Blood dripped down the Norwegian's face, as he flinched only slightly in pain. He didn't understand why it didn't work this time, why every attempt to take over and remaster the world to his and his army's liking, always failed.

Tord laughs quietly to himself, as he thinks that maybe this has always been his fate. To not accomplish his one main goal in his entire, worthless life.

He stops laughing eventually, thinking that he must look completely mental to no one in particular. Not even one breathing creature is around at the moment, and with the other side victorious, hours have passed with silence and him sitting in his own filth. Even the air seemed to still, and lied there with him, not even a slight breeze was passing by.

Honestly, he probably looked insane without all this red stained on him. Most of it wasn't his, that was for sure, and he didn't really feel any empathy towards the dead anymore anyway.

Maybe some of them were innocent, but who honestly knows? And if you don't demonize your enemies, then what does that make you? He didn't know, and sighed, thinking too much about these things hurts his head.

Tord shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, and grunts in an attempt to stand up, failing, and falling back over on the ground, too weak to move again for a while.

His vision goes blurry for a moment, and Tord blinks hoping it would go away for good, thinking maybe something got stuck in his good eye.

Not that it mattered anymore, he really didn't care about a minor inconvenience, thinking it would go away soon anyway if he just kept blinking.

It stayed blurry, and he sighed, realizing how tired he really was, letting his vision fade to the nothingness.

~{*}~

Tord opens his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

All he sees is red, until his eyes focus after a short moment of blinking, and he realizes he's in a small room, with multiple choices of buttons, and two levers right in front of him.

Everything is splattered with red, though it was hard to tell in the red-colored room what was what. He eventually, ignores it completely, gulps, and looks out hoping it's not what he thinks he's going to see.

He stares out the large, spider-web cracked window, and sees everyone angrily looking up at him, eyes blazing with rage, and the need for revenge for the lost.

"N-no, I didn't mean to... I'm sorry!" Tord cries out, reliving a memory he had tried to forget long ago.

As much as he didn't care about hurting anyone, his old friends were a different story. He thinks back only for a few seconds, to remember them each individually, and hates to remember he hurt the ones he loved.

Of course platonically, but nonetheless, he absolutely, and completely loved all of them - even Tom, though he was hard to live with.

Tord shakes his head, as he hears something and looks down below, at the distant ground, full of fire, rubble, and despair.

There's screaming from below, then there's ringing, then nothing but white, and the smell of smoke.

He screams out again, hoping somebody can hear him. Nobody answers. His vision comes back into place, somehow placing him now onto a bloodstained hill, full of broken, red pieces of metal, and glass.

Suddenly, he hears an engine come from behind him, and slow to a swift stop, as two men in red turtlenecks, and long blue jackets emerge from the car, a few feet away from him.

"Paul! Patryk?" Tears stream down his face, and mix with his warm, sticky, blood, making it a strange substance to behold.

The two shocked men don't hear a word he says, and Tord falls to his knees, clutching his head in his hand, the other limp on his torso, bleeding out.

"I didn't want this, I- It was a mistake! Please stop!" He pauses, gasping for breath, trying to find words he should've said before, "Stop it..." Is all he could muster out of his mouth, his stupid, broken mouth.

And alas, he could only hear his heartbeat in his chest, before everything went dark again for another time in his short, pathetic life.