Standing tall above the world, Tord watched in immense satisfaction and pride as his soldiers saluted while the common people bowed down to him. The leaders of the world have submitted to his demands and put him in charge without much trouble. All they needed was a brief show of force to demonstrate who they are going up against, and the rest was history.
He did it. He took over the world, and is now ready to lead it forward to a new glorious era!
He was brought out of his musings unexpectedly by a pair of arms wrapping around his neck. Tord turned, surprised to find Tom of all people standing by his side at a time like this. But when he peered into the man's dark and unique set of eyes, instead of finding the usual contempt blazing straight back at him, he only found intense longing and warmth.
Tord's heart skipped a beat, and his breath hitched in his throat at their closeness. Tom leaned into him, and almost automatically, he wrapped his mismatched set of arms around the eyeless man. Their faces were inches apart from each other now. Their lips parted…
Blinking his eyes open, Tord stirred awake from his nap – feeling deeply confused, hurt, content, and frustrated all at once.
He hastily removed the Dreamcatcher from his ear. Even his own inventions have betrayed him. Tord had hoped for dreams of grandeur, not taunts of an outcome he could never have! Now he remembers why he stopped using the device in the first place, and handed it to Tom instead – the Dreamcatcher was a cruel invention. Showing what the wearer wants, so tantalizingly close and within reach, but in reality so far from the truth.
Groaning, Tord sat up in his chair and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eye. While he popped some of his joints in the process of stretching his limbs, he looked over his test subject; still propped up on the operating table in upright position.
Since the serum injection, Tom has been slipping in and out of consciousness and appeared to be dazed whenever he was "awake" – babbling incoherently as he panted for breath and trashed in his restraints.
Tord lifted his robotic arm to check on the data. They're about to hit the twelve hour mark since the time of injection, and Tom's vitals show promise as they continued to be in stable condition. But nothing extremely exciting seems to be happening at the moment. Tord sighed. He knew Tom wasn't going to turn immediately after giving him another dose of the serum, but this is taking too long!
Just thinking about his greatest invention finally coming to fruition sent spikes of excitement jolting through him. He can't wait to witness the transformation! His monster is nearly within reach; all that stands in his way from getting what he wants is an infuriating, grumpy, dishevelled, handsome former alcoholic eyeless man.
"Argh!" Tord fumed. He stood up abruptly from his chair and made his way around the control panels towards his test subject. "Why do you keep on having such an effect on me? I'm supposed to be over you!" He growled out loud, albeit under his breath.
He wasn't too worried about Tom hearing him. The Brit was so out of it thanks to the serum; he couldn't pay attention to anything that was going on before he blacks out again. Tom's eyes were closed, head slumped forward, though he continued whining quietly in discomfort and his breathing was heavy.
Taking another pace forward until they were practically nose to nose with each other, Tord eyed his test subject with a calculating gaze. "What are the odds that you of all people get to be the one thing I'm missing to complete this project?" He pondered, his eyes narrowed. "I hope you know that I never meant to give you the first dose of the serum. Had I known it would bring you back into my life like this, along with these annoying feelings I have for you, I would have tried a lot harder to stop you from drinking that tainted mug of coffee."
The only response he got from the semi-unconscious Brit was a low agonized moan.
Tord frowned. "It's just not fair! I don't want these dumb emotions – I don't need them! Love-" he spat out the word venomously, "doesn't benefit me in any way. It won't get me in future history books, nor make me a brilliant inventor; much less put me in supreme command of the world! So why should I care, huh? Especially when it concerns a guy that hates my guts and I blew any chances I might have ever had with him?" He found himself pacing back and forth, ranting quite lividly to the passed out test subject.
Are you Tord or Red Leader?
Digging his fingers into his scalp, the Norwegian man hissed out through gritted teeth at the repetitive words ringing inside his head.
Red Leader! Dammit – I am Red Leader – I'm supposed to be Red Leader!
He couldn't understand how these insignificant feelings could cause such damage to his Psyche. If the Red Leader can be toppled this easily, then what hope does he have taking on the world?
He stopped and stared at Tom indignantly. What's so great about love anyway? Paul and Patrick were the first thing that came to mind. How the two soldiers often held hands, looked out for one another, and kept gazing into each other's eyes with such care and devotion. Tord doesn't get it, but he admits they're tooth rottenly sweet together. But he doesn't want that for himself! To be seen as some love sick fool pining after a guy way out of his league. He's meant to be better than that.
If there's one thing his absent and neglectful mother ever taught him, is that love isn't worth a damn.
Tord can't remember a time when his family was ever the ideal loving home that it was supposed to be. He can't even imagine such ludicrous idea, but it existed, at one point. His parents and him, together and happy. That only lasted a whole four years, before his mother decided to take off to England with him in tow, and leave his father behind in Norway because of a condition he couldn't help after he started displaying signs of being seriously ill. Because that's what you do when the people you apparently love become too much trouble to handle. You give up on them.
Of course, Tord hadn't given up on his father. Throughout his childhood he would travel back to his homeland every winter to visit his dad and grandparents – perhaps the only parenting he's ever gotten, but a whole lot better than the alternative from his dear mother, which was none. However, as to be expected his father eventually lost the fight… and that's when his mother's lesson sunk in. You either give up on people, or allow yourself to get hurt as a result. Clever. Cruel, but clever.
He was brought out of his thoughts by another set of incoherent mumbles from Tom. He fixed his focus on him. Tom's eyes were open now, barely slits, looking around the room blearily and his body trembling all over.
Tord's gaze softened. Tom had looked so frightened when he had approached with the serum filled needle it broke Tord's composure, and in a moment of weakness he had actually stooped forward and given the eyeless man a kiss on the cheek. Tord's face flushed red just thinking about it. That was so stupid of him! And then after a pitiful attempt of covering it with a lame taunt, Tord proceeded to stab him in his panic with the needle before a proclamation of disgust or rejection could be made.
God, he was pathetic.
More agonized moans slipped out of Tom.
Still, it can't be helped.
Mentally shrugging, Tord lifted his hands to cradle Tom's face only to flinch back in alarm. Tom was ungodly cold, like a chip of ice.
Tord quickly checked his vitals through their chip implant connection with his arm. Tom's heartbeat is a tad slower than usual, but nothing alarming other than that.
Being reassured everything is fine, Tord proceeded to gently cup the Brit's face in his hands and slowly lifted his head. He swore he felt his heart skip a beat when Tom unconsciously leaned into his touch. All the warmth and affection he had once felt for Tom threatened to well up again inside him, but Tord ruthlessly pushed it down again.
Tord gulped. "Can you hear me, Thomas?"
Tom blinked slowly, but remained unresponsive.
Shaking his head he sighed, and steadily began massaging the sides of Tom's face to lull him to rest. Had he really loved him once? Tord had been a different person then. Now he was the Red Leader, and he walked a path Tom couldn't even dream of. For a brief moment Tord couldn't help but wonder how his life would've turned out now if he hadn't messed things up with Tom. Could they have had a chance? Did they ever? Would Tom be faithfully standing by his side like he saw in his dream?
Perhaps he should get some more sleep himself. There's no point lamenting the past now, and all that could've would've should've. Maybe after resting he can put aside his confusing unwanted feelings, and hopefully, wake up just in time to witness Tom's transformation.
(Meanwhile…)
Matt narrowed his eyes as he glanced out the bakery's window at the setting sun blazing between the buildings on the far horizon. His feet ached. He went out of his way to visit this brand new bakery Mark had recommended to get some pastries for their chick flick movie night, just to make a nice gesture for his neighbour. Eduardo, as always was too busy with his job to join them, but Matt didn't mind.
However, despite his exciting plans for tonight, Matt was overwhelmed with concern for his best friend. Edd is meeting with Reagan again.
Matt already distrusts Reagan as it is, but the last few notable times Edd had gone out with the Irishman only caused his worry to spike. Firstly the night Edd had come home bruised and with a black eye. Matt had a fit! Edd told him he was fine and nothing happened, but judging by the haunted look on the brunet's eyes he clearly only said that to stop Matt from fussing over him. Then yesterday Edd rushed out in the middle of their afternoon tea after getting a notification on his phone, and Matt instantly knew it was Reagan.
Now they're heading out together again in a few days.
"Here are the éclairs you ordered, sir!"
Breaking out of his troubling thoughts by the cashier's voice, Matt quickly paid for the pastries, thanked the woman behind the desk, and took his leave.
The cold breeze chilled him at once as he stepped outside the establishment. Matt adjusted the scarf around his neck and sighed.
A sudden loud car honk made him jump in alarm, and nearly drop his box of éclairs.
"Watch where you're going, stupid idiot!"
Investigating the sound of the commotion, Matt realized it was only a car driver on the opposite side of the street; shouting at some poor pedestrian for not being more cautious. However, Matt's pity and shock quickly shifted to surprise once he spotted a tuft of blond hair belonging to a scruffy looking man with stubble and green eyes.
Reagan!
The Irishman scurried past the car, blew the driver a raspberry, and continued along his merry way.
Matt observed him from across the street. If Tom were here instead, what would he do? His fears for Edd felt more important than anything right now. It occupied his mind, leaving no room to think about anything else. Matt came to a hard decision—if Edd wouldn't listen to reason, then perhaps this Reagan fellow would.
With a plan in mind, Matt scampered to the other side of the road and began following Reagan from afar. The snow that had been threatening all day finally began to fall. It was fluttering steadily all around by the time Matt had a clear view of Reagan in his sights.
However, his pace slowed once it dawned on him the reality of the situation. What will he say once he catches up to Reagan anyway? Matt didn't have long to ponder that, as far ahead he watched Reagan make a sharp turn to the right and disappear from view.
Hurrying to catch up, Matt came across a narrow dark street where Reagan must've ducked into. Matt swallowed. Hyper-alert, he wearily walked into the unknown location and began looking around for the blond man.
The rattling sound of a trash can tipping over the ground made Matt freeze.
Realizing the mistake he might have made following a man he hardly knows and doesn't trust at all into a shady area, Matt urgently ducked behind a dumpster. Who knows what or who could be dwelling in this town's every nook and cranny?
Matt turned, still crouching, and began to creep away. He heard glass crunch behind him. Matt glanced over his shoulder, his heart pounding. Through a quick peek from the corner of his eye he saw Reagan step out into the open, a lit cigarette between his fingers.
"Aiight, ginger." He called out flatly. "Come out now. I know you're there! You're not being exactly stealthy with your flashy hair."
Matt didn't move.
"Ginger, this part of town isn't known for its docile residents." Reagan sounded impatient now. "I seriously advise you to come out now and get this over with before some less than friendly folk decide to join us!"
Seeing no other choice now that he's been caught, Matt crept slowly from his hiding place.
Reagan stared at him, a wide grin on his face. "Well, isn't this a nice surprise? Sup, ginger!" He took a long drag from his cigar and blew smoke into the air. "I must say, that was pretty ballsy of your part to follow me. Even if I did see you coming from a mile away. Ever thought of working the blizzard shift in a traffic with that hair?"
Clenching his hands, Matt let him poke fun. Too nervous to stand up for himself.
"Anyways, what can I help you with?" Reagan turned nonchalant.
"I was looking for you, actually." Matt whispered, painfully aware he was in a dangerous area.
"Really? Well, congratulations – you did it! Good on you. See yah around, ginger!"
Reagan turned away to leave without a second thought. Panic and irritation seized Matt, and he dashed forward and ducked in front of the Irishman to block his path. Reagan stared at him, wildly amused.
"I came to talk to you about Edd." Matt pressed.
Reagan tipped his head. "Why? Is something the matter with him? I hope not."
Matt was irritated by his casual attitude. "He's fine!" He growled, his caution swept away by annoyance. "But he won't be for much longer if he carries on meeting you!"
The Irishman blinked, looking hurt and genuinely perplexed. "Whatever do you mean?"
Matt took a pace forward. "Listen here, buddy; I don't trust you one bit. Ever since you got here and showed up in Edd's life you caused nothing but trouble for us! Edd was going to recover. He was doing fine until he met you and started acting up again!" Now that he spoke these thoughts he's been having for months out loud, Matt couldn't control the resentment and anguish he felt for his situation to remain subdued. He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "I want you to stay away from him. His life is coming apart with you around. If you care about him at all, if you really do, you would listen to me!"
Panting, Matt stood with bated breath for a response. To his surprise he felt icily calm. A flicker of hope surged inside of him when Reagan appeared to contemplate his words. But that hope was dashed when he let out a boisterous cold laugh.
"I think you're a little bit confused there, my ginger associate." Reagan drawled slyly. "Are you sure youare not doing this for yourself rather than Eddie's sake? If he was unhappy with me being around he would just simply tell me. But the fact that you're here instead proves you're the only one suffering from this arrangement we have going." He took a threatening step forward, his eyes darkening. "My my who knew you could be this self-centred? Your friend is finally getting happy, and you want to take that away from him, huh?"
Matt took a few steps back apprehensively, but refused to back down.
"I only want what's best for Edd!" He hissed decisively, holding his ground by meeting the blond's gaze evenly. "And I'm pretty sure you're not it; so if you can kindly keep your distance from us-"
"No can do, ginger." Reagan cut him off with a shake of his head and shrugged. "I mean, hey, it's not my fault you can't make Eddie happy anymore."
His words were like a slap to the face, and Matt reared back in shock; eyes wide. "W-what?" He stuttered.
"I didn't wanna say anything, but taking into account everything Eddie has told me about you, it's clear you have no idea what you're doing." Reagan went on maliciously, driven by the spike of despair he saw flash in the Brit's blue eyes. "So why not just leave things as it is? Accept you can't help him, and look out only for yourself? Then neither of you have to be miserable."
Matt could hardly believe what he was hearing. Is he for real? He shook his head crossly. "No way! Edd is my best friend," he spat, "and I won't let you hurt him!"
"Hurt him?" Reagan echoed. "Now now, who said anything about hurting anyone here? We're merely friends ourselves. No crime there, surely?"
"Look, I don't know what your intentions with Edd are, and to be completely honest I don't really care to know about it either." Matt murmured firmly. "I only want to keep him safe and happy again." He continued with a newfound determination coursing through him. "And if you wanna get to him, you're gonna have to get through me first, pal."
Delight sparked in Reagan's eyes. "Sounds fair." He began to look him over. Matt had to force himself not to tremble as the other man's gaze hovered over him. "Hmm, purple is a good colour on you, ginger. It suits you."
Matt's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Wha-? He glanced down at his hoodie.
In the instant he was distracted; a fist struck him square in the face. Matt staggered back in alarm, lost his balance, and fell. The box of pastries he carried flew from his grasp and the contents scattered all over the filthy ground. The pain finally registered in his brain, and the fact he'd just been punched in the face dawned on him.
Reagan eyed him coldly, still grinning. "Oh yeah. Purple is definitely your colour."
Stunned, Matt carefully touched his own face to analyse the damage. His fingers grazed over his rapidly swelling eye and he whimpered. Memories of a similar event flashed briefly through his head.
"Go home, ginger." Reagan took a threatening step forward. "You're out of your league here. The sooner you accept Eddie is as good as mine, the better off you'll be. And if you try to get in my way again, I'll just have to decorate the rest of your pretty face the same lovely shade of purple."
Matt stared at him in dismay, his eyes glistening. He didn't know what Reagan meant when he said that Edd is as good as his, but fear swelled from deep in his belly. Then without another word he turned away and fled deeper into the shadowy narrow streets, stumbling blindly through the unknown area as tears began to shed.
Watching the retreating Brit with immense satisfaction, Reagan cracked his knuckles. The idiot is heading deeper into dangerous territory. Although, if his old associates were to stumble upon the ginger and make prey out of him, Reagan wouldn't bat an eye. If anything, it will aid him getting more leverage over Eddie into joining the Red Army.
Reagan shrugged and left, returning to the busy main streets.
(Meanwhile…)
It was already night time by the time Eduardo began his journey home, after another day wasted on useless information and dead ends. Frustration bubbled up inside of him. You would think he was already used to the feeling of disappointment after going out again and again, only to be met with the same results. But Eduardo was stubborn, and doesn't know when to quit. He will head out and investigate every damn time if there's even the slightly chance of truth behind the claims.
Nearly a year of looking for answers, and he's still hasn't gotten anywhere with this.
His steps faltered until he came to a complete stop. Breathing out a tired, weary breath, Eduardo found himself peering up at the dark starry sky. A sudden wave of longing and grief welled up inside of him.
If only Jon were still here…
Dismissing his thoughts, Eduardo forced himself to carry on.
I wouldn't be out here in the first place if he were.
He resumed his walk home. It's not exactly advisable to be on the verge of a breakdown in such a dangerous part of town, even if he is already used to roaming through this area.
Crossing the street, the sound of muffled sniffles suddenly made itself known to him. At first he thought it was just a trick of the wind, but when he heard a particularly loud sob he halted in his steps. He gazed around wearily. Sounds like someone crying and possibly in need of help, but Eduardo is no fool. This could also be a trick to lure unsuspecting victims into an ambush by the many gangs that dwell in these parts.
Cautiously, he decided to investigate; keeping his footsteps light as he followed the noise to its source. Eduardo began to creep slowly forward, ducking behind corners and trash cans for cover to peer out from behind.
He could glimpse the looming figure of a playground just ahead of him. The paint scraped off, long since eroded by the rain and wind, and most of the equipment was worn down and broken. Eduardo paused to listen. The crying was definitely coming from there.
Leaning out from his hiding place for a better look at his surroundings, Eduardo stiffened when his gaze landed on a figure, back turned toward him, sitting on the only functioning swing. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, he blinked in surprise. The colour of the man's hair was unmistakable; as even in the night, the bright orange hair still gleams under the moonlight. It was Matt.
What is the airhead doing here?! Eduardo thought in exasperation, fully stepping out of his hiding place to confront the man. First the loser, now him, too? Do they have a death wish by coming here or something?
"Hey, you!"
Matt glanced halfway back at him, the left side of his face concealed. His gaze shimmered with surprise at the sight of him.
"What do you think you're doing out here on your own?" Eduardo snapped as he approached. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is, especially at night?"
Trembling, Matt backed away from him; still keeping his face hidden from the aggressive brunet.
"E-Eduardo! I- I-I'm sorry!" He sniffled, trying to choke down his sobs. "I- I- I went out- I went on a stroll and got- must've gotten lost."
Eduardo looked at him in disbelief. Matt was quite clearly distressed by something, and the fact he was trying to lie and hide his face doesn't make things better. Something unexpected surged up inside of him he couldn't quite explain.
"Were you ambushed by muggers?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes.
"W-what?"
"Tell me!" Eduardo stepped closer; trying to get a good view of the other man's face but Matt kept turning away from him. "Something happened, didn't it?" He grabbed Matt's hands and forced them apart to stop them from covering his face.
"No!"
Eduardo froze.
There were tear stains running down the ginger's face, but most startling of all was the large purple-black bruise around Matt's right eye, which has swollen shut. Carefully, almost gently, Eduardo grazed his fingers past the wound. Matt flinched and closed his eyes, as if he were bracing himself for another punch. An action Eduardo saw one too many times in the past; and that stirred something deep within him.
Levelling the fury in his voice, Eduardo composed himself enough to finally ask: "Who did this?"
Matt winced. "P-please-"
"Get it together! What happened?" Eduardo shook him urgently for answers.
That apparently did it. Matt burst into tears and threw himself at Eduardo, his arms flying out to wrap around the larger man as he buried his face on the burly brunet's chest.
Eduardo went rigid, his arms stiff on either side of him.
He looked down at the desolate man bawling his eyes out on him, babbling incoherently through sobs about something. Eduardo tried his best to listen.
"I- I- I was- I- I was only trying to help Edd! I'm s-so worried about him! He isn't- he hasn't been the same ever since Tom died, and then Reagan showed up and made everything worse! I'm afraid that Reagan is going to take him away and I'm gonna lose Edd forever and so I tried to warn Edd, but he wouldn't listen to me! Then I tried to warn Reagan and- and- and-"
"Okay, okay! Calm down!" Eduardo drew away, huge eyed as he tried to process all the information that's been dumped on him. "I'm not sure I understand what's going on, but its best we get out of here and continue this conversation somewhere safer."
Matt's shoulders drooped and he let out a heart wrenching sob. "What was I thinking? I'm such an idiot!"
He sounded so upset that it momentarily melted Eduardo's anger and concern. "You're right, you are an idiot." He grunted softly. "But your heart was in the right place."
Still covering his injured eye, Matt leaned against him wearily.
"Come on." Eduardo nudged him forward. "Let's go home."
With a steady hand on the other's shoulder, Eduardo guided the way home. With his free hand, he quickly messaged Mark to inform him of the situation. He had a feeling Matt would be more comfortable once the wound is properly taken care of.
There it is again. Eduardo took notice of the strange feeling that had overcome him just then. When he saw Matt's bruise, and all the other times the ginger had needed help. Why? He pushed these questioning thoughts aside for now, and focused on escorting themselves safely back home.
(Meanwhile…)
Time ticked by agonizingly slow for Tom.
He felt cold and warm at the same time, his body weak, drenched in sweat as he panted for air that never seemed sufficient enough for his lungs. He fought to stay awake, fearing that unconsciousness would mean the monster's return; but his eyelids were so heavy and his body drained of energy so fast. The voice kept cackling in his head. Taunting him to make it through with this, or else.
To make this horrible experience somewhat bearable and get his mind off things however, Tom tried to block out the voice and the pain shooting through his veins to concentrate on his memories. His friends, more specifically.
Tom's eyes closed again, taking deep breaths. Was that the cold tugging him to unconsciousness, or was that longing for home? His heart ached to see his friends again. How are they faring without him? Were they happier now? He hoped so. Tom held back a smile when he thought of all the crazy adventures the duo might be getting into nowadays. He wished he could see them one last time. Tom never thought he would miss Matt's bone-crushing hugs or Edd's painful puns as much as he did.
Home. Longing seared through his chest.
"Fool. ~" The voice hissed contemptuously, enveloping him in a shroud of despair and stabbing sharp little needles all over his body. "You don't have a home. You belong nowhere. ~"
Of course, Tom conceded wistfully, they are doing better now without me around to give them more things to worry about.
It took a long time, but after a while the burning sensations running through his body had ceased, and now Tom felt both cold and empty. Sparks of pain ignited deep in his guts. All was darkness and cold. Tom had never been so cold. He felt as if every scrap of warmth and life were being sucked out of his body. His legs twitched as painful cramps clutched at them. He imagined that he was made of ice, and if he tried to move he would shatter into a thousand brittle fragments.
A sudden blaring alarm jolted Tom back to earth. He blearily opened his eyes in time to see Tord rouse from his slumber on the desk across from him. The Norsk stretched his arms out with a massive yawn.
"What a nap!" Tord slurred in mind-yawn. "How far along we are now?" He lifted his robotic arm up to his face to check the data, only for his facial expression to fall the next second. Tom raised his eyebrows. "We hit the twenty four hour mark."
The Norsk swivelled his head to look over Tom, their gazes locked. For a while, all they did was stare at each other. Tom didn't understand what that statement meant, but judging by the way the Commie hopped off his seat and stomped his way over to him, Tom guessed something had not gone according to plan.
Tord glared at him as he approached. "How," he seethed through clenched teeth, "have you still not shifted yet? You haven't even displayed any signs of the serum having affected you! How's that possible?"
It took a while, but his words finally registered in Tom's brain and realization dawned on him. Does that mean I did it? He thought, holding back a relieved sigh. Instead, he mustered the strength to let out a weak laugh and shrugged.
"Just don't feel up to it."
Tord scowled at him.
"Wait! I feel something!" Tom suddenly blurted out, his body going rigid and his expression dead serious.
Tord blinked, his single eye sparking with fresh interest. "What is it?"
The Brit did not answer. His body started convulsing, twitching here and there on occasion. Tom heaved for air. "So-something i s going on! I-I think it's happening!" From the corner of his eye he noticed Tord, lean in closer; ambition flared up in his gray eye as he gazed at him.
Tom could see in his gaze how desperately he wanted him to turn monster. Tord was focused on him as if he were the most intriguing thing in the world. It unnerved him. But he pushed his concerns aside for now and poke fun at him while he still can. When Tord leaned even closer, excitement buzzing through him as he expected Tom's body to start bending and breaking any second now, Tom suddenly stilled. The Norsk blinked, still expecting something to happen.
All of a sudden, as he leaned in closer, Tom lurched forward and belched right to his face. Tord jerked away in disgust.
"Ops! False alarm." Tom jeered smugly.
Apparently, Tord didn't think the prank was particularly funny. Tom hardly had time to process what was happening before the restraints that had been previously holding him down clasped open with the push of a lever. Scowling, Tord lunged at him and grasped him by the throat. He struggled, wailing, as Tord dragged him out of the laboratory down the hallway, and flung him into a bare empty room. The door slammed shut behind them, and Tom found himself in an enclosed space with a very pissed off Norwegian.
"I had enough of your silly little games and pointless resistance, Thomas! It was entertaining at first, but now it's just pissing me the f#ck off." Tord stalked closer to him, the hem of his uniform swirling around his legs. "You're going to transform. Now!"
Tom staggered to his feet, his body drained from strength. "Don't feel like it, Commie." He chuckled. Self-preservation was tossed out the window a long time ago.
"Now, Thomas. I'm not asking." Tord growled.
"Tell you what; I'm gonna give you a hint." Tom mock contemplated. "You want the monster? You're gonna have to take a deeper look-see in here." He jabbed a finger to his own chest to insinuate his point.
Tord chuckled darkly. "Oh, I will. Once I'm sure we've exhausted all other options first, of course." He towered over the test subject, staring him down and stifling the urge to discipline him now. His creation was within his reach; he can feel it!
"Now,"
Everything went down fast. With precise and swift moves, Tord had grabbed a hold of Tom, turned him around to pin him against the wall, and wrenched the Brit's arms out behind his back hard. Tom hissed out in pain, his head pressed firmly against the wall, and struggled to escape.
"Turn."
Tom spat on his face in retaliation.
"Turn!" Tord's grip tightened until he felt the bones in his grasp grinding.
"F#ck you, Commie!" His snarl finished off with a whimper of pain.
"Last chance, Thomas. Turn."
In a sudden burst of strength, Tom heaved up and slammed the back of his head repeatedly against Tord's face until the latter released him. Once free, Tom quickly put some distance between them.
A sharp, metallic scent drifted to his nostrils and Tom tensed.
He turned around. Across from him, Tord was hunched over with both hands covering his face. He lifted his head, revealing a trickle of blood trailing down his bruised nose and coating the corners of his mouth. Tord glared at him, curling his lip. The sight of the crimson fluid dripping down the Norsk's face made Tom freeze and his mouth involuntarily start to water. Gulping, he took a couple paces back; trying to keep his breathing even and focus his sights anywhere else but the blood.
However, his sudden shift in attitude and strange behaviour caught Tord's eye. He scrutinized the eyeless man; taking note of his stiff posture, wide empty eyes, trembling legs, and the bare hint of saliva glistening on the corner of his mouth. All these factors added up perfectly in his head, and Tord suddenly smirked.
"Oh," he practically purred with delight, dabbing his robotic fingers in the blood pooling above his lips. "You want human blood, is that it? Well, why didn't you say so before?" It was so logical! If Tom had issue eating ordinary meat, of course he would react negatively to the sight of blood. Why didn't he think of that before?
Seeing the crazed look growing in his working eye, Tom instantly knew he was in deep trouble now. Mind racing, Tom tried to think of a plan to escape, or at the very least resist the temptation the fresh blood was driving him. However, before he could so much as conjure up an idea for his dire situation, Tord had pressed one the buttons of his arm and Tom's body locked up at once; his limbs going stiff and tucked up close. Tom's panicked shout was muffled by his forcibly clenched jaw.
He could do nothing but watch apprehensively as Tord drew nearer, blood glistening in his fingers. He grabbed Tom by his lower jaw, leaning uncomfortably close to his face until the stench of blood overwhelmed Tom's senses. The eyeless man tried to resist by closing his eyes shut and holding his breath. But Tord waited too long to be delayed now. He expertly pried Tom's mouth open, and dipped a blood soaked finger across his tongue.
He quickly stepped back, released Tom of his paralysis, and watched the eyeless man fall to his knees and gag.
Tom continuously retched on the ground, one hand up to his throat, trying to rid of the disgusting taste of blood in his mouth. But it was too late. Already he can feel the beginnings of an ungodly energy pulsating through his body.
His hands clenched. A shudder rippled through his body. No… please no...
Tord watched him with bated breath. "You are worth for nothing, Tom." He growled. "All I want from you… is my monster. That's all you're good to me for."
"You want the monster so badly?"
Tom spoke with a wavering breath. He slowly lifted his head to meet Tord's expectant gaze. His empty eyes narrowed to a glare, tears pricking the corners. Purple wisps billowed from his sockets.
"Then you can have it…"
The moment he finished speaking, his body started convulsing more violently. Tom screeched in agony and fell on his side, clutching at his head. Another desperate cry of pain erupted from Tom, and then broke off with a ghastly choking sound. His body convulsed, limbs jerking and flailing as they turned purplish-black. His hands enlarged, the tips of his fingers shredded as large sharp claws grew out from beneath the skin. His teeth started falling off one by one, being pushed out by the layer of fangs hidden beneath his gums. Through the powerful haze of pain clouding his mind, Tom watched his shifting limbs with continuous horror and despair. He had failed. What will become of him now? His screams and grunts of pain turned to snarls of rage half-way through the transformation. His consciousness was gone. His feet broke, snapped and mended, shifting to a more beastly look. His ears elongated to the point where they were nearly as tall as his head. A long tail manifested behind him, lashing back and forth rapidly. His hair grew longer; wilder somehow. A pair of pinkish-purple horns grew out from the top of his head, puncturing through the skin, and loomed tall as the creature stood at its full height with a loud roar.
Tord watched the process in awe, a triumphant smile crossing his features. However, he could not admire his creation for long as the half-human half-monster creature rounded on him, baring his teeth in the beginning of a snarl and ears flat against the sides of his head, before lashing out at him with one massive claw.
Tom, or whatever was left of him now, grabbed Tord by the front of his uniform and roared at his face. Quickly jumping into action, Tord charged the repulsor of his robotic arm. The creature lunged forward, teeth bared and aiming for the Norsk's throat. Tord blasted him back with a couple shots of his repulsor before stilling.
Repetitive use of the repulsor could cause overheating and trigger glitches, so he had to be cautious and use it sparingly.
The monster staggered back, landing on a crouch and on all fours. He shook himself, as if to get rid of the damage. He then growled at Tord in rage, circling him briefly, tail lashing, before pouncing with outstretched claws.
Tord aimed his repulsor to blast the creature again. However, before the beast could even come close to reach him several chains appeared seemingly from out of nowhere and latched around the monster's neck and claws. It pulled the asset back with a harsh tug, cutting off his snarl into a cry, and had him chained to the wall as he trashed around to free himself and get to his prey.
"Are you alright, Red Leader?"
Tord blinked in surprise and whipped around. Paul and Patrick stood stoically behind him, next to each other. Patrick held a controller in his hand, presumably to the chains that had impeded the monster from reaching their leader. Their faces were inexpressive for the most part, but Tord could see the concern and shock in their eyes as they gazed back and forth between him and what once used to be Thomas.
"I'm fine." Tord breathed, turning back to his creation; still snarling and feebly trying to reach him with his claws, jaws snapping at the air. His eyes softened and he began to chuckle lightly.
"I… I did it. I finally got my monster."
Hey what is up you guys, this is Flower1815 here - hope you all enjoyed the new chapter! This one was a bit shorter than what I've been posting as of late; hope you didn't mind too much. What do you all think of it so far? Tom finally shifted! What will become of him now? And what is the deal with Eduardo? Leave your reviews - that'll be much appreciated. Thank you all so very much for all of your support! Hop on by my tumblr Heather1815 if you want to ask me anything, send fanart, or simply wanna say hi or something! See ya'll in two weeks! ;)