Hello! What's up you guys? This is Flower1815 here, bringing you a new chapter of MLTS. I am very sorry for this little hiatus; I did not give up on this story. Far from it, actually. I have received so much support, praise, and kind words for my work there is no way I'm going to stop here! And I didn't have writer's block either, I actually have everything planned out. I just came back from a holiday trip to Brazil; visiting my family and friends before going back to Norway. And now that I'm back, the story can go on!

Thanks to my friend, juh-britto on Tumblr, we have been talking about Eddsworld for HOURS, and we ended up discussing so many ideas and possibilities that I just had to include some in. But so I don't lose the initial focus of this story and get swayed, some of the other ideas will be part of a series of one-shots I will do sometime in the future; possibly when I finish MLTS. And speaking about future works, I'll be posting a Paultryk one-shot sometime next week, probably in the weekend. And, just to give you guys a little tease, I'm going to write a Tomtord smut in the near foreseen future. You know, after writing the other one-shot I've been working on, and because MLTS has gotten so much positive feedback, as I had promised, I will make a sequel to Jeg elsker deg. You're welcome!

So yeah, that's it for the announcements. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Sorry if the quality isn't as great as some of the previous chapters. I kind of had my confidence shaken a bit when my teachers said that I had sloppy writing. I'm fine now. (Sheds a tear) really. Happy 2017, and I'll see ya all later!

Silence. There was only a dead, awkward silence after Tord and Patrick left the room. Neither Tom or Paul made any effort to talk, making it seem like a long game of: "who talks first". Tom was too busy glaring at the ground to pay the soldier any notice anyway. His mind kept replaying his recent encounter with Tord. Stupid Tord, with his stupid army, stupid soldiers, stupid robotic arm, and stupid f#cking serum. He thought angrily. He thinks he can boss me around and treat me like trash just because I gave him permission to.

Meanwhile, Paul simply didn't know what to do. Tord ordered him to get done with the procedure, but on the other hand, Tom seemed unstable and unpredictable; who knows what he'll do in the state he's currently in. Sure, he's restrained, but still highly dangerous. Especially if what Tord says it's true. If Tom does indeed have a part of the monster serum inside of him, he could potentially change at any given moment and attack him. Regardless, Paul was not looking forward to this at all.

So, until Tord gets back or he musters up the courage to just go ahead and do it, Paul just stood there; shifting his legs uncomfortably and rocking back and forth while humming a little tune in his mind.

Tom caught movement in his visual perimeter and saw Paul, trying to distract himself. Tom almost could've laughed at the sight, but he quickly crushed whatever speck of humour there was in him, when he remembered that said soldier was the reason he was there to begin with.

"Aren't you supposed to be experimenting on me?" Tom questions irritably, breaking the silence and snapping Paul out of his daze.

Paul stops rocking on his feet and blinks at Tom in surprise. The brit just glares at him, raising one eyebrow, waiting for him to say something. Paul felt himself shrink under the intense eyeless glare. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, fumbling with the collar of his uniform while trying to think of what to say.

"I- uh, to be honest, I'm not very good with this science junk." Paul stammered nervously. "It's better be safe than sorry, especially in such a delicate procedure."

"Won't Tord get mad that you disobeyed him?" Tom prompted curiously. "He did say for you to go ahead and do it."

Paul chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Oh, well, maybe. But I don't worry too much about it, even if I screw up a lot." He says. "I'm already use to leader's temperament issues, and unlike most of the other soldiers around here, Patrick and I are a lot closer to him. We're friends."

Something about the way Paul said the last part made Tom feel weird. And not in the bad way, or the good one either. Just the weird… Weird category. It was hard to explain to say the least. Tom can clearly tell Paul isn't trying to be mean with his statement, in fact, he looks rather nervous and frightened in his presence; which is a good change of pace considering his current position the last few hours. Paul was simply explaining to him his relationship with Tord, but something he said made Tom want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Friends? Tord?" Tom echoed sceptically before giving a harsh laugh. "I know Tord since Kindergarten, he grew up with Edd, Matt and I; and although I never considered him my friend in particular, Matt and Edd were clearly attached to him. You would think after all these years together they would be inseparable, but look how it all turned out. Tord betrayed them, and he will do the same to you. He doesn't have friends."

Another awkward silence met his words. Paul didn't say anything to argue against his statement; his eyes cast downward and a dark look came to them. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Paul mumbled under his breath. "If you say so." But Tom heard him. He groaned in exasperation and tried to pull on his restraints with little success.

"So, what? Are we supposed to just stand here until they come back?" Tom says, still struggling.

Paul stared at him, one eyebrow raised and twirling the needle in his hand. "Do you rather take the chance of becoming paralyzed from the waist down?" He prompts challengingly, earning a glare from the brit but he did not answer him. "I thought so- Ops!" He accidentally drops the needle on the ground, bending the tip. He quickly tried to pick it up again and pretend like nothing happened, but the needle was clearly damaged. He heard Tom chuckle, and looked up to give the restrained man a slight, furrowed glare. "You didn't see anything." He muttered.

Tom grinned slightly. "Sure, my spine is so tough that the needle broke." He joked. "I'm sure Tord will believe it."

Paul chuckled before it faded into a frown. He sighed and looked up at Tom. "I know I'll probably never make it up to you properly, but I would just like to say that I am truly sorry for tricking you into this." He murmured apologetically, his gaze casting downwards. "You must understand; I was simply following Tord's orders. But I am aware this doesn't excuse anything, and I really hope you can forgive me. I truly believe that, under the right circumstances, we could be friends."

Tom, letting his guard down, looked at the soldier genuinely surprised and, dare he say, touched? But he shook the feeling off, glaring at the man who's to blame for all of this- Second! That's right. He's only second to the commie bastard.

"You really think your petty apology is enough to earn my forgiveness? No can do, buddy. You'll have to try a lot harder to win me over again." He spat, turning his head away. "If you do really feel bad for what you did, you would let me go and help me escape."

Paul flinched, his eyes showing hurt and worry. "You know I can't do that." He rubbed his arm uncomfortably. "Besides, you agreed to submit to red leader's experiments in return for your friends' safety. If you escape now, the deal will be off and there is no guarantee he won't do as he had threatened."

Tom stopped his attempts to glare at Paul. He was just about to open his mouth and argue when the door opened. Looking over to the respective direction, Tord and Patrick casually strolled into the room. Tord's face was grim and somewhat sombre, while Patrick remained stoic, his face giving away no emotion.

"Paul, did you do the lumbar puncture yet?" Tord asks, making his way over to them with both his hands folded behind his back.

Paul scratched the back of his head. "Well- not really, sir. The thing is- I- the needle-" He stammered nervously, as he tried to get the excuse out, but Tord raised his hand and silenced him wordlessly.

"Good, because we still need to put the tracking chip on test subject 1826 to monitor his vitals more closely." Tord explained, glancing at Tom who was glaring at him in his restraints, then turning to Patrick. "If you can set up the necessary equipment while I have a little talk with our favorite little test subject I would appreciate it."

"Yes, sir." Patrick dipped his head, walking over to the wooden desk.

Tord glanced at Paul and tilted his head. Paul raised an eyebrow in confusion when Tord tilted his head again, motioning towards where Patrick currently worked. Paul understood what he meant and hurried over to join his companion. He passed by Tom, shooting him another apologetic look before turning away, leaving Tom and Tord to face each other once more.

They stood in front of each other, staring down in apprehensive silence. Tom raised an eyebrow as he waited for him to begin, and wondered what Patrick might have said to him in the other room for Tord to want to speak to him again.

Tord calmly strolled forward, one foot at a time as he kept his single gaze fixed on the restrained brit. He stopped when he was right in front of him, barely a meter away from him. Tom narrowed his eyes. He doesn't like the short distance between the two of them and wished he was free to move away. Oddly enough, Tord seemed strangely silent. Even his breathing was quiet, while Tom's heart hammered against his ribcage and blood rushed into his ears, drowning out the noise.

Tom, feeling bored at this point, just wants to get this over and done with. "Ugh, can you stop with the silence and the staring already, commie?" He complained, slumping against the restraints. "If you have something worth saying, just spit it out already! God!"

Tom looked back down at Tord, and was surprised to finally see some emotion in his one, exposed eye; other than smug victory, mocking sympathy, or wicked glee. There was a flash of sadness gleaming in his eye. Tom shook his head. That can't be right.

Much like it had appeared, the flash of emotion was gone, replaced by his air of authority as Tord straightened his back. He cleared his throat, bringing his hands out and pulling out a tablet from behind his back.

"Alright Tom, first things first." Tord says. "I will ask you a couple of basic questions, and you will answer them truthfully and accordingly."

Tom raised an eyebrow curiously. "What kind of questions?"

"just the usual health protocol." Tord answered, flicking through the device, his eye glanced up momentarily above the screen to shoot a quick look at Tom before going back down. "Which I will be in charge of, as of this moment."

Tom's eyes widened. "Wait, what?!" He exclaims, barely believing in what he just heard. "You? You will be monitoring and taking care of MY health?"

If somebody else had come up to him and said Tord was going to take care of him, he would've laughed in their face and called them stupid. Heck, he was feeling the urge to do it so right now. But something in Tord's facial expression seemed genuine and halted his actions before he could even get a laugh out.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Tom prompts, earning a deadpanned expression from the Norwegian leader.

"I don't see what the fuss is about." Tord spoke, tapping down into the device. "I'm just going to be responsible in making sure you're always in top notch condition for the tests. Last thing I want right now is you, transmitting some kind of deadly disease all over my base. Lord knows how high the probability is with you in the equation." He muttered the last part under his breath, but still loud enough for Tom to hear.

Tom frowned in discontent. Great, I have to spend my time answering a bunch of stupid questions for the commie. He thought dryly, until realization finally hit him as he slowly placed the puzzle pieces together. Wait, he's going to ask me about my health conditions. Patrick took him out the room to talk alone. He was in charge of verifying my weight. And if he said what I think he said to Tord, this means… Oh no. Tom began to panic, his breathing quickened as he tried to calm down again.

No. No. No. NO! Last thing I need right now is for him to ask me questions about my condition! He thought frantically. I need to get out of this! Anything! Think Tom! What can I do to avoid this? He looked wildly around the room for any type of diversion. His eyeless, black sockets landed on Paul and Patrick, who were murmuring quietly to each other over the wooden desk. Tom narrowed his eyes at Paul, remembering the certain night when they first met at the pub. Suddenly, a lot of questions flood his mind. Questions he completely overlooked until now and he never thought of asking. Maybe this could be his chance. Tord, after all, has a lot to answer him and he should give Tom that much in return for his compliance. Reluctant, as it is, it still is compliance.

Tom tilted his head, narrowing his eyes down at Tord as he continued to type in the tablet silently. He cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, Tord? Since we're in the subject of questions, I-I h-have some of my own as well." He says, mentally cringing and cursing himself for stammering and appearing so weak. Be more assertive!

Tord chuckled, his one eye glancing back up at him with amusement. "Oh? Is that so?"

Something in his tone of voice made a shiver run down Tom's spine. He mustered up his courage, glaring back down at Tord as he gained back his confidence. "Yeah! And I won't answer your stupid questions until you answer them!" Tom gave himself a proud pat in the back; mentally that is.

He heard Tord hum. Looking down again, he saw him scratch his chin with his robotic hand, deep in thought. He stopped humming, looking at Tom with his trademark grin on his face. Never a good sign.

"Alright Tom, I get your point. So why don't we make things more interesting?" Tord prompted, still grinning. "Let's make it a game of twenty questions. I will ask you one question, you'll answer them honestly, then you get to ask me any question, and I will answer back truthfully. How does that sound?"

Tom Inwardly cringed at the thought. Tord would still get to ask him questions about his condition. He as to avoid it from happening any way he can.

"But how can we even trust each other to answer honestly?" Tom asks. "Nothing is stopping us from lying and it's not like we can disprove it either."

"Well, how about this? If one of us lie or avoid giving complete answers, the other gets the right of giving a short answer in return." Tord proposed. "So, unless you don't want answers that badly, I recommend you answer these questions the best way you can."

"But how will we know the other is lying?" Tom asks.

Tord placed his robotic hand over his chest, above where his heart is. "As leader and commander of the red army, I give you my word that I will answer all your questions in the best of my capabilities." He vowed. "I can only expect the same kind of respect from you in return." He gave Tom a lopsided grin.

Tom glared and scoffed, turning his head away. "Your word means nothing to me." He snarled, but eventually sighed in defeat as he turned back to Tord. "But, I still want answers, and If this is my best bet in getting them, so be it." He murmured. "Fine Tord, I will play your stupid little game."

Tord clasped his hands together in glee, the tablet being held under his normal arm. "Excellent! Then I'll begin." He took out his tablet once more and began to flicker through it. "Now, let's see here…"

"Wait, why do you get to begin with the questions?" Tom demanded, feeling irritated at this point.

"First of all, I am the one in charge here, and I can do whatever I want." Tord spoke smugly. "Second, you asked me two questions already; three, counting this last one. Third, while my questions can be rather simple and easy to answer, I suspect otherwise of your questions, and they will require longer explanations to satisfy your curiosity. Fourth, so far I have answered all of your questions with equally satisfactory answers. Need I say more?"

Tom blinked at Tord, impressed by how ready he was to answer him. He rolled his sockets, groaning in irritation. "Alright Tord! You can start."

Tord chuckled once more before flipping down on the tablet. Tom watched him in apprehension. What is he going to ask him?

"Alright Tom, here's my first question…" Tord began, making Tom grasp the chains of his restraints in horrid anticipation. God, here it comes. He thought, already expecting the worst and how he can explain himself.

"When was your last doctor's appointment?"

Tom let's out the breath he was holding in relief. Tord blinked, waiting for him to answer. Tom bit his lip as he thought about it. When WAS the last time he went to a doctor?

Well, he did need to get treatment for his arm that one time… wait, no, he bandaged it himself. There was that time he got hit by a car… Oh wait, he walked it off. There was also that one time when he got sick; food poisoning from eating a rotten fish, and he vomited constantly, sometimes even blood… No, no, he isolated himself in his apartment for days until it passed, that's right. What about that time he got jumped in an alleyway and- Definitely not!

Tom cringed at the memory with a shudder running through his body. He still remembers their fear stricken faces and motionless bodies in front of him; torn members and ripped flesh all around him. Blood soaked his hands. Iron taste in his mouth and bile rising up his throat.

Tom clutched his eyes shut, shaking his head to get rid of the horrible memory haunting his mind. Not now. It's been a couple of days since he'd last had any alcohol, and even then he got drugged in the process. The alcohol withdraw was finally taking effect on him, and the memories he tried so hard to forget were coming back.

"Tom?"

Tord's voice snapped him back to reality. He looked down to see Tord, still patiently waiting for an answer. As much as he did try to remember, Tom could not recall the last time he'd seen a doctor; any doctor for that matter. Regardless, he tried to answer his best.

"Sorry, I blacked out a little there. Uh, to be honest, I don't remember." Tom says. "But if I had to guess the estimate date of my last appointment, maybe, uh, two years and a half ago?"

Tord frowned, narrowing his eye. "I see." He muttered, typing down his report. "Now, I believe it is your turn to ask."

Tom pondered his options. With this opportunity open up to him, he realized how many questions he had accumulated within the short time of his captivity. Especially in the aspects regarding Tord. What should he ask first? He thought maybe something a little simpler at first, then ask the real questions as they go on. The one question that kept popping into his mind constantly was the one he decided to go with, since it's been plaguing his mind since he arrived in the facility.

"The pub, the one where I was taken, both Paul and Patrick were there; with Patrick even working there. So it's safe to assume you own it." Tom deduced. "Did you build that pub just to lure me in?"

Tord laughed, so much so he had clutched his sides and bend over. Tom glared at Tord, flushing with embarrassment and feeling completely flustered. Was he too quick to assume?

"Oh, classic stupid Tom, you are such a riot!" Tord laughed, wiping a tear from his eye and regaining his composure. "I know you are a very important and essential part of my project, but do you think so highly of yourself to honestly assume that I would build and own a pub just to get to you?" Tord pointed his finger in Tom's direction, so close he flicked his nose mockingly.

Tom growled. "Then why do you own a pub for?" He asks irritably.

Tord grinned in return. "Why do you think? This facility isn't going to pay itself, and none of the equipment or weapons sprout from the ground." He explained.

Tom's sockets widened in surprise. "You? Paying for this?" He echoed. "Are you kidding me, Tord? You have no qualms in going on a murder spree, shooting down any civilians you see on your way; heck, you destroyed our house and nearly killed Matt, Edd and I with your stupid giant robot! Why don't you just steal the money and materials that you need?" He pointed out angrily.

"I do not have any qualms in stealing whatever my organization needs. But I do have qualms with police, and when they were getting too close for comfort I just had to find other means of supporting it all." Tord explained calmly. "I started out little at first, finding any jobs I could and take whatever money offered. Paul and Patrick helped. Eventually I got enough money to keep us afloat, and I created our own business to cover up all of our activities."

"Yeah, before the pub we used to have our own theme park; ASDF land!" Patrick spoke up from the other side of the room. "It was quite the business we had going, until the outbreak that is…"

"I worked so hard in making that roller coaster…" Paul mourned, with Patrick consoling him.

Tord shot them a look, clearing his throat. "I appreciate the impute, but try not to spoil the game you two." He scolded lightly. "It would be no fun otherwise." He grinned.

"Wait, you created ASDF land?" Tom exclaims in shock, even more questions raising in his mind. He distinctively remembers the park he and his friends spent the day in, until they realized the place was swarming with zombies. Were they the cause of it?

"Ah ah ah." Tord waved his robotic finger condescendingly. "You asked three questions already, now it's my turn. And to make things fair, I get to ask you three questions as well. Wouldn't want you getting greedy now."

Tom fumed, but remained silent; giving him permission to carry on.

"Does your family have any history with diseases?" Tord asks, reading it off from the tablet. "Diabetes, cancer, heart conditions; any of the sort?"

Tom just gave him a deadpanned look. "My mother was a bowling ball, and my father a pineapple. I don't think I'm running any risks with this." He replied, like the answer was obvious.

There was an awkward silence as Tord typed down the answer. Tom glanced over to Paul and Patrick, both of which were confused and astonished, as they tried to understand the logic behind him. Tom rolled his sockets. "Don't ask about it. It's a long story." He muttered.

The soldiers shrugged and went back to work.

"Have you had any broken limbs as of late?" Tord asks.

Tom thought for a moment. The only real time he remembers breaking anything in his body was when he tried to destroy Christmas with the use of Zanta's sled, which he had stolen, and was blown to smithereens by a missile. He ended up with most of his body broken that day. But nothing of the sort happened to him lately. After all, breaking bones and immediately having them fixed as his body re-shapes doesn't count, right? Right.

"Nope. Last I had it was six years ago." Tom answered simply. "Broke almost all of them; had to wear a body cast." No need to give him the full details of the situation.

"How often do you drink alcohol?" Tord questions, looking up from the tablet.

Tom stiffens. Shit. He is aware Tord knows he is an alcoholic, everyone knows he is one. But he started to drink a lot more after the first few incidents. He even switched actual food for Smirnoff just to keep it under control. He is already dreading the question Tord might be building up to, so how can he explain this without raising any red flags?

"Uh, one- no, at least three bottles a day for the past month." He said only half the truth.

Tord narrowed his eye at Tom, tapping his robotic fingers over the tablet in a rhythmic fashion. He sighed. "You know; you would make things a whole lot easier for all of us if you just say the truth to begin with." Tord murmured in disappointment.

"But I am telling the truth!" Tom insisted, throwing himself forward in his restraints as far as it would allow him. "Why would I lie about this anyway? It's not my fault you're too stupid to tell a lie apart from a truth." He became aggressive fast. A common trait when you are being defensive.

Tord shot him a glare, composing himself. "Fine." He placed down the tablet. "So, to answer your last question: yes, we were the owners of ASDF land. It used to be one of our bases. Above ground my soldiers worked as employers, entertaining the blissful ignorant masses, and earning money for our cause, while I worked on my project underground."

Tom heard him explain until he paused. He was waiting for him to carry on and give more information, but Tord took out the tablet again. Tom realized because he had lied, Tord wouldn't give him anymore answers until it was his turn to ask again. Tom hissed in frustration.

"Have you been suffering from back pains or aching joints?" Tord asks, not looking at him.

Yes! Tom almost blurt out but reframed from doing so. "Kind of. I mean, drinking and sitting on a couch for long periods of time does take its toll on my back. But no joint aches." He answered truthfully. "Now it's my turn, how many test subjects were there before me?"

Tord looks up, a mischievous smirk present on his facial features, making him look rather sinister. "Let's just say… there's a reason why you are called test subject #1826." He answered cryptically. "After getting enough resources to finally carry on with my work, I held my project in secret; right beneath the theme park. Of course, to test the serum out I would need test subjects, so I would abduct some of the park's visitors and try it on them." He proceeded to explain. "But unfortunately, the serum has drastic side effects when there's too much of the primary element. Not only does it burn the subject from the inside out, melting most of their organs in some cases, they die and come right back as zombies."

"We didn't dispose of the failed test subjects. Instead we placed them in a containment cell for further evaluation for future references." Patrick added, walking up to them with a rather large needle on his hand. Paul trailed after him. "But we didn't count on having so many failures; and so after many tries, the cells were too populated and there was an outbreak in the park. We had no choice but to evacuate the premises after our failed attempt in cleaning up the mess."

That would explain the zombies then. Tom thought grimly, watching Patrick walk around him. He tried to crane his neck, look over his own shoulder and see what the soldier was going to do. Suddenly, the bottom part of his hoodie was lifted up and he felt the tip of something sharp poke his back.

Tom immediately started to struggle in panic, already expecting the worst. Patrick tapped his spine lightly with two fingers, searching for the right spot for the procedure. But with Tom moving around too much and disrupting his focus, Patrick frowned, reaching out his hand and grabbed the brit by the back of his neck to still his movements.

"Stop moving, please. You'll just make it hurt more otherwise." Patrick advised, putting the needle to position.

Tom started to hyperventilate in panic until his frantic thoughts were cut off by muffled giggling. His eyeless gaze landed on Tord, who was covering his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter while watching Tom struggle. He bared his teeth and growled down at the norsk. Tom took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists as he calmed down and braced himself for the pain that was about to come. Come on Tom, you are stronger than this! You've been through worse! Don't let that commie bastard get to you now!

Tom took a few more deep breaths, feeling completely calm now he nodded for Patrick to carry on. He raised an eyebrow in return, as if asking: "Are you sure about this?" Tom nodded again, bracing himself.

The pain was immediate. Tom clenched his fists, grabbing onto the chains of his restraints, trying to distract himself from the sharp pain spreading across his lower back, and raising up his spine. He bit the inside of his cheek, preventing from crying out and show Tord any sign of weakness. But the strange thing about it, is that it wasn't quite as bad as he thought it would be. He still fell immense pain, and it hurts like hell; but he had already endured so much over the months with the feral side that it barely compared.

Tord watched Tom with interest, one eyebrow raised. He barely moved or made any sound. Tom's face was clenched in pain, but that was his only indication he was feeling anything at all. Tord made sure to note this down for further evaluation.

Tom let out a sigh of relief when he felt Patrick pull away the needle from his spine. He shook his entire body to relieve the rest of the lingering pain. The faint sound of clapping brought his attention back; metal against wool. Tom looked at Tord to see the norsk clapping his hands with a smug expression on his face.

"Well, well, well; I must admit Tom, I had underestimated you." Tord says, still clapping slightly in a condescending way. "I was completely certain you would have started crying during the lumbar puncture, especially when you're doing it without any anaesthetic. But, once again you have proven me wrong."

Tom glowered at him. "Good thing I haven't lost my touch then."

Tord walked closer. "To keep me entertained?"

"To prove you wrong!" Tom snarled, shooting forward and being inches away from Tord. He did not flinch at the sudden proximity, as he is fully aware of the powerful restraints keeping the brit from coming any closer or doing him any harm.

Tord smirked. He grabbed Tom's chin with his metallic hand, bringing him down to his eye level. Tom scowled in response. "Is your pain tolerance direct consequence of the serum currently running through your veins?" Tord questions. "Or, is there something deeper going on?"

Tom glared at Tord, not breaking away eye contact. He didn't want to say it. Not to Tord. Not anyone. But if he doesn't, he won't get answers. At this point, Tom could care less about the answers now. He could probably have an easier time convincing Paul or Patrick to tell him things rather than play games with the communist prick.

"No." Came his simple reply, tearing his head away from Tord's grip and slumping back against the restraints. "And even if there was, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you." He huffed.

Tord let him go with a frown. He sighed, crossing both his arms behind his back and turning away from Tom. "Fine, I can see that you have grown tired of our little game." He murmured, voice dripping in disappointment. "I will leave the remaining questions for our next round."

"And what makes you so sure there will be another round of questions?" Tom asks indignantly, failing to notice the presence creeping up behind him.

Tord looked back at him over his shoulder, a smirk spreading on his face. "Oh Tom, I know for a fact that you will ask again, because you still haven't asked the right questions!"

Tom was taken back by surprise. He wasn't expecting that kind of answer. He was just about to demand what he meant when he felt a sharp pain hit between his shoulder-blades. It was quick, and felt much like a stapler but the pain still registered. Tom wasn't expecting that and gave a yelp.

"Ow! What the-?!"

Tom twisted his head around and saw Paul, standing behind him and looking up to him with an apologetic expression, holding a syringe in his hand. Tom glared at the soldier. "Is this how you expect me to forgive you?" He exclaims angrily.

"Well, you are certainly doing a dang good job in proving me wrong." Tord speaks up jokingly. "And here i thought you grew immune to pain."

It's easier when you have alcohol. Tom thought grimly. "What did you do anyway?" He demanded.

"Paul just implanted a chip into your spine, granting us access to your vitals for better management and check-ups to your current physical state. So if there are any sudden changes to your condition during the procedures, we'll know right away." Tord explains. "The chip also serves as a tracking device, so if you ever attempt to leave or go into any unauthorized areas, we could be alerted. As well as some rather… interesting features."

Tom turned away from Paul, switching his eyeless, dark gaze back to the Norwegian leader. Patrick walked up to Tord and handed him a couple of files, dipping his head slightly in return. Tord thanked him and returned his attention back to Tom.

"Well, I guess that is all for today. I have other business to attend to, so I'll let Pat and Paul escort you to your quarters now." Tord waved, shooting Tom a sly grin, earning an infuriated scowl from the brit in return. "See ya tomorrow, old friend!" He called, walking out of the room.

Paul and Patrick tried to approach Tom and free him from his restraints, but Tom just trashed around in them. "Wait! What did you mean by asking you the right questions?" Tom demanded.

Tord nearly reached the doorway when he stopped walking and turned back around to face him. A smug look on his face. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually." He reassured. "Much like I'll do to find out what you are hiding from me." He promised wickedly, raising his robotic hand to just below his chin. "Time to use one of those features!"

Before Tom could get another word out, Tord pressed one of the buttons on his arm and a jolt of electricity shot through him. The shockwaves coursed through his entire body, feeling immense agony, convulsing with pain. Tom tried to hold in any sounds he might emit, stubbornness making him refuse to show any weaknesses. But the move itself was just so unexpected that he accidentally let out a few agonized screams.

Paul and Patrick watched Tom get electrocuted right in front of them in mixed expressions of horror and sympathy. But essentially, they knew it was needed for their plans. Tord just watched silently in morbid fascination. Something about watching the eyeless man howl in pain as he struggled against the chains holding him up was fascinating. But yet, at the same time, Tord felt… bad for him? Something in his agonized screams in particularly caused that feeling on him, but Tord couldn't quite explain why.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his robotic arm started beeping, alerting him that Tom had fallen unconscious. He pressed the same button again and the electric zaps stopped. Tom has his head and arms hanging down by the restraints, and was completely motionless. Tord frowned at his immobile form. Now that Patrick mentioned it, Tom really does look thin and weak. Is he not eating properly? Tord exhales in contemplation. I guess i'll just have to fix that up too.

"Escort him to his room and make sure he stays there!" Tord orders as he turns around and leaves.

"Yes sir!"

(Meanwhile.)

Rain poured outside and stained the windows. Inside his little apartment, Edd paced around his living room in worry. His footsteps echoed throughout the space as he walked around the couch from one side of the room to the other. He bit his lip and chewed on his fingernails, occasionally checking his cell phone before shoving it back into his pocket.

A knock sounded on his door. Edd jumped and hurried over to open it, feeling hope fill up inside his chest, but immediately felt disappointment when he realized it was only Matt on the other side of the door. He was soaking wet with his hoodie raised and carrying grocery bags on both hands. Edd stepped aside to let him in.

"Did you find him?" Edd asks worriedly.

Matt shook his head. "There's no sign of him anywhere." He murmured sadly.

Edd groaned, sighing exasperatedly. He ran a hand through his hair and went back to pacing, taking out his phone once again. Matt watched him, placing the groceries on the counter desk before turning back to Edd.

"Where could he have gone to?" Edd wondered. "It's been three days, Matt! He should've come back by now!"

Matt fiddled with his fingers, not exactly sure what to do. He wanted to comfort and reassure Edd, but he was worried for Tom too. It's unlike him to be gone for so long. Usually he would just go to the nearest bar, get drunk and return, at the very least, on the following night.

Matt was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud bang as Edd punched the wall in frustration. He rubbed his injured hand, hissing at the pain. His gaze cast downwards, and his bangs covered his eyes. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have pushed Tom over the edge." He lamented. "I thought, maybe, that if I pestered him enough he would finally open up to us. But instead I just pushed him further away."

Matt frowned, reaching into the plastic bag and taking out a cola can. He smiled a little, trying to appear more reassuring. "C'mon old chap, don't be like that." He called, walking up to the green hooded man and offering him his favourite drink. "Tom is… well, kind of mysterious in his own right and keeps a lot of things to himself, but maybe he has his reasons to." He argued.

Edd looked up at him through his bangs with sad eyes. "But, we're his friends." He pointed out. "Whatever it is he's going through; he should tell us. I know that I will always count on you and Tom to help out with my problems, so why can't he do the same?"

Matt shuffled around on his feet, adjusting his position. "You know Tom; he is more introvert and closed off. It is unlike him to admit things so easily, especially if it concerns his emotions." He pointed out, putting his arm around Edd's shoulder, still offering the can out to him.

Edd gingerly took the can from him, still a little hesitant to open it. "But what if he never comes back? What if this time I pushed him away for real? Or worse, what if he turns out like Tord did?" He murmurs worriedly. "He did say not to expect him back so soon…"

"Look, people tend to exaggerate things when they're angry. He'll come back!" Matt reassured him. "He just needs some time for himself, think things over, and reflect for a bit. I'm sure once he realizes his mistake he'll come back."

Edd started smiling a little now. "You really think so?"

"Of course!" Matt grinned as Edd cracked open his can and took a sip. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Tom showed up at the doorstep right about now."

The doorbell rang.

Edd choked on his drink and nearly dropped the can if it weren't for Matt holding him. They looked at each other in astonishment, then at the door, then right back at each other. Edd's eyes were wide, and his mouth opened and closed without any sound. Could it be? Edd asks silently, and as if he could read his thoughts, Matt nodded. Suddenly, a rather large grin made its way onto Edd's face and he rushed off towards the door; not caring if he spilled his favourite beverage along the way.

Matt breathed a sigh of relief, running after his friend in excitement. Things were finally going to get better form here.

When Edd made it to the doorknob, he gripped it tightly in his hand, twisted, and swung it open without any hesitation.

"TOM-!"

However, his ecstatic expression faded almost instantly once he realized it was not his friend who stood at his doorstep. Instead, two police officers towered over him. One was leaning against the railings of the stairs with his hat covering most of his face, arms crossed over his chest, blonde tufts of hair could be seen poking out from beneath his cap, and a lit cigarette poked out of his mouth. The one who presumably ringed the door bell was a tall man with ginger hair, one-o-clock shadow, blue eyes, sideburns, and pale white skin. As soon as Edd opened the door, the man straightened his position, removing the cap from atop his head.

"Mr. Edd Gold?" The Officer asks.

Edd looked at each of them nervously, taking a step back inside and closing the door a little. "Um, y-yeah, that's me." He answered hesitantly.

The officer dipped his head a little. "I'm officer Bennet, and this-" He introduced, then turned back and motioned for the other cop standing behind him. He gave a little wave of acknowledgement in return. "Is my partner, Lenny. I'm afraid we've come to give some bad news for you, sir."

"Edd? What's going on?" Matt asks, coming up behind Edd and taking notice of the two stranger at the doorstep. When he saw their uniforms and badges, he realized then that they were police. He gulped, afraid as to what this might lead to.

Officer Bennet narrowed his eyes at Matt. "Is he your relative?" He questions.

Edd looks back at Matt nervously. "No, he's just a, uh, friend…" He stammered. Getting a sudden burst of courage, Edd closed the door a little more and proceeded to glare at the officer. "Look, we're kind of busy right now, so if can just say what it is already-"

"It's about Mr. Thompson, sir."

At his words, Edd shut up immediately and opened up the door fully now. His eyes were wide and held many expressions; notably worry and hope.

"You found him?" Edd asks taking a few steps forward. "How is him? Is he okay? Where did you find him? We were worried sick! Can I see him?" He kept blurting out questions.

Officer Bennet looked uncomfortable, fiddling with his cap and avoiding eye contact. "Mr. Gold, I'm sorry. It is with great displeasure that I must inform you that, Mr. Thompson is dead."

Time seemed to slow down for Edd. His heart stopped only to give a mighty leap and beat against his ribcage. Oxygen escaped his lungs and for a moment he felt like he couldn't breathe. His hands were shaky and he let go of the cola can, still on his hand, spilling it all over the floor. His eyes remained fixed on the officer in front of him and he took a hesitant step back. He barely heard Matt gasp beside him, or feel his hand touch his shoulder. He felt as if he was fading in and out of existence; he wasn't feeling the moment, but feeling too much at once to be something concrete.

"H-how?" Edd managed to ask rather shakily. Breath wavering, his throat dry, and already feeling tears clog his vision.

"We found Mr. Thompson's body in a ditch earlier this morning." Bennet reported. "He had several bullet wounds and deep lacerations to the skin. Autopsy still hasn't confirmed if he had died instantly or struggled with blood loss."

Matt placed both hands to his mouth to muffle his gasp of horror. "H-he was… Murdered?"

Bennet nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so." He confirmed. "Though, we still haven't found any clues that could lead us to the perpetrator."

Not bearing to hear any more of this, Edd turned around, shoving Matt out of the way and bolted back inside.

"Edd-!"

Ignoring Matt's cry, Edd continued to run. His world was spinning out of control, all noise was drowned out with blood rushing to his ears and his hammering heart. Tears already welled up in his eyes, trailing behind him as they fell. Despite not being anyone else in his apartment, Edd felt the urge to cover his eyes with his sleeve.

He made it to his room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him. Edd rested his back against the door, breathing heavily and trying to regulate it back to normal; arm still over his eyes. He let the officer's words finally sink in and the reality of the situation took its toll on him.

He lowered his arm, tears welling up until he couldn't contain them anymore and they streamed down his face. Edd allowed himself to cry. He covered his face with both hands and sobbed as he slowly leaned down, slumping against the door frame until he was on the ground hugging his knees. Many thoughts were running through his mind at that moment, but only one kept repeating itself and coming back constantly.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I'm so sorry!"

*Sips on a glass of tears*

Mmmm… Delicious!

Things are just going to get worse from here on out. Because of brainstorming, this story is going to be longer than I had originally planned, and now there's going to be a subplot with Edd and Matt; they're not going to be in it a whole lot, this story is about Tom and Tord after all, but just to have something to cut back to when things get… hmm… interesting. There will be more answers next time, i promise.