Hello everyone, this is Flower1815 here, bringing you all a new instalment of MLTS. Guess what guys? It's the story's third anniversary! Three years of writing this, and we're not even through the halfway point. Almost there! But not quite yet. I guess you guys just gotta be prepared to face another three years of waiting around. Jk jk! XD (hopefully…) And speaking of waiting; get ready to… not do that anymore. Because from this moment on, until I run out of already written chapters, I will release a new chapter once every two weeks. So basically: next Thursday there won't be an update, only on the week after that. See what I'm going for?
I will announce whenever I run out chapters on the last update, then we'll go on hiatus, and I'll write a new batch all over again. Deal? Deal! Let's get this show on the road then!
"Reaching estimately three hundred victims in the last six years, the Beast still continues to puzzle the authorities with its grotesque killings and mass property damage. Though there are plenty of eyewitness reports and evidence to suggest it is the work of something greater at play, the police persist the culprit behind these strange occurrences is nothing more than a deranged and resourceful maniac of the most sadistic and cruel kind.
Not all victims have been identified, due to the gruesome way in which they were killed in, as the few body remains that were found in the crime scenes offered insufficient results needed for a thorough examination.
Witness descriptions of the Beast vary from person to person. Some say it's a gargantuan creature whose footsteps tremble the earth and has been known to trigger car alarms; while others believe it to be man-like in stature, ranging from 6 to 8 feet tall, often seen lumbering on four legs. The Beast sightings happen most commonly at night in the surrounding areas of Durdam Lane, and its colour is tough to discern; sometimes described as black, other times as purple.
When asked about the possibility of employing military help on the case, the chief of police assured citizens they're doing everything they can to stop the attacks and keep the townspeople safe. He advised the residents of the area to avoid the streets late at night and keep pets indoors as there have also been reports of gruesome animal deaths."
As he finished reading the news article, Tord's gaze flitted over to the figure slumped against the wall across from him.
Arms tucked tightly against his heavily chained torso, Tom was forced to listen to the Norwegian man as he relayed all the evidence he gathered in his off-time regarding his condition. The chains wrapped around the upper part of his body were constricted hard enough to immobilize any movement from his arms, but it had sufficient space where it didn't hurt to breathe either. While the chains dangled from the wall behind him, limiting his mobility space, his legs were sprawled out uselessly on the hard tiled floor.
Tom had woken up in the dimly lit room with only a bright harsh light illuminating above Tord's head, where he casually lounged on a chair with his feet propped up on a table with a crate labelled "confidential" resting beside him. It took a while to jog his memory, but Tom managed to recognise the very first room he had woken up in when he was first brought to the base several months ago.
Back to where it all began.
"You made quite a reputation for yourself! Could almost rival my own with how much mayhem you caused." Tord hummed with clear interest in his smooth voice as he puts away the article back in the evidence crate. "Not so innocent anymore, huh?"
Tom remained unresponsive.
"Did those poor bastards deserve it at least? To go down in such a brutal way they must have pissed you off pretty badly I assume. But pets? Really Thomas?"
With a shaky pained breath, Tom shut his eyes. The fact that Tord seems to be implying that he would willingly do all these horrible things chilled him. Is it something I would really do? Maybe he is a worse person than he realized if that's the case.
"I think you're taking this whole "I have the right to remain silent" thing a little too far, Thomas." Tord observed teasingly, though he secretly didn't mind the Brit being nice and quiet for once. "When we first acquired you all those months ago, you came to us bruised and malnourished. I always wondered how you could've gotten to that state; so I took the liberty to investigate."
He pulled out a file from the crate with several papers plastered inside before flipping it open. His one eyed gaze scanned the contents inside in a calculating manner.
"Checking the records of your bank account, the only products you've purchased on the market in the last eight years had been strictly large amounts of Smirnoff – far more than deemed normal for consumption. Even for an alcoholic like yourself! More interesting than that is the fact that you also had purchased a significant amount of razors over the years. But little to no edibles." Tord continued, reading the receipts and unmasking each one of Tom's secrets one by one. "At some point you must've realized you were the one behind the attacks, so you tried to curb your vicious tendencies by starving yourself in hopes of never transforming again. The excessive Smirnoff consumption is self-explanatory enough. However, it probably wasn't enough to stop you completely so you resorted to punishing yourself by self-mutilation to maintain in control. Considering the last reported Beast sighting was December 31st 2014 it is pretty safe to assume that it worked – though at the cost of your own wellbeing."
Tom uttered a dark low chuckle. "Congratulations, Sherlock, you figured me out. What happens next?"
Tord regarded him for several heartbeats. "As I've already mentioned, we will start with the experiments. Now that we know that you can in fact transform into a monster, it's clear the serum was a success. But one question still plagues me." He murmured pensively. "How come the serum worked with you when it failed with all the other test subjects? The formula you received was the very first one I ever concocted. The test subject I was experimenting on at the time died not even a day after injection, but you somehow managed to survive and show the results that I have been seeking. I thought perhaps it was because you drank the serum mixed in your coffee, or because of your unique parentage."
The only response appropriate for that was to shrug, as Tom didn't know any more than Tord does when it comes to how the serum works.
"That's what lead me to investigate your condition in the first place. I wanted to find clues as to why you survived when others hadn't. I didn't find any answers for that, but uncovering your monster side was a pretty damn good trade-off for now." Tord went on; rising from his seat to approach his test subject's chained form. "While the experiments will focus mostly on getting you to transform and understand the serum's true nature, we'll also be working on discovering the reason behind your curious success."
"What are you planning to do with me?" Tom inquired quietly.
Upon reaching him, Tord crouched down in front of the test subject so that they could be at eye level with each other. Tom however kept his gaze fixed on his feet, refusing to acknowledge the presence smugly looming over him.
"Oh, just some basic tests – nothing too drastic… at first. And we're gonna have to change your diet to a strict meat only from now on, to ensure faster results."
A shudder of disgust washed over Tom. Just the thought of eating nothing but meat made him sick to his stomach.
A robotic hand suddenly grasped his lower jaw, forcing him to look up at the Norsk. Tom glared at him numbly.
"You know Tom; you got yourself in quite a predicament by withholding crucial information from us." Tord commented coolly. "You wouldn't be where you are now, in the position that you are in, if you had been open with us from the start."
I didn't even tell my best friends about any of this, did you really think I would ever tell you of all people? Tom so desperately wanted to counter with, but his lessons with the voice kept him subdued and his mouth remained shut up tight.
"But it doesn't have to be this way." Tord continued, his voice growing softer as he leaned closer to the eyeless man. His warm breath fanned over Tom's face, who wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell of smoke that seems ever present with the Norsk. "If you cooperate with me now, you can return to the comfort of your quarters instead of being held in some dark room in chains. You will be allowed to eat whatever you want, and you may continue seeing Paul and Pat as much as you want – since you seem to prefer their presence far more than my own, I consider their companionship to be a luxury for you. You can get all that back… if you simply turn. Do this, and I won't have to resort to extreme measures to get what I want. You don't want to end up getting dissected on an operating table, do you?"
I don't. But I have to. Tom thought to himself in defeat.
The hand on his chin tilted his head up again, snapping Tom back into focus. A gray eye steadily peered into his empty sockets.
"Turn."
The one word command sent a shiver of apprehension down Tom's spine, and dread hollowed in his stomach. Even though he is far from having any semblance of control over the monstrosity inside of him, Tom feared his body would betray him and actually obey Tord.
For several heartbeats, there was only intense silence between them. Then anger surged within Tom, and he mustered all the hatred he ever held for Tord as he met his gaze. "My hate for you runs deeper than your ego. I am not doing anything you order me." He retorted coldly, trying to hide how scared he truly felt inside.
The robotic hand withdrew away from him, and Tord's expression darkened. "So be it." He abruptly stands up to leave, and Tom drops his gaze back to the floor.
"You have changed a lot, Thomas. It was hard to tell at first, but now that I got all the evidence…" Tord trails off, smirking as he glances back at his defeated form. "I have all that I need. But it is a shame really. Right now I cannot even tell to whom I am currently speaking to. Classic stupid Tom, or…" He paused, eyeing him with a curious gaze.
"Something else entirely."
Tom winced at his words but said nothing. Thinking he had the final word, Tord turned to leave.
He was halfway across the room when he heard the sound of chains rattling far behind him. Tord casually glanced back over his shoulder, surprised to find the test subject having raised his head up to glower back at him, with a fierce determination gleaming in his dark, empty sockets. Tom staggered to his feet. The chains so heavy that he stumbled and almost fell, but he managed to stay upright and face Tord.
"Funny you should say that." Tom snarled. "I could say the same thing about you."
Having his full undivided attention, Tord turned to face him with a quizzical expression. He cocks his head to one side, waiting with anticipation to hear what his dear old friend has to say.
"Most of the time I can't tell whether I am talking to Tord-" Tom spat out the words with venom in his voice. "- or to Red Leader!"
A suspenseful stillness crashed in the room. For a while, neither of them did anything. However, Tom noticed his words must've caught Tord off-guard in some way. The Norwegian man's posture was rigid and his facial expression blank as his words resonated in the air. He looked almost… upset?
All of a sudden, Tord's features hardened into a scowl and he flexed his hands as he stalked toward Tom. The eyeless man barely had time to process what was happening before a powerful kick collided with his gut and sent him tumbling to the floor. The chains surrounding him rattled noisily with his movements. Tom landed on his side, gasping for breath as he lay momentarily winded on the ground. A pressure landed on his hip, making Tom wince, as Tord pinned him down hard with one boot.
"I have been pretty lenient with you so far, but I won't tolerate this kind of attitude from you any longer." Tord snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You are a lowly test subject. It's about time you learned your place in this army, #1826. I am your leader, and you will show me the proper respect fit for my authority. Do I make myself clear?"
Hardly acknowledging the fact he had been reduced to a serial number, Tom nodded numbly. But his response left Tord far from pleased, and he increased the pressure of his boot over the test subject's hip. Tom whimpered.
"Do I make myself clear?" Tord repeated.
"Yes, sir." Tom breathed through clenched teeth.
The Norsk stepped away from him. Tom released a small sigh of relief. The anger died from Tord's eye, to be replaced by something dark and shadowed. "I must go now, and get the tests ready for you. I will bring you something to eat when I return." He stated, sounding breathless and a little dazed. Then more assertively and like his usual self, he added with a cold look at Tom: "Mark my words; you will turn before the week is over, one way or another – even if I have to disassemble you limb by limb to make that happen! You won't delay my plans any longer."
Tom stared up at him dully, feeling as though his body was being robbed of every scrap of warmth and leaving him a husk of nothing.
Tord promptly left the room soon after, leaving Tom to pick himself back up and slouch against the wall behind him – a difficult thing to achieve when your arms are tied against your torso by heavy chains and your body seems frailer than usual.
The only light source in the otherwise dark room seemed to flicker and dim until Tom was cast in nothing but shadow. An imposing presence manifested above him. Tom could practically feel the anger crackling from it.
"Your plan has failed. Why am I not surprised? ~" The voice hissed contemptuously. "I told you time and time again to kill yourself before it was too late. But no! You insisted on waiting for the right time – that you had everything under control; and now look what happened! Your plan has blown up spectacularly on your face, just like I told you it would. ~"
It continued to berate him, digging its sharp fingers through his belly suddenly and twisted his entrails hard. Tom screamed, his legs flailing futilely against the floor in a vain attempt to escape the entity's wrath. A spectral limb wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air supply and making him feel lightheaded as it continued to roughly prod around his insides.
"And you remember what I told you would happen if you failed? ~" The voice purred with barely suppressed delight.
Wait! Tom implored through the agonizing sensations running through him. The plan is still on!
He knew his words must've caught the voice off guard, for not a second later the limb constricting around his throat loosened.
"What are you yapping about now? Look where you are right now! Tord found out one of your secrets and he'll do just about anything to get what he wants! ~"
Exactly! Tom cut if off. Tord said he will start with the easy tests and go up from there. Our deal still stands, so he can't drug me. When none of the other tests work out Tord will start running out of options and then he will have to dig deeper – especially if he really expects to get results by the end of the week. He said so himself when he mentioned dissection earlier. Nothing has changed!
"You do realize that means you have to endure a bunch of other tests that could potentially work just to get to that outcome, right? ~" The voice pointed out.
I can handle it. I got this far without shifting; I can deal with another week to finally end it all.
"Ahh, but it wouldn't take much to get you to transform now that you are strong here- ~" Spectral hands massaged his muscles for emphasis, making Tom grow tense under its ministrations. "And so very weak here. ~" Another phantom limb prodded the top of his head roughly.
"Like I said; I can manage it. Tom insisted urgently.
The voice seemed to take his words into consideration; Tom could sense that it was thinking carefully about this whole matter, and hope flared up inside of him like a tiny flame.
"Very well, worm. You'll have one last chance to off yourself… but if you fail... I will take charge of the situation. ~"
(Meanwhile…)
Edd shifted his hands to try and warm them. It was too cold to stand still. The ground was lightly dusted with snow. The sky is clear, and stars sparkled over the town. Chilled to the bone, Edd did his best to keep up with his energetic companion as they travelled through the shady part of town; their outing reaching its conclusion.
"So Eddie," Reagan began after a brief moment of silence between them. "I've been thinking…"
Edd snorted. "That's new for you."
He laughed as the Irishman playfully elbowed him in response. "We've been hanging out together for quite a while now, and I enjoy your company very much." Reagan continued. "I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine. Just a little get-together, nothing big or anything."
The brunet blinked in surprise. "Oh? That sounds nice but uh… what's the occasion if you don't mind me asking?"
"I just thought that; since I won't be staying in town for very long now, it would be nice to have a fun time with all my pals before the fateful day comes." Reagan responded vaguely. "Everyone else has agreed to it – they're all dying to meet you. It will be fun! No bowling alleys this time, I promise."
Edd pursed his lips and nodded distantly. Reagan observed him steadily; disappointed he didn't react more excitedly to his offer.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing!" Edd blurted a little too quickly, and then turned his gaze away.
Truth be told, he is a little taken back by the fact that Reagan has other friends. Edd isn't stupid – he knows the Irishman was hard to like; what with his loud and cocky attitude and his rule breaking tendencies. Just the other week he caught Reagan stealing some poor guy's wallet straight out of his pocket to pay for a pretzel!
"Thief? That's a little harsh, dontcha think? Nah, I'm not a thief! I'm just really good at acquiring things that aren't mine." That was Reagan's defence when Edd had berated him back then.
Still, even with all that stacked against him; Edd had felt drawn to Reagan from the moment they met. His behaviour is troublesome but can be kinda charming in a weird way. He's living a lifestyle not many are daring enough to even consider. Edd can almost admire that in a strange way.
"So what do you say eh?"
"Hm?"
Reagan rolled his eyes. "About meeting up with some of my colleagues?"
Edd looked away unsurely. "I don't know, Reagan. I may have sort of agreed to spend more time with Matt – you remember him, right?"
"Of course." Reagan responded through a tight lipped smile.
"And I have some commissions that I really need to work on-"
"Oh c'mon, Eddie!" Reagan cut him off, slinging one arm lazily over the Brit's shoulders. "You need to take some time for yourself too, you know! You keep overworking that big ol' noggin of yours, you'll just be miserable for the rest of your life."
Edd gently draws himself away. "Who are these friends of yours anyway? I don't recollect you mentioning them once."
Reagan frowned. "Oh, they're merely good acquaintances of mine. I'm sure you're gonna love them!"
"But—" A faint cry interrupted him. "What was that?"
Reagan shrugged. "Some stray cat, maybe."
The cry came again, this time a clear panicked shrill. "No!" Edd exclaimed. "That's someone in trouble. Come on!"
He headed for the alleyway in the direction of the cry. Edd expected his companion to follow suit, but when he glanced back Reagan stood unmoved; balancing back and forth on the heels of his feet and his hands folded behind his back.
Edd stared at him expectantly. "Come on, Reagan! Someone is in need of help!"
"We could help… or we could leave and no one would know." Reagan suggested with mock pensiveness.
"Reagan!"
The Irishman glared at him. "What? It's not our business if some unlucky bastard was dumb enough to waltz into this area!" He then nodded the alley behind Edd. "By the sounds of it I would guess someone just got jumped on by some thugs. Poor bastard is as good as dead."
"All the more reason we should go and help!" Edd reasoned.
"Hey look – I'm just doing what my fortune cookie said. Who am I to stand in the way of fate?"
Edd's eyes widened. Who would've thought that Reagan could be so selfish and cowardly?
"Please, whoever they are they sound like they are in real trouble." Edd winced as he heard gruff voices accompanying the cries of despair. "We can't just leave them there and do nothing!"
"Hmm, you know what that sounds like? A whole lotta of not my problem, buddy." Reagan insisted stubbornly. "Now let's get the f#ck outta here before we're targeted next."
But Edd couldn't bring himself to leave. He considers himself to be a moderately adequate fighter, but even then he knows he doesn't stand a chance on his own. Thank goodness Eduardo was there to stop him from doing just that earlier that day. By all accounts, Reagan has a point. It's not their problem and they shouldn't be putting themselves in danger for some stranger.
However, the image of an eyeless man wandering drunk and defenceless through the dark streets, right before getting attacked in an alley just like this one… his life being stripped away in a slow, brutal manner… alone, and with no one around to help…
It haunts Edd's mind, and he'll be damned if he's about to allow someone else to share Tom's fate.
Determination and a surge of bravery coursed through him, and Edd turned to face his companion. "It's alright, Reagan. I understand." He murmured. "You don't have to come with me if you don't want to. But I have to go!"
The Irishman snorted disbelievingly. "Are you insane? I thought you were supposed to be the reasonable one from the two of us!" Then his eyes widened as realization suddenly dawned on him. "Oh god… this means I am the reasonable one here now! Eddie, how could you?!"
"Just wait here for me, please." Edd cut him off through gritted teeth. Every second he spends here arguing, are precious decisive moments he's wasting. "If I don't make it back, call the cops."
He ran off before he could hear Reagan's response and lose his sudden bravado.
Meanwhile, Reagan merely stood there – blinking dumbfounded and frustration bubbling up inside of him as he watched Edd disappear into the shadows of the street, hand reaching out toward the retreating Brit before clenching it as if he were changing his mind halfway through. "Come back!" He whisper-shouted through gritted teeth before running a hand through his messy blond locks with an exasperated sigh.
"F#cking idiot has a death wish…" He chuckled. "And right after I warned him from the kindness of my heart, too!"
Now he's stuck in a dilemma. One that he would've solved instantly with no regrets or consequences any other time.
Should he help?
The obvious answer Reagan would've gone for is: no. It's not his problem if the Brit wants to make way for an early grave, and hey! Maybe getting his ass beaten with an inch of his life left will teach him a valuable lesson on not playing hero!
But Reagan can't risk Edd dying on him now. He is one of his targets; and if he perishes before Reagan can get him to join the Red Army, then he will never get his promotion and all his time spent working on chipping Edd's morale away will have been for nothing. And if there's one thing Reagan detests is wasting valuable time.
Well… that among many other things.
The Irishman tapped his foot repeatedly on the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets as he fumed in contemplation.
Edd pelted through the dim alley in the direction of the cry. It came again, closer but fainter, a horrible choking sound followed by low rough voices. He ducked behind a wall and took a quick peek.
Three burly men surrounded another forth figure, slumped and coughing on the ground. Edd couldn't quite make out their appearance in the darkness. He winced when one of the men threw out a harsh kick against the victim's side as they floundered and gasped for air.
"C'mon now… don't make this more difficult than it has to be." A sleazy voice purred contemptuously. "Give us everything of worth you got, and we'll go along our merry way and you can keep on breathing a while longer."
One of the three figures stepped forth. Taller than the other two but lither in frame, the man nudged the defeated form on the ground with one foot to turn it face up. Edd gasped when he recognized the dirty blond bleeding from his nose.
Hellucard!
Edd definitely can't turn away now. Shame and anguish washed over him as he recalled earlier events of that day; when in his unfair rage he shoved the poor friendly man into a stack of soup cans.
Embarrassment was soon replaced by anger as it floods throughout his body. He will make it up to him now.
Making a quick scan of his surroundings, Edd looked for any form of weapon he could use against the thugs. His gaze landed on an empty bottle amongst litter scattered on the floor. But will that be enough on its own? Edd grabbed the bottle on one hand and looked for something else that might help; eventually settling for a trash lid.
Edd took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. These thugs don't appear to be armed, but things can go so messy from here on out…
He shook his head and braced himself for what he's about to do; focusing on bringing his earlier rage back out to give him the strength needed to step out of his hiding place and rescue Hellucard from a potential gruesome fate.
His vision turned red and Edd rushed in with the trash lid raised in front of him like a shield.
He barrelled into the three thugs at full force – they didn't even see him coming and had no time to react as he knocked them away from the injured Canadian on the floor.
Bowling isn't so bad after all. Edd snickered quietly to himself.
"Quick, Hellucard, run!"
Still dazed from his bruises, Hellucard blinked sluggishly before waving at him. "Oh, ey hedd!"
"Really not the time!" Edd retorted with a flicker of annoyance. "Just hurry up and get out of here!" He ordered, before turning on one of the thugs who had threatened him. Hellucard scrambled to his feet, wincing at the effort, and raced away.
"Oi! He's getting away!"
"Don't just sit there and stare, you pansies – f#cking do something!"
One of the muggers, a huge man with shaved head and a beard, tried reaching out for the fleeing Canadian as he raced past. However, Edd impeded him by slamming the glass bottle down hard on top of his head; shattering it into tiny little fragments everywhere. The thug instantly turned his attention back to Edd.
"Well, well, well – looks like we got ourselves a little runt playing hero…" The owner of the sleazy voice stepped forward from between the other two men, approaching Edd with an amused but dangerous glint in his blue eyes.
Before long, Edd found himself surrounded by the three thugs – prowling around him with eyes glittering with smug superiority and hatred. Forcing himself not to tremble or show fear, Edd held his ground and kept a firm grip on his weapons; making sure to keep all of them in his line of sight.
"Hope you've realized the grave mistake ye have committed here." The leader, a tall man with short red hair and sideburns, wearing a dark purple trench coat drawled out condescendingly. "Now that our prey has gotten away, guess this means you're the one paying us our due tonight. Hope it was worth it, runt."
"Just try me, you useless heaps of garbage!" Edd spat back pathetically, putting as much bravado in his voice to conceal how scared he felt in this situation.
Edd launched himself against the nearest thug. No way would he give them the advantage of attacking first!
He slammed the tin lid against the grunt's face, and then swung a punch at another. The first mugger knocked the trash lid out of his grip and grappled him, trying to force him down to the ground. Edd staggered back and pushed back against the thug, his arms screaming at the strain in his muscles.
Panic took over his head. He's alone – three against one. If he gets knocked down now he'll be vulnerable, and then he'll be in serious trouble.
Thinking quickly, Edd lunged forward and head-butted the thug. A sickening crack followed, confirming a broken nose as the man in question backed away with blood dripping down his face. Edd was about to deliver a kick when he was suddenly grabbed from behind in a chokehold and pulled back abruptly. Edd twisted around to look over his shoulder to see the sleazy man; staring back at him narrowed, mocking eyes.
Edd's eyes widened in fear – thinking this might be the end for him.
Suddenly, he thought he saw a glimpse of a figure standing behind the man. A silhouette with spiky hair and dark husks for eyes stared back at him, and shot him a reassuring grin and a solemn nod.
The apparition gave Edd strength, reminding him why he's there in the first place. Rage roared in Edd's ears, and with a burst of energy he ripped himself free from the mugger's grasp, and twisted around to throw himself at the man. As he threw a series of swift blows Edd glimpsed a flash of spiky hair beside him again, and for a moment he was sure he could smell Smirnoff in the air. Edd wasn't religious in any way, though he had many encounters with the supernatural in the past – but the thought that his friend was back to fight beside him once again; just as they did many times on several zombie apocalypses and even a clone invasion, gave him hope.
Tom had come to help Edd avenge his death.
Edd continued with the flurry of vicious punches, blinded by grief and anger; he hardly noticed the other two thugs sneaking up behind him until it was too late. A heavy punch struck Edd on the side of his head, followed by another punch to his lower jaw. Pain ripped through Edd like fire, and he staggered back. He blinked, trying to gain his senses on the situation and keep fighting back, but he was shoved and kicked roughly to the ground.
"You can hold yourself pretty well; I'll give ye that, runt." The sleazy man drawled out from somewhere behind them. "But those were only kitten blows compared to what we're going to do to yah in return."
The muggers towered over Edd now, kicking and stomping on him mercilessly as he writhed on the ground; trying to get back up again and get away but to no avail. Pain seared all over his body. The repeated blows to his chest and stomach had driven all breath out of him, leaving him curled up on his side to try and protect the rest of his body and lessening the pain just a tad. At this rate, Edd wouldn't be surprised if one of his ribs were broken. He could taste his own blood in his mouth.
Edd whimpered in agony. Help me, Tom! I'm sorry – I am so sorry, but I can't do this alone!
Suddenly the attacks stop and the weight on his back was wrenched off of him. Edd blinked and lifted his head in confusion. Reagan! The Irishman stood motionless in front of him, shoulders squared as he held one mugger in each hand by their throat.
"What?" Reagan glanced back at him, sensing surprise on the Brit's stare. "Thought you could have all the fun to yourself, did yah?"
Edd didn't have enough breath to respond. He'd never been more relieved to see Reagan again in his life. Couldn't he have come sooner though? Edd will have a ball trying to explain his bruises to Matt, who is already paranoid enough as it is about him.
Reagan made quick work of the thugs. He smashed their heads together and swiped a leg under their feet, knocking them out almost instantly. He grinned a toothy grin and shrugged as if it was nothing before turning his sights on the last man.
The sleazy man looked Reagan over with insolent blue eyes. "Now who the hell are you, eh?" He demanded. "Last I checked, this town wasn't thriving with this many heroic twats."
Reagan chuckled and stalked closer. "I'm from outta town, that's why. Guess you're not used to being challenged often, huh?"
"Do I know you by any chance?" The sleazy thug asked, eyes narrowed into slits. "You seem familiar…"
"Maybe, maybe not." Reagan shrugged lamely before smirking. "Does it even matter to you lot?"
There was a thick cloud of tension cackling between the two men as they confronted one another – Edd could feel it radiating from where he stood, leaning against the wall behind him and rubbing his sore cheek. Then he glimpsed a flash of something shiny being pulled out of the thug's coat, and Edd's eyes widened in alarm.
"Reagan, look out – he's got a knife!"
His warning came a second too late as the mugger drew out a blade and rushed toward Reagan. However, the Irishman had already anticipated his opponent's movements and jumped back just in time to dodge the first strike.
He continued to evade the following series of stab attempts with fluid motion, ducking and sidestepping effortlessly. Reagan grinned when he saw surprise flicker in the other man's eyes as he couldn't land a hit on him.
Time to move away from the defensive to attack position.
Edd's eyes widened in amazement as he watched Reagan whirl around the sleazy man in circles, darting in to strike a punch or a kick and immediately leaping back out of the blade's range. The mugger tried to keep up with his movements and finally land a hit on the damn f#cker, but Reagan was moving so fast that by the time he managed an opportunity to slash at him, the Irishman had already moved on. He was untouchable.
"You're too slow!" Reagan teased. "Missed! Missed again! Swing and a miss! Not even close! Are you even trying? I just might have to text you later if you miss me so much!" He blew the thug a kiss.
The mugger clenched his jaw in frustration, fatigue setting in. This was supposed to be an easy gig! – pick a target, jump on them, threaten and beat them up a little, kill if they resist, and take away all their valuables. That's it! He's been doing this sh#t for years and he'd never had come across a more annoying pest than this bloke right here. Well, except for maybe…
A hard blow caught the thug on the side of the face, driving him off his feet and tumbled him to the ground. Distracted by Reagan's impressive, but nonetheless irritating skilful fighting technique, he had slipped his focus just enough for Reagan to land the finishing blow and end the conflict. As the mugger hit the ground a surging of black spots covered his vision from the force of the blow, and as it cleared he glimpsed vibrant green eyes looming close to his own. A hand clamped down on his neck.
"Reagan!"
The Irishman looked up at the sound of his name. Edd neared him with awe and concern in his gaze.
"I'm alright, Eddie – I didn't get hit once." Reagan bragged. "You on the other hand…" He gestured the Brit's dishevelled appearance.
Edd swiped a bead of blood that trickled down the side of his mouth with his hand. "I'm fine. It's nothing serious." And he was truthful. Aside from a busted lip and a purplish bruise below his left eye, Edd didn't feel anything else. The pain in his lower abdomen was already subsiding. He was lucky Reagan showed up when he did. "What you just did – that was amazing! I… I didn't know you had it in you."
Reagan stared steadily back at him. "You don't know a lot about me." He responded curtly. "Now that we've met our quota of heroism for the night, let's get outta here before anything else happens."
"Shouldn't we call the authorities?" Edd asked, glancing at the unconscious thugs.
"Do you want to spend the rest of the night being badgered and answering to a f#ck load of nosy questions?" Reagan countered dryly.
Edd shook his head.
"Then let's go already! Sheesh Eddie, night is young but not if you insist on doing hassling stuff all the damn time-"
"Foley…"
The raspy murmur halted both men in their steps. Edd spun around and realized that the leader thug was still conscious, though he was lying down on the filthy ground of the alleyway and he seemed a bit dazed as he lifted his head to observe them.
"It is you, isn't it?"
Edd couldn't make sense of what the man was saying. He glanced at Reagan questioningly, expecting to find his own confusion mirrored in the blond's eyes. However, Reagan was frozen solid, muscles rigid and eyes dead open. The expression took Edd by surprise. He'd never seen the Irishman appear so taken back.
"Hmm, doesn't ring any bells… I think you got a bit of a memory issue there." Reagan sniffed disinterestedly and with a lazy, albeit strained grin on his face. "That pretty nifty punch to the face probably didn't help matters, did it? But no, sorry, don't know anyone by that name…"
The sleazy man choked out a harsh laugh. "Look at yah – shaking like a leaf… yeah, you're most definitely Foley alright." He struggled to sit up. "You're the only one I know who trembles at the sound of his own name. Thought you were dead, yah son of a b#tch! Where have yah been all this time, you slippery little bastard?"
Switching back and forth between his companion and the thug, Edd watched the interaction play out with great perplexity. This man seems to know Reagan in some way, though he was referring to him by a different name – but on the other hand; the Irishman appeared to be indifferent but also uncomfortable with the situation forced upon him. And considering the fact that this was Reagan that has to mean something is going on here.
He was brought out of his thoughts by Reagan taking a pace forward; the usual mischief gone from his gaze and his smile was crooked. For a heartbeat he looked the mugger up and down. "I don't know what you're talking about." He snarled, surprising Edd further with the uncharacteristic menace in his voice. "Life on the streets must've damaged your brain, ye bleedin tick."
"Glad yah haven't gone soft, Foley." The sleazy man drawled, rising to his feet. "I spent a lot of time and effort on you, and I would've hated to see it gone to waste."
"Listen to me very closely now." Reagan growled, evidently struggling to keep his cool as he took another threatening step forward. Edd could've sworn he saw him twitch. "I have absolutely no idea who you are, what you are talking about, or who you are referring to – so why don't you just drop dead now and let us go our merry way before things get worse, hm?"
"Or what? You gonna throw a temper tantrum like old times?" The mugger taunted. "Guess it's true what they say about yah; once a Foley, always a-"
Apparently that was the last straw, because with a roar of fury Reagan lunged at the man. They both toppled to the ground. Edd watched horrified as Reagan mercilessly began pummelling the mugger square on the face in a frenzy. His vibrant green eyes were flared up with unbridled rage and hatred; the likes of which Edd never would've associated with the Irishman until now.
Unable to watch this play out any longer Edd snapped into action. Yeah, the thug tried to attack and maybe kill Hellucard and then himself, but no one deserves this kind of fate. He grappled Reagan's shoulders and dragged him off. "Reagan, that's enough! Stop it!" He shrieked. "What are you doing?"
Startled by the terror in his voice, Reagan froze; wild eyed. The thug lay unconscious on the ground, bright red blood bubbling at his heavily damaged face. Was he even breathing?
Panting and spitting with fury, Reagan ripped himself away from Edd's grasp before rounding the Brit. "Stay the f#ck away from me!"
Edd backed away, startled, his eyes wide and scared as the Irishman barged past and simply left him behind.
He stood in that alleyway for what felt like an eternity, wondering what the hell just took place.
(Meanwhile…)
"I think I'm gonna throw up…"
"Do it and I'll make you eat everything back up from the floor." Tord warned sternly as he stabbed the last piece of bloody read meat from the plate and brought it over to Tom's mouth.
They've been at this for nearly twenty minutes now – far longer than Tord had anticipated! But Tom was being difficult as usual, and refused to cooperate. Even now, at the very last bite left, the eyeless man fussed and turned his head away to avoid eating.
Tord released an exasperated sigh and rolled his eye. "Such a baby…"
With the fork still in his robotic hand, he used his organic one to pinch Tom's nose. The Brit tried in vain once again to hold his breath for as long as he could to drag this out; but after repeating the same motions over and over in such a short span of time, it didn't take very long for Tom to give in for a mouthful of air, and Tord use the opportunity to shove the fork in his mouth before clamping it close with his metallic hand.
Tom gagged against the prosthetic palm over his mouth, trying to spit the disgusting food out but to no avail. It's beef! It's only beef! Tom repeated to himself like a mantra, trying not to be disgusted as he chewed hastily. Its cow meat, or bull meat – it's not human, it's what matters.
"Hmm… but if Tord is trying to bring out the beast, then wouldn't it make sense to be human? ~" The voice appeared to ponder, though by the slyness in its tone it was clearly just messing with him. "After all, we both know he will do whatever it takes to get what he wants; and serving you human flesh is not out of the realm of possibility. ~"
It cackled maniacally as Tom hunched forward and retched at the idea, rattling the chains surrounding him, but forced himself to swallow the last piece and finally get this embarrassing torture over with. It was absolutely humiliating to have Tord force feed him like that, but Tom had the nagging feeling that this wouldn't be a one-time thing.
Setting the empty plate aside, Tord proceeded to unclasp the chains connected to the wall and wrap each one a lap around Tom's cocooned torso to fortify his restraints, and then half carry half drag him out the room toward their first test.
Tom was still recovering from the awful taste in his mouth when he was hauled backwards through the hallways. He didn't actively struggle, since it would be entirely pointless at this point, but that doesn't mean Tom will just willingly go along with any of this. He'll be as stubborn as possible to make this whole experience infuriatingly frustrating for the Commie.
With that thought in mind, Tom deliberately relaxed his legs and let them drag loosely on the floor as they walked; sometimes going so far as to casually dig his heels on the floor to slow down their pace.
However, The Norsk did not seem perturbed and continued heaving the test subject toward their destination.
With every passing second, Tord's expectations for the experiments grew but his excitement for the outcome also lessened considerably whenever he has to interact with the Brit in any way. Tom was such a dramatic pest! He'd agreed to the conditions of their deal and willingly take part in the experiments, and then he had the gall to keep it from him and behave like a fussy toddler.
Are you Tord or Red Leader?
The question kept ringing inside his head ever since Tom flashed those words at him earlier.
Tord clenched his jaw in frustration. He knows who he is – so why does the question bother him so damn much? He's the Red Leader! He is powerful, insanely clever, charismatic, and fears nothing! That's what the perfect leader should be! Tord was nothing more than an emotional goofy dork, not suited to dominate the world and make the big changes he hopes to accomplish. No. He's already been through this enough times as it is – there's no room for weaknesses. He can't be Tord anymore.
If I'm not that dork anymore, then how come Tom keeps getting such an effect on me?
He briefly glanced back at the test subject from the corner of his eye. He could perfectly envision a sulking scowl on the eyeless man's round features, and his unique dark eyes glaring at everything to pin the blame for his misfortune; an expression so adorable Tord secretly gushed at the idea of nuzzling the grouchy Brit close-
Are you Tord or Red Leader?
I am Red Leader damnit! I feel nothing for Tom!
How can he, anyway? Tord blew whatever chance he might've ever had with Tom when they were just teens. Tom never forgave him for selling him out and dumping all the blame for their mischief on him. He never even gave him a chance to properly explain himself or apologize for his actions afterward. No. Tom hated him with every fibre of his being from that day on, all because Tord made a few mistakes. It was not fair! Tord cared about him, and frustratingly enough in a way, he'd never stopped caring and yet Tom refuses to let go of his contempt and hear him out. So what the f#ck is he supposed to do with these feelings? Suppress and turn them into hatred.
Tom means nothing to me. Tord kept telling himself decisively, even if his heart twisted painfully inside his chest. Those days are gone. My devotion is only to the Red Army, and I have no friends other than Paul and Pat. They're not even friends, really – allies, more like it.
He gave Tom one last glance, then pushed open the doors to the lab and stepped in; bringing the test subject with him.
Fidgeting in his restraints, Tom strained to see his surroundings. He tried hard not to show it but he was terrified of the experiments he'll have to go through to reach his end goal. Hospitals and doctors of any type in general unnerved him; but to have the Commie play mad scientist with him is ten times worse than any common doctor's appointment.
He broke out of his thoughts when he was suddenly heaved up and sat down on a table of sorts. Tom blinked in surprise and quickly surveyed the room. It looked similar to the "clinic" room he often visits for his monthly check-ups with Pat, but this place was more… professional looking, was the best way he could describe it.
There were weird machines, and tables with all sorts of tools surrounding them; and it didn't take Tom to be a genius to realize he was currently seated on an operating table. Tom swallowed apprehensively at the implication of this. There was a slightly metallic smell to the air, and an oppressive mechanical thrum buzzed in his ears.
Tord efficiently worked on undoing the several layers of chains restraining Tom's arms and torso, not once looking directly at the Brit.
The silence was agonizing, added with the thick tension pressing down on them it was unbearable.
Anxiety getting the best of him, Tom decided to break the silence. "So…" He began nervously, watching the Norsk unwrap him from the chains. "What are we doing?"
Tord's gaze flickered briefly to his face before returning to his bindings. "Just a scan." He replied brusquely. "To check if there are any anomalies in your body from consequences of the serum."
"So it's just an X-ray?" Tom prompted, feeling a little more alleviated.
"A little more complex than just a mere X-ray, but same principle."
The last of the chains came undone, and Tom breathed a little pleased sigh and stretched his stiff arms in relief. He did not enjoy his fleeting freedom for very long however, as Tord shoved him flat on his back and quickly clasped his wrists and ankles down on the table. Tom panicked for a moment and struggled against the idea of being held down and be left in such a vulnerable position.
"Keep still." Tord hissed through clenched teeth.
Tom ceased all movements, but not because of the Norsk's command. His eyeless gaze peered past Tord's towering form and stared at the ceiling; where a large mechanical circle with a harsh, bright white light glowed in the middle. But the real kicker are the vast selection of slender appendages hanging from the ceiling, surrounding the light, with what appeared to be utility pincers at the end of each one. The design was so unsettling it looked straight out of an alien horror movie.
The eyeless man froze before panic kicked in. "What- what- what-" He stammered, trying to get his thoughts to focus long enough for a sentence to come out. "What is that?! What the f#ck is that?" He tried pointing at the creepy contraption above, but his wrists had already been restrained to the table.
"What?" Tord blinked, genuinely mystified by Tom's spontaneous hysteria. He looked up, following Tom's gaze. "Oh, that? Those are my assembly surgeon tools." He replied nonchalantly.
"Your what now?" Tom exclaimed, his empty eyes wide open.
"Assembly surgeon tools! I have another one like this in the test room for tricky tinkering procedures, but that one is simply called: Assembly tools." Tord continued, completely oblivious to his test subject's escalating fear. "This one right here is for the purpose of operating on test subjects if the occasion ever arises." He looked up at the contraption and sighed proudly. "Such magnificent design."
Oh f#ck. Tom thought full of dread. So this thing is what's going to kill me then? This is somehow way worse than the Commie.
"You see; as much as I love science, tinkering, and all that good stuff – I'm not really a big fan of messing with-" Tord paused, poking Tom's chest with disdain as if to make a point. "Biological matter. Too messy for my tastes."
Tom scoffed disbelievingly. "Seriously? Killing people is totally okay in your books, but performing surgeries is taking it too far? What? Are you squeamish all of a sudden?"
Tord shot him a brief glance. "Of course not! I just… I have a preference of fixing machines rather than people."
"If you don't like it, why did you bother getting a doctor's degree then?"
"So that I can know what I'm doing when experimenting on my test subjects and don't accidentally kill them?" Tord retorted, stepping away from him to mess with some panels on the far left. "Books and internet articles can only take you so far. Plus; I love a good challenge to expand on my knowledge."
Contemplating this new information, Tom smirked faintly. "Does this mean you prefer astrology over biology?"
A shadow fell over him, blocking the light, and Tord reappeared by his head and stared down at him with a disapproving frown. "Astrology. Is. Not. A. Science!"
Tom shrugged innocently. "Sorry." He mumbled.
It was admittedly entertaining to push Tord's buttons on this particular topic and see his reaction, especially since Tom didn't understand much of it and could easily use his ignorance to poke some fun at the Norsk.
Tord stepped away again and returned to his spot by the panels, taking a seat and crossing his legs. "But yes, biology is my least favourite form of science." He answered, picking up a tablet and typing something down. "I mean, biology has many subcategories within itself, and I do enjoy some of them. Biomechanics? One of my favourites – if not, my favourite one by far; but simply because it is used for the creation of prosthetics, which is another recent hobby of mine I quite enjoy. But the area about plants and animals? It's such a bore! Even though I got excellent grades on all science subjects back in school, biology was still such a pain to sit through!"
As the Norsk continued to rant about all things science and his pros and cons of biology, Tom listened diligently; not because he was interested in the topic itself – heck, he can't comprehend half the things Tord was babbling about! – But Tord's excitement on the subject matter did help soothe Tom's nerves somewhat, and he avoided looking back up at the scary contraption looming menacingly over him.
"Anyways, let's get back on track shall we?" Tord stopped himself short mid-rant and looked over at Tom from where he stood. "I'm gonna scan you now, and I'm going to ask you a few questions while we wait for that to be done with. And since I know your dirty little secret now, I expect you to be more honest with your answers this time around."
Tom shot him a glare and opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by one of the robotic appendages above him whirring to life and descending down to his eye level. Tom immediately tensed up against his restraints and watched the camera-like device near him.
"Can you calm down?" Tord spoke up with an edge of annoyance to his voice. "Your heartbeat is accelerating and that can tamper with the scan results. Just take deep breaths, please."
Calm down – right. Tom wanted to laugh, but forced himself to relax as instructed instead. This lab – this operating table right here is where he is going to die, and he is somehow supposed to calm down knowing that fact. But sure! He'll calm down!
A red light turned on the device above him, and slowly began drifting down his body.
"Alright, let's get on with the questionnaire." Tord began, looking up from his tablet. "Firstly; have you been feeling ill at all in the past week? Headaches? Nausea? Fever? Dizziness?"
Tom pursed his lips. "No. A few minor headaches, but nothing dramatic." Hearing voices don't count, right?
"Did he include them on the question? ~"
No.
"Then there you go, you f#cking moron. ~"
Tord typed down the answer on his tablet, just as the red scanner passed over the test subject's face. "Okay, that's all I'm gonna need for your physical condition since we have accumulated all other related data over the months you spent here with us. So we'll get on with more complex questions from here on out, alright?"
Tom shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."
"Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases?"
Tom's mind actually made a record scratch sound at the question and he turned to Tord wide eyed. Didn't take long for him to make things weird, did he? But Tord stared back at him nonchalant, still typing away at his tablet.
"No?" Tom replied, but his confusion made it sound more like a question.
"Are you a person of risk?"
A person of risk? Does he mean-?
"Do you overshare drugs with needles or perform unprotected sex often?"
Whoa, never mind!
"Commie, these questions are really creepy." Tom whined, getting concerned over what all this is potentially leading to.
"It's protocol. Just answer the question." The Norsk replied, his voice surprisingly flat.
"No, I'm not a person of risk!" Tom snapped, growing increasingly exasperated.
"When was the last time you had sex?"
"W-what?!" Tom spluttered, his face turning a light shade of red. "Okay! – Time out! How is any of this related to the monster serum?"
"Don't be so offended. I'm only following protocol." Tord soothed, though there was some slyness evident in his tone this time around.
Tom blinked. "What kind of sh#t protocol is this then?"
Tord steadily stared back at him and unfolded his legs. "You will find out soon enough. Now… your answer, please?"
Still flustered by the unexpected turn of events, Tom decided to focus his attention on the scanner hovering over him. It neared the bottom of his feet where the device halted, made a loud confirmation ring, and then restarted; the light turning from red to green as it scanned his body back up again.
Tom heaved an annoyed sigh. "Five, maybe six years ago?" He revealed, albeit reluctantly.
"Oh… running a little bit rusty then, huh?" Was all Tord had to say on the matter. There was something peculiar in his voice though, however Tom couldn't identify if it was amusement or interest. No mockery, though; strangely enough. "You always did have trouble with the ladies…"
Tom winced. While it is true he doesn't have the easiest time finding partners to spend a night with, much less an actual relationship, that's only partial reason for his stagnant sex drive. The fate of his last one-night stand partner still haunts Tom's mind, just like all his other victims. From waking up in a blood soaked, shredded bed with body remains scattered on the floor, to the brief flashes of memories he'd get when trying to sleep. Just… the way he split her body in half so effortlessly… and the ear splitting scream that followed the sickening snap.
The gruesome memory made Tom shudder, but it didn't deter him from appearing composed. "Most people just aren't fond of eyeless guys." He stated with a casual shrug.
Fools. The thought slipped through Tord's mind before he could even process it; but rather than get frustrated with it, he simply elected to ignore it and move on to the next question. However, his heart skipped a beat once his gaze skimmed over the next set of words.
"Have you ever had sex with another man?" He drenched his voice with blatant apathy, his head lowered and tablet shielding his face from the eyeless man. As much as he wanted to glimpse Tom's face for his reaction, Tord opted to remain on a low profile and wait for the answer with bated breath.
He hates how he's been reduced to a high school chick trying to ask her crush out when this was so much more than that.
Tom didn't skip a heartbeat to reply as he uttered a dry laugh. "No."
The tension left Tord's shoulders the moment he got his answer. His mouth felt insanely dry, and he released a shaky breath as he nodded numbly and typed on the tablet. "Have you ever taken illegal drugs with a needle even one time?"
"Nope."
"Have you ever had an acupuncture?"
"Nah."
"Have you ever been to jail?"
"No." Probably should've.
They continued with this for quite a while, with Tord asking him questions about his general lifestyle and wellbeing and Tom being surprisingly honest with his answers; or at the very least concealing the more gory details to himself. The scanner drifted up and down his body, shifting to different colours every time it reached the end of his form before taking on a new shade and retracing its movements.
"Alright, the scan is nearly over and there's only one question left." Tord announced, breaking their monotonous pace.
Tom sighed in relief. "Oh, thank god."
Truth be told, his body was starting to get stiff from lying down in the exact same position for so long. He was looking forward for today's experiment and his insufferable daily dose of Tord to finally end. He'll most likely get wrapped up in chains again and stored away in some dark room until the next test; but when you are nearing the end of your life it comes to a point where you stop caring about your living conditions.
So much for enjoying the time that I have left.
"Have you ever come into contact with someone else's blood?"
Silence hangs in the air. When Tom refused to answer, Tord looked up from his tablet to peer over at him. The test subject had his head turned away and upon closer look, his muscles were tense and his hands clenched. Tord cocks his head to one side and patiently waited for a response.
"Does eating people count?" Tom's voice wavered as he finally broke the silence; his eyes clenched shut as if he were in pain.
In a way, he is.
Even though there's a harsh bright light glaring down at him, Tom found himself shrouded in darkness and excluded from the rest of the world. Worse still, there were huge shards of glass protruding from his chest, stabbing right through his body and buried deep into the operating table. Tom twitched in weak spasms, choking on his own blood with a horrible gurgling sound as a new glass shard sank deep into his throat. He couldn't breathe.
The pain was unbearable; but the voice says its good practice for him not to chicken out on the real deal. Besides, it's only a fraction compared to the pain he'd put other people through.
Tom was able to snap back to harsh reality with Tord's response breaking the ominous silence. "It does." The Norsk murmured, typing something down. "But you haven't attacked anyone in quite some time, you claim to feel fine, and all the blood tests we ran so far showed no signs of you contracting any illnesses. Further testing must be done to investigate the matter closely."
"Then that's it? We're done here?" Tom prompted as the scanner shut off with a low whistle and returned to its original position on the ceiling.
"With the scan, yes. But, oh, we're far from done."
Tord made his way around the panels toward him. With graceful strides he reached the operating table and stared down at his test subject with newly reinvigorated interest and excitement. "I told you we're going to get results out of you before the week is over, and I plan to do just that."
Staring back at him, Tom gulped apprehensively. He felt sure his heart was pounding hard enough for Tord to hear without the help of any device. He immediately tensed up when both sides of his face were gently cupped by a mismatched set of hands.
"The next few days will be very important for the both of us; we're gonna be performing tests one right after the other non-stop – with the exception of bathroom breaks and feeding hours, of course!" Tord revealed with barely suppressed giddiness.
Tom's heart pounded faster; and he wished he could shrink away from Tord's intense gaze and touch, and just disappear into thin air. "But-b-but but what about sleeping? A-and your work as leader? Surely you have other important things to do?"
Tord circled him, letting his robotic hand drift downward and slither over his chest. It felt like a snake, cold and heavy. Tom stiffened in discomfort at his touch. It was too gentle to be trusted.
"What could be more important than finally getting to see my greatest creation come to life?" Tord whispered smugly, flicking the fingers of his organic hand under Tom's chin teasingly. "I've waited ten years for this project to go somewhere, and now that I'm this close to have it be realized I won't stop for anything until I get my monster."
Well, this just complicates things; but perhaps Tom can use it to his advantage. If they both exhaust themselves by the end of the week, Tom will be weaker – not enough to stop himself from shifting by any means, but enough to dent him significantly – and Tord will be prone to making more mistakes. So when the Commie decides to have a closer look on how he ticks... just one wrong incision could do the trick, and Tom's nightmare will finally be over. Thanks to their deal, Tord can't use anaesthetics or any type of pain relieving drugs so his chances of dying are doubled.
"But don't worry, Thomas." He broke out of his thoughts as Tord continued speaking. The Norsk appeared triumphant as he walked his robotic hand on two fingers farther down Tom's chest with a huge contented grin on his face. "I'll have you well looked after. I take good care of all my test subjects."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Is that why they're all dead?" He shot back in a deadpanned tone.
His body suddenly convulsed and cramped up in pain as jolts of electricity shot through him. Tom hissed in pain and writhed against his restraints. Tord stared down at him, still smiling, but obviously in disdain as he administered the controlled shock on the test subject.
This will be, perhaps, the longest week of Tom's entire life.
Things sure seem to be heating up!
I got a small query for you guys. How do you pronounce Reagan's name? When I created him, it was with the pronounciation Re-gun in mind, but apperantly the most popular way of pronouncing it is Ray-gun; so I'm legit curious to see how many people pronounce it the same way I do.
Fun fact! I wrote the scene with Edd fighting the thugs at a bar in Edinburgh while in a school trip, and I was having a bit of trouble writing that scene and just asked around my friends for like suggestions on what should happen; so you can partially thank my teachers and collegues for a good part of that scene haha XD
What do you guys think? Don't forget to leave a review letting me know what you think so far! I'm always interested to hear your thoughts! So that's it, guys. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thank you all so much for your support, I really appreciate it. Feel free to come by my tumblr Heather1815 to chat or ask me questions. See yah all in two weeks from now! ;)