obesity, based on this image that you might have seen floating around the web about ten years ago:

The results are rather unsettling. I mean, he’s sticking to an idea that he wishes to advocate for, but you’d think that after about a hundred of these damn things he would have made the message clear enough (yes, he made over a hundred of these things).

Actually, you know what, let’s zoom in on that last image, and think about how he actually communicates to people. I know this might sound harsh, considering that I’m aware of his autism, but I’m well aware, as someone who suffers from a slightly more minor form of his condition, that communication is only really tough when speaking in person, with typing in the privacy of your own room being much easier; and while he does type in coherent sentences, he avoids questions as often as a politician. Here’s a few discussions between him and those who don’t approve of his art:

(you may have noticed that he comments in pre-set messages.)

Oh yeah. He also answers his opponents in a debate with the question “do you drive a Mitsubishi?”, because apparently that company is the personification of evil, because they build vehicles and tools that assist in chopping down trees. I mean, Mercedes do the same thing, but I don’t go around telling their owners that they worship Satan!

Anyhoo, back to his odd interests.

He seems to have some odd fixation for this brand of toilet cleaner, called Toilet Duck, which has an odd duck-shaped head. He says he first gained an interest for the generally-obscure bleach brand, when he first heard a news story about a burglar, who was found pleasuring himself, using the head of the product. Let’s leave it at that for now.

He also has a strong interest in parenthood. (I guess the man has thought to himself that these events would just remain fantasies.)

He appears to be attempting to give his pictures a cutesy-vibe, but his unnatural drawing style stops them from looking anywhere outside of creepy.

And finally, perhaps his most confusing and unexplainable interest of them all: bumpbows!

If you’ve heard of this guy before, then chances are that it was through this. He first found out about bumpbows about two years ago. They functioned as a solution to a minor problem in pregnancy, involving the misshaping of the navel. Since that’s two interests for the price of one, obviously he was going to jump on the bumpbow bandwagon almost immediately after he discovered them!

(This one’s my personal favourite!)

He’s even made a group about them!

(I love how this group doesn’t have any pictures of bumpbows showing their actual intended purpose!)

Now, it might seem all right (if not, only a little bit creepy), but things start getting weird when he starts getting people to use bumpbows, not because they’re expecting children, but as a fashion statement, as well as raising awareness for autism (even though there’s barely any correlation between them), among other hard-pressing issues. I guess I could maybe start wearing bumpbows at anti-war rallies, but, I digress.

(Spoiler alert: There doesn’t appear to be any sign of that group actually going ahead with the plan.)

However, perhaps the strangest of his ideas for bumpbows, would be throwing parties, with them functioning as the primary dress-code.

He’s even thrown his own private parties! (By private, I mean he was the only one there.)

But I’d say the weirdest thing about them is that there’s this strange sexual undertone to them. Now, actually, I wouldn’t say that they’re undertones, considering that he has outright said that they should be adult-only events. He’s even regularly connected them with sex. It all seems so weird, since he usually makes drawings with such an innocent tone (at least on the surface).

(Well, at least we now know why he’s interested in that Toilet Duck bottle!)

I could go on forever about this guy, but this post is getting long enough as it is. So I’ll just leave a couple of links, just please don’t send any hate over to him. I know it sounds hypocritical of me, but this guy’s getting enough flack as it is. He’s got an ED page, a thread on Kiwi Farms, AND there’s even and anti-Dev-Catscratch group on his home base of DeviantArt, so just feel free to explore some of these links, but leave it at that:

His DA: https://dev-catscratch.deviantart.com/

His ED page (NSFW of course): https://encyclopediadramatica.rs/Dev-catscratch

His Kiwi Farms thread (gave me easy access to the things I was looking for): https://kiwifarms.net/threads/bryce-cherry-dev-catscratch.17621/

Oh. And P.S: What’s a bad DeviantArt page without a favourites section full of fetish art!

But remember, it’s all for raising awareness on child obesity!