Hello everyone! This is Flower1815 here, bringing you another instalment of My little test subject! This chapter is kinda of a short one, compared to the last one anyway, but important stuff still happens. Just hold on a little bit more cause we're reaching the essential core of the story - the meat of the product you're consuming, if you will! Then when we reach the peak, you'll learn why I took so long to get there. ;)
Last time I asked you all on your update preference: long pause followed by weekly updates, or irregular updates like I've been doing so far. I read each and every one of your comments, but in the end the majority of you have decided on weekly updates. So after this chapter, I will take a long break and write up to 5 or 6 chapters and then start updating the story again at a later time. I will announce the return date in the next chapter! So please don't think this story is dead, cuz it's definitely not, k?
Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as the previous ones, thank you all for your support, and I'll see yah all later! ;D
A cold bitter wind swept over the town like an icy wave. Patches of snow covered the streets and sidewalks, glittering under the sunlight. Cars roared up and down the roads spewing fumes into the air; visible by the contrast in temperatures.
Exiting the department store, Eduardo breathed out an exasperated sigh; releasing a puff of steam into the air.
He absolutely hates to be away from work for long periods of time, but Mark had insisted they go out shopping together today. Eduardo didn't mind too much at first, seeing as how he is running low on basic goods and needs to replenish his stock.
Loud chattering following close behind him elicited a tired groan from Eduardo, and he kept on moving.
"Wowie! I can't believe I never considered getting a membership here – this store has absolutely everything! And for such a cheap price too!" Matt exclaimed joyfully as he walked out of the store alongside Mark, carrying shopping bags on both hands.
Eduardo rolled his eyes and frowned. He couldn't understand Mark's logic of inviting the ginger doofus to tag along with them. Hadn't they agreed to only make peace with their neighbours? Why is Mark being so friendly towards the airhead?
If Eduardo had to make a hunch; he'd suspect Mark was just happy to find someone with shared interests to hang out and go shopping with. Now that they are no longer rivals, it seems that the two narcissists have found each other like in those lame soul mate romance novels and saw how much they got in common.
Of course, if Mark wants to go ahead and be pals with their neighbour, he is more than free to do so. Especially since Eduardo doesn't have to allow or forbid anything in his life. But does Mark have to try and involve him on it constantly?
He tuned out their voices as they continued on their way home.
Matt jovially laughed at their shenanigans. He'd been spending more time with the duo over the past week. Ever since they made peace, Matt looked forward to their next "self-care" session. Eduardo is still pretty terrifying and he doesn't stick around for very long for Matt to really interact with him; but Mark just naturally clicks with him. It's nice to have someone who understands you.
"Anyways, how is Edd doing?" Mark inquired Matt after their laughter died down. "I don't believe I've seen you two together once since we moved in."
At the question, Matt's stomach tightened and he avoided the blond's gaze; searching for something to say. "Edd is... fine, I guess." He mumbled. "He's been pretty busy lately, so I haven't seen him as much as I used to."
"Well, sounds an awful lot like a certain someone that I know." Mark shot a pointed glare at Eduardo, who walked a pace ahead of them and merely huffed in response to the comment.
Worry jabbed Matt's chest as he reflected back on his current predicament with Edd. His first and brief meeting with Reagan haunted him. He can't shake the notion that there is something deeper going on. He gave a lot of thought to this situation to find the best way to go about this without upsetting Edd, and in the end, Matt decided he'll talk to the brunet as soon as he can.
Doubt gnawed away at him. I just need to play it cool – act natural! Matt reasoned nervously the closer to home he got. Edd won't suspect anything if I'm laid back.
His thoughts came to a crashing stop when his feet suddenly slipped on the icy ground as they were crossing the street, and Matt fell forward. Letting out a startled yelp, he instinctively raised his arms out in front of his face as the ground neared. "Ah! Not the face!" However, a hard tug on the back of his coat quickly put an end to his fall.
Matt looked up wide-eyed as he was hauled back to his feet, and realized that it was Eduardo who saved him from a nasty fall.
"Watch your step, dumbass!" The burly brunet scolded.
Gratitude flooded through Matt and he nodded fervently. "Y-yes! Thank you, Eduardo!" He squeaked, shrinking back a little out of fear. Please don't punch me! He closed his eyes and begged silently.
But Eduardo simply released his hold on him and walked away. Matt blinked in surprise. He's amazed that he hadn't received a punch yet, not even once since he started hanging with the duo. Eduardo hasn't so much as raised a fist at him so far. That gave Matt comfort, though he's still pretty weary of him.
He continued to chat with Mark for the reminder of their journey home, talking about more beauty tips and things they could do together.
"I guess I should start getting dinner ready, huh?" Mark spoke up, looking down at his watch as they climbed the steps to the hallway of their home. "Since it's pretty cold today, how about we have a good ol' beef stew?" He suggested.
"Sounds good to me!" Eduardo agreed. Being so busy with his work and having no culinary skill whatsoever, it's times like this he really appreciates his companion's wonderful cooking ability.
"You are invited to join us if you want, Matt." Mark continued, turning to address the ginger next to him. Eduardo resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and groan in frustration.
"Oh! Thank you!" Matt sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "I'll just… I think I will check on Edd first, and see how he is doing."
Mark nodded in understanding. "No problem. It will be a while before dinner is ready, but I'll leave my door unlocked for you!"
"Good! Guess I can take this chance to get back to work while we wait-"
Eduardo was about to stalk off to his own apartment when his ear was grabbed and pulled back abruptly by none other than Mark.
"Oh no you don't!" The blond man admonished. "You're not getting away so easily this time, Eduardo! I already let you off the hook last time and I had to set everything up by myself. But today you're going to help me prepare dinner!"
"Ow! Are you mad?" Eduardo exclaimed indignantly, trying to pull away. "Do you want me to set the food on fire?"
Mark huffed as he dragged the protesting brunet by the ear to his apartment. "Don't be so dramatic! It's high time you learned how to cook anyway."
Matt giggled as he watched the pair argue. They seem angry at each other, but he knew this quarrel was entirely good-natured. Mark and Eduardo have the tendency to get into a lot of arguments with each other for the littlest things; but they never escalate to dangerous levels.
When they had gone, Matt quickly put away his shopping bags aside, and padded up to Edd's apartment door. "Edd?" He called out and knocked. "Are you there? I'd like to talk to you." He pressed his ear against the door.
"Come in!"
Hearing the muffled cheery greeting through the door gave Matt hope. He must be in a good mood today!
At the invitation, Matt walked right in. The room was bright, the curtains drawn back to let sunlight filter through. Seated in the dining table, Edd leisurely sipped a mug of coffee with a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. Ringo weaved her way around the chair, tail held high as she rubbed against her owner's leg.
"Hey Matt!" Edd smiled and waved tiredly.
Mirroring her owner's voice, Ringo meowed a particularly loud greeting as well; melting Matt's heart. But he did not gush over her for long, as his gaze settled on the contents on the table.
"Hey! Uh, are you… having breakfast right now?" Matt couldn't help but ask, confusion evident in his voice. It's nearly four in the afternoon, for crying out loud!
Edd chuckled. "Yeah. I woke up a little while ago." He broke off into a yawn. "I came home later than usual last night."
The brunet seems so upbeat as he scarfed down his meal. Matt can't recall another moment as of late where Edd behaved like his old self. This was how he used to look, back when there were three of them; for a while, after Tom's death, Matt had been afraid that this Edd had vanished forever.
Upon closer look though, Matt realized there were dark bags under Edd's eyes. Sensing his stare, Edd blinked back at him. "What is it?" He asked, words muffled by a mouthful of food.
"Were you out with Reagan last night by any chance?" Matt asked.
"Yup!"
"But I thought you only went out with Reagan on Wednesdays and Saturdays?" Matt inquired, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He is pretty sure yesterday was a Tuesday.
"I do. But apparently a client of Reagan's or something cancelled their plans together, and he invited me to hang out instead." Edd explained calmly, taking another bite out of his meal.
Pulling out a chair for himself, Matt sat down next to him; remembering his own advice of playing it cool. Since they're on the topic of Reagan, he might as well just go with the flow from here. Matt took a deep breath. "So… who exactly is this Reagan fellow anyway?"
He looked down at his hands nervously, bracing himself for Edd's humour to drop – thinking perhaps he overstepped his boundaries in asking. But when Matt looked up again, there was nothing in his friend's eyes except for intense interest.
"Reagan… well, he's an… interesting guy." Edd began coolly. "To be honest, I am not entirely sure what he does. But he is staying in town for a little while." He paused to take a sip of his coffee. "He doesn't know his way around the place, so he asked if I could be his guide during this period, and I said yes."
Matt thought over his words carefully. "Oh so… this isn't a permanent thing then?"
"Haha no." Then Edd's expression darkened as realization dawned on him. He had been having so much fun going out with Reagan, he hadn't considered that the Irishman isn't going to stick around town forever. What will he do when the time comes to say goodbye? "No I… I guess not." He muttered dejectedly, his posture sagging.
Sensing his sudden shift in humour, Matt panicked; desperately searching for a new topic to change to before things go downhill. But his mind was running so fast he couldn't think of anything appropriate to say or do. What do I do?
"Mrrrow!"
Coming to his rescue, Ringo hopped onto her owner's lap and peered at the food intently. Edd laughed, running his hands through her soft tabby fur. "Why you cheeky little thief! You've been eyeing my breakfast this whole time, haven't you?" He teased, blocking the food out of Ringo's sight. She mewed indignantly and tried pawing his hand aside. "Don't be so edgy! I just filled your food bowl. It's over there if you're hungry."
Matt laughed as the brunet placed the cat back on the ground. Thank you, Ringo!
"Anyway, what have you been up to?" Edd asked casually.
"Oh, nothing much honestly." Matt confessed, leaning back on his chair. "I haven't added anything new to my collection of trinkets in quite a while now. I've been hanging around Mark and Eduardo a lot lately. And there isn't anything new to watch on Webflick either-"
"Wait, what?"
Matt went rigid with alarm. Had he been too laidback? "What?" He echoed in confusion.
"You've been hanging with Mark and… Eduardo?" Edd spoke the last name with a mixture of venom and disbelief in his voice.
"Yeah?" Matt still wasn't sure what the big deal is. "I already told you they don't plan to bother us anymore."
Edd frowned. "And you believed them? I thought you knew better than that by now, Matt." His words caused a twinge of hurt within the orange-haired man, making him wince. "I mean, I can kinda understand you and Mark getting close; being vain and all that. But Eduardo? Really?"
Matt felt as if something massive got lodged in his throat. This wasn't how he had intended their talk to go. "They're not so bad." He began defensively, shifting around in his seat with clear discomfort. "I don't get to interact with Eduardo all that much, I will admit. But he hasn't done anything so far, and Mark is actually a really smart guy! They even invited me to have dinner with them – why don't you come join us for once? I think if you just try and give them a chance, you might find yourself warming up to them too."
But Edd wasn't so easily convinced. "Are you kidding? Eduardo and I in the same room? That's just asking for trouble!"
"It really isn't!" Matt insisted, frustration welling up inside of him. He so desperately wanted this arrangement to work. Maybe then Edd wouldn't need to keep going out with Reagan. "Eduardo won't even so much as glance at you; he's far too busy worrying about his mysterious job to say or do anything."
Sighing in defeat, Edd closed his eyes and leaned back on his chair. For a couple heartbeats, neither of them spoke. Then Edd turned to face him again. "Fine. I will... consider what you said."
Matt smiled, his heart fluttering with hope.
"But as for today, I think I will have to decline the invitation."
"What? Why?"
Edd stretched his arms. "I just woke up! I want to get some commissions done before I go out tonight."
"You mean… you're heading out with Reagan again?" Matt stared at him, huge eyed with dismay.
"Yup!" His friend drank the reminder of his coffee, none the wiser to the ginger's concerns. "I mean, I can't just say no now - Reagan is expecting me to meet him today. We'll probably eat junk food somewhere and get drunk-"
"I think you're making a big mistake, Edd!"
A voice suddenly exclaimed, and Matt realized with horror that it had been him. He slapped a hand over his mouth. His concern must have driven out all thoughts of being tactful, or of not upsetting Edd in the process. But it's too late to take it back now.
Edd stiffened and stared back at him through narrowed eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Matt took a deep breath. "About Reagan." He confessed, ducking his head nervously.
"And what makes you say that?" Edd sounded as calm as ever.
Gulping, Matt hesitated and shifted on his seat. It seemed clear that blurting out his suspicions the way he did hadn't been exactly the most sensible way to go about it. But I can't stop now. I have to tell him what I think!
Edd waited in silence. Matt couldn't tell what was running through his mind. "I am not… entirely sure. But when I met him I just didn't feel right about him." He went on, nervously aware that it was too late now to change his mind. He really regrets not having rehearsed this conversation prior this talk now. "There's something undeniably off about him – I can't exactly put a finger on it."
"So I'm supposed to take your word for it just because you have a bad feeling about him?" Edd asked, his voice still deceptively calm, contrasted with his rigid posture and glaring eyes. "No offence, Matt, but you only met Reagan for a total of two minutes. It's not exactly enough to judge a person's whole character off of."
"I know, I know! But I can't shake this impression that Reagan might be up to no good; and that you might have some part to play in it somehow." Matt continued. "Don't you think it's a tad strange to spend so much time around someone you hardly know? You don't even know what he does for a living! For all we know, he could be dangerous and involved in some shady business."
As he spoke, Edd began to look troubled, narrowing his eyes so that only the faintest sliver of brown showed in his eyes. He let out a long sigh. "I can see how in your point of view Reagan could be seen as suspicious." He murmured. "We haven't gone in any adventures for a while. Heck, I believe this might be the first time we've actually sat down and talked to one another. But there's no need for you to be jealous."
"Jealous?" Matt parroted incredulously.
"I see now that I have been ignoring you for a while, and I'm very sorry for that. I promise I'll make it up to you soon." Edd went on as if he'd never spoken. "But you don't need to hold it out against Reagan. He's a real swell guy!"
Matt blinked, incapable of believing what he was hearing. Could it be true his suspicions had been only conjured up by his envy towards Reagan? He literally has nothing else going against the Irishman but his first impression of him. Aside from that one time, he knows nothing about him. Who is he to judge? It is true that Matt misses spending time with Edd just like they used to. He supposed Edd did have a good reason to think he is jealous.
A twinge of apprehension flickered in Matt's belly as he remembered the look in Reagan's eyes when he and Edd had walked out the door. Those vibrant green eyes had glowed with mirth and something akin to triumph, Matt is sure of it. His gut was telling him that the Irishman should not be trusted, and he must somehow convince Edd of that, for the sake of his safety.
"You've… changed, Edd. I feel as if you're not the same person anymore. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time confiding you with anything because… I- I'm- I am always afraid of how you're going to react." He ventured. "We've only just started getting over our grief and get back on our feet when this guy shows up out of nowhere. Don't you think that's even a little bit odd?"
Edd looked up at that; his eyes trained forward with interest. For a heartbeat Matt hesitated to continue sharing his concerns about Reagan, but his determination to keep his friend safe gave him the courage to go on.
"I know I may not be the most reliable person you can count on. I forget things quite often, I'm clumsy, I mess up a lot – believe me, I get it. But we've been friends for a really long time now; so much so that we are practically family at this point." Matt didn't dare mention how short their already small family has become, and simply moved on. "We've been through adventures and hardships together, travelled through thick and thin and to hell and back again – literally! We trust, confide, and look out for each other no matter what! I don't have any definitive proof, but I just know for a fact there is something suspicious about Reagan. I… I don't want to lose you too! Please trust me, Edd; I really think you should stop seeing him. I sense something bad is going to happen if you don't." He gazed at him imploringly.
For a few heartbeats he thought Edd had not heard him, he was so still. Then he pushed his chair back and rose from his seat, staring at him with a stone cold expression. "And you fully expect me to stop meeting Reagan altogether just on the assumption that you have bad vibes about him?"
Matt blinked. "I just thought—"
"This isn't what I expect from you, Matt!" Edd growled. His usually warm eyes glittered like ice. "You would do better to mind your own business than to come here telling tales about Reagan." He studied him for a long moment. "Don't you trust me to take care of myself?"
"I—I'm sorry!" Matt stammered. "But I thought I should tell you the truth."
Edd let out a long breath. All the interest he had shown before had vanished, leaving his expression cold and remote. "Go." He ordered. "I'll talk to you later. And never—never— mention this to me again. Do you understand?"
Matt stood up wearily and began backing out of the room. "But what about Reagan? He—"
"Just go away!" Edd spat the command.
Wincing, Matt's feet scrambled against the wooden floor in his haste to obey. Once out of the apartment and closing the door behind him, Matt came to rest when he had put a good distance between himself and Edd. He felt utterly bewildered. At first Edd had seemed prepared to listen to him, but as soon as he suggested he should stop seeing Reagan, he had refused to hear any more.
A sudden chill swept through Matt. For a short time, Matt had let himself hope that he could make Edd understand how dangerous the Irishman could be.
God damn it! He thought. Now he won't hear another word against Reagan. I blew it!
Confused and unhappy, Matt made for Mark's apartment, almost unconsciously. Like the blond man had promised, he kept the door unlocked for him, and Matt walked in dejectedly. While Mark worked on the stove, Eduardo was busy cutting vegetables. There were several ingredients gathered in front of him.
"See how easy it is? I told you could manage!" Mark nudged his partner encouragingly, eying Eduardo's progress with approval as the brunet handed him a portion of sliced carrots to add to the stew. Mark wore a frilly white apron as he cooked. "Honestly, you were so stiff at first it was like you were genuinely expecting the vegetables to spontaneously combust or something!"
Eduardo grumbled under his breath and obediently continued slicing more vegetables.
Matt numbly stood there and watched them for a moment without speaking. He felt sad, drained after the quarrel with Edd. He couldn't help wishing it were Edd and Tom here cooking together instead of Mark and Eduardo.
Choking down his anguish, Matt offered to set up the table; hoping to take his mind off things and move on with his day.
(Meanwhile…)
Soft snores echoed faintly throughout the room as Tom peacefully dozed off, a book sprawled over his chest, Tomee bear clutched close in one arm, and a dribble of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth. The door to his quarters slides open with a hiss, and a shadow falls over Tom's unconscious form.
Nearing the bed where his test subject laid, Tord paused to study him. Look at this lazy ass motherf#cker. He snickered quietly, watching the steady rise and fall of Tom's chest. He'd come to escort Tom to his soldier training, only to find the eyeless man in the middle of a nap instead.
Any other day, Tord wouldn't think twice about jolting Tom awake to get on with their schedule for the day. Tord is a busy man, after all. However, looking down at Tom's relaxed expression as he slept, Tord's features softened and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He's so… cute!
Tord shook his head to clear away the intrusive thoughts. What am I saying? I am the Red Leader for goodness sake! I can't think like this.
Deciding to get this over and done with before his thoughts can betray him once more; Tord hastily adjusted the settings on his mechanical arm. The repulsor on the palm of his hand switched to a speaker, and Tord chose the 'air horn' setting.
Lifting his hand close to Tom's unsuspecting face, Tord grinned. Just like old times.
He braced himself and blasted the obnoxiously loud air horn noise through the speakers in his hand. Tom instantly shot up from his bed in alarm, falling off the side of the bed with wide eyes as he whipped his head around wildly.
"Wha- what?! What's happening?!" He asks panickedly, still bleary from sleep.
Tord couldn't help but burst into laughter at the Brit's dazed reaction. Tom's gaze finally fell on him, and putting the pieces together he glared at the Norsk.
"Rise and shine, soldier!" Tord grinned.
"What the f#ck, Commie?" Tom scrambled to his feet, clearly irritated by his rude awakening. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, especially not without the Dreamcatcher device, but this was still a pretty awful way to wake up to.
The Norsk stared at him in amusement and chuckled. "Somebody's cranky."
"And somebody needs to shut f#ck up." Tom fumed.
"Oh come now, Thomas; don't be so offended." Tord soothed, programing his arm back to the repulsor. "It if makes you feel any better, I play this exact same trick on Paul and Pat when they think they can sleep in!" Before they moved in to the same quarters, that is. "Now come, we have training to do."
Tom caught up with Tord as he headed for the long corridor and fell in step behind him. "Will Paul and Pat be joining us?"
Tord replied without looking back. "I've ordered them to help ensure that everything is top notch with the rest of the base. It's going to be just you and me."
Tom's heartbeat quickened and he gulped at the notion of being left alone with Tord. If something were to go wiry between them – and it very well could, given their relationship – there won't be anyone to help Tom if Tord decides he's had enough. Tom will just have to tread carefully from here on out. In theory, Tord won't hurt him unless he is provoked; so as long as Tom reframes from doing stupid sh#t he should be safe.
"What do you mean? Isn't that our end goal? ~" The voice pointed out with a scornful hiss, trailing a set of sharp fingertips teasingly along the side of his throat. Tom winced. "So what if it comes sooner? I say you mock him to your heart's content and just spill out everything you ever wanted to tell him right to his face before he pulls the trigger. ~"
Right, because that's not f#cking suspicious at all. Tom retorted dryly despite the fact that the voice's nails were digging into the flesh of his neck; drawing blood. He could feel the warm liquid tickling down onto his shirt but Tom elected to ignore it. This won't be the first time today that the voice will shed his blood. Even it isn't real. I have to play it cool. One wrong move and Tord could very well decide that any threat over my life won't be enough for my cooperation. Besides, not even Tord's anger management issues will be enough for him to lose all reason and kill me.
He heard the voice tsk in distaste. "Excuses, excuses… you'll run out of them sooner or later, but it will be far too late for you then. When that happens…I will be there to remind you of your place. ~" Tom could sense the voice grin against the back of his neck right before a set of claws scored down his back in a quick motion; from the base of his neck all the way down to his waist. Tom whimpered and the voice disappeared, its foreboding warning still ringing inside his head.
Returning to reality, Tom and Tord walked together along the large hallways of the lab level. Tom's mind raced as he shot quick glances in Tord's direction. This will be the second training session he's having with Tord; and if things weren't awkward enough before, they are definitely so now after their chat in the test room. What does he have in store for me this time? By the time they reached the training room, Tom's nerves were skyrocketing but he succeeded in maintaining his expression nulled.
They made their way across the immense gym toward the fighting ring that stood elevated just a meter above the ground. Tom followed Tord as he climbed the small steps leading into the ring and jumped over the railing into the cushioned arena.
"Now Tom, as a soldier it is important for you to be prepared for anything. Everything counts in the battlefield and you must be ready to face it." Tord explained as he strolled to the centre. "You can't be expected to rely solely on anything else aside from your own wits." He went on, turning to face him. "Depend too much on your gun, and when you find yourself without it you'll be done for. Like I said; anything can happen. Run out of ammo, get disarmed, captured, yatta yatta you get the idea." Tord raved on, twirling the fingers of his robotic hand in a dismissive gesture. "And sure, you'll be fighting alongside the rest of my army, but that's still no excuse to slack off. Teamwork may be key, but don't be surprised when you have to fend for yourself at some point."
Tom began to tune Tord out as his vision darkened once more. He whined as the all too familiar sensation of sharp digits grabbing hold of his shoulders made itself known to him.
"You hear that? Don't depend on anyone else. ~"The voice cooed mockingly into his head. "You are on your own. If you can't do things by yourself, don't bother asking help from others. You'll merely burden them more. ~"
"I want to concentrate on your fighting skills, and I want you to concentrate on them too—which means no distractions." Tord continued, pacing back and forth in front of Tom, emitting an air of authority to him.
"No one cares about you other than what you possess. ~"Whispered the voice, another set of phantom hands wrapping around Tom's waist while one sharp digit trailed his jawline and another pierced the flesh of his cheek. "If it weren't for the valuable serum currently running through your veins, believe me, people would not bat an eye if you were gone. As they should! ~"
Sudden movement flashed right in front of him. A blur of blue and red whirled past his nose, and Tom fell backwards as his feet were knocked lightly from underneath him. He landed flat on his back over the cushioned mats of the ring. Before Tom could get a chance to properly recover from the blow, the wind was knocked out of him by a heavy boot pinning him down over his ribcage. Gritting his teeth in irritation, Tom glared upwards to see Tord towering calmly over him. "Do I have your attention now?" He growled, although his one visible eye sparked with mirth.
Blinking, Tom realized what had just occurred and composed himself. "Yeah, you got me. Now let me up!"
Tord pursed his lips, as if genuinely considering the idea. "I'll let you up, if you address me properly." He smirked.
Rolling his non-existent eyes, Tom grumbled. Tord leaned downwards while simultaneously increasing the pressure of his boot over Tom's ribs. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Mind speaking up a little bit more?"
Clenching his eyes shut, Tom hissed at the building pain in his lower abdomen. At least the Commie managed to shut the voice up. He acknowledged, before sighing in defeat. "Sorry, Sir! It won't happen again, sir!" Tom growled hastily, glaring into his gray eye.
Satisfied with his answer, Tord lifted his boot off and stepped back. "That's better." The Norsk murmured, watching Tom stagger to his feet. "As I was saying; Thomas, you have been with us for many months now. Although you were never directly involved with any of the army's activities, you are no stranger to this type of environment." He commented, referring to their little adventure in the army countless years ago. Ah, the fond memories! "You have had some fighting experience; you are familiar with guns and… other weapons." Tord's voice slightly lowered, and Tom did not need to be a genius to know what he was implying with that remark. "Not to mention that you are quite clever and agile… when you want to be, that is."
Tom crossed his arms and stared at him deadpanned. "Are you going to keep on babbling or are you getting somewhere with all of this?"
He received a cuff to the back of his head for his snarky comment. It didn't really hurt, since Tord used his organic hand – it's more of a reminder to keep quiet and listen when the leader is talking. But Tom found himself rubbing the sore spot with a frown regardless.
Shaking his head, Tord tutted. "Patience is a virtue, Thomas. A virtue you unfortunately do not possess an abundance of." He went back to pacing. "Where was I? Oh yes! You are quite the formidable opponent when put in the right circumstances. But one day you will meet an opponent who is all of these things as well, and perhaps so much more – quick, fierce and clever." Tord noted, his voice lowered to an intense hiss. "And it is my duty as your leader and mentor to prepare you for that day."
Tom nodded, surprised to find himself so caught up on the Norsk's words. It's not in any way normal to hear Tord compliment him; and gathering from past experiences, Tom knows this doesn't usually end well for him. Tom's senses were fully alert, and on guard.
"Show me how well you fight." Tord ordered. "Attack me. Try to pin me down."
Tom blinked. Usually he would be static at the chance of punching Tord's stupid smirk and face in, just to payback for all the sh#t he pulled. But Tom couldn't help but hesitate, his fingers curling into fists in a repeating motion. There's something undeniably suspicious about this.
"Really? Just like that?" Tom raised an eyebrow sceptically.
"What else is there to it? A kiss on the cheek for good luck?" Tord argues, shrugging with indifference. He then smirks. "I didn't realize you would be so scared of going up against a half blind amputee, Thomas."
"Shouldn't you begin by teaching me some basic moves? Jumping straight to fighting seems really out of left field!" Tom tries to reason.
"I'm sorry, which one of us runs an army?" Tord remarked with a chuckle. "We both know you are not defenceless, Thomas. Before I can start teaching you I would like to see what level your skills are right now, so that I may pick up from there. No point wasting time teaching you things you already know." He explained coolly.
Seeing no other way out of this, Tom scoffed and rolled his non-existent eyes. He decided not to give Tord the benefit of seeing him flustered and just get this training session over with as soon as possible.
Narrowing his eyes and getting into focus, Tom analysed Tord's form, sizing him up and wondering the best way to go about this. Tord wasn't much bigger than himself; but what the Norsk lacks in height he makes up for it in muscle, surely. Nearly ten years leading an army – Tord can't possibly be weak.
Tom's mind flashed back to the incident when in a fit of rage he'd ripped out Tord's eye patch and invoked the Norsk's wrath. Perhaps because at the time Tom had been so weak and malnourished, but Tord definitely isn't someone he ought to mess with.
With that in mind, it would be a waste of effort to begin with mere punches and wrestling. The next best thing Tom could think of would be to aim for one side. But which one? Tord may be blind on his right side, but Tom isn't foolish enough to think that the Norwegian man would let himself be open to attacks with such a weak spot being exposed. Not to mention that his right has the deadly, metallic hand; currently flexing his fingers with anticipation and making faint whirring sounds.
"Today if possible, Thomas." Tord teased, taking notice of the Brit's clear discomfort and frustration as he could practically read his every move.
Grumbling a low growl, Tom shifted his attention to the Norsk's left side. Looks simple enough, aside from the aforementioned muscle strength. But here's the thing; would Tom rather be hit with a very probable painful punch to his face from a hand made out of flesh and bones, or from a robotic fist made out of hard metal and steel?
"What's this? ~" The voice returned to haunt him. "Afraid of a little pain? ~" Tom could practically feel it grin right up against his ear, and he suppressed a shudder.
Ignoring the voice's sharp claw-like nails grazing over his injured back, Tom focused his attention back to training. Perhaps if he could trick Tord into going a certain direction, while aiming for the other one, Tom could go behind his back and unbalance him with a powerful enough blow.
With a plan set in mind, Tom braced himself. Disturbingly enough, Tord hasn't taken his silver-gray eye off him for even an instant. Tom stared back at him and dashed forward.
He pretended to aim for Tord's right, and when the Norsk tries to block his blow, Tom would divert to his left on the last minute to land a punch on his side.
But Tord was more than ready for him.
Rather than blocking Tom's feint attack, like he had been hoping for, Tord lashed out with his robotic hand and tried to punch him square in the face.
"What the-?!"
Tom abruptly halted, blinking in confusion and barely managing to dodge the strike. He tried to retract his steps and go the other way around, still going along with his plan, only for Tord to block his path and grab a hold of him; easily flinging him away. Tom felt he had been knocked away like a bothersome brat. He hit the cushioned floor hard and lay winded for a moment, catching his breath, before scrambling to his feet.
"What the hell?!"
"Interesting strategy." Tord commented slyly. "But you'll have to try a lot harder than that. Again!"
Getting over his initial shock, this time Tom looked at his shoulders but aimed for his legs. When Tord attacks, Tom would knock the legs from underneath him as he ducks. Tom felt a surge of satisfaction as he charged, but it turned into confusion as Tord unexpectedly sidestepped out of the way and let him skid his leg into nothing where he had stood just a heartbeat before. Tord timed it perfectly – and before Tom could catch his bearings and formulate another plan of attack, Tord landed a kick with painful precision on Tom's stomach; knocking the wind out of him.
Panting, Tom staggered backwards with a wild look in his eyes. He spotted Tord coming his way, and in his haze, succeeded in blocking a couple of punches until Tord head-butted him, and pushed him backwards. Stunned, Tom fell on his back as Tord pinned him down, squashing the breath out of him.
"Now how about you try something I won't expect, hm?" Tord hissed into his ear, climbing off him and backing away with a challenging gleam in his one gray eye.
Tom scrambled up, panting, and shook himself crossly. He hissed and charged again. Tom was determined to win no matter at what cost. But Tord is just as equally determined to not go easy on him, or let him win at all.
Tord remained absolutely still, not moving a muscle as he watched Tom get nearer. Fuming, the test subject tackled him head on and tried to use his own weight to bring the Norsk down with him. However, Tord had endured the force of the impact with his legs digging into the floor. He watched with blatant amusement, as the other man tried in vain to overpower him. He is slowly, but surely succumbing to frustration. Tord mused. He almost felt bad for Tom at this point, seriously considering going a tad bit easier on him.
Well… Almost.
Keeping one of his legs tightly secured in the ground to keep his balance, Tord twisted his other one around Tom's, and used his hands to shove him away. Tom staggered backwards, tripping over Tord's leg in the process. He tried to regain his balance last minute, to stand up and keep fighting, but Tord kneed him in the gut and he flopped heavily onto his back.
"Thomas."
Above the roaring rush of blood pulsating in his ears, Tom barely managed to hear Tord's soft voice above him. Blinking his eyes, Tom saw the Norsk extend his robotic hand out to him. Knowing he didn't have the strength to get up by himself at this point, Tom accepted the offer without complaint. Once the Brit's hand was in his mechanical one, Tord hauled him up until he was back on his legs. Still stunned and dizzy, Tom nearly fell again until Tord grasped his shoulders to keep him steady.
A hand gently grasped Tom's chin, and raised his head to make eye contact with the Red Leader. "Tom, listen to me. You're strong and quick, but you must learn to keep control of your speed and body weight so that it's not so easy for me to unbalance you."
Tom batted the hand holding his chin aside pathetically. "Isn't all this a bit too much?" He complained, still panting. "I mean, what are the chances we fight other soldiers like this? In a real war, everyone is going to be equipped with guns; at least I sincerely hope so. Also, even if we're unarmed, the other troops will surely have guns and they'll kill us way before we get the chance to get near them and do something. So, I don't know, this all seems kind of pointless to me."
Tord chuckled. "Trust me, you'll be plenty thankful to have this set of skills on you if the occasion ever arises." He continued. "It may sound silly and improbable at first, I know, but it is a training requirement for any army and I cannot just overlook it." Once he was sure Tom wasn't going to topple down if he lets go of him, Tord walked away to stand on the opposite side of the ring. "Whenever you are ready, try again."
Tom backed away; hot, sweaty, and out of breath, until he found himself leaning against the elastic ropes of the arena. Groaning in exasperation, frustration raged through him. He just wants to get this stupid training session over with, so he can go take a shower and return to his quarters for a quick nap before his dinner arrives. Now more than ever, Tom is determined to get the better of the Commie.
He took his time in recovering and made another quick observation of his opponent, searching for any weaknesses he could exploit to his advantage. Standing all the way over to the opposite side of the fighting ring, Tord was stretching his limbs, popping some of his joints in the process. Tom watched him with something akin to fascination. The Norsk looks so at ease, and confident in his abilities. Was there even a bead of sweat on his face? The long, cobalt blue coat really made Tord's overall form and shape stand out. It gave an empowering and dominating air to him, but also graceful and elegant too. Sure, Pat and Paul wear them too, but for an unknown reason Tom thought it looked a lot more appealing on Tord.
Feeling reinvigorated now, Tom snapped his mind back on track. "I'm ready now."
Tord shot him a brief glance. "Well? What you're waiting for, Thomas? An invitation?"
Narrowing his eyes at Tord's teasing comments, Tom rushed at him. The Red Leader smirked and positioned himself into a defensive stance. Once he was within proximity, Tom raised one fist and swung it towards the Norsk's left cheek. Tord ducked to avoid his strike and raised his robotic hand, ready to swipe down right onto Tom's head. Thinking quickly, Tom fell back to the ground to avoid the blow, and in one fast movement, struck his legs forward to kick Tord straight on the gut. Taken by surprise, Tord hissed as he felt all air be knocked out of him. He doubled over and staggered backwards. Tom took his chance now that the Norsk is momentarily winded, and he swiped his leg against Tord's own.
Tord was knocked down and fell back onto the cushioned floor with a grunt.
Tom flipped himself over and leaped to his feet. He felt jubilant. He observed Tord's form, lying down completely still with the exception of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in heavily. Tom approached him, his movements sluggish from fatigue, and yet for the first time in a long while he actually felt proud of himself.
Towering over him, Tom found Tord's one visible eye glinting proudly back at him.
"That... was much better." The Norsk puffed, out of breath. Tom smirked just a tiny bit, and lends him a hand, to which Tord gratefully took. Tom heaved him up, helping Tord to his feet as he adjusted his uniform and hair. "But you forgot to pin me down. That was a mistake."
Smirk wiped away instantly, Tom got no time to react as Tord pulled him forward hard, knocking him to the ground, then retreated and let Tom pick himself up before rushing at him again. Tom braced himself for impact, but Tord bowled over him easily.
"Look at my size, Thomas! Don't try to stand up against my attack. Use your wits!" Tord instructed, pinning him down with his boot. "If you are fast enough to avoid me, then avoid me!" He stepped off.
Tom scrambled to his feet again, preparing for Tord's next attack. This time he didn't dig his heels into the cushioned floor, but stood lightly, keeping his weight on his toes. As Tord advanced toward him, he hopped neatly out of his path, and struck out a punch against the side of Tord's face, sending him spiralling onward past him.
Tord regained his footing and whirled around to face him. A sly grin on his face as he rubbed his sore cheek. "Excellent! You learn quickly." He praised with glinting gaze. "But that was an easy move. Let's see how well you deal with this one!"
Tord sprang at him, slamming into Tom's side and knocking him off his feet. Tom writhed as he was firmly pinned down by the Norwegian man. Tord's silver-gray eye stared back at him when a mischievous expression crossed his features.
No harm in teasing him a little bit, right?
"Say, does this remind you of something?" Tord purred with mock contemplation. Tom stopped struggling to look up at him in confusion.
"No? Not really?-"
He cut off abruptly when Tord deeply inhaled, his nose scrunching up and his throat rumbling. Tom froze, his eyes widening. He knows exactly what the Commie has in mind. The snicker-snag!
Back when they were teens and started living together, it was common for Tom and Tord to get into lots of petty arguments and fights to breakout between them for the littlest things. Tord especially liked to tease Tom by pinning him down and subject him to a snicker-snag; a disgusting move where he would dangle a thread of saliva over his face until it eventually falls, and slobbers him. At the time, Edd would usually come to his rescue before such fate could happen. But Edd isn't here to save him now.
With that in mind, Tom's panic kicked-in and he started to trash around wildly, trying to escape but to no avail. His struggles only escalated when Tord began to droop the bead of drool, inching closer and closer to his face. "No! No! No!" Tom screeched, shaking his head frantically as his mind went haywire the closer the strand got until he couldn't take it anymore, and simply turned his head away. Eyes clenched shut as he waited for the humiliating defeat with one last desperate scream.
But it never came.
Tord slurped the thread back before it could reach Tom, and stared down at him as he laughed. "Jesus, Tom!" He wheezed. "With the way you're screaming it sounds like I'm subjecting you to some painful torture! Not a snicker-snag!"
Tom opened one of his eyes and gazed back up at him, annoyed that he's being made fun of, but at the same time relieved Tord wasn't going to go through with it. Or so he thought, before Tord's laughter died down and he let his saliva hang from his mouth once more.
"Oh c'mon!" Tom renewed his struggles, writhing beneath Tord from side to side to try and slip away. "Since when are snicker-snags included in soldier training, for f#cks sake?!" He hoped Tord would pull the disgusting slob back up again to give some witty remark, but unfortunately Tord merely chuckled and continued his insistent teasing.
In a last desperate effort to escape this awful humiliation, Tom thrust his legs up hard into Tord's belly, successfully throwing the Norsk off of him. He miraculously managed to dodge the droplet of spit at the last second, twisted and jumped to his feet before Tord could catch him off guard.
They continued training for hours in that gym. Without even feeling the presence of time pass between the two of them, they kept sparring for the reminder of the day. They laughed and bantered through the many punches and kicks being thrown at each other, but there was no sign of animosity between them. Only competitive playfulness.
All previous thoughts of suspicion, defiance and disdain have disappeared. There is only now; Tord and him, facing each other.
"That's enough for today." Tord stopped and gathered to his feet.
Tom couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. He's completely spent after today's workout. Though he would personally never admit it out loud, he enjoyed the training session with Tord. Mostly because it was the only chance he got to pummel his fist in Tord's face without any repercussions after holding in his anger this whole time. But there was also this underlined pleasant sensation Tom couldn't possibly ignore that manifested sometime during training.
It felt weird.
He followed Tord out of the ring. The Norsk seemed a little tired; stiff and with a slight limp but he still walked with grace. Tom fell in step next to him, panting heavily and still a little exhilarated from their training.
"Good work, Tom. You did great today." Tord began as they walked into the hallway.
Tom glanced at him and scoffed. "Yeah right! I couldn't even manage to pin you down!"
Tord chuckled. "To be fair, no one can. Maybe Paul can, but he hasn't so far. When I set the challenge for you I knew you wouldn't succeed, but I wanted to see how you would try to anyway; and just as I expected, you did not disappoint." He went on. "You get frustrated very easily and that tends to cloud your judgment when it matters, but you are a quick learner and that'll be essential for the rest of your training."
Only half-listening at this point, Tom realized something strange. He wasn't feeling the least bit tired; in fact, Tom felt quite the opposite. He feels as if he could run laps around the track all day, his feet skimming the ground as the exhilaration of speed coursed through him, and Tom had a feeling he could stand up to anything. This sensation was new and refreshing to say the least. Tom wanted more.
"Hey Tord." Tom spoke up after a few brief minutes of silence. "Am I allowed to use the gym whenever I want?"
Tord glanced back at him questioningly and hummed. "I suppose."
"Then if it's all the same to you," Tom stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder. "I think I'll head back and train a little more by myself."
Tord stared at him in surprise, and then Tom glimpsed a flicker of disappointment in the Norsk's eyes before he settled for a calm demeanour and a lazy grin. "As you wish. But don't be surprised if you get a scolding from Patrick later for overworking yourself. I practically have to put up with it every day!"
Tom forced himself to chuckle casually before whirling around and going back the way he came. Something about Tord just then unsettled him. Why did he appear disappointed so suddenly? Tord had that exact same expression at the end of their talk in the test room. It had been brief, but it was still there.
Is Tord expecting something from me? Tom couldn't help but wonder. If so, what?
(Meanwhile…)
Reagan whistled a happy little tune as he led Edd toward their destination for the night. He couldn't stop thinking back to the ginger-haired man he encountered a few days ago. It was hilarious how awfully easy it was to unsettle him, and he can't wait to play more games with him in the future. Will he be brave enough to even try? Or will he stand back and watch as I steal his friend away? Reagan snickered quietly to himself. He surely can't wait to see.
"Hey Reagan, are you sure you know where we're going?" Edd's voice cut through his musings and he glanced back at him over his shoulder. "I must admit I've never been to this part of the town before, so I am kinda blind here."
Reagan clasped a hand on his shoulder dismissively. "Don't worry. I've been to this place a bunch of times over the past few weeks – I practically know this area like the back of my hand at this point."
Edd blinked in surprise. "Really? Why?"
The Irishman hummed pensively, grinning as he fished his pocket for a cigar. "Work related stuff, mostly."
They continued walking through the suspicious looking neighbourhood. Despite Reagan's reassurance, Edd remained on high alert; his brown eyes flicking all over the place.
The buildings they passed by were old and rundown, their windows cracked or barred with wooden planks. The streets they tread in were narrow and dark with barely any light posts to illuminate the way. The farther they went the fewer cars seem to drive by the area, leaving them in an eerie silence with nothing to take its place.
It was only when a bottle shattered ominously close by their location, startling Edd so badly he visibly jumped, did he finally voice his increasing worries.
"Reagan? Are you absolutely sure this place is safe? Because I got a really bad feeling…"
Expecting to hear another reassurance to calm his nerves, Edd was completely unprepared for Reagan's response.
"Well… I said that I know this place – didn't say anything about being safe."
"What?!" Edd exclaimed only to slap a hand over his own mouth in fear of attracting unwanted attention. He grabbed Reagan by the shoulders and started shaking him in desperation. "You mean to tell me we are currently walking through a danger zone and you are okay with this? Are you mad?"
Reagan stared at him wide eyed before smirking. "This is the fastest shortcut that I know of. Plus I thought you trusted me, Eddie. I would never lead you into danger on purpose unless we didn't have any other choice. But I promise you, as long as you stick close to me, we are safe." He brushed Edd's hands off his shoulders. "Trust me."
Edd stepped back hesitantly, still unnerved by the reality of the situation. "I do trust you, Reagan. It's your judgment that worries me a little." They resumed walking. "I mean, what if we get jumped on by a mugger? Or surrounded by a gang of bandits? Or worse?"
"Calm your tits, Eddie. I'm sure we'll get through this just fine."
"You know, there's been a lot of rumours and sightings of a beast wandering the area. Well, it's been a while since the last report, but in any case, I think we should be careful-"
"Beast? Seriously?" Reagan interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Where the f#ck are we? The eighteen-hundreds? Sh#t Eddie, I forgot my pitchfork and torch at home – guess we're f#cked!"
"I'm serious! People got killed by whatever it is, and it was a huge deal a while back. It kinda became this town's version of the Mothman or Bigfoot; everyone knows about it."
"As fascinating as it sounds, I'm still confident we got nothing to worry about." Reagan eyed him curiously. "You seem to know a great deal about this case though."
"It was all over the news when it first started occurring; it's kinda hard to not pay any attention to it when it's everywhere! Besides, it's quite an interesting case." Edd half-lied.
True, he had watched the news back when everything first happened, but Edd had never given the situation much thought. He was concerned for Tom and Matt's wellbeing at the time and often cautioned them to be careful. Then there were no more news about it and Edd thought everything was all good again.
Until Tom died that is.
When Edd finally snapped out of his denial, there was a stage in his period of grief where he tried to find the culprit behind his friend's murder. During his search, Edd had stumbled upon many articles surrounding the mysterious cryptid but Edd instantly brushed it off. Not that he doesn't believe in the supernatural in any way – his adventures have more than proven their existence. But it's highly unlikely this creature had anything to do with the situation, since Tom's death did not match the description of any of the other victims. Still, didn't stop Edd from doing his research on the matter.
"But I don't think we got to worry about anything. No one's going to jump us, and if they do, I'll make them regret it." Reagan's voice cut through his thoughts, jerking him back to reality.
"How can you be so sure?" Edd prompted.
Reagan gave a low chuckle. "I got… briefed before arriving in this town. Let's just say I know exactly what I am dealing with." He then paused, his tone taking a serious turn. "But I can't guarantee your safety if you decide to come here on your own for whatever reason. So I advise you to stay clear from this area when I'm not with you, or you're going to get beaten to pulp with an inch of your life left."
Before long they finally reached the end of the dreadful alley and left the horrid neighbourhood behind them. Edd released a sigh of relief when Reagan nudged him, prompting him to look up.
Their destination turned out to be a bowling alley. Reagan thought it would be fun if they played a few rounds and ate Chinese takeout together. Edd squinted as he took in his surroundings. The dim lighting combined with the harsh neon lights that bordered each one of the bowling tracks and walls hurt his eyes, and the obnoxiously loud pop music that blasted from the speakers didn't help matters. It genuinely feels as if they're on a rave rather than a bowling alley.
They sat in a booth on the far side, closer to the lanes and away from the other players in the establishment. While Edd busied himself on setting all their food down, Reagan went ahead and got the game started.
"And… strike!"
The blond flicked his hand forward and released the ball, flinging it across the smooth lane with such strength it thundered loudly above the blasting music. However, contrary to the Irishman's wishes, the ball dashed straight to the gutter and harmlessly passed by the pins.
Reagan frowned. "Boo! Game's rigged!"
"Tough luck." Edd chuckled, opening the last of the food wrappings.
"It's your turn now." Reagan turned to him, holding a bowling ball out for Edd to take. The brunet swallowed.
"I, uh, why don't you go ahead and play my round as well? I'm sure you can make a strike this time!" Edd suggested nervously.
The Irishman raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "That's not how this game works, Eddie." He shoved the ball into the Brit's hands. "C'mon! I'm the one paying for all this; the least you could do is try and enjoy yourself!"
Shoved closer to the lane, Edd staggered forward and approached wearily. He had never gone bowling before – In the past, Tom would forbid Edd and Matt from ever stepping foot into one of these establishments. It's not like he's here to complain now. Edd thought uneasily as he crouched into the address stance. Still feels wrong to be here playing though.
Pushing his nagging anxiety aside Edd held the ball up to his face, preparing to throw. However, as he peered at the dark holes of the ball, it appeared to shift – morphing into a face with empty eyes and spiky hair, glaring back at Edd as if scrutinizing his actions and a pang of guilt scorched through the brunet. Edd leaned closer to the apparition, yearning for the real thing to manifest out of it and change his reality from what it currently is.
"Hey Eddie, are you gonna throw the ball any time soon or are you planning on frenching it first?"
Reagan's teasing jab cut through Edd's thoughts, effectively erasing the illusion and jerking him back to reality. Blinking rapidly, Edd hastily threw the ball and watched as it went straight for the gutter.
"Yeah, sorry… I'm not very good at this game." Edd laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he tried to brush off his embarrassment. "I think I will just... sit down and eat instead. I'm really hungry. Maybe you should take a break too?"
Reagan stared at him intently for a couple of heartbeats before shrugging. "Whatevs, Eddie. I am gonna keep playing, if you don't mind."
However, not a minute later and Reagan called it quits when the ball went to the gutter again. They sat down on the booth and began to chow down their food and talk.
"So Reagan, what did you do before coming to this town?" Edd asked through a mouthful of food.
Reagan tsked. "You know I'm not allowed to answer that."
"Oh not work – I mean, like, life in general?" His earlier argument with Matt caused a bit of unease within Edd. He knows Reagan better than Matt does, that's for sure, but the Irishman is still as enigmatic as the day he first met him. The weight in his conscience would lessen considerably if Reagan were to shed some light into his background.
Humming deep in thought, Reagan tapped his chin repeatedly. "Not much, honestly." He took another forkful of his meal. "Just hopping from one place to another, looking for new thrills, hang around for a while before eventually moving on to the next best thing. Guess I was kind of a wanderer before settling for my job."
Edd contemplated his words. "Sounds nice, but also a bit lonely though." He stirred his food with one fork. "Don't you have a family to get back to? Or a home, or something?"
"What? And be tied down to only one place and having to depend on others all the time? Pass!" He scoffed, raising his chin. "I can't think of anything worse than being held back by others when you can accomplish so much more out of your life. I like to be free, thank you very much! I met a lot of people in my travels, and I can tell you, no one sticks around forever – and hey! Life is short! Can't afford to settle for a handful when there's a whole world ripe for the taking." He finished his speech with a wide grin on his face. "Why despair when there's a bar in every corner of the world?"
Edd opened his mouth to protest, but stopped short when Reagan reached for one of the fortune cookies. Rather than cracking one open to take the fortune from within, like you're supposed to, he simply tossed the full thing in his mouth and started chewing without a care in the world. Edd stared at him wide eyed.
"Reagan… you do know that's not how you eat fortune cookies, right?"
The Irishman stopped chewing, staring back at Edd in confusion. "What you mean?"
Flabbergasted he was actually going to have to teach such a basic concept to someone who claims to be so independent, Edd took the remaining fortune cookie and cracked it open; taking the slip of paper to demonstrate.
"Oh!" Reagan deadpanned in understanding. He stuffed his fingers inside his own mouth, poking around the mush of food inside. Edd nearly gagged in disgust and had to look away. Reagan finally pulled out the wet slip of paper from his mouth. "Blimey! You mean to tell me all these years I've been eating fortune cookies wrong? Well, this is embarrassing."
Edd chuckled half-heartedly, brushing the incident off. "So what does it say?"
Reagan unfolded his fortune to read, flicking away the bits of food clinging to it. "The greatest danger could be your stupidity." He deadpanned, earning a chortle out of Edd. "Aiight, sounds sensible enough. What about yours, Eddie?"
The brunet unwrapped the slip of paper eagerly. "All things are difficult before they are easy." His smile fell as he read the words out loud, the phrase resonating within him. It seems things are always difficult. He thought frustratedly. The image of a ginger-haired Brit smiling brightly back at him flashed in his mind, and Edd shifted in his seat uncomfortably. I shouldn't be here.
"I think I'm gonna head back home now." Edd stood up from his seat, ready to leave.
Reagan's head snapped up to look at him before he'd even finished his sentence, giving him a look; one that says he'd mistepped. Instantly, Reagan's hand shot up to grab Edd's elbow to stop him. "Whoa whoa whoa! Not so fast, Eddie." He spoke coolly. "Are you forgetting that I'm the one paying all expenses here tonight? After all the trouble of booking a place for us, you mean to tell me my money is going down the drain cuz you can't put up staying out a little bit later?
Silence descended between them like a thick fog, and stayed for a full minute as Edd contemplated his words.
"C'mon, Eddie!" Reagan grinned, tipping his head lazily to one side. "Where's your sense of adventure? Live a little!"
Edd bit his lip. He squirmed uncomfortably under that smile; it made him feel like a dull-witted child who still needs parents' permission to stay out late with his friends, and a tight knot of anxiety congealed in his stomach. Giving in with a small sigh, Edd shrank back into his seat and dropped his gaze, sipping his cola from time to time to relax.
"You know Eddie, I gotta be honest with you man, from one friend to another; but I think you might be just a little bit too uptight."
"Huh?"
"I mean, just look at your lifestyle!" Reagan motioned to the Brit's entire being. "You are an artist, hoping to strike big someday, and maybe even find yourself a fancy lady to court – or dude; I don't judge! – And you are really open with people." The blond narrowed his eyes. "And that's dangerous."
Edd stared at him, perplexed by the Irishman's way of thinking. "What do you mean?"
"Well, how many other people out there do you reckon have the same goals as you do? It's gonna be a competition, regardless if you think you got talent. Someone out there could be even better, and what will you do then?" Reagan kept going, acting composed and laid back as he delivered some harsh truths to really knock some sense into Edd's reality. "Put it this way, Eddie; you keep letting people in, you are just asking to get yourself hurt. I speak from personal experience that they will leave you in the end – one way or another."
Contemplating his ominous words, Edd couldn't help but tilt his head to one side. "Why are you telling me this?" His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, watching Reagan tip back his head and take a massive gulp of his beer.
"Because we're friends! I thought that was obvious enough by now. I care about your wellbeing, especially since you lost a friend not too long ago, and I don't want to see you get hurt." Reagan responded as he slammed the tankard on the table, oozing confidence to back up his words. His tongue swiped around his lips briefly to clean away the foam the tasty beverage had left behind. "Those rose-tinted glasses you have on can only take you so far before it becomes too much for you to handle, so I advise you to start building some walls."
Edd drank his cola, unsure of how to respond and just letting Reagan's advice replay in his head. "Kinda bleak way of viewing the world, don't you think?" He speaks at last, a small faint smile on his face as he tries lightening the mood. "The world is pretty harsh, and life can be tough on us; but it's not all bad! There's so much more to it."
"Sometimes people die, sometimes they live, and sometimes they break apart." Reagan murmured coolly, slowly churning the beer in his glass. "In my line of work, you know, you learn the worst of humanity, and you sure don't see a lot of best to balance it out."
His sombre tone convinced Edd that he was speaking from personal experience. He felt a sharp prick of curiosity, wondering for the life of him what could Reagan's mysterious job be, but Reagan said no more, and Edd didn't feel that he could ask him about it.
And with that, I ask you this; how much of what Reagan is saying do you believe is true?