What do I do?
The question kept ringing in his mind, echoing as if he was shouting into a dark hole and patiently waiting for an answer, only to be met with doubtful silence. It's been hours, or maybe even seconds, but with how long he's been left in the dark, Tom wouldn't know anymore; since Tord came to visit him and left to think about his proposition.
Tom has long since given up on struggling. He tired himself out by fighting his restraints and drained all his strength. Now he's left with a difficult choice to make. Either he submits himself to Tord, a crazy sociopath, the real life definition of a mad scientist; or he can continue to defy him, suffer and pay the price with his friend's lives on the line.
There are also a couple of other options on the table, but they're risky and not definitive. He could go along with Tord's offer, play along until an opportunity for escape presents itself. Or the most appealing choice, end himself before the experiments take place. But considering he's strapped down to a chair and the only sharp objects are hidden in the dark and far from reach, he won't be going anywhere so soon. Tom glanced in the direction of the metal table he knows is right in front of him. Seeing only the faint outline in contrast to the darkness. Maybe if I beat my head enough times on the table I'll hopefully get head-trauma and die of internal bleeding. He thought darkly.
Tom leaned forward, totally going for the idea, as far as the restraints would let him. He grits his teeth in irritation when he felt his forehead barely scrape the surface of the table. Come on! Just a little bit more and this hell will end!
He abruptly stopped in his efforts when he heard something heavy just outside his room. Immediately he sat up right against the back of the chair in anxious anticipation. Is it morning already? He gulped at the thought of Tord back so soon without thinking of a proper answer. The heavy door creaked and swung open, and the light positioned above him flicked on. Tom hissed at the blinding light and quickly closed his eyes. He could hear a set of footsteps making its way towards him. He flinched, already waiting for the sound of the annoying smug voice mocking him, or the familiar touch of his metal arm ruffling his hair.
But nothing happened.
"You can open your eyes now if you want." A voice tells him, laced with an accent.
Slowly, Tom blinked his eyes open against the strong flash, letting his vision adjust to the brightness. Blinking a couple of times, Tom realized a tray of food was laid before him over the table. He raised an eyebrow. That's right, Tord mentioned that he would be delivered food during his "thinking" time. Tom let out a sigh of relief and his muscles relaxed. An uncomfortable throat clearing was heard from his right, and Tom remembered he was no longer alone in the room.
A man stood to his right side with a straight posture and hands folded neatly behind his back. He's wearing a blue and red uniform, similar to Tord's but neater, dark pants and combat boots. But got Tom's attention was the man himself. Well-groomed brown hair, with his bangs slicked sideways, pale skin and lime green eyes staring down at him in curious anticipation. He looks familiar… Tom squinted his eyes.
"Have we met before?" Tom questioned.
The man raised an eyebrow in surprise, his eyes widening a little. "Don't you recognise me?" He asks.
"Should i?" Tom retorted.
The man frowned, feeling slightly offended. "I would've think so, considering I am one of the factors that got you here." He states folding his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes at Tom.
Tom racked his brain to remember anything related to the man in front of him. Fancy hair? Nah. Proper posture? Nah. Clever attitude? Nah. Heavy accent? Nah - Wait! Accent. French. FRENCH ACCENT! Tom gasped out loud.
"You're the bartender from the pub!" Tom exclaimed in realization. "What was your name again? It began with a J. Jacque? Jason? Jack?"
"It's Jacob." The man answered for him, rolling his eyes with a small grin. "But that's only my undercover name."
Tom eyed him curiously. "So, who are you really?" He asks.
"Allow me to properly introduce myself, I am Patrick." He placed one hand over his chest and did a little bow. Strange, considering Tom's current position. "Red leader's most trusted soldier. Well, at least one of them." He muttered the last part quietly.
Tom tilted his head, raising one eyebrow. "Patrick? That doesn't sound very French." He murmurs. "And Red leader? Is that what Tord calls himself nowadays?" At least he isn't calling himself the hentai lord or something stupid. Tom silently snickers at the thought.
"French? I'm Polish!" Patrick pouted and exclaimed in indignation. "And yes. If you must know, the one you once used to know as your former friend is now the infamous Red leader. Aren't cha proud?" He explained, regaining his composure.
"Tord was never my friend." Tom snarled glancing downwards at his feet. "And I couldn't care less about what he does with the rest of his life. Heck, he could become a stripper for all I care and still wouldn't care! As long as my friends and I don't get involved, I'm good."
"But you are involved now." Patrick reminded, not fazed by the brit's aggressive tone. "And so will your friends if you don't be careful."
"Why do you care?" Tom scoffed. "Wouldn't you be pleased if I screwed up and get experimented on? Your organization will finally have the so called monster serum Tord's been obsessing over, and you'll be one step closer to world domination."
"You're not eating."
Tom stiffened and reared his head back in surprise, blinking in confusion at the tall soldier. But he was no longer looking at him. Following Patrick's gaze, his eyes found the tray of food laid on the table. He released the breath he wasn't even aware he was holding in relief.
"I'm not hungry." Tom says, ignoring the pain bubbling in his stomach at the sight of food. The meal itself wasn't all that spectacular. It was just, what appears to be some kind of brown stew, presumably beef, and a little red jelly on the side for the dessert. Tom rolled his eyes. Of course it's red.
But it's been so long since he last seen any food. All he's been consuming this whole time was simply Smirnoff, and with the display of food, even if it is mediocre quality, it still made Tom's mouth water. He ripped his gazed away from the tray, and look down at his feet. Patrick simply frowned at him.
"I presume it's been quite a while since you last eaten." He noted, eyeing the blue hooded brit and his weakened form. "Surely you must eat at some point."
"Yeah? How do I know you haven't put some sort of drugs in the food to knock me out or brainwash my mind to comply?" Tom challenged but in a quieter tone. He's feeling too many things at once to put up a fight now. He's going with his last resorts at this point.
Patrick sighed. "Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but understand I just did what my leader ordered me to do." He explained. "However, I am quite aware this does not excuse my actions. And for that I'm sorry. But I assure you this food isn't tainted in any way."
"Prove it." Tom glared at Patrick in defiance.
Patrick shrugged. He pulled out a wrapped, plastic spoon from his chest pocket, ripping it open. He bent down, stirring a bit before scooping the brown stew and ate it. He hummed to prove his point and looked at Tom with a raised eyebrow and a little smile, his expression something like: "Is that enough proof?" It annoyed Tom regardless.
"Fine."
"So you'll eat?"
"No."
Patrick frowned, causing Tom to smirk slightly. The soldier sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.
"Red leader will not be pleased if you continue to defy him." He murmured.
"Whatever, it's not like my situation can worsen at this point." Tom scoffed, feeling stubborn.
"Need I remind you of the lingering threat hanging over your head for your defiance? Your friends will have to suffer along with you as well." Patrick pointed out with crossed arms over his chest, tapping one foot repeatedly over the tiled floor.
Oh yeah, there's that factor. Tom remembered drily, his muscles clenching in anxiousness. I still have yet to think about Tord's offer. He stared down at his chequered shoes, deep in thought, and seemingly ignoring Patrick's presence.
"If I am not being too bold, may I offer a piece of advice?" The soldier offered softly, knowing this is a touchy subject.
Tom reflected on his proposition, one side of him refusing to hear whatever he has to say, but he was curious and honestly so very lost in his decision that he'll take all the help he can get. Stiffly, Tom nodded his head for him to carry on.
"If I were you, I would want to get on Red leader's good side." Patrick went on. "You definitely wouldn't want to be at the opposing end of his fury. He'll break you in every way possible otherwise. It's for the best if you just go along with him."
Tom wanted to laugh, of course Tord's most loyal soldier would say a thing like that, but the heavy feeling weighting down his chest made him unable to. He just listened to him numbly. Clearly there aren't many choices for him to pick.
Patrick sighed once more, fixing the collar of his uniform. "I'll leave you to your thoughts; just consider it with caution, Tom." He murmured, looking down at the tray of untouched food. "I'll leave this here; in case you change your mind." He slowly walked away, leaving Tom's line of sight. His footsteps echoing.
"Wait." Tom called out.
The footsteps stopped and silence followed after. Tom took it as his queue to carry on.
"If you were in the exact same position as me, what would you do?" He asked. He knows this is a stupid question and the answer is obvious, but he needs a confirmation. "If you had fallen into the hands of the person you hated most in the world, and they wanted something from you, something that you're not all that keen on keeping in the first place, and-" Tom gulped hard, his mouth going dry. "And you may not be entirely yourself, what would you do?"
A long silenced met his words, and for a moment Tom was worried Patrick might not answer him at all. But eventually he heard a click of the tongue and a sigh.
"I would do what I think it's best. Not for me perhaps, but for others mostly" He answered. "Even If I'm miserable and would potentially suffer, I at least would be more relieved knowing my friends and loved ones are well away from anything. If your friends meant anything to you, that's something to think about."
The heavy door creaked open, illuminating the room momentarily before it slammed shut. But the light remained on. Now Tom is truly alone with his thoughts. Sort of. He went back to think over his dilemma.
Tom decided to think of pros and cons of each decision. If he were to accept, he'll be given some luxuries; but he'll be submitting to Tord, get experimented on, and bring out the beast from within. If he refuses, he'll continue to stay strong, defy Tord, and keep the beast at bay for a while longer; but his friends will be thrown into the mess and go through the same stuff as he will.
He could go through anything Tord decides to throw at him. If he wants to cut him open and poke around his organs, he can get through. If he wants to electrocute him, he'll make it. If he wants to dip his head into a barrel of acid, Tom will find a way to endure it. It doesn't really faze him anymore, maybe it will have quite the opposite effect. But his friends, who have been nothing but kind and constantly worrying about him, do not deserve any of this.
With great remorse, Tom remembered the times he spent with his friends having fun. Edd being his cheerful, silly self; always cracking jokes and going out of his way to make others smile. And Matt's oblivious attitude combined with his pride and vanity made him so innocent, but he would never allow his friends to get hurt without at least attempting to fight back and defend them.
Tom felt a little smile come to his features. That is until he remembered the last time he saw them. He was mad at them back them, but only because they didn't understand his situation. In an effort to protect them from his secret, he pushed them away when they were just trying to help him. They were always there for him and suffered a lot due to Tord's betrayal, and Tom was just rude and mean back to them.
"Don't expect me back so soon."
Those were the last words he spoke to them before going out. Tom flinched at the memory, his gut twisting in pain, whether from guilt or lack of food, Tom wasn't sure but it was most likely the former. Then there's also the fact he lost himself to his anger and almost hit Matt. Tom didn't want to think of the effects it would've caused on the ginger if Edd hadn't stop him. How could I've been so ungrateful? He thought.
Tom felt his eyes watering, and prick the corners, threatening to spill. Not now. Don't be weak. Be strong. He told himself in an effort to calm down, taking deep breaths. He's been concealing his emotions for a while now. Whenever he gets hurt, or being tormented by the voices, Tom would always make sure to disguise the pain and bruises with a smile and an outgoing attitude. Just so his friends won't have to get involved with his problems. But now, he's alone in a room, and his emotions are flooding up; a sob escapes him. He can't remember the last time he allowed himself to cry.
No. He does. It was when he first found out about his fits of blacking out. When he woke up the next morning and watched the news, he realized something is seriously wrong with him. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. He doesn't want to become that – THING. Pain and alcohol are the only things that aid Tom in keeping it in check. But now he's being forced to reveal it, and all his efforts will go to waste. And it's ALL TORD'S FAULT.
Tom, with watery eyes, raised his head slightly to look at the tray of food, still neatly placed in front of him. His gaze fixed specifically on the red jelly. So bright in colour, standing still, as if it was mocking him. Tom growled, baring his teeth. His grief and anger merged into one, he couldn't contain his emotions at bay this time and he SNAPPED.
Tom lurched forward, not caring about the chains digging into his skin, he lashed out at the tray of food. He couldn't reach very far, but with his teeth, he gripped the tray and with all the strength he could muster at this point he swung and tossed it off the table. It clanked on the tile floor, the bowl of stew shattering and spilling its contents, and the jelly deformed into little chunks. Tom panted, glaring at the mess before leaning back in his seat, attempting to calm down.
Tom came to a conclusion. Even though he doesn't really want to, his pride and stubborn side refusing him to cooperate, Tom knows the choice is obvious on this. Even if he has to go through all kinds of tests for Tord to perfect his serum formula, he'll take it. Just so he can pay back his friends for all the kindness they've shown him. They don't deserve any more pain. If anything, they are better off without him. He'll miss them, sure, but it's for the best.
However, Tom has a few things to say before taking the deal.
(Time skip)
Many hours passed, Tom forced himself to stay awake the whole time and think about his decision. Whenever he was close to falling unconscious, Tom would slam his head against the chair to keep him awake. Though, the pain dulled over time and he eventually became numb to it. Now he's left with a pounding headache and very sore muscles.
Tom closed his eyes momentarily, only to snap them open by the sound of the heavy door creaking open behind him. Footsteps approached him. Tom took a deep breath. He knew what was coming now.
"Morning!" Came Tord's greeting in a singsong voice, his tone smug. "Hope you had a good night's rest." He leaned over Tom's chair, popping up into his line of vision. His smile faded when he noticed the brit's dark bags under his eyes and the serious expression on his face. "Wow, somebody had a rough night." He commented playfully and with a smirk while chuckling.
Tom didn't respond, just blankly glared at him through his dark sockets.
Tord walked around him, making way over to his own seat. On the way, he looked over to the mess of food still scattered around the floor just a few meters away from them. He frowned.
"Either the food wasn't to your liking, or you felt rebellious." Tord murmured, taking his seat with his feet propped over the table and leaning his chair back. "Either way, I hope you won't repeat the same mistake in the future. It would be a shame if I had to teach you a lesson so soon."
Tom remained quiet. He just sat there analysing the Norwegian leader across from him. He noticed he's holding a file in one hand and was fanning himself with it. They just stayed in silence, staring each other down, waiting for one of them to break the silence and speak.
Tord was the one to break away, putting his feet down and sitting up properly. "Alright, so before we get to your final decision, I would like to discuss the terms of our deal." He spoke, placing the folder down and flipping it open.
"So, if you were to willingly submit to my experiments you would be given: at least 2 quality meals a day, including dessert. Two hours of exercising under supervision. Painkillers or anaesthetics during procedures and tests. Physical and mental evaluation once a week. And last but not least, expansion of luxuries and freedom if well-behaved." Tord explained, folding his hands in front of him. "The last part connects with the rules, which I will get into later, but only if you agree."
Tom remained silent, analysing the terms. It does sound nice. But he has a few terms of his own.
"If I were to agree with the deal, I demand a few requests in return." Tom announced, finally speaking. His voice strong and clear, disguising the turmoil inside.
Tord raised an eyebrow, feeling intrigued. "Oh? Feeling bold are we?" He taunted slyly. "I don't think you're in any position to be making demands of me."
"I don't know, Tord. If you went through all the effort to kidnap and threaten me, these demands should be easy enough." Tom challenged. "After all, you do want the serum perfected with the easiest way possible; and you'll only achieve that through my compliance. Now isn't that right?" He smirked slightly, feeling a tiny twinge of victory over his nemesis. He was being too bold, but he could care less. I f he has to go through hell with this guy, the least he can do is do the things he wants from him in return.
Tord's eye twitched slightly in annoyance, but he sighed. "All right, what is it that you want?" He prompted.
"I have three requests, actually." Tom corrected. "First, you said that if I complied you would not involve my friends in this. So you have to swear if I go through with this you will stay far away from them."
Tord rolled his eye. "Fine. Sounds easy enough." He agreed, but his voice was tight. "What else?"
"Second, Matt and Edd will notice I've been gone for far too long, and most likely go out to try and find me." Tom went on. "You'll probably not want to lose me, since I'm your last and only chance. So if they do go searching for me-" He stopped, taking in a shaky breath. "You'll have to make it seem like I am dead."
Tord's eye widened a little in surprise, before scratching his chin and humming deep in thought. Tom, on the other hand, was gripping the chair with all his strength. His knuckles turning white, trying to control his emotions. In order to keep them safe, he'll have to hurt them one last time. They will be devastated, but they will be far away from Tord's reach, and hopefully move on and forget all about him.
He turned his attention back to Tord, as he hummed once more. "Interesting. You do have a point." He commented. "Very well, I'll make sure all your traces are gone and make it seem like you died in some tragic accident. And what about the last part?"
Tom gulped, swallowing his emotions with great struggle. It's now or never. "I don't want to be given any anaesthetics during the procedures." He states.
"What?!" Tord gasps with shock, genuinely surprised by the demand.
"I don't want drugs of any sort during these experiments." Tom goes on to explain. "Painkillers, anaesthetics, morphine, any type of drug that nulls the pain. Unless I specifically ask for it, I don't want any of it."
Tord's eye is wide, his mouth hanging open slightly as he can't believe in what he's hearing. Tom would've laughed at the sight if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation. Tord shook his head, quickly trying to compose himself. "I-I, well you see, I can't exactly guarantee this." Tord stuttered slightly, still taken by surprise. "The experiments you'll go through can be severe, even right down deadly. And I can't risk losing you." He made his point, but his eye widened significantly when he realized how the last statement sounded. "I-I mean, because you're my last shot at this serum, and if I were to lose you I would have to start from scratch." He corrected.
Tom rolled his non-existent eyes unimpressed. "Then use the drugs as a last resort." He insisted. "Unless I am in risk of dying, you don't use the drugs. Do we have a deal or not?"
Tord blinked but relaxed to think things over. He doesn't know why Tom wouldn't want the painkillers, as it would relieve him of all the pain he'll have to go through, but it's none of his business. At least, not anymore. Sure, there's the risk he could lose him, but if he keeps a close eye on his vitals and be careful, he can make sure it doesn't happen.
Tord fixed his gaze on Tom, a smirk pricking the corners of his mouth. "Does that mean you will comply with me?" He prompted, already tasting the victory within his reach.
Tom sighed in defeat. "Only if you go through with all my demands." He murmured, glaring at smug leader.
Tord grinned. "Then we have a deal."
He raised his metal hand, and for a moment Tom thought he has extending it towards him to shake it, to which he would've remarked on how is he supposed to do it with his hands restrained. But Tord folded the red, metallic hand in front of him and with his other hand, pressed one of the buttons.
"Patrick, please escort test subject #1826 to the lab and get him ready." He spoke to the communicator installed on his prosthetic arm. "I'll join you shortly, but I must deal with a few things first."
"Yes, sir!"
Tord released the button, shutting off the communicator, and pressed a different button. Tom watched in confusion and curiosity, when suddenly the seat beneath him shifted. The legs of the chair changed into a pair of wheels, and as he stared down the sides in amazement, a new restraint reached out from the back and chained his neck against it, making him unable to turn his head or lean forward. Tom struggled against the pressure but let himself relaxed when he realized it wasn't choking him.
Tord pushed back his seat, getting up and fixing his uniform. "Well, I'm glad we reached an agreement without too much of a fuss." He says, walking around Tom to head out. But before he left he stopped momentarily in front of him, ruffling his hair slightly with his gloved hand. Tom growled at the contact and the fact he could not move his head away anymore. "Behave while I'm gone." Tord tells him, leaving the room.
Suddenly, Tom's chair moved. He tried to turn his head up, but the restraints wouldn't let him. He gazed upwards as far as his vision would let him, and caught a glimpse of a blue uniform and a tuft of brown hair. Tom deduced it was none other than the soldier he encountered before, since he was the one Tord called for. Tom was being pushed out the room, when they were stopped.
"Oh, and Patrick." Tord's voice called out once more, halting them. "If he does something, step out of line or try anything funny, you have my permission to electrocute him if necessary."
"Yes, sir." Patrick's familiar accented voice replied back. With that, Tom was wheeled out the room to meet his fate. This is his life now.
Now we're getting started. What do you think of it so far? Sorry for the late update, i got sick and it's been a tough week in general. We'll get more into Tom's problems as the story goes on, but i've already given enough hints to make it out. Now let the angst commence!