My little test subject

by flower1815

On his quest for world domination, Tord develops a serum that will turn a man into a giant, horrible monster. But after countless failures, he finally realizes what he was missing to perfect the serum formula all along; and he will help him, willingly or not. Dark and angsty Tomtord fic. WARNING: Torture, blood, foul language, and drug use; viewer discretion is advised.

14. Chapter 14

Hey guys! This is Flower1815 here bringing you a new chapter of MLTS, and this one here is kind of a big one. Living in a student dorm and doing all kinds of activities everyday doesn't give me a lot of time to write but I try to do my best with what little time I got, so I apologize for the delay. In fact, while we're on the subject matter, I would like to ask you guys something. Do you prefer that I upload chapters as soon as they are finished writing and get another break as I begin writing the next one, or do you want me to take as much time as I need and write multiple chapters – say five or six, and then upload them weekly? Because I completely understand your frustration with me with my irregular updating schedule. I am frustrated with myself too, because I try to set a deadline for the chapter to be finished so you all can have a new chapter to enjoy as soon as possible but I just can't focus right. So I want to know your thoughts.

So the fic's second anniversary was a thing. I tried really hard to finish this chapter by then, but I just couldn't make the deadline in time; so I decided to release the official soundtrack of the story, just so you guys wouldn't be left with absolutely nothing. Go check it out right here: www youtube com / playlist?list=PLoel78Oq6AUTzlVttmhbFtKLRvEBU9fIQ Just wanna point out though, that the playlist is not in its entirety because some tracks are kind of spoilery to the rest of the story so I'll be updating it as we go along.

Quick warning though; there is a brief mention of underage drinking and drug use in this chapter, so… beware I guess.

Well, I think this is pretty much it then. Thank you guys so much for all your support, I really appreciate it, and have a happy new year! ;)

Sobbing, muffled cries echoed throughout the, otherwise quiet, fuchsia living room.

Despite being alone in the apartment, Matt insisted on crying as quietly as he could. He hugged his knees to his chest, concealing his face as he cried softly. He kept trying to wipe away the tears that continuously brimmed in his eyes and threatened to spill over.

Ever since things have gone oh so horribly wrong for their little group, Matt had always tried to toughen up; be more supportive of his friends and be less of a whiny crybaby.

In a lot of ways, he'd looked up to Tom for that. His eyeless friend had always been so stoic and reserved, rarely displaying any emotion; and despite his reckless drinking habits, Tom had been the voice of reason of the group and always had an idea to get out of any tough situation. Matt wished he could be like him.

But that's just it. He isn't.

Matt was never leader material of the group. He'd usually let Edd or Tom take charge of the situation and he would step back and follow. Though he always wanted to help out, he knew it was easier to let the others handle things because he always messes things up more somehow. Matt had never been good with words, and he was clearly not the brightest out of them. Frankly, he wasn't sure what he's good for anymore. And now that Tom is gone and there's only Edd and him left, he has to step up to the plate and be there for Edd in whatever way he could. Even to the point of putting his own grief aside for Edd's sake.

However, he doesn't seem to be doing a very good job of helping Edd. His best attempts only seem to push the brunet further away.

He had woken up this morning with hope that things could go back to normal, away from the sorrow and regret they both felt these past months. But his heart had sunk when Edd insisted on being alone after Matt had suggested they do something together. Matt hadn't argued then, just wanting his friend to be happy again. But he was saddened that he'd been left all alone, again.

Matt doesn't like to be left on his own with only his thoughts, because it's hard to be strong like Tom when there's nothing to distract him from the overwhelming sadness he felt for everything that's happened. Thoughts of grief always creeped up on him in these moments, and Matt would inevitably break down.

Even the multiple portraits of himself, which used to cheer him up on any occasion, could do nothing for him now but make him feel even more utterly alone.

He misses Tom so much.

Though Tom hadn't always been the most affectionate one in the group, or even that compassionate at times, he did attempt to lend them comfort whenever they needed. Matt wished his friend could come back, even if it's for a brief period, just so he can talk to him properly and maybe ask him for advice on what he should do next; and hug him tightly of course.

He wondered if Tom would have been such a disappointment to Edd if their places had been reversed. Maybe Tom would have known how to make things better.

Matt shoved the thought away. He shouldn't think like that. Edd needs him! If he starts doubting himself, then what hope does he have to help his friend?

Matt wiped his eyes once he realized he was all out of tears to shed. Still sniffling, he headed for the bathroom and washed his face, making brief eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. His puffy red eyes contrasted drastically against his fair complexion, but Matt couldn't bring himself to care about it too much at this point. Though maybe if he did, it would give him a bigger incentive to choke down the urge to cry every time he was left alone.

A sudden and very distinct smell of something burning reached his nose, and Matt instantly panicked as recognition dawned on him. "Oh cr#p!"

His sadness forgotten, he burst out of his bathroom and hurried to the kitchen where the scent is strongest. Matt peered through the glass door of the oven, and saw the batch of cookies he had been preparing this morning were burning. Grabbing his pink mitts, Matt quickly turned the oven off and pulled the crisp, coal-black cookies out.

Matt sighed in relief. "It doesn't look that bad." He analyzed the damage optimistically. "I must've caught it just in time."

Much like leadership, Matt was never one to take charge of the cooking either. It was usually Edd who prepared the meals, and sometimes even Tom would volunteer to make dinner when he was in a good mood. Matt tried to learn and once attempted to make a high-quality, deluxe dinner to treat his friends; but it didn't go over well. Tom and Edd had spent the next few hours throwing up and brushing their teeth constantly. They claimed Matt was a kitchen hazard and prohibited him from doing anything with food ever again, so Matt happily obliged and let others make the meals instead.

Grief threatened to overwhelm him at the memory, and Matt had to turn his head away – fearing if he didn't he would taint the cookies with his tears. Wow Matt, I'm impressed you didn't burn the whole place down. He could practically imagine what Tom would say if he were still here. You're getting better. Who knows? Maybe by next year you could finally make something edible!

Though Tom's words sounded harsh, they really weren't. They were playful despite the deadpanned tone, and Matt would probably laugh in response before offering some to Tom.

The urge to cry at the thought of his dear, grumpy friend he will never get to see again gripped him strongly. Matt felt his heart crack. So much pain. He won't hear Tom's sarcastic voice make remarks toward him, or give Tom surprise hugs when he least expects, or show off his latest trinkets to Tom in hopes of impressing him ever again. Even when Tom acted cold and uncaring, Matt always knew deep down inside Tom was really just a softie who didn't like to display it very often. Matt still remembers the time he got sick over eating too many sweets after going trick-or-treating the day before, and Tom made him stay in bed while Edd prepared a soup for him.

There won't be any of that anymore.

Keeping his breathing under control, Matt managed to push his anguish aside and focus on the present day. He has a very important meeting in a couple of minutes and it is of outmost importance that he makes a good impression on his hosts.

Matt still can't believe he's actually doing this, but hopefully all the awkwardness he'd been feeling for the past couple of days will finally be over after today.

Putting the batch of cookies down on a plate, Matt made one last glance-over in the mirror to make sure his appearance was presentable enough, then grabbed the tray and went out the door.

With slow, hesitant steps he neared the door diagonal from his; heart racing in his chest out of sheer nervousness. He stopped halfway and glanced back to his apartment wistfully, nearly changing his mind but decided to follow through with the idea.

Don't be such a scaredy-cat, Matt! He firmly told himself. Be fearless; be more like Tom!

His gaze flickered over to the apartment door on the right side of his own. Matt had contemplated whether he should inform Edd about this and invite him to come along, but the brunet had made it abundantly clear he wanted to be left alone today. Besides, Matt figured he wouldn't be keen in joining.

Matt took a deep breath as he reached his destination and shifted his feet uncertainly. Here goes nothing. He pressed the doorbell and waited, the building anticipation making his heartbeat drown out all noise from his ears and making him anxious.

Matt nearly jumps out of his skin when the door opened and Mark stepped out to greet him. "Ah it's you. You're here earlier than I expected."

Matt frowned. "You did say I could come whenever I want." He mumbled with a hint of impatience.

Yesterday evening Matt got the surprise of a lifetime when his blond rival knocked on his door and invited him over to have tea the following day. Understandably so, Matt was hostile and suspicious of Mark's intentions at first. But after Mark elaborated, explaining that this was a peace offering between their groups, Matt had relented.

The four of them have been living in the same building for two weeks or so, but Matt was already sick and tired of the uncomfortable feeling that pricked his skin whenever they accidentally stumbled upon each other. He would go out to collect the mail from his mailbox or head out to do some shopping only to bump into one of them, and Matt would immediately retreat back to his apartment out of sheer awkwardness. He had waited for either of them to begin with the harsh taunts, but they never came. Matt would've preferred if they did; at least then he would've finally learned what their current stance is and things didn't have to be so tense around them.

He often wished he could discuss these odd sensations with Edd, but after finding out they were moving in, Edd didn't seem content with talking about any of this. In fact, it seems Edd was distancing from Matt further away with each passing day. And Matt is absolutely clueless as to why.

Matt shoved his thoughts aside and focused on the blond man standing at the door. He held the tray out toward him. "I, uh, made some vanilla cookies." He muttered awkwardly, still expecting this turning out to be just an elaborated prank. "Wasn't sure what type you liked."

Mark eyed the charcoal-crisp cookies critically but did not dare make a comment as he courteously accepted the tray. "Thanks." He stepped aside and opened the door wider. "Well, in any case you're welcome to come on in."

Matt hesitated a heartbeat longer before he fully stepped inside, and he looked around wearily.

He'd never been to their rival's residence before – there was never any need to, given their animosity toward each other in the past. But Matt was kind of shocked to find the high-quality luxury the place held. Rosy punch-pink walls, neatly organized rows of books in an ivory bookcase, pretty paintings decorating the place, a huge vintage triple mirror on one corner, a fancy red, blue, and purple carpet stretched across the living room, and various ornaments and figurines were neatly laid out in various spots.

Matt looked on wide-eyed in amazement. Everything seems so shiny and fancy and – is that a chandelier?! Matt was absolutely speechless.

Mark chuckled at his reaction. "Please, make yourself at home." He quietly shut the door and walked past the stunned ginger toward his kitchen. "Will Edd be joining us?"

His words snapped Matt out of his daze, and the ginger haired man looked away timidly. "No. He… he rather be left alone." He murmured quietly. "So it's only just me, if that's okay."

"Understandable." Mark acknowledged. He grabbed a ceramic jar and proceeded to slide Matt's cookies inside of it before placing the lid back on top. "Eduardo is also taking a bit of a time off, but he'll arrive soon. So for now it's just us."

Matt stepped farther into the strange and yet surprisingly welcoming environment, looking around the place with awe. He always saw Mark as this egotistical and snotty version of himself, and although Matt wasn't outright jealous of his blond counterpart they did have their fair share of clashes to prove whose looks were superior. But now, looking around his rival's flat he realized they were really much alike.

Though, from what he can gather thus far, Mark seems a lot more organized with his belongings than he is.

"Do you have any tea preference?" Mark's question cut though Matt's thoughts.

"N-no. I, uh, I'll drink whatever you have, I don't mind."

"Nonsense!" Mark blew him off, waving a hand casually as if to dismiss his nervous reply. "You are my guest, and I insist you take something that you enjoy the most. Now; what will it be? Green, chamomile, or earl grey?"

Matt blinked in bewilderment. Today is definitely going to be a weird day. "Uh, chamomile sounds nice."

He looked away out of nervousness and his gaze found a tray of cupcakes settled on a coffee table in the middle of the living room. Matt's eyes lit up at the sight and began to near the tray, subconsciously licking his lips as he eyed the frosted treat. The pastel colors and the beautiful swirls taunted him, but Matt held back from taking one.

These could be off-limits for all he knows.

"You can take one if you want, you know."

The gruff sounding voice right behind him made Matt whip around in alarm, only to come face to face with none other than Eduardo. The tall brunet towered over him with an unreadable expression on his face, and Matt shrank back. Mark may have been his rival, but Eduardo is far scarier than the blond – he remembers the intense rivalry between him and Edd vividly, and Matt always held a bit of a fear of him.

After all, he was known to punch things that annoy him in the face. Matt touched his cheek consciously. Though Eduardo hadn't been the offender that time, he wouldn't put it past him.

"Ah Eduardo, so glad you could make it." Mark reappeared from the kitchen, carrying a tea set on a silver tray before carefully setting it down on the table.

In response to his comment, Eduardo scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Well yeah, of course I would. We planned this whole thing together, after all."

Mark raised one eyebrow. "Then how come I'm the only one getting everything ready?"

"Because that's your specialty and I burn everything I touch."

As they began to bicker, Matt watched them interact with intrigue. They're still kind of scary, but strangely enough they do not behave that much differently from how he and Edd so often did. It was weird to see them now as anything more than bullies.

His fear diminished a little at the comparison, but his anxiousness persevered.

Matt sat down on the cream-colored sofa behind him, trying to calm his nerves when his eyes landed on a pile of magazines stacked next to the cupcakes. He leaned forward to take a closer look, his eyes widening once he spotted the cover of "Beautiful and unaffordable" – by far the best and most expensive brand of beauty tips magazine out there.

With a quiet gasp, Matt quickly reached for it and opened to look at the wondrous contents inside. It's been so long since he last indulged his looks, or even so much as did anything remotely to do with his vanity. He always felt strangely uncomfortable and somewhat selfish to do so with everything that's been happening, and thus Matt started taking less care of himself as a result. But there's no way Matt can deny the opportunity to take a peek at this rare gem.

Whilst the orange-haired man was distracted, Eduardo stepped closer to Mark and grabbed a tea cup for himself."What kind of tea is this?"

"Chamomile."

"Nice." Eduardo nodded in approval. Then his mood changed, and he cleared his throat with a frown. "I, uh, I'm not sure I'll be able to stay here for very long. Some things came up and I really need to check'em out."

Mark paused and looked up at him with a disapproving glare. "You promised you were going to be in your best behavior."

"I know I know; and I'm gonna. But I have to see what that's about." Eduardo insisted.

The blond man narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Fine, I can see there's no use in arguing – you already made your mind up about this." He relented. "Just let me do most of the talking, alright?"

Coming to a mutual agreement, Eduardo helped Mark set the rest of the things down and poured each of them a cup of tea. Matt hastily puts the magazine away as his hosts settled down around him, and graciously accepted the cup of tea from Mark.

"So now that we're all sorted out, I would just like to start off by thanking you for accepting our invitation." Mark began politely. "It really means a whole lot to us that you decided to come."

Matt was taken back. This is all so weird! "Oh! Uh, well… you're welcome?" He stammered and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head nervously. His eyes accidentally strayed away from his blond lookalike toward Eduardo, who's simply sitting across from him; his facial expression giving nothing away. Matt found his presence thoroughly off-putting, but he did not dare say anything. He sipped his tea to calm down instead. "But uh, if you don't mind me asking… why did you invite us over? After everything we put each other through…"

The two neighbors swapped a meaningful glance with each other. Eduardo steadily stared back at Mark and gave a curt nod. The look made Matt curious. What just flashed between them?

With a small sigh, Mark started to speak again. "You are right to question our motives, given our history of animosity in the past. But a lot has happened since those days of petty rivalry – for both our groups." Matt didn't need to be smart to know what he was referring to. A pang of sadness clenched his heart at the reminder and his grip on the teacup tightened.

"We simply wish to put our past rivalry behind us, make amends, and start anew." Mark went on coolly. "We've… matured a lot since Jon's passing and we don't want to cause trouble anymore. We just want to get on with our lives in peace."

"Yeah, and we're just as uncomfortable about this whole "living together again" deal as you guys are." Eduardo added assertively, though Matt could've sworn he saw him grimace briefly at the mention of Jon. "We don't like this arrangement any more than you do. We don't enjoy the awkward standoffs whenever we bump into each other on the hallway, but it's not like we can afford to move someplace else now. So here we are."

"Cool your temper, Eduardo." Mark advised smoothly and shot his life-long friend a warning glance, jumping in quickly to take over the situation before his companion could get ahead of himself and ruin their attempt at peace. Eduardo looked away and sipped his tea with a simple grunt, but settled down nonetheless. "While it's true we never meant to cross paths with you lot again, it can't be helped now. The only thing that we can do though is settle our differences once and for all and forget about that whole nonsense of being rivals. Otherwise none of us are going to live in this building in peace."

Once he finished speaking, a steady silence filled the room. Matt reflected on their words carefully, his expression still divided somewhere between awe and confusion as he tried to decipher the meaning behind their odd actions. His blue eyes lit up suddenly. "Oh! You mean… you want to be friends?"

The duo sitting before him both choked on their drinks, albeit in different manners.

Mark outright spat out his drink and started coughing convulsively while beating on his own chest. Eduardo, on the other hand, tried hard to keep down his own drink as he shook his head profusely, wide eyed, as he repeatedly muttered: "No. No. No. Nope! Uh-uh. No."

Having caught the duo off-guard, Matt couldn't help but snicker at their flustered expressions. His blue eyes glinted with a mischief he hadn't felt for what seemed like years. Not so scary now, huh?

Recovering from their stupor, Mark quickly recomposed himself and took over the situation once more. "Uh… no. Not necessarily anyway." He coughed. "I think we're good with just peace, thanks."

"Yeah, agreed. Peace. Totally enough."

"So what do you say?" Mark prompted, shifting the topic back to its original focus.

Matt's gaze was intensely thoughtful as he reflected on their words. "I think I speak for both Edd and I when I say… peace between us would surely be a welcomed change." He says at last, looking a little bashful. "But then neither of you will pick on nor harass us ever again?"

He watched Eduardo and Mark swap another meaningful glance, and they nodded to each other curtly.

"Of course! It would be very counter-productive if we went back on our word after arranging all of this." Mark grinned as he sipped his tea. He then gave his companion a long side-glance, as if inviting him to speak next.

Eduardo scowled at him briefly before turning to Matt with a small sigh. "We won't do any of that anymore, we promise." He speaks earnestly and then continued firmly. "But we will not hesitate to respond if either of you provoke us either."

Matt narrowed his eyes in return. Like we ever started anything with you guys! He thinks with indignation. He opens his mouth to retort, but Eduardo abruptly rose to his feet right at that moment and looked at his watch.

"Oh, look how time flies fast! Sorry, I must get going now - gotta head back to work."

Mark rolls his eyes but says nothing as he continues to stir his tea. Matt watched the broad-shouldered man begin to turn away and leave when his eyes caught sight of the cupcake tray again. His eyes glinted with interest much to Matt's amusement. But rather than taking one or two from the tray, Eduardo grabbed the whole platter instead. Matt grinned but resisted the temptation of laughing by biting on his lips.

The task was even harder when Mark suddenly slapped Eduardo's hand away, and the brunet glared at him indignantly.

"Hey!"

"Don't be so greedy, Eduardo! I made those for our guest." Mark admonished, gesturing to the ginger sitting across from him.

"It's not like he's gonna eat all of them!"

"He can have them; I don't mind." Matt tried to speak up between fits of suppressed giggles. They're acting as if they are an old, married couple!

Despite his protest, Mark appeared to not have heard him. "I understand your work is very important, and I have given you a pass for leaving us early; but I don't appreciate your gross and unhealthy habit of eating nothing but sugar for the reminder of the day." Then he paused, and appeared to reconsider his words when a mischievous idea struck him. "But of course… if you really insist you should at least be reasonable and take something else." He smirked. "You'll find a jar in the kitchen with a fresh batch of vanilla cookies. You may take them instead."

Matt shot Mark a questioning look. Mark returned his gaze with a silent message for him to hold his tongue.

Blinking in surprise, Eduardo glanced back toward the kitchen and, sure enough, spotted the cookie jar on the counter. He took a moment to consider for a bit and then shrugged. "Alright, fine by me." He relented, stalking away from them and take the whole jar with him on the way out. Eduardo's glance swept across Matt and Mark, and he gave them a tiny nod of farewell before he left.

"Sorry about that. Eduardo tends to have little to no sense at times." Mark broke the silence. "I know he might appear a bit intimidating, but don't let his size and attitude fool ya. He's just a big ol' softie underneath that tough exterior."

Matt said nothing – simply bent forward to take one of the colorful cupcakes. Should he take his leave now? They have concluded what they had set out to do, but Mark hasn't dismissed him yet. And truth be told; Matt wasn't keen to return to his lonely, sad apartment any time soon. If he does, Matt knows he'll do nothing but wallow in his grief and break down again.

"Anyway," the blond went on, trying to lighten the mood. "Guess it's just us again, huh?"

"Yeah…" Matt took a bite out of the swirly treat and his eyes brightened with delight. It's delicious! It could even rival Edd's cooking. He licked the frosting around his lips and thought carefully. "If you don't mind me asking… where have you guys been this whole time?"

He half expected Mark not to answer. The blond held him motionless for several heartbeats with his penetrating blue gaze. Then Mark relaxed, and his expression was replaced by a distant look of memory and loss.

"After our house was destroyed that fateful day, Eduardo and I didn't have many options. Thankfully, Eduardo's grandmother was kind enough to take us in; even with such short-notice. She could never turn away her beloved grandson, especially after such tragedy." Mark murmured, bending forward to refill his cup with more tea. "The living conditions weren't exactly ideal per say. Small and cramped place, no room for whatever belongings we could salvage from the wreckage, and there were her dogs too."

He shivered with repulsion at the memory of the two large brutes he had to coexist with. Mark had nothing against dogs, but he had a clear preference to cats. They're quiet and drool less. "But it was the best we could do until we found a new place for ourselves."

Listening to the story, Matt realized just how lucky he and Edd were that Tom found a new place to live before everything went down. If it weren't for Tom, they probably would've had to stay with Matt's grandparents; similar to Eduardo and Mark's case. Oh Tom… we owe you so much! He thought with anguish.

"Does it ever get any better?" He asked eventually.

Mark tilted his head in confusion. "What does?"

Matt hesitated before replying, and Mark thought he was looking slightly awkward. His feet shifted uncomfortably, and when he spoke, his voice was a low murmur. "The… the grief, I mean."

For a few heartbeats there was silence. Mark was staring at Matt with an unreadable expression on his face. Matt swallowed nervously and placed the cupcake he had been eating down on the table, his appetite gone. Maybe he overstepped his boundaries too far this time. I'm so stupid! Matt inwardly winced, wanting to smack himself upside his head for his foolishness. If Tom were here, he wouldn't have hesitated to do so for him. Just when we start making peace, I go ahead and ruin it in less than ten minutes!

But the blond man didn't appear to be upset. Instead Mark held him with that serious gaze for a moment more and took a deep breath. "I wish I could say that it does. But truth is… it's a lot more complicated than that." He responded solemnly.

Matt blinked at him with surprise. He had not been expecting a genuine answer out of his former rival. Matt gave a little nod, as if the answer satisfied him. In truth he wanted to ask for more advice on how to handle this messed up situation, but refrained from doing so. They only just stopped being rivals; it would be incredibly awkward if he were to keep on probing on such a delicate subject.

Across from him, Mark could right away tell that the ginger had a lot on his mind. He frowned. Both went through the same experiences and are suffering for it. From having their house blown up to losing a close one. Their rivalry may have ended, but it seems to have left a greasy stain on their relationship that will be hard to wash out.

And Mark would be lying if he said that he couldn't see said stain either. After all… why should he care? Even if they aren't enemies anymore, they're just neighbors, right?

(Meanwhile…)

"So Tom, how are you fairing today?"

"Pretty awful." Tom replied quite bluntly, taking a sip of his special juice through the orange straw as he leaned back against the reclining chair.

"You had your first training session with Red Leader this morning, how did it go?" Pat asked, opening a new file on his tablet for today's topic.

Tom uttered a dry scoff. "Why bother asking me that? You were there – you know what happened." Resentment and frustration burned through him.

His soldier training with Tord earlier that day had been a disaster, just like he had predicted. It wasn't physical exercise heavy, and at first Tom thought that was a good thing, until Tord made what was supposed to be a simple lesson on gun handling a f#cking nightmare. Tom had never felt so stupid quite like today; with the way Tord scolded and kept correcting him for the smallest of mistakes made him feel like he couldn't do anything right. Tom was certain the Norwegian man was just being picky for the sake of getting under his skin.

Heck, even after he shot most of the targets square on the bullseye Tord still found a way to nitpick – claiming Tom wasn't trying hard enough otherwise he would've gotten all of them and he was just being a lazy slop like he always is.

Needless to say, Tom had a real hard time controlling his powerful urge to turn the gun on the Commie and shoot him. But alas; it was a paintball gun and wouldn't have done any damage, other than maybe pissing Tord off and getting a few hundred pushups as punishment.

The voice certainly had a great deal of fun picking his confidence apart throughout the training, practically ganging up with Tord against him – which would sap away his energy, making him lousier with his training and resulting in Tord berating him again and the whole process goes full circle.

Tom wished Paul were still in charge of supervising his training. He had never treated him like an idiot. But the two trusty soldiers had a lot of things to deal with around the rest of the base right now, and now Tom is stuck with Tord. Paul and Patrick kept telling him that it was an honor to be trained by the Red Leader himself, but Tom wasn't convinced he was such a great mentor; much less that this situation was in any way a good thing.

Though very busy, Patrick had insisted on attending this first training session – to make sure Tord and Tom could be in the same room without a hitch, and advise his leader with his mentoring skills whenever needed. Tord was admittedly brutal in his teachings. But Pat had to keep in mind that this was an army and that Red Leader was training a soldier. The army is harsh and it's best Tom learns that now; which is why he so rarely intervened when Tord would criticize the eyeless man, even though it was clearly grating on Tom's nerves.

Pat guessed the Brit might hold some resentment toward him after that. "Nonetheless, what are your thoughts?" He pressed, adjusting the reading glasses on his face.

Tom breathed out an irritated sigh. "I'll tell you my thoughts; Tord is an annoying, f#cking, piece of sh-" He followed with a long line of colorful vocabulary, getting increasingly more intense as he went on. A few sessions ago, Patrick had given him permission to cuss out the Red Leader however much his heart desires and Tom has since always abused that privilege when given the opportunity to. "Stupid ass Commie always thinks he is better than everyone else, and he is always so smug and cocky and I just wanna punch his face in every time I see him."

"I see…" Pat typed down a bullet point. "You truly hate him huh?"

"Like there was ever any doubt about that!" Tom crossed his arms and took another sip of his drink with a scowl. "Commie is an awful person and there is nothing else to it."

Patrick nodded in understanding. "Alright Tom, there is a reason why I wanted to have this session with you right after your training." He admitted, watching the eyeless man sitting across from him fume silently while gnawing at the straw of his drink in anger. "Because today we get to dive in to the main source of all your problems."

At that, Tom tensed and stared at the Polish soldier wit a mixture of confusion and horror. Source of my problems? He echoed, nervously sipping at his juice. Surely he couldn't have found out my secret? There's just no way! And yet, apprehension made Tom listen with abated breath for Pat's next words; praying with every non-believing fiber of his being that this wasn't the case.

"Let's talk about your relationship with Tord."

Tom heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Oh thank god." Then he realized Pat was looking at him oddly and Tom needed to elaborate so as to not cause suspicion. "I mean, I get to cuss the sh#tty Commie out some more. That's… good."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I would like to talk in depth about your relationship with Red Leader." Patrick went on. "Your history together, how it developed over the years, the source of this rivalry you have toward each other, and hopefully understand why the two of you behave the way that you do now."

Tom emitted a scornful sniff and rolled his empty eyes. "Didn't he fill you in already? Being one of his most trusted soldiers I thought he would've shared his past with you."

"He did." Pat confirmed. "But I would like to hear it from your perspective of things and get a better understanding of where all this hatred originated from."

Even as he was saying this, Pat's mind instantly thought of the recent rise of his leader's conflicting feelings. Paul came to him the other day with a big secret to tell him, but Patrick was somewhat disappointed to hear it was merely about Tord's obvious attraction toward Tom; as if this was supposedly anything new to hear about.

A long time ago, when Pat was only an Officer in the Red army, Tord had opened up to Paul and him about his past. He was a little drunk at the time, which perhaps would explain why he went into such great detail about it. Tord talked about his family, his friends, his hopes and dreams with the army, and specially his major infatuation for Tom.

At the time, Tord had claimed he was over it and would only dedicate himself exclusively to the army and his goals. However, it was clear as day that, despite the attraction growing stale over the years, Tord continues to carry feelings for the eyeless man.

Maybe this was another reason why the Red Leader was so particularly strict with Tom today in training. He wanted to prove his emotions wouldn't get in the way of his duties. Evidently the Norsk has no idea how to deal with these feelings.

Patrick will confront him about it eventually, when his leader's mood is a bit more agreeable for this discussion. "You've known each other for so long; surely you got some good memories with him?"

"I doubt it." Tom muttered, and then emitted a long and loud exasperated groan. "Ugh, where to even start?"

"How about when you first met?" Pat prompted. "From what I gathered, your friends seemed to already know him when you met them for the first time."

Tom frowned. "Yes, they did." He recalled with a hint of wistfulness in his voice. His face furrowed as he wracked his brain for details. "I don't remember much about the way we met – it wasn't as impactful as meeting Edd and Matt."

"Odd, considering the great rivalry between you two today." Patrick noted with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, well, believe it or not we didn't start out throwing punches at each other." Tom scoffed, his voice edged with annoyance. Even though he was thankful they weren't going to talk about his condition like he'd feared, Tord was still a touchy subject to discuss. All Tom can remember from their past together was how much Tord liked to pick on him and grate on his nerves; how they often clashed in heated arguments and physical fights, and how Tord absolutely hates his guts.

Tom reciprocates the notion.

Thinking hard about his past, he tried to remember the time he met the Norsk. After the finger-painting in the bathroom incident and meeting Edd and Matt, Tom recalled it was weekend after that. His parents had scolded him for getting into trouble in school, but after he gleefully chatted about the new friends he made and just how much fun he had, his parents were merely glad he was unharmed. He had spent the whole weekend anticipating school day to arrive just so he could see his friends again and play more with them.

"Really, it wasn't a big deal when we met." Tom continued, a little quieter this time. "Once the weekend was over I was excited to see Edd and Matt again…"

(Flashback!)

Tom waved his parents goodbye as he rushed toward his school. He greeted his teacher in a hurry and practically tossed his schoolbag into the shelf where his name was tagged. The eyeless boy looked around wildly for his friends through the crowd of playful kids, until he finally spotted them sitting on a small, round plastic table over one corner of the room.

Edd made eye contact with him from across the room, smiled, and waved him over.

Tom weaved his way through the large group of kids surrounding him with an excited skip in his step. However, his glee gave way to nervousness when he realized there was someone else sitting among his friends.

He slowed down as he approached, and looked over the new kid with curiosity.

Sitting between Edd and Matt is a boy with weird, messy caramel-brown hair that almost resembled horns. He is wearing a red hoodie with what appeared to be the face of a robot etched on the front, dark pants and red sneakers. The strange boy was too busy showing a drawing he made to Matt to acknowledge Tom's presence among them, until the ginger nudged him and the boy finally looked up.

Tom froze, feeling shy under the other boy's silver-gray gaze.

"Hey Tom!" Edd piped up enthusiastically.

Matt waved. "Hello!"

The boy in red looked at both his friends in confusion, but remained quiet as he turned his attention back to Tom.

"Oh right!" Edd jumped to his feet when recognition flashed in his head. "Tom, this is Tord – the friend we mentioned, remember? Tord, this is Tom – I told you all about him during the weekend."

Tom waved timidly. "H-hi."

The boy clad in red, Tord as he is called, stared at him for a couple of heartbeats before responding. "Hey." He grunted. And just like that, he resumed work on his drawing; seemingly losing interest on the newcomer.

Tom frowned in dismay. It appears Tord isn't quite as receptive to him as Matt and Edd were.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. "Don't worry." Edd reassured him with a comforting pat. "Tord is very quiet and shy, but he'll warm up to you."

Edd let Tom take his seat, right next to Tord, while he went to grab another chair for himself. Tom fiddled the straps of his overalls nervously as he sat beside the stern-looking boy, occasionally shooting glances in his direction to see what he was doing. Tord barely acknowledged he was even there.

Tom frowned. He hoped this wasn't going to put a damper on his new-found friendships.

"So you didn't like each other then?" Patrick questioned, interrupting the story.

Tom shifted in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "I wouldn't go quite to that extent." He muttered reluctantly. "We just sort of looked at each other… and didn't think much of it? It's kind like receiving a birthday gift you're not very enthusiastic about – we just didn't know what to make of each other. That's the best way I can put it."

Pat thinned his lips as he thought this over. "So you weren't exactly on bad terms, but not on friendly grounds either."

"Yup."

"And how did that made you feel then?"

The eyeless man did not answer right away. His gaze fell to the floor, his face held an unreadable expression on his face as he continuously tapped one foot. He really doesn't like today's topic.

Tom shrugged stubbornly. "Didn't care much."

"Tom." Pat admonished, seeing through his blatant lie.

Tom winced and cast him a smoldering glare, shifting in his seat; a clear sign of discomfort. "Alright - Fine! I may have been… slightly upset about it." He reluctantly confesses out of frustration. "But only because- I- well- being the shy and naïve kid that I was back then, who rarely interacted with other people and was so nervous about it only to get these amazing friends, I was afraid that- maybe- if I couldn't get Tord to, urgh, like me I couldn't be their friend anymore."

With every word he spoke, Tom felt a bit of his dignity die. This is much too personal and he hated having to talk about this now, to a person he hardly knows is trustworthy enough. However, Tom is well aware that it's futile to even try to lie or give short answers because Patrick seems to tell right away and immediately coax him to tell the truth.

But when you really think about it; what's the harm?

If in fact, Patrick is just gathering Intel to use it against him later on in the experiments, as a tool to manipulate him or something and this whole therapy-play is all a ruse, then Tom should be safe.

A sense of dull calmness instilled on him, and Tom let down his guard. Jokes on them, I'll be dead long before they get the chance to experiment on me. Internally, he laughed bitterly. I won't let them bring it back out. I mustn't!

Although not active right now, Tom was vaguely aware of the voice's presence swimming around his mind; cackling along with him at the idea.

Patrick can learn all he wants about him and his past, he could even tell Commie about it for all he cares, because none of it will matter in the end. Heck, maybe Pat will even see how messed up Tord truly is if Tom opens up about it. Whatever they decide to do with the information he's giving them, it will inevitably amount to nothing once he puts an end to his misery.

So yeah, Tom will play along for now until the time is right. But he won't let them take advantage of him – not if he can help it.

"So what did you do then?" Patrick questioned, jerking Tom out of his dark musings.

"I was friends with Edd and Matt like normal, and we would go on our "little" crazy adventures, even if Tord didn't seem that ecstatic about having me around." Tom explained, a tiny smirk tugging the corners of his mouth, barely visible. "And, well, I was trying to… impress Tord I guess? In hopes of us-"

He paused and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the next words he's about to say.

"Becoming friends."

(Flashback!)

Following the days after his first encounter with Tord, the group of friends stuck together ever since. Doing all sorts of crazy stuff and getting into trouble whenever they could. The teachers even dubbed their little group as: "a storm in the making."

Amidst their everyday activities, however, Tom was struggling in his efforts to properly befriend Tord.

Much like Edd and Matt had said, Tord didn't speak very often and when he did he sounded kind of weird. Turns out he wasn't from around the area, and came from a place up north. When Tom found out, he enthusiastically tried asking Tord a bunch of questions about where he came from, hoping he would open up and be friendlier but to no avail. Tord would only respond with short, direct answers and nothing more than that.

Tom was crestfallen. Nothing he did seem to appeal Tord enough to finally warm up a bit.

In fact, the only one Tord seems to be most talkative with was Edd. They are pretty close, and they always stuck close together. Wherever one of them is, the other is never far behind. Though Edd is the one who comes up with ideas for their adventures, Tord appears to have a hand on their schemes too. Often times, Tord would lean in and mutter something to the boy clad in green, causing him to chortle.

Thankfully, their closeness and Tom and Tord's lack of it did not put a damper on the groups' games of mischief. Though Tom often wished they all had the same tight bond as those two. Matt didn't seem to mind and was just happy tagging along in whatever they got planned, and assured Tom that he was one of them no matter what. Easy for him to say – Tord doesn't mind when he gives one of his infamous crushing hugs, or when Matt asks him for help during arts and crafts.

Regardless, things continued the same way.

Until…

Tom arrived in school like normal, but dropped his bag on the shelf with less excitement this time around. He looked around for a place to sit and found Tord sitting by himself on an empty table, messing with a toy robot in his hands. Their other friends nowhere in sight. Tom sighed nervously and walked over to join him.

It's been two days with no sign of the other two boys. According to Tord, Edd went traveling with his family somewhere, and Matt is stuck at home with a cold. So this week, until both of them return Tom and Tord are stuck with each other.

Tom sat down with a quiet greeting. Tord merely grunted in reply, not taking his focus away from his toy to properly acknowledge his presence. Feeling the familiar pang of hurt in his heart, Tom turned away and begun to fiddle with whatever toy was closest to him.

Neither of them spoke a word to each other as they waited for class to start.

It started to rain at some point, and they were forced to have recess inside instead of going out to the playground like they usually did. Tom decided he absolutely hated not having Edd or Matt around. After Tord continuously ignored him, Tom tried to play with some of the other kids but they weren't any better than the Norwegian boy. Some kept staring at him with curious and weary looks, others backed away in apprehension, and there were some who liked to pick on him.

The last straw for the eyeless boy was when a girl tried to stick a crayon into his sockets to see how deep it would go. He struggled away from her and retreated to the far off corner, away from everyone where he could play with a stack of building-blocks in peace.

Tom felt like crying. This isn't fun at all! He wanted his friends here with him, but most of all, he wanted to leave this awful place. He hugged his knees and started to sob quietly, curled into a ball and wishing he were somewhere else.

A sudden and loud clank had him look up in surprise. Through teary eyes he saw Tord a few feet away from where he sat, rummaging with an air vent. Curious, Tom wiped the tears away with the back of his sleeve and approached. Like usual, Tord did not seem to notice his presence until he spoke up.

"What are you doing?"

The question got Tord by surprise, and he jumped in alarm only to bang his head on the edge of the table above them. With a quiet hiss, the Norwegian boy rubbed his injured head and turned to look at Tom; who shied away from his gaze.

"Leaving." Tord replied curtly through his thick accent, turning his attention back to the vent. Upon closer inspection Tom could see some type of tool in his hand that he was using to lose the screws with.

"Where did you get that?" Tom asked. Without glancing up from his work, Tord motioned toward the janitor's tool box a couple feet away from where they are; left out in the open without adult supervision for any kid to grab. "You shouldn't steal." He fiddled with the straps of his overalls. "And we're not allowed to leav-"

A hand clamped over his mouth. "Shh!" Tord glared at him with a finger over his lips, signaling for silence. After a few seconds he let go and returned to fiddle with the air vent. "Don't care. I'm leaving." He repeated firmly.

With a quiet hiss of cheer, Tord pocketed the tool away and opened the vent. Tom stared at the Norwegian boy as he prepared to crawl in with a mixed set of emotions, until they overflowed and he couldn't take it.

"Can I come with you?" He blurted out.

Tord whirled around in surprise but did not say anything. Tom sighed and rubbed his arms together. "I don't like it here without our friends… I want to go home!"

For a few heartbeats Tom thought he wouldn't let him come along; and indeed, Tord just blinked a couple of times and crawled into the vent without another word. Tom sighed in dejection and turned away to head back to his secluded corner when Tord called out to him.

"Coming or not?"

Tom didn't need more incentive than that. He quickly gathered his stuff and crawled into the tight space of the vent, just big enough for him to fit, and followed Tord's lead through the dim ventilation system. He followed Tord through the darkness until the Norwegian boy pulled out a flashlight to illuminate the way. They were walking along a tunnel that sloped up and down, winding first one way and then the other.

On and on they went. How far have we come? Tom began to wonder.

"How do you know where to go?" He piped up suddenly. He'd been so enthusiastic about leaving it only hit him now that Tord might not even know the way out. "Did you do this before?"

"Duh! Of course!" Tord snapped from up ahead. Tom heard the shuffling of paper in front of him, and Tord twisted around as far as he could to face him. "I have map." He showed Tom a drawing scribbled in crayon.

They eventually made it out of the vents and exited out the very back of the school. Rain was still pouring down and Tom felt a cold shiver ripple down his spine as they jumped down and got instantly soaking wet. It's too bad they didn't bring an umbrella with them.

"Now what?"

Tord nodded the tall fence surrounding the school grounds. "We need to get over that. Just need something big…" He peered around for a solution. He had his hoodie on to protect his horn-like hair as best he could from the pouring rain. Tom envied him for the little shelter that he had from the bad weather. "Aha!" Tord's eyes lit up when his gaze landed on a trash can. "Perfect! We push this closer to fence and we jump over."

Tom shuffled on his feet in discomfort and glanced back at the school longingly. He kinda regrets coming along now that he is all drenched wet, but it's too late to turn back now. Not that he plans to anyway. School stinks without Edd and Matt around, and he can't leave Tord to go on his own now that they've come this far.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

Not wanting to get on Tord's bad side any further, Tom quickly jumped into action and helped him move the garbage can over to where they need it. Side by side they left the school behind and climbed over the fence. But as Tom and Tord dropped down onto the grass on the other side, they were met with nothing but swaths of tall trees as far as the children's perspective can see. Tom looked at the looming trees towering over them in awe, but felt a foreboding feeling creeping at the back of his neck the longer he stared.

"So like… where are we?" He prompted, hoping his companion would have some idea of where they're going.

Tord glanced at him with a grin. "The woods." And then took off into the dense woodland. Tom stared after him in dismay.

"Wait for me!" He cried out, desperate to keep up and not be left behind.

The two boys ran into the woods. Tord led the way with glee; swerving past branches, stones, and fallen trees with ease. Tom followed him, purely out of despair since he did not want to be left behind in the middle of the woods and never find his way out again. The overarching trees surrounding them provided a little shelter from the rain, to which Tom was thankful for.

"Through the woods is home!" Tord shouted encouragingly as he led the way deeper into the dense terrain.

Tom could only hope that the boy clad in red truly knows the way and wasn't just leading him a stray. His worries diminished considerably however, when the undergrowth began to thin out, and the sound of roaring cars drifted through the trees. Before long, Tord and he stood together at the edge of the tree line, staring out into a road.

The eyeless child breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank heavens! They are still within reach of civilization, and they won't have to spend the night out in the woods and scavenge for food. But now there's a new problem…

"Do we have to cross it?" Tom asked anxiously. His parents always told him to stay clear off any roads unless he was with his parents or teachers. But he isn't.

Tord simply nodded as he neared the sidewalk's edge. Worried he was going to take off and leave him behind again; Tom quickly reached forward and grabbed Tord's hand. The other boy turned to him in surprise.

"My mom said it's important to hold hands when we cross a street!" Tom smiled innocently. "And to look both ways too."

Tord rolled his eyes with a huff, but did not raise any complaints.

They waited for the cars to go on by until it was safe enough to cross. Even after they made it to the other side though, neither of them let go of the other's hand as they kept on walking. They strolled right through people's gardens. Tord said it was quicker this way, but Tom found it awfully disrespectful to invade people's property like this. But hey, anything to get him out of the rain sooner!

He nearly bumped into Tord when the latter abruptly stopped moving. Tom shot him a curious look and saw him point at a green house across the street from them. "Edd!" He exclaims, further confusing Tom as he looked around wildly. Edd? Where? Wasn't he supposed to be traveling?

Tord shook him and motioned toward the house again. "Edd!" He repeated more firmly.

That's when it hit him. "Oh! You mean that's where Edd lives?"

Tord nodded fervently and continued walking, pulling Tom along with him. The eyeless child wanted to ask how he knew where Edd lived, but was distracted when he realized that they were heading straight for a white house on their left. "Where are we?"

"Home." Tord replied, walking up the small steps to the front door.

"Ah, so you and Edd are neighbors then!" Tom's cheerfulness suddenly dwindled as worry began to creep up on him with a startling realization. "Wait! How am I going to get home?"

Tord turned to him with an inquisitive tilt of his head. "Know where your home is?"

Despite trying his best to think of an answer, he knew it was futile. His parents always dropped him off in school by car, and though he looked out the window on his way there every time he never memorized any of it. He looked around the foreign neighborhood he was currently in; hoping to find some clue of his whereabouts but to no avail.

Tom ducked away shyly and began to fiddle with the straps of his overalls. "No." He admitted.

He almost expected Tord to make some sort of rude comment about his stupid decision of following him all the way here, but the other boy was quiet. Tord bent down to pull out a key from underneath the 'welcome' mat, and unlocked the door to his home. Tom stared at him in dismay, fully expecting to be locked out in the rain and be left to find his way home by himself.

Just as he turned away to leave, Tord unexpectedly grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the house.

Tom blinked in surprise as the door closed behind them, and then stared at his surroundings in awe. Everything is so shiny, clean and pretty! Not to say that his own house isn't clean or nice. But Tord's home is so stark white it seemed to carry a lustrous glow everywhere he looked.

Tord nudged him and motioned for him to remove his shoes by the door, and Tom complied. "Where's your mom?" He couldn't help but question, noting the massive size of the house but seemingly no one occupying it at the moment.

"Working." Tord hummed, heading straight for the kitchen and opening the fridge. "She'll be home later."

"And your dad?" Tom shuffled closer. He was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he is soaking wet from the rain, and he was dripping water all over the polished wooden floor. His mom would not approve of any of his actions today.

"Not here." Tord took out a bunch of different kinds of food and placed them all on the table in front of them.

After asking for the bathroom, Tom managed to get himself semi-dried; his clothes still soggy and cold, but it was the best he could do with no spare clothes to put on. He returned to the kitchen and was met with the sight of Tord preparing snacks. He glanced at the eyeless child then; their gazes locked, and he patted the empty seat next to him.

They had lunch together. Tord made himself a sandwich while Tom pulled out the lunch his mom had packed him for the day – a chocolate milk carton and some crackers. It wasn't much, but neither Tom nor his mom could've ever foretold the series of events that transpired today. He was really thankful when Tord was kind enough to make a sandwich for him too.

As they finished eating, Tord began to put everything away again while Tom looked out the window, watching the sky darken and the rain continuing to pour down. It won't be long for school to end, and his parents will come to pick him up only to realize he's not there anymore. Tom sighed. How will he ever get home?

Tord must've taken his worried sigh as a sign of boredom, because as soon he was done clearing everything away he grabbed Tom's hand and started leading him up the stairs.

Upon opening the first door to the right, Tom was met with a semi big and yet simple looking bedroom. It consisted of a bed, a dresser, and a bright colorful toy box that contrasted with the stark white of the rest of the room.

Tord drew away from Tom to approach his bed, and revealed a walkie-talkie from under his pillow. "Edd!" He exclaimed, holding the blue device up and pointing at the window where their friend's house was in view.

Reaching to take the walkie-talkie from him, Tom could only hear static coming from the other end. "It probably doesn't reach wherever Edd went to." He observed, taking the hint that Edd has the other device. "Hey Tord, I really should be getting home. Do you think you can help me get there, please?" He asked shyly.

Despite Tord's usual cold demeanor towards him, Tom hoped he would at least be willing to help him now. Tom won't be able to return home on his own otherwise.

The other boy stared at him for a few heartbeats with a tilt of his head and then turned away from him, and began to rummage through the large toy box. Tom watched him curiously until Tord returned to him with a couple of figurines in hand.

Tom's concerns faded away almost instantly as he got distracted by the toys Tord was handing him.

They played together for quite a long while until Tom caught a glimpse of the alarm clock by the bedside table. He tried asking Tord for help again, but he merely kept showing him more toys and even took him to his living room to play video games whenever he brought up the subject of leaving. Admittedly, Tom was having lots of fun playing with Tord, but he felt guilty for the amount of worry he was placing on his parents the longer he stayed.

Tom glanced at the clock and realized school had ended about an hour ago. He then gazed out the window and jumped to his feet when he noticed it was no longer raining. Now was his chance!

"Tom?"

The eyeless boy turned to Tord, who looked at him with an inquisitive expression.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go home now." Tom glanced over his shoulder toward the front door. "It's getting late. My parents will be wondering where I am."

Tord hopped off the couch and moved past him to where a collection of board games were stacked up against the television. He grabbed one and returned to Tom with an excited skip in his step.

Tom stepped back. "No, Tord. I have to go." He repeated more firmly, but still apologetic. "It's been fun playing with you, but my mom and dad are waiting for me."

"But you don't know how to get there." Tord pointed out.

Tom sighed. "I'll back-track our trail all the way to school. From there… I'll just have to go by memory I guess."

Hearing his insistence, Tord looked visibly upset and shifted his feet in awkwardly. Tom took his silence as a victory and started getting ready to head out again. He grabbed his backpack and put on his shoes while Tord watched him from the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll see each other tomorrow in school!" Tom exclaimed, trying to cheer up the other boy. Tord dropped his gaze and fidgeted with his hands. "Besides, your parents are probably on their way home right now."

"No. Mom doesn't arrive until after bedtime."

"What about your dad?" Tom asked.

Tord looked away. "Not here." He repeated the same words from earlier, this time with some strain in his voice.

Taken back, Tom swept his gaze around the house again. It's certainly a very big place, clean and organized. But it's also kinda depressing upon closer look. The home was devoid of any color or personality. On his frame of vision, Tord is the only speck of either of those things among this whole bland household; and he looked so utterly small in comparison to everything else.

Tom felt a stab of pity for him. Tord must feel really lonely being cooped up in here with no one to play with. No wonder he'd been so insistent in trying to keep him here.

"Do you… want to come with me?" Tom offered. An idea just slid into his mind. Tord turned to him in surprise and he elaborated. "We'll play together some more, and you can sleepover at my place! My parents won't mind you staying over – I bet they'll even like you! Besides, I would feel a lot safer if you were accompanying me on the way there."

Tord didn't waste a heartbeat. "Okay!" He brightened up and immediately tore away up the stairs to pack his things.

Tom waited by the door for him, but it wasn't long before Tord descended the steps again; backpack hanging over his shoulders. He went to the kitchen and wrote a quick note to his mom regarding his whereabouts, left it on the balcony, and neared Tom.

"Ready!"

"Alright, let's go!"

Tord locked the door as they stepped out, and together they proceeded to retreat back the way they came. They passed through people's gardens again, crossed the street, and raced through the darkening woods once again until they reached the school grounds.

The two boys checked their surroundings wearily as they stepped out from the undergrowth for any signs of the teachers. No doubt their absence was noted at some point during their escape, and it would be really bad if they get caught back here now.

"Where to now?" Tord turned to Tom expectantly.

Biting his lip deep in thought, Tom's face scrunched up as he tried hard to remember the brief memories of the car rides from home to school and back again.

"This way I think." Tom nodded the street to the right.

Their pace slowed down considerably now that they were threading in fairly unknown territory. Tom had to pause a lot throughout their journey to recall the right way to go. He would look around for anything remotely familiar, follow his gut, and choose a direction. Tom hopes they're heading in the right path, and that they'll get home before the sun goes down.

They held hands whenever they had to cross a street, and Tord tried to cut path through people's gardens again but Tom stopped him; insisting they had to stick close to the road for him to get his bearings clear, and because it's rude to invade people's properties. Tord had grumbled a complaint but sulked after him obediently.

"Look!" Tom pointed towards a familiar blue house just a block away from them. Relief flooded through him at the sight of his home. "We're nearly there!"

They crossed one last road and started to the house together. "Mom! Dad!" Tom cried out in joy, seeing his parents waiting for him by the front door. He drifted to a halt and swept his parents into a hug. Remembering he was not alone, Tom quickly introduced them to Tord. "This is my friend from school, Tord!" He gesture to the other boy, who stared at them in complete bewilderment. "He helped me get home. Can he spend the night over with us, please?"

Tom glanced back and forth between his parents in silence.

"He left a note for his mom."

Silence.

Tom smiled gleefully. "Yay! Thank you mom!" He placed them down and turned to face Tord. "They said yes." He grabbed Tord's hand and dragged him inside the house.

Tom showed Tord around his home, then he showed him his toys – it's not nearly as big of a collection as Tord's, but he still has plenty of them. "This is Tomee bear!" Tom held out his plushie teddy bear with the unibrow for Tord. "My dad gave it to me for my birthday!"

They played together for a quite a while, then Tom's parents made them pasta for dinner. They played around some more after that, until Tom's mom announced it was bedtime. Since they didn't have an extra bed, Tom had to share his bed with Tord; which is fine – if anything it makes the sleepover experience all the more fun!

Even though they have to wake up early for school the next morning, they talked for quite a while into the night, way past the time they were meant to be asleep. Didn't help that Tord had brought a whole load of candy from his home for them to share.

"Hey Tord?"

"Hm?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like me now?" Tom asked bluntly.

Tord raised his head from the other side of the bed and peered back at him with a questioning glance. "What you mean?"

Tom fidgeted with his hands. "It just seemed like you wanted nothing to do with me before today, and now we're having a sleepover and stuff." He mumbled. "Does this mean we're friends now?" He looked at Tord expectantly.

The other boy steadily stared back at him for a couple heartbeats before he broke away his gaze and stared at the ceiling instead. "I never hated you." He admitted. "I just… didn't know how to act around you. Edd and Matt told me so much about you I got nervous."

"I think you're pretty cool." Tom commented casually.

"Thanks. I think you are great too." Tord yawned, stretching his arms lazily. "Yeah, so I guess this does make us friends."

Tom smiled and hugged Tomee bear tighter. "Yay!" He whispers excitedly under his breath.

It sure took them quite a while to finally drift off to sleep.

Needless to say, Edd and Matt were overjoyed to see them getting along so nicely when they eventually returned to school.

Tom sank his head onto his chest. His eyes shut as if he were in pain by the memory he recalled from his past. He was silent for so long that Patrick wondered if he was about to end the session now, but the eyeless man said nothing yet. Then Tom's features finally smoothed, and he took a deep breath.

"We were… inseparable, for a while." He murmured quietly. ""Best friends forever" – we would tell each other back then." A hint of bitterness could be detected in his voice, and then his face twitched with the bare hint of a faint smile. "Tord loved inventing and making plans. Every year he would sign up to robotic courses, and every year he would attempt to create something new. He won several awards for his projects throughout our academic period." He chuckled. "I remember when Edd gave him a chemistry kit for his birthday when we were very young. Tord loved it. He was such a dork."

Conflicting emotions stirred inside of Tom like a deadly storm. What the h#ll was he feeling? It was warm, but with a hint of bitter frost beneath all that. He felt empty, but steadily brimming up at the same time. The voice could be sensed at the very back of his head. It seems agitated for some reason; though it remained silent.

"Tord and I would go over to each other's houses all the time, and sleepover too in most cases. Tord would tinker away in his garage and I would watch him work; sometimes play the bass too to pass the time. We would talk about video games and stuff, but we stayed mostly quiet and just did our own thing." Tom continued, unsure of his feelings but sensing a strong urge to keep on talking for some reason. "Tord, being great at picking things apart and rebuilding them anew, would offer his services to fix broken things to earn money. I would often tag along and we would ride on a bike together to our destination." He snorted softly. "One time, Tord was called in to fix this old lady's furnace on the outskirts of the town. I went along with him and I remember that after Tord had it fixed, the lady made us lemonade and we sat on her porch where there were a bunch of fireflies out and about. I think Tord was feeling a bit down that day, I can't remember exactly why… So I tried to cheer him up by gathering a bunch of fireflies and bringing them closer to him. It was pretty cool up until one of them flew inside my eyes and we both started to panic, trying to get it out. But at least he stopped being sad, so I guess it worked in a way."

Patrick observed his facial expressions carefully as he listened with intrigue. Was that a glint of fondness he could hear in the Brit's voice? Pat grew hopeful at the idea that there could still be some semblance of endearment in Tom for their leader despite their broken friendship. There's a slim chance their prideful rivalry could end if they were open with each other. Unfortunately, knowing Red Leader's superiority complex and Tom's habit of holding grudges, chances are, they will never overcome their differences.

If only. Pat thought with regret.

"When… my father died… It was one of the worst moments of my life." Tom said with a somber tone. He recalled that specific memory with a pang in his heart as he thought of, not only of his dad, but how he changed so drastically by one tragic incident. Tom went from being a cheerful kid with a lot of love in his heart to a pessimistic and grumpy child. Who knew he would end up being a barely-functioning and utterly broken man by the end of his days? Tom mourned the loss of that child. "I would shut myself off from the others and cry constantly. Edd would come and console me as best he could during those hard times. Matt tried to comfort me in his usual not-so-subtle way of hugging." Tom looked down at his hands. "But Tord… he would just sit close by, not saying anything, and just… be there. It was strangely comforting to be completely honest." A small, shy grin appeared on his face.

Patrick swallowed. It was now or never. "What happened between you two?"

The Brit's grin faded, to be replaced by a sorrowful expression. "When we were about 14 years old we started to get reckless. We began to drink and smoke at an early age without anyone else knowing… well, Matt might have known, but he never did anything aside from giving us distasteful glances." Tom murmured. "Tord and I started to crave for bigger thrills as we got older. The adventures the four of us would go on were great and goofy, but didn't exactly fulfill our needs. So he and I initiated a series of minor heists or as we liked to call it then, crimes."

Patrick leaned forward in his seat. "Go on." He urged quietly.

Tom blinked several times, as though trying to get his thoughts in order. "They were inoffensive at first… just shoplifting here and there, or making elaborate pranks in school." He went on. "But eventually we moved on to breaking into places, stealing whatever we wanted – usually things Tord needed for some new wacko invention of his – and doing some dangerous sh#t. But we never seriously harmed anyone! That's not what we were about. Tord and I were partners in crime for a while; and for what's worth, it was admittedly fun while it lasted. " His expression turned pained. "As you can probably expect from a duo of stupid kids doing even stupider nonsense, we were eventually found out."

His voice fell silent then, his face a mask of anguish, before licking his lips and continuing. "We went too far one day and people got truly hurt that time around. We got questioned. I was scared but not too worried about the consequences because, well, Tord was with me. We caused this mess together, we were partners in crime, and we would face the consequences together." His voice wavered as he went on. Tom paused and took a deep breath. "But that's not what happened."

Patrick's chest tightened with sympathy, but he nodded for the Brit to continue.

"Tord…" Tom choked, and then tried again. "He didn't want this incident to foil his good reputation as a top grade student, or his chances of being a successful inventor in the future. Tord had big aspirations, even back then, and he knew that if anyone found out of his involvement he would be branded; possibly for life." He shut his eyes and turned his head away. "So of course he did the only logical thing he could do in this situation. He threw me under the bus. He told the cops, the principle, our parents – everyone who ever questioned us that I did all those things by myself and he only knew about them but never participated in anyway. " Tom took a long, shuddering breath.

"I got all the blame. Even when I tried to tell people what really happened, no one believed me. How could they? It's the word of an honor student against that of a dumb child with an attitude problem. Tord also told them about my illegal drinking habits and my father's death – thinking that in some way would cushion the blow and lessen my punishment somehow. But I know he only said those things so they wouldn't suspect him anymore. They started referring to me as a "problem child" – I was forced to go to counseling and got suspended from school for a while."

Tom fell silent for a few seconds, staring off into space. He felt his throat constricting as grief and anger threatened to choke him. Whatever warmth he was feeling before has been completely dissipated and now he only felt cold. He dug his nails into the arms of the chair.

"I know that doesn't change the fact that people really did get hurt because of me. I understand that I wasn't completely innocent either. But to have everyone turn against you like that… I'm just thankful that Edd and Matt never gave up on me." He trailed off and winced. I definitely couldn't have told them what the matter with me is. Tom thought, thinking of his current predicament. They would've been so afraid of me if I did. They wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore; not after everything stacking up against me. Maybe it's for the best. "I confronted Tord on the matter eventually. I wanted to know why he would betray his best friend like that… Ha! Oh the irony. Do you want to know what he said? What his line of reasoning was?"

Now his voice was a low, bitter chuckle, with a strange note of mirth in it. Patrick's stomach churned with apprehension, but he had no other choice but to press on at this point.

Tom set his jaw. "Like I said; he did it to protect his reputation. But also because it was more likely that I would do something like this, sooner or later, given my lack of talent and failing grades in comparison to him." Resentment flared up inside of him, and for a split-second he swore he saw his hands turn into claws. "Basically – I was a failure. He wasn't. No one with a bright future would do those things, so obviously the problematic one had to be culprit behind everything. I was the perfect cover up. Can you believe he had the gall to not only tell me not to take it personally, but act as if nothing ever happened when I finally returned to school? I wanted to punch him so badly then. But of course, given my history of violence I couldn't do anything unless I wanted to be expelled. When I finally got him alone though… I did not hold anything back. We were rivals ever since."

Pat remained silent; all he could think about was the feeling of utter betrayal Tom must've felt back then. To have someone you grew up with and think of as a friend, only to suddenly turn on you. A chill ran though him at the thought of what that must have been like. No wonder Tom carried so much hatred for his leader.

At first Pat wanted to console the eyeless man of his situation, but instantly decided against it. This incent was years ago, and Tom was not the type of person to accept pity from others. Patrick has to thread carefully now.

"Did… you friends ever learn the truth?"

"No." Tom choked out. "As far as I know, they think we only hate each other because of some petty arguments and misunderstandings as we grew older. When we finally started living together, it was only for their sake that Tord and I merely tolerated each other's presence and tried to be, you know, civil."

He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. If only his friends had seen Tord as he had before the robot incident; putting his ambition and pride above all else, searching for dangerous thrills no matter what cost, and provoking any reason he could to use his guns with wild-eyed hunger for bloodshed. The memories gave Tom strength. Whatever it had cost him, he was the only one who could stand in Tord's way now. Only he knew what the Norsk was capable of.

"The day he left was the happiest I've ever been by far."

"So that incident is your main source of conflict then?" Patrick prompted.

"It's the key reason as to why we're enemies, yes. But as the years went by our fights and arguments escalated, the incident just became the kick-starter. Like, of course I haven't forgotten much less forgiven the commie for what had happened, but we simply can't stand each other. The bastard loves Christmas – practically relishes it. I absolutely hate it. He smokes. I drink. He's a Commie, and I'm a Jehovah's Witness. See what I mean?"

Pat nodded in understanding. "Have you ever wanted to get revenge on him?" He ventured cautiously. His answer would be critical.

Tom took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then slowly let it out. He thought hard about the question. Did he ever want revenge against the Commie for what he did? Maybe at some point in the past, but now Tom is too far-removed to really care about it at this point. Revenge is the least of his worries, and probably at the bottom of his bucket list if he had to double check.

"I foiled his world domination plans and made him lose a limb. I say that's revenge enough." Tom played cool while inwardly snickering; thinking on how he will take his own life right before Tord's eyes, foiling his plans yet again when the experiments finally begin. His last chance at the monster serum… gone for good. Tom will have the last laugh in the end. Too bad he won't get to see the look on the Commie's face when it happens, but it's the thought that counts. Tom just wishes he could die somewhere a bit more pleasant than an evil laboratory.

His friends instantly came to mind and the dark amusement he felt dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming wave of grief. Tom will never get to tell them how much they meant to him now.

"Thing is…" He began quietly. "Tord and I may have gotten along in the past, and if the incident hadn't happened nothing would've changed. But that's the point, isn't it? I never meant anything to him. None of us did. We were simply pawns for him, just waiting for the perfect chance to be played. It just so happens I got used first. So in short… Tord and I were never friends." He finished; his voice cold.

The Polish soldier nodded solemnly and typed on his tablet. Possible use of denial as a defense mechanism?

"I'm done talking about this now." Tom sighed, feeling his emotions disappear and leave him hollow.

Patrick put away his glasses and placed the tablet down. "That's alright. Thank you for your cooperation, Tom." He led Tom toward the door, placing a gentle hand on his back. "I'll deliver dinner a little later than usual today. My schedule is a bit tight."

"That's fine." Tom answered absently. How come he always felt like sh#t after every damn mental evaluation?

He stepped out into the hallway and walked away with a small wave of goodbye to Pat. The Polish soldier watched him go with a worried gaze until he was out of sight, and then left to return to his duties.

Tom's whole body felt numb as he walked, and his head spun with images of Tord – the old Tord. The one he grew up alongside of and went to school with. The one he nearly considered a friend – flashing in his mind. Tom wanted to have the familiar sensation of anger burn brightly through him at the thought of the Commie bastard and all he put him through. It was in there somewhere, but its spot was currently taken by a hollow melancholy that made him sway on his feet.

The hallway itself seemed different, even stranger to Tom than the day he had arrived in the facility. Nothing was real; he felt as if the walls and floor could dissolve like mist within a moment. A vast, unnatural silence covered everything.

Forget it. Don't think about it. It's in the past. Tom kept telling himself. This is all part of their manipulative schemes. They want me to see the Commie as more than just a rival to win my loyalty. Well, it's not going happen. Out of sheer stubbornness, he begins to recall the memories of Tord at his worst. The giant robot. Their many fights. Getting his face shoved into the cake on his thirteenth birthday by him. Using Tom as an escape goat –

That particular scene of his youth replayed over and over in his head. He saw again the scrutinizing figures standing before him as he was being thoroughly interrogated, and felt the hostile and terrified stares burn him wherever he went. He remembered how his mom and friends would try to console him despite everything, and even support him. He flinched again at the harsh voices talking down to him for his misdeeds and for a split-second he felt like cowering away.

But most of all, Tom recalled his dismay and disbelief as he confronted Tord, and realized that he had betrayed him to the authorities to save himself and his precious reputation from suffering the same fate.

Tom had stared at the guy whom he considered a friend; someone he thought he could confide in with everything. He thought he had known him well, but he couldn't recognize him at all then.

Instead of feeling anger like he wanted to, Tom only felt an intense pang of hurt. On the one hand he's feeling something now at least, but it's not nearly as prominent or long-lasting as rage.

"You know, instead of trying so desperately to feel emotions again why don't you spend your time doing something more productive? ~" The voice chimed in his head suddenly. Its arrival pressurized his skull with great intensity and the world turned a shade darker.

Ah! There you are. Tom thought with a flicker of sarcasm. I was wondering when you were going to show up. Let me guess; by productive you mean-?

"Killing yourself – yes! ~" It interrupted, circling a pair of specter arms around Tom's neck and shoulders casually. "Haven't you noticed you're running out of time? It won't be long now before they begin the experiments. ~"

Tom realized what the voice was saying is true. He is back to full health, and is even training as a soldier. Surely the actual experiments won't be far behind if that's the case then? A shiver of dread ran down his spine at the realization.

If everything goes my way, I won't have to do anything until then. Tom thought decisively. The idea is that Tord kills me in the process of perfecting his serum. That's why I told him not to use any drugs on me; to heighten my chances of dying.

"But they are being too careful with you. Even without the drugs they won't let go of you so easily if they can prevent it. ~" The voice reasoned, tightening its grip on him as another set of limbs circled his waist. "What then? If you don't die the way you're expecting to, what will you do? ~"

It won't come to that. Tom snapped assertively. There were 1825 other test subjects before me and they all died the same way. Why would I be any different?

Without warning, Tom felt a shriek being ripped out of his throat as a cleaver suddenly cut deep into his left shoulder. He nearly staggered forward in pain, but in reality he merely whimpered under his breath to keep the facade out in the open. "Because the serum works with you! You know that! ~" The voice snarls at him.

Commie doesn't know that. Tom pointed out through rasped breaths. This pain was unbearable.

"What if he finds out? What then, you low-life maggot? ~" A clawed hand moved up to grab him by the neck, earning a strangling cry from Tom. "You think he doesn't have ways to figure out? He is smart, unlike you. He is better than you. Who knows? The proof could show up in your blood sample and you wouldn't even know! But they do, and they are playing you for the damn fool that you are. You have to die now! ~"

The voice prepared to stab him – Tom could feel another blade forcefully poking his abdomen, ready to pierce his flesh right through – when a sudden explosion seemed to startle the voice away, and jolt Tom back to reality.

"Faen!"

Tom looked around wildly; the dark haze gone from his vision, confused as to what just happened when his gaze landed on a door a few steps up.

The test room.

His heartbeat slowed and he calmed down. His concerns momentarily forgotten and replaced by curiosity, Tom decided to investigate the commotion. It's not like he had anything better to do and he was no stranger to the test room. He'd entered before on one of his many strolls around the laboratory – aimlessly looking for something to take his mind off things.

It had been open only once, and then never again after that first visit.

Tom assumed Patrick had it locked after tracing his location via chip, though the Polish soldier never said anything to him about it afterwards. Guess they don't want him snooping around where he shouldn't, but how was Tom supposed to know? Tord never mentioned that in the rules. Besides, it's not like Tom could make any sense of that room. It's all just a bunch of heavy machinery and weird junk.

Cautiously, Tom pushed the door to the test room open and slipped inside. The room is semi-dark, with only the distant flare and the roar of a blowtorch to guide the way. Strange machinery of all sorts loomed around the room like a maze, their purpose unknown, and the place untouched since his last visit. Tom weaved his way through the labyrinth of junk as he followed the only source of light in the room.

When he made it to the center, Tom found a figure hunched over a table just ahead of him; and judging by the devilish-styled hair it was definitely none other than Tord. No surprise there, Tom had already guessed it was him the moment he heard him curse.

Naturally, with his curiosity mostly satisfied, this would usually be the time Tom would turn away and leave to avoid any form of interaction with the Norsk. But Tom stayed where he was.

He watched Tord work with a strange fascination. The Norsk is completely focused in his project and whatever it was he was doing. Probably creating his next big world domination device, if Tom had to guess. The sparks of fire from the blowtorch created an eerie glow around him that made him look… almost ethereal in a way. The sight was strangely alluring.

The peace of the scene was shattered when Tom sneezed suddenly.

The blowtorch turned off instantly, and Tom's gasp hitched in his throat.

"Å for faen!"

Tord whipped around, his face concealed by a welding mask. Tom winced and tried to back away and make himself unseen among the many machines around him, but to no use. Tord spotted him at once and marched up to him; ranting in his native tongue. "Flott! Akkurat det jeg trengte nå – forstyrrelser!" As the Norwegian man drew nearer he lifted the mask off his face to reveal his features, evidently annoyed by the interruption as he glared at the Brit.

"Kan aldri få gjort noen ting i dette dritt hølet!"

An awkward silence stretched out between them once Tord finished his mad foreign raving, as if he were waiting for the eyeless man to respond. Tom stared at him perplexed for a while. How was he supposed to answer when he had no clue to what had been just said?

"Uh… what?"

"What are you doing here?" Tord narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"I, uh, was just passing by on the way to my quarters when I heard you." Tom told him lamely.

"Awn, and you decided to check up on me? I'm flattered!" Tord chuckled mockingly. He turned away and returned to his work. "Didn't think you would want to see me so soon after our disastrous training session this morning."

Neither did I. The though escaped Tom before he could even process it. His anger toward the Norsk for this morning's events has faded away after his mental evaluation with Patrick. The melancholic feeling returned as he looked at Tord now. "What… what are you doing?"

"Tinkering. What's it look like?" Tord retorted without looking up from his work. He gathered the tools spread out across the table and brought them closer to inspect them for damages.

"Shouldn't you be like, I don't know, leading an army or something?" Tom prompted quietly, acting completely opposite to his usual behavior around Tord.

"I just got out from a particularly annoying meeting with my generals, and I would like to cool off a bit before I decide to shoot the next person that pisses me off." Was the Norsk's dry reply.

At the very back of his mind, Tom could feel the presence of the voice shift in excitement and silently urged Tom to do so. Had he been in a foul mood, Tom would have no problem in complying. But since he wasn't feeling particularly angry or cocky at this moment in time, Tom did nothing but stare at Tord.

"If you want to stay here then I suggest you keep quiet and don't interrupt me." Tord warned as he began to fiddle with a couple of wires, igniting a small spark.

Tom didn't bother replying. His gaze scanned around the room, pausing briefly over all the weird machinery around them with curious awe. Did he make these all by himself? He wondered. What kind of evil intent are they capable of?

He began to investigate the contents of the room, for once mindful of Tord's warning. Tom had no idea what the matter with him is. Minutes ago he was talking about how much he hated Tord, and now he can't even bring himself to feel so much as a flicker of distaste for the Norwegian man. Any other day Tom wouldn't have hesitated to mock Tord despite his anger, or just storm out of the room seeing as there was no one else to interact other than him.

So how come he is still here when he got every reason not to?

Truth be told, the recent episode with the voice left him a bit spooked. The sudden and repetitive warning ringing in his head that he had to die now shook him to his core. And Tom could still feel a bit of the old nostalgic sensation deep within from when he was talking to Pat. So this seems like a good distraction.

While Tom worked to distract himself, Tord's focus started to slip away from his work.

As he tightened one of the bolts to his newest invention, Tord's gaze seems to flicker back to Tom every now and then; making sure the Brit doesn't mess with something he shouldn't. In reality he was starting to regret his hasty decision of letting Tom stay in close proximity when all he wanted was some peace and quiet while he worked.

Tsk… what a nuisance. Tord thought irritably and went back to tinkering. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to ignore him, he would inevitably halt progress and return to watch Tom inspect his inventions with curious intent. Despite all his efforts over the past two weeks, Tord couldn't entirely suppress the recently awakened emotions he still feels towards Thomas. Tord would be lying if he said he didn't feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest when he finally saw the Brit again – much to his annoyance.

Now Tord observed his test subject stroll about the room, watching his every move as his single-eyed gaze raked over the eyeless man's form.

The Norsk still blames his Commander for the return of his unrequited emotions. Tord understands that Tom could never feel the same way towards him, so why bother with these feelings all over again? And despite priding himself in acting more like Red Leader than Tord nowadays, he could never follow through the persona's attitude of "take what you want" in this subject matter – even he has principles!

At least Tord can have the small satisfaction at the fact that; with Tom working with him so closely in his army he can't belong to anyone else.

"So… what is all this?"

Tom's voice suddenly cut through Tord's thoughts, effectively snapping the Norsk back to reality. He'd been so busy admiring Tom and contemplating his situation he barely acknowledged the fact that he wasn't feeling angry or stressed anymore.

"This, if you haven't realized, is the test room. It's where I dedicate my time into creating new inventions without being interrupted." Tord swoop his arm to gesture their surroundings and shot Tom a pointed glare.

Tom turned to him with furrowed eyebrows. "I figured that. But like, don't you have a board of scientists to create things for you instead?"

"And miss out on the opportunity to make a breakthrough in science and change the way of life as we know it? What's the fun in that?" Tord grinned. "Besides; I like tinkering! It helps me with my temper." Tord explained coolly, though a hint of excitement could be detected in his voice.

Initial frustration aside, he was behaving like the bold and enthusiastic kid Tom had once cared for and was even friends with, giving Tom an even more agonizing sense of what they had lost.

Pushing his silly thoughts aside, Tom directed his attention to the ceiling. "Don't you need better lighting to see what you're doing?" He pointed out casually. "Why is the room so damn dark?"

"I think you've been spending a little too much time around Patrick." Tord observed dryly.

Tom shrugged. "It was your orders, if you remember." He then smirked. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to imitate the phantom of the opera."

"Excuse me?" Tord sputtered in surprise.

"I mean, you can already play the part." Tom elaborated casually as he continued to look at the machines. "Creepy guy living underground, half his face damaged, considers himself a great genius, and is obsessed with his work. All you need is some poor fool for you to pine after and you're practically the same."

Tord did his best to laugh without tainting it with his nervousness at Tom's comment. He observed the eyeless man wander about the room intently. There was something particularly… off about Tom. He seems at ease in his presence now, and he wasn't making any aggressive remarks just good-natured comments. Recalling his schedule, Tord knew Tom must've ended his evaluation with Pat not too long ago. What did they talk about for Tom to be so… tame?

"So these are your inventions." Tom murmured. "Are they all weapons?"

"Oh no! Not at all! These are all… mostly harmless." Tord chuckled as he removed the welding mask off his head and moved closer to Tom. "I merely design the weapons and let my scientists take care of those. But these inventions are merely the result of my passion for tinkering; and though most of them may never see the light of day, I have hope that I'll get to implement some them into society once the world is finally mine."

Tom's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What kind of inventions you have?"

When Tord's head snapped in his direction with a big wide grin on his face, and his one visible eye sparkling with interest and enthusiasm, Tom instantly knew he had accidentally wind up the right key to get him into motion.

"I have plenty more! Would you… like me to show you?" Tord offered with barely suppressed giddiness, and proceeded to extend his robotic hand out for Tom.

In any other moment, Tom wouldn't think twice about scoffing and slapping the hand away from him. But he simply blinked in surprise instead, and found himself genuinely considering the offer. Was this a sign he was developing Stockholm syndrome? Being incapable of rightfully resent the man that ruined so much of his life seems to fit in with the criteria well enough.

"Uh, sure? I guess I coul-"

Tord grabbed a hold of his arm suddenly, effectively cutting Tom off before he could even finish his sentence.

"Wonderful!" The Norsk beamed brightly and began to drag him along as he led the way through the lab. His stride was so energetic and fast Tom had to practically run just to keep up with him and not stumble to the floor.

"Now, let's see… Aha!"

A box on one of the tables, with the label "creation #258" etched on the side in black marker, caught Tord's eye and they approached. Tom leaned closer and peered inside to look at the contents of said box, and Tom raised an eyebrow at the dozens of tiny white discs he found inside.

"These are voice modulators." Tord elaborated, picking one of the discs carefully between his fingers and raised it to their eye level. "Their primary function is to change the user's voice."

Tom looked at the tiny invention in awe. It was barely the size of a bottle cap!

"They were supposed to be powerful enough to record and store many voice files for the user to change around at will. However, the technology I used to create them is not exactly ideal to store such huge amount of data – hence why there are so many of them."

"So what you're saying is that each one of them has only one voice?"

"Precisely; though I do plan to change that in the foreseeable future." Tord confirmed as he analyzed his own invention. "You just attach it to your neck like this, and it will externally connect to your vocal cords." He explained as he placed the tiny disc on his own neck, receiving a brief zap of shock when it connected.

"Shouldn't be long to take effect; I just need to keep talking until it finally kicks in. Have no idea what kind of voice I'm going to get though. I really need to start labeling these discs for future reference."

Tom and Tord stared at each other wide eyed as the latter's voice changed mid-sentence to a feminine tone. Tord grinned in amusement and started to laugh; his voice reverberated around them, smooth and silky. Tom took a few steps back in bewilderment. "Oh sh#t!"

"Surprised, Thomas?" Tord asked teasingly, trying out his new voice. "I created these modulators to aid in undercover missions – you know? Make it harder to expose the wearer's identity. And hey, we also live in an age where people are forging themselves a brand new identity; so this can also be quite profitable if I ever release it to the public."

"Okay, I get the idea now – can you please take that off?" Tom demanded, hiding half his face behind his hands as he stared at Tord incredulously. "Urgh, that voice with your face just doesn't fit. It's disturbing to hear it come out of your mouth!"

Tord giggled. "Well… I was thinking of keeping this on throughout the rest of the day and maybe prank Paul with it, but if you insist." With one final exasperated sigh, which he totally made with the intent of teasing Tom, he removed the modulator from his neck and places it back in the box. Tord cleared his throat. "Now, shall we continue?"

"Can I pick the invention this time?" Tom prompted.

"Be my guest!"

Tom glanced around, looking for something to catch his gaze, while Tord watched him with anticipation. His eyeless vision landed on a strange looking gun-like device on a shelf. It's dark blue in color, darker than his hoodie, with weird white spikes surrounding the barrel and spine.

Following his gaze, Tord grabbed a hold of the device. "This is creation #319, the Goofynator."

"The what now?" Tom sputtered.

"The Goofynator." Tord repeated like there was nothing unusual about his statement, and it was in such a casual way Tom simply stared at him with a strange look, not sure whether he should be confused or laugh it off. Sensing his mixed bag of emotions, Tord sighed proceeded to elaborate. "It decreases the target's intelligence by 99%, leaving them only a margin of 1% clever for the next 48 hours. Weird invention, I know; but I like inventing stuff no matter how stupid it may be, and our supplier tends to ask for some pretty strange things whenever we make deals. So it can come in handy."

Tom eyed the device wearily. "Does it work?"

"Meh, never tried it out. Can't seem to find a good time or candidate to test it on." Tord shrugged. He then grinned and aimed the device at the test subject. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"No thanks." Tom veered the odd gun away from him with one finger. "Think I'm good."

As Tord turned away to put the device back in its place, Tom caught a glimpse of a big cylindrical device across from them. It has pipes attached to itself in several areas, and a screen plastered on the front with a control panel of some kind.

"I would prefer if you stayed away from that one." Tord intercepted and pulled Tom away from the machine before he could properly inspect it. The eyeless man looked at him in wonder.

"Why? What does it do?"

"That is creation #151, and it's very unstable so far." Tord nodded toward the large contraption. "It's supposed to be a type of DNA splicer – artificially combining the genetic material of two people together to create a whole new being."

"What for?"

"Well… It can prevent deformities and genetic disorders from passing down, ensuring perfect health. You can manipulate how the final product will look like and which genes to pass on. Can help both infertile and same-sex couples. And it's safe…" Tord glared at the machine. "Or at least it's supposed to be! But every time I tinker with this damn machine it blows up in my face!" He kicked it for good measure. When an ominous growl was produced deep within the contraption, Tord and Tom wearily backed away.

Tom stepped back and regarded the machines for a few seconds, a mild expression of awe forming in his features. "Incredible." He breathed, oblivious to the Norsk puffing with pride at his side; basking in the praise. "How do you come up with so many inventions?"

"Oh! It's quite simple really." Tord smiled. "Thinking of new projects to create is the only way to get me through boring meetings and huge stacks of paperwork." Then he paused, a mischievous smirk making its way on his face. "Well… hentai also helps-"

Tom put his hands up, palms out, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Okay, okay. I should have known better than to ask where a mad scientist gets his ideas from."

Tord tilted his head slightly. "You… consider me a mad scientist?"

His voice was nowhere near menacing, even his facial expression showed more curiosity than anything else, but Tom still froze at the inquiry. Was he offended by his comment?

"Well, yeah?" He replied with a shrug. "I mean, what else would you call a crazy guy living underground working on weapons and hell-bent on world domination?"

The Norsk stepped closer to him. When Tom went to take a step back, his hand was instantly grabbed by the Norwegian man's own robotic one. He stopped and watched in total bewilderment as Tord enfolded his hand on both of his own. Tom flushed in embarrassment at the situation, feeling completely flustered. What's happening?

"It's quite all right." Tord soothed. "It's as accurate a term as any, really." He glanced at their hands with an unreadable expression on his face, save for the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I suppose that by most standards, I am quite insane. Mad as a bag of cats, one could say. I would have to be, after all, to want to take over the world – and honestly I believe that frees me from a lot of the constraints of other more simple-minded folk. I can… envision the world I want, and the means to accomplish what must seem like a ludicrously lofty goal for most people."

Tom's gaze flickered from their hands to his face; his expression was a mask of tightly controlled unease, and he was vaguely aware of the heat creeping up on his cheeks the longer his hand was held by gentle, metallic fingers.

"Tord." He began quietly, and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Why do you want to take over the world so badly?"

Despite his better judgment, Tom felt like he needed to know the answer to that question before he dies. He needed to know the real reason behind Tord's actions – what drives him forward, and why he does the things that he does at such a personal high cost.

It won't change anything, but Tom wants to know anyway and hear it from Tord himself.

Tord appeared to grin at the question and tugged Tom closer. "I want what I think most people want – a better world."

Tom scoffed dryly and rolled his non-existent eyes. Figures. Why did I think I would get a logical answer from him? "Yeah, right! You're greedy, Commie. Pure and simple. You only want power over everyone else." He mocked, feeling much like his usual self and tried to rip his hand out of the Commie's grip but to no avail.

The Norsk chuckled. "You know; if you're simply going to disregard whatever answer I give, why ask at all?" He observed with a sly grin, not at all offended by Tom's comment. "But I speak the truth, whether you believe me or not." Dipping his head, he went on. "Yes, I confess that my goals were selfish and greedy at the start – power and glory over the masses is a very seductive idea, after all. However, as I matured over the years through hard training and sheer discipline, I began to look at the bigger picture and all the possibilities that are open to me once I do take over. I can mold the world in whatever way I want! I can, and will, fix everything that's wrong with our current society."

"Wow, it sure must be windy in that high horse you got yourself onto!" Tom cut in with a snarky comment. How the hell did he get up there anyway? He wondered with disbelief. "Are we going to drink the Kool-Aid later, oh great and powerful Red Leader?" He did a tiny mock bow at the end of his remark.

Tord laughed, greatly amused by the Brit's jabs. It's not often that he hears someone poking fun at him good-natured like this. His soldiers either highly respect or fear him, and there are others that tend to be bootlickers. If anyone dared to make a wrong comment, one glare in their direction is all it took to reduce them to a stammering mess; always desperate to please him. There's none of that with Thomas. He will always speak his mind, no matter who he is addressing, and he is brutally honest when he does so.

"Well, at least I'm bold enough to try such a daring plan." Tord smirked, lifting his chin with an air of superiority as he let go of Tom's hand. "People complain all they want about the current state of things, but no one wants to get their hands dirty when it comes down to it. That's what sets me apart from the rest! I am going to be remembered for making history!"

A little unnerved by the intensity of Tord's ambition, Tom stepped back and looked around the room again. His gaze fell on a red horned helmet on a table on top of some blueprints, grabbing his attention. "I wouldn't be so cocky about it if I were you." Tom cautioned as he neared the table. He picked up the helmet in his hands for a closer look. It felt heavy in his grip. "Few people have tried before you, and things didn't turn out so well for those guys."

"They didn't have a monster with them."

Tom froze and continued inspecting the helmet, trying not to show how much those words affected him and act naturally. He risked a quick glance in Tord's direction, and had to will himself not to gulp in apprehension at the sight of the huge grin on the Norsk's face.

"You should be proud, Thomas. You're going to play a very pivotal role in all of this. You'll help me achieve my goal, and you will become a meaningful part of history. Have you thought about that?"

A shudder of pure dread washed over Tom so strongly he's sure he was visibly shaking. Help him? Never! His stomach dropped and he felt nauseous all of the sudden; but by some miracle, Tom managed to disguise his hidden panic well enough to look composed on the outside. He took a deep breath and glanced at Tord again. The Norwegian man is wearing a smug wicked grin on his face with his arms folded behind him as he waited for Tom's response.

What happened? Just a moment ago Tord was positively ecstatic about showing him his wacky inventions, and now he was talking like a dictator again. It was like someone flipped a switch on the Norsk. Perhaps Tom made a mistake in trying to understand him.

"There's the person you used to be somewhere in there. At least, there's got to be pieces." Tom ventured wearily, still weighting the helmet in his hands as a disguise for his skyrocketing nerves. "You've grown with that filthy ambition inside your head for so damn long, and I understand there's no going back for you at this point. But you don't need to be this either."

He raised one eyebrow quizzically when the Norwegian man threw his head back and laughed in response. Tom stared at him, face devoid of emotion as Tord flicked a stray tear from his eye and sighed.

"Ah, I find really funny that you think I need your approval to do anything I want." He smirked wickedly, a wild and crazed gleam was growing in his visible eye again, and Tom realized that whatever fragments of the old Tord were there had gone.

No longer could he see the good humored glimmer or the last remnants of the enthusiastic inventor he grew up with. Tord was back to sadistic prick mode again, and Tom could feel a numbness spreading throughout his body; and he knew that this conversation was over – lest they want to escalate into a heated argument.

Not in the mood for this, Tom heaved a heavy sigh and nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Whatever." He put down the helmet and shrugged, casting a last smoldering glance at the Norwegian man. "Bye Tord."

Squaring his shoulders, Tom braced himself to walk past Tord to reach the room's exit. Will he try to stop me? But Tord did nothing other than follow his movements with a one-eyed gaze as he left, though Tom could've sworn he saw disappointment flash across the Norsk's face briefly.

He ignored the look, thinking Tord had just been itching for an argument with him, and left the test room.

Watching the test subject walk past him, so tantalizingly close, Tord was beginning to realize that outside threats could very well rise up and destroy his army, but it was emotion that would destroy a single soldier from within. I want things to be simpler. He thought. All this messy emotion only weakens a person. I'd rather live my life without it.

With a low grunt, Tord turned back to his work and placed the welding mask back over his face.

Stepping out into the hallway, Tom found himself alone once more. "Damn." He sighed tiredly and soon resumed the long journey to his quarters.

Why did he waste his time bothering with Tord? Tom should know better than to try by now. Did he even learn anything new about Tord from this experience? Walking, his thoughts jumbled together in a incoherent mess as he tried making sense of things. Tom glanced down at his hand in wonder; still feeling the tingling sensation of Tord's distinct set of hands on his own. His expression softened slightly.

Tord still just as passionate about inventing as he was when kids. Tom mused wistfully. I guess he also has some good intentions, though I'm not sure if that's entirely true.

Tom will never confess out loud, but if there's one thing he both secretly admires and is fully envious of in Tord, is his confidence. Even as kids, Tord always knew who he was and what he wanted out of his life. He is an inventor; there's no doubt about that. He plans to conquer the world and Tom is convinced he can actually do it – monster or not.

But him? Tom could never figure out what wanted out of his life. Definitely not what he got in the end, that's for sure; but a little too late to change that now. Growing up, Tom always thought about doing something to do with music, but that never went anywhere. Tom wished he could get his life sorted out, but it doesn't matter anymore.

In a couple of days at most, he is going to die; and as far as Tom is concerned, Tord can do whatever he likes.

Never again. His heart was crying, reminding Tom yet again of the high price he will have to pay for his misdeeds. It seems the closer the fateful date gets, the more anxious his thoughts become. No more adventures, no more silliness, or crazy happenings with my friends. No more laughter shared or dangers faced together. It's over.

(Meanwhile…)

Moonlight filtered through the blinds of the dimly lit apartment, dappling onto the many sheets of paper scattered all over the place. A lamp in the near center of the room provided the only source of light for the resident of said apartment; as he peered at the pegboard in contemplation.

"Damn." Eduardo growled in frustration, tapping his foot on the floor repeatedly as he reached for another cookie in the jar before stuffing it in his mouth and munched angrily.

The cookies Mark had insisted for him to take were terrible, but not too unbearable to eat when he needed to occupy his mouth with something – lest he wanted the god awful taste of ink on his tongue and a pile of broken markers to trash. The cookies tasted of nothing but ash, and to anyone else they would be considered inedible; but due to Eduardo's insistence and strong stomach, he kept on eating them.

With every bite he took, Eduardo would catch the barest hint of vanilla underneath the powerful flavor of coal, which made it for a more bearable and interesting mixture. Kind of reminded him of Jon's cooking back when he was first starting out. They were only teens then, and every week he would bake something new for Eduardo and Mark to try out and give him constructive criticism. Jon wasn't good at first, but overtime he had become an undeniably great cook.

Eduardo sighed. He might as well throw in the towel for the day if all he's going to so is stare at the board and wait for an answer to magically come to him. What time is it anyway?

He glanced at the clock. It's nearly seven! Eduardo blinked in surprise. He hadn't realized it was this late already. It's common for him to get absorbed into his work, but Mark usually snaps him out before it can get out of hand. Speaking of which; didn't they plan to head out for pizza? Mark should've knocked on his door by now.

Dusting cookie crumbs out of his shirt, Eduardo hastily fixed himself and stepped out of his apartment to go over Mark's place.

"Mark?" He knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Hearing the muffled reply through the door, Eduardo walked in only to immediately halt at the scene presented before him.

Mark and Matt are sitting on the couch together, surrounded by a load ton of cosmetics spread out all over the coffee table and floor. Their hair had been recently done judging by the glossy, shiny look to them, and they were just finishing clearing away the last remnants of, what Eduardo can only guess, a facial mask.

"What the-?"

"Hi Eduardo!" Matt cheerfully waved at him, his nails filed.

"What-" Eduardo restarted his sentence and tried again. "What's going on here? What happened while I was out? How did this-" He blurted in complete bewilderment, gesturing to the mess of beauty products surrounding them until his gaze paused on the two men sitting close together. "Happen?"

Mark snorted in amusement. It's not often he gets to see Eduardo being flustered, so this was absolutely gold. "Nothing much, honestly." He smirked. "After you left, Matt and I simply talked for a little while and we eventually came upon the subject of our vanity."

"And so we decided to try out some of these tips!" Matt finished ecstatically.

"I must say, Matt, you have a really good eye for nails." Mark analyzed his fingertips contently.

"Oh and I loved what you did to my hair! I feel as if I could run my hand through it for hours!" The ginger gestured to his gleaming hair with glee. It had been so long since he last took actual time and proper care of his hair. To dedicate his whole day on taking care of himself and his looks felt great! "And your recipe for the facial mask works wonders! My face feels so smooth and soft now!"

"But anyway, what about you?" Mark turned his attention back to Eduardo, his gaze curious.

Recovering from his earlier shock, Eduardo regained his composure and tried to look nonchalant. Mark doesn't need to know he wasted his time on a dead lead. "I just got off work, and I thought we decided on pizza tonight."

The blond man glanced at the clock. "Oh my, time sure flies fast when we are having fun. Just give me a few minutes to get ready, will you?"

"Awn, but Mark you said we could do makeup next!" Matt whined in disappointment.

Mark smiled. "Maybe some other time. We live right next to each other, so we'll get plenty of opportunities to do so."

Satisfied with his answer Matt looked a little brighter and jumped to his feet. "Well, I guess I gotta get going too." He rubbed the back of his head and glanced back and forth between the two men. "Thank you for having me over, it was… surprisingly nice." He confessed sheepishly.

How weird is it that just this morning Matt had been apprehensive of being anywhere near his counterpart, and now he is getting along with him? If someone had told him in the past that he and Mark were going to get along, Matt would've probably laughed it off as a joke. But here they are.

His thoughts broke off as he backed into Eduardo by accident on his way out. Matt jumped a little in alarm and whipped around. Eduardo fully expected him to scurry around him to get to the door, but the ginger took him by surprise by grabbing one of his hands instead.

"Hey maybe next time you should join us – lord knows your nails really need some work done." Matt took a closer look at his fingernails with an analytical eye, further astonishing the burly brunet.

One quick glimpse of Mark snickering on the couch was enough to snap him out, and Eduardo quickly ripped his hand back with an indignant scoff. "No way! That type of stuff is not my thing." He crossed his arms stubbornly.

Unoffended by the response he got, Matt simply smiled and shrugged it off. "Well… have a nice time out!" He sidestepped Eduardo and reached for the door, glancing back at them to wave farewell.

"Buh-bye!" The two neighbors casually waved back at him.

When the door closed, Matt couldn't help but hug himself and twirl; feeling intensely happy. Not only did he survive an encounter with the neighbors completely unscathed, but he also had fun spending time with Mark and taking care of his appearance after neglecting it for so long. He brought his hands up to his face and massaged his smooth cheeks. Matt feels positively great! This might've been the first time in a really long while since he had any legitimate fun.

"Matt?"

Jerking out of his gleeful thoughts, Matt turned around to face his life-long friend with a bright smile. "Edd!"

"What are you doing out here? And-" The brunet broke off as he took in Matt's sleek appearance and his eye widened. "Whoa! You… got a makeover?"

With his mood still elevated, Matt bounced up to Edd excitedly; his blue eyes glowing. "Edd! I had the most amazing time today – you won't believe it!" He proceeded to elaborate on today's events in great detail. All the while he was speaking, Edd stared at him with an array of emotions flickering behind his eyes; constantly switching back and forth and it was hard to get a good read on his overall reaction.

"Huh, so they really don't want to bother us anymore?" Edd echoed, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism as he raised an eyebrow.

Matt nodded fervently. "They aren't as bad as we made them out to be. I think they really mean it when they say they've changed!"

He expected Edd to be relieved at the prospect of no longer having to deal with their once rival neighbors, but the brunet's face was expressionless as he nodded distantly instead. "Oh… I see."

Matt searched his friend's eyes worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." Edd shook his head, but the tightness in his voice was unmistakable. "It's just weird that they want to make peace after all this time."

An awkward silence followed his words and hung heavily in the air between them. Matt swallowed; his earlier glee dissipating. How strange is it that he had been so happy with his former rival not even ten minutes ago, and now he feels miserable again in the presence of his best friend? Everything is topsy-turvy now days!

"They invited both us to come over and talk with them." Matt added after a few heartbeats of silence and shifted his feet with discomfort. "I knew how much you wanted to spend the day to yourself, and you don't like to be in their presence; so I went alone."

Finally Matt felt as if he'd done the right thing with Edd for once, because the brunet glanced up back at him with an appreciative smile. "Thank you for understanding, Matt." His brown eyes softened with gratitude, and the weird tension between them seemed to diffuse.

After a bit of hesitation Matt pressed on, hope surging in his heart. "I was wondering, maybe, since we haven't spent so much time together lately… we could go to an ice cream parlor one of these days? – or if you prefer something else, I heard there's a carnival fair in town! We could go together if you want-"

"Eddie!"

Matt was abruptly cut off and jumped back in alarm when a strange blond man came running up the stairs and wrapped his arms around Edd in a sudden hug. He watched wide-eyed in bewilderment as Edd was spun around the hall in the other man's hold.

"Reagan? What are you doing here?" Edd exclaimed, looking just as startled as Matt but there was a glimpse of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I thought I told you to wait for me outside!"

"What? And freeze to death out there?" The blond man inquired and placed Edd back on the ground. "After all the trouble of getting us dinner this is the thanks I get?" He exhaled dramatically, holding out a fast-food bag.

Edd laughed jovially and punched the man lightly on the shoulder in response. Matt watched them interact in confusion; his heart weighting heavier inside his chest the longer he observed them. How come I can't make him laugh like that? He thought with a twinge of sadness and envy.

"Edd, who is this?" Matt nervously asked, interrupting their laughter as his gaze flickered between the two of them.

The blond man's vibrant green eyes flashed at him, seeming to take notice of Matt's presence at long last. "Oh my, how rude of me! The name is Reagan Fitzroy, ginger." He stepped closer, shooting him a wink as he extended his hand out for Matt to shake.

"I'm Matt." The orange-haired Brit eyed him wearily and attempted to smile as he introduced himself. He could feel his gut churn apprehensively as he came into contact with the Irishman, and Matt had to force himself not to wince at the tight grip his hand was held in.

"Ah Edd's friend! He told me an awful lot about you." Reagan grinned, shaking hands in an eagerly fashion. "It's certainly a pleasure to finally meet you."

Though Reagan's words sound friendly enough, Matt couldn't help but feel threatened for some reason. He pushed the weird sensation aside and pulled his hand back with a confused expression. "You heard of me?" He chuckled nervously. "Funny I… don't think I've heard Edd mention you before."

Unoffended, Reagan merely stepped away from him in favor of draping a lose arm around Edd's shoulders and leaned on him. "Ha! I wouldn't think so. We've been hanging out together for – what? – nearly two months now?" He glanced at Edd as if to confirm his train of thought, but Reagan carried on before the brunet could reply. "But anyways, night is still young and we best get going now."

Matt glanced at Edd crestfallen. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry Matt." Edd ducked his head apologetically. "I kinda have this ongoing thing with Reagan. We practically hang out every Wednesday… and every other Saturday sometimes."

Matt opened his mouth to object, only to halt at the last second. This might be the first time he'd seen Edd genuinely happy in a really long while; how can he bear to take it away from him now? He can't deny the intense feeling in his gut telling him that Reagan is a shady guy, but he will put it aside for now. For the sake of Edd's happiness.

"No, no it's fine." Matt quickly lied, his voice wavering half-way through. "You go on ahead and have fun. I'll just… watch a movie or something. Just take care out there, Edd." He said the last part with a meaningful gaze directed at his dearest friend.

"Will do!" Edd waved him goodbye and smiled as he walked away.

"It's been nice meeting you, ginger. Love the hair by the way! See yah! ~" Reagan followed suit, but before he stepped out Matt was sure he saw the Irishman glance back at him with a smug grin and a predatory glint in his eyes as he left.

A shiver of dread raced down Matt's spine, but he did not speak up; convinced his mind might be taking his first impression of Reagan a little too far. Perhaps he can discuss his concerns with Edd regarding his new friend next time they see each other. Edd will surely put everything to light and reassure him it's all in his imagination.

But for now, much to his dismay, Matt realized he's been left alone again.

And there you have it! Man what a huge monster I created with this project… ;P

Before I forget, here's the translation to what Tord said in Norwegian: "For fucks sake! Great! Just what I need now of all times – interruptions! Can't ever get anything done in this hell hole!"

And if you are wondering what Tord's voice changed to when he put on the voice modulator, he sounded like Shania Twain. Why? I don't know, it's the first voice that came to my mind when I wrote the scene and I couldn't get it out, so it stuck. But you're free to come up with your own versions of what Tord's voice changed into.

Also, there is a very obscure reference in this chapter and I'll give a fucking round of applause for anyone who can identify it.

Please don't forget to comment on your update preference that I mentioned at the start of the chapter, and leave a review! Thank you all so much for the support and patience, I really appreciate it, and I'll see yah all later!