Hey guys! This chapter is a little shorter than what you're used to and nothing big really happens, but I still hope you'll enjoy it regardless. This is the start of frequent updates. Once every two weeks on saturdays. See ya'll later! ;)
"You worthless vermin! You seriously fell for their act, again? You honestly believe anything these treacherous soldiers tell you? Are you that desperate to avoid your rightful fate? ~" The voice bellowed, stabbing Tom repeatedly in the abdomen with every word it spoke. All things considered, Tom thought the voice was behaving a lot tamer than he'd imagined for having broken all but the one rule. Oddly enough, he also thought he could detect a note of desperation in the voice's tone. "They would do anything to keep you compliant to their plans; even saying what you want to hear. But the truth is that they are disgusted with you. They hate you. They don't care about you. Once you've served your purpose they will get rid of you. You need to die now! ~"
It felt as though his mind had been seized in an iron grip. Tom winced as he was stabbed again and again.
"Are you doing okay, Tom?" Paul's voice broke him out of his daze. Tom blinked back to reality, noticing the Commander staring at him with concern.
After his shower, Pat and he chatted some more before the Polish soldier had to trade places with Paul because of other duties he was needed for. Tom and Paul talked for a bit, and they made their way to the latter's quarters where they decided to play some video games together to relax and pass the time. At some point however, the voice gained enough strength to torment Tom with his doubts.
"I'm fine, Paul." Tom reassured, throwing in a small fake smile like he was taught to do to cover up his secret; as he has done so many times in the past. "Just… amazed by your skills in this game. Like; damn! I can't even land one hit on you! You're kicking my ass here."
Paul grinned and puffed his chest with pride. "I spent many hours practicing all the right combos with my favourite character, just to get the upper hand on Tord! Sometimes he and I have competitions, and the loser has to surrender coffee rights for a few days. So all my time spent in this game was definitely worth it."
Tom chuckled, and turned back to the game with a sigh. Despite confessing what could be argued is his darkest secret of planning to kill himself, he hadn't mentioned the foreboding voice that torments his mind and tortures him into silence on nearly a daily basis. How can he? It's already a miracle in itself that he hasn't been shunned for his awful actions, but if they find out there's a disembodied voice talking to him they'll think he's just unstable!
A rumble in his head, like flames building and growing stronger: "You know I am right! They are only using you – while they may pretend to be all nice and caring, they are really laughing and mocking you behind your back. The greatest con of the century! Tricking an absolutely good for nothing shell of a man into doing their bidding by making him believe he is loved and actually worth a damn! ~"
Trying to ignore the knives piercing his gut, Tom put his focus on the game and hoped to distract himself from his troubles with a little bit of fun.
His character barely had the chance to do anything before Paul's character was on him, and ruthlessly jumped kicked him until his HP drained down to zero in a matter of a few seconds.
"Ah! Yes!" Paul cheered, jumping from his seat in excitement.
Tom slouched on the sofa and booed dryly. "This is hardly fair." He complained jokingly. "I demand a rematch!"
"We can play something else, if you would like?" Paul offered unexpectedly, opening their drawer of games. "What do you want to play next?"
The question made Tom freeze. What do I want? He echoed in disbelief. It… it doesn't matter what I want. I don't matter. Everyone else's needs are more important than my own! "Uh… just, pick anything you want. I don't mind." He answered uneasily. Distantly, he could hear the voice chuckle with satisfaction. It seems he hasn't forgotten all his training.
Paul blinked. "You sure? I already picked the first game, it's only fair you get a turn, too-"
"I'm sure." Tom insisted, shifting around on his seat with clear discomfort. Why was Paul so concerned with what he wants? Why does he sound weird?
Shrugging his shoulders, Paul rummaged through the drawer and picked out a first person shooter game. As he put in the new game into the console, the far wall to the left shifted apart to reveal their private elevator slide open, and Patrick walked out and into the living room.
He glanced at them in surprise. "Is everything okay here?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" Tom frowned. Even Pat sounded strange.
Patrick didn't answer. He looked away from him and turned to Paul as the Commander stood up. "Do you need to trade places again?" Paul asked. "I can take over the duties if you need a break-"
"No need." Pat shook his head. "All of our assignments are completed for the day, and the other Generals and Lieutenants got the rest of the base covered. Red Leader's orders are to stay and look after Tom."
Listening from the side lines, Tom couldn't help but narrow his eyes. Look after me? He thought with a flash of annoyance. I'm not helpless!
"Are you now? ~"
Tom grimaced. For the most part, anyway!
Paul's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh! We got a freebie day? Great!" He clapped his hands in excitement. "What should we do then?"
"Well, I was thinking of baking a special treat for us to enjoy our evening. Maybe watch some movies and play games together? The usual." Patrick turned his gaze onto Tom, his tone softening. "What do you think Tom? Would you like that?"
The question took Tom by surprise. He wasn't imagining things; they're definitely acting a little odd around him. Confused, he merely shrugged. "Sounds good to me."
Together, the two soldiers made their way into the kitchen. Tom followed them, observing their behaviour closely. They started looking through the dispenser and cabinets, checking what ingredients they have lying around and what they could make with them.
"Alright. From the way I see, we have two options." Pat began. "We can either have chocolate cake, or caramel pudding. Tom, what would you prefer?"
The two of them turned to him expectantly. Tom stiffened with surprise. Why does it matter to you what I want? He wanted to blurt out, but kept himself in check. Just pick whatever you guys want and I'll gladly accept it! "I'm fine with either of them." He replied vaguely, avoiding their gazes.
"Can it be chocolate cake, then?" Paul inquired timidly, looking for his approval.
Tom nodded uncomfortably. "Uh, sure."
"Very well! I will get started on the batter, while you guys can pick out our entertainment." Pat decided, already picking out the needed ingredients and placing them on top of the counter. "What would you like to do, Tom?"
A cold chill ran through Tom. He realized with a jolt what the matter with them is. They are fussing over him! They know there's something wrong with him, and now they're taking pity on him by making him call all the shots. Burden. The title that branded him echoed throughout his mind and panic overtook him.
"Stop! Stop! Stop it!"
"Tom?" Pat blinked.
"What's wrong?"
The soldiers looked at him with concern. Tom backed away shyly, glancing back and forth between the two. Taking deep breaths he composed himself and found his words. "Look; I… I appreciate what you guys are trying to do for me. Really, I do." He murmured apologetically. "And I'm sorry you had to find out the truth about me this way. But, please, don't fuss over me. I'm fine. I promise. I don't want special treatment. Can we just…" He trailed off and turned away in shame. "Can we please just pretend nothing is the matter with me, and go back to the way things were?"
He shrank in on himself as he heard growling grow louder in his head. "Ungrateful brat! ~" The voice barked. Claws scored down deep across his chest and face, slicing him open. "They have the common courtesy to look after a useless pest like you, and you still have the gall to find something to complain? This is exactly why you are not worth living! ~"
Holding back his pain, Tom immediately regretted his words. I'm sorry...
Paul and Patrick exchanged alarmed glances, and a flicker of guilt consumed them both.
"Oh shucks – we messed up again, didn't we? We're sorry, Tom." Paul rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "We didn't- I mean… we're worried for you, yes, but we don't- It's not your-"
Pat sighed. "What Paul is trying to say is that; we didn't mean to treat you differently based on your condition." He explained. "We care for you, Tom. We just wanted to make you feel better after everything you've been put through. Neither of us think any less of you. We simply want to help, that's all."
Tom swallowed, glancing back at them. "I know. I appreciate that. But I can't stand being coddled." I just wanna be normal.
"Okay. No problem. Lesson learned! Tell you what; why don't we start over?" Paul suggested, clapping both hands onto Tom and Pat's shoulders to bring them together into a semi-circle. "Raise your hand if you want chocolate cake!"
Simultaneously, the three slowly lifted their hands.
Paul grinned. "Great! Now… who wants to watch a fun silly horror movie about ghosts? Please please please!"
Tom couldn't help the smile on his face. The Commander's glee was contagious. "Sure, I'll be down for that."
"I would've preferred a romantic comedy, but…" Pat confessed, then took one look at Paul's expression and melted. "Oh, how can I ever say no that face? Fine. Fun ghosts it is then!"
"Hurray!"
Tom breathed out a deep sigh of relief. Expressing his feelings went… a lot better than he thought.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, now. This is just part of their plan to keep you compliant, by pretending to care about your "fweewings" and respecting your wishes. Mark my words; when the time comes they will stab you in the back. ~" The voice warned unimpressed.
Sitting back on a nearby stool, Tom watched and chatted with the two friendly soldiers as they prepared the cake together; laughing and cracking jokes on occasion. As the conversation went on, Tom couldn't help but reflect what just took place. He actually mustered up the courage to tell them what was bothering him… and the world didn't implode on itself. Tom took a big risk there. He could have easily been a nuisance, but Paul and Patrick took it in stride instead.
Maybe I can really trust them after all...
"Your supposedly "new friends" will all abandon you as soon as they learn what you really are… ~" The voice put in threateningly. Spectral limbs coiling around his neck and over his shoulders, as if to sustain its claim on him. "You are so selfish! You will do anything to keep them close to you, no matter how awful you are. Is that any way to treat the people you care about? Burden them with your presence just so you can feel good about yourself for once, never mind the pain and suffering you're inflicting onto them? Is that how you thank them? ~"
Which one is it? Tom flashed in frustration.
"What? ~"
You just said that they don't care about me. That they never did, and that this is all a ruse! Tom pointed out. But now you're saying that they care for me and I am selfish for being around them. So which one is it?
For the very first time, he seemed to have caught the voice off guard as it silenced for an uncomfortable amount of time. It appeared to flounder for a brief moment, its hold on him loosened. "I am warning you of the potential outcomes, worm! Either they are faking this to gain your trust and compliance, or they might have some form of pity for you that you shouldn't take advantage of. ~" It argued, seeming offended that Tom would dare question its judgment. "Either way, why would you freely admit how messed up you are to them? Nothing good can come from telling the truth. It will come back to haunt you later down the line, or you will simply be throwing your luggage at others. Do you really wanna risk either outcome? ~"
Tom wasn't convinced. Approximately ten years of listening to this stupid voice, heeding its words and obeying its commands out of fear, he never once noticed how it would constantly shift back and forth in its arguments. One day telling him he needs to die at all costs so he won't hurt his friends whom he adores so much but hate him in return; and then the next day, cautioning him about not being too obvious with his plan because if his friends ever find out the truth they would be devastated and stop him from doing something that is for their better benefit.
You… you don't actually have any power over me, do you?
A claw painfully plunging into his chest and squeezing hard around his heart was the answer he got. A flash of searing white hot pain overwhelmed his body, and Tom stifled back a scream but did not struggle.
"I have more power than you can imagine, worm. ~" The voice hissed scornfully. "And I still have enough power left to keep you obedient! ~"
You know what?! F#ck it! Tom lifted his chin in defiance. If that's the case, I am going to tell them about you, then!
The claw retracted from his chest just as suddenly as the voice doubled back in outrage. "Why you little- !"
Back in reality, Tom pressed his hands together, feeling determination and a wrenching fear all throughout his chest. The voice echoing through his head. "Don't do it, worm. If you think your life is miserable, you haven't seen anything yet! They won't take you seriously, and if they do, they will lock you up in chains where no one may ever find you. Might even put you down for being too dangerous. ~"
Isn't that what you wanted? Me, dead?
Blinking back to reality, Tom looked over the two friendly soldiers; flirting with each other as they worked together to bake a cake. His determination faltered for a split second. He's going to destroy their moment with more upsetting news about himself! Tom shook his head, knowing that's what the voice would want him to think. They deserve to know.
He got their attention and beckoned them closer. Paul and Pat turned to him with quizzical gazes.
"I didn't tell you guys everything." Tom confessed, searching the soldiers' gazes, frightened of what he'd find. They might never trust him ever again after this. They will see him as nothing more than a broken, crazy monster. But at least the truth will be out, and he can be relieved of his secret once and for all.
Paul and Patrick exchanged glances and blinked back at him. "Go on."
This is the last moment they'll like me.
This is how I lose them.
"There's something you need to know about me…"
(Meanwhile…)
"Are you sure you want to do this, loser?"
"Pretty sure."
"Don't do it, Edd!"
"Think carefully before you do this."
"I thought about it, and I've decided…" Edd placed down a plus four onto the stack in the middle with a wide smug grin on his face. "Uno."
Eduardo glowered at him in response, and begrudgingly took four cards from the main deck to add to his hand. Matt breathed out a sigh of relief and wiped his forehead, while Mark shifted his gaze back and forth suspiciously between the two. "You forgot to specify what colour."
"I change to green, please and thank you." Edd put in with mock politeness.
It was a bright beautiful day, and after making amends and starting things over between them, Edd decided to invite them all over to his place for a nice, calming, friendly game of Uno to give them a chance and strengthen their newfound friendship. Needless to say, tensions were a little bit high between them; but in a fun kinda way.
"Whew! You got me there for a second, Edd." Matt sighed nervously. "I thought for sure you were about the reverse and make me endure Mark's wrath. I know he has a plus two on him!"
Mark stared at him offended. "What makes you say that?"
"Because you keep using them against me every given chance!"
"Doesn't mean I have any now…" Mark trailed off, hiding behind his deck of cards. "Anyways, I believe it's your turn to play now, since Eduardo's turn has been skipped."
Eduardo grumbled an incoherent chain of curses under his breath. Edd grinned at him immensely. It was so much fun to press Eduardo's buttons!
Matt poked his chin pensively before shaking his head. "Nah." He played a reverse green, changing the flux of the game around. "I give this turn back to Edu!"
Edd narrowed his eyes. "Matt, you idiot, now Mark can use plus two's on you again!" He pointed out dryly. If I don't win first, that is...
"Oh…" Matt realized a moment too late, not liking the mischief he found in Mark's eyes as the blond stared at him over his cards.
"Thank you, doofus." Eduardo drawled triumphantly, snapping everyone's attention over to the burly brunet as he smirked at Edd, who in return gulped in apprehension. "Now, it's payback time!" Everyone waited with bated breath for his move, wondering what kind of punishment he will come up with for Edd. But after an uncomfortable amount of time, Eduardo frowned sheepishly and started to draw cards. "I… I actually don't have anything in hand, damn…"
They all laughed jovially at his misery yet again. "How long have we been at this game?" Edd asked.
Mark looked down at his watch. "Nearly six hours."
"Damn! We're never finishing this game." Matt grimaced. "Actually, I'm getting kinda hungry. Can we put the game on pause and eat something?"
"What if we order a pizza?" Edd suggested.
"No, we had it like a few days ago. I want tacos!" Matt exclaimed, his blue eyes wide with excitement.
Edd's eyes brightened. "I could go for tacos!"
"Taco sounds good." Mark nodded in agreement, and then looked across from him. "What do you think, Eduardo?"
Hair dishevelled and with the biggest frown on his face, Eduardo looked up from his massive hand of thirty cards to answer in his most deadpanned voice. "I lost control of my life, so why the h#ll not?"
"Wow, Eduardo! All that just to keep me from winning?" Edd gloated, waving his one remaining card teasingly in his hand. "You know, the quicker we end this game the sooner we can go eat. So why not just play whatever and get this over with?"
"Shut it!" Eduardo pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. "I won't let you win, even if it kills me."
"Just admit defeat, Eduardo." Mark advised, tired of the ambition driven man's desire to best his former rival. "We're all hungry, and you can get another chance to beat him later."
Right at that moment, Edd's phone started to ring. The brunet nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise at the sound of his ringtone as everyone turned their sights on him. Edd shot a questioning glance at Eduardo before rising from his seat, to answer the call in a different room. "Well, what's it gonna be? Give in or not?"
He left before Eduardo could answer.
The burly brunet proceeded to huff and puff with anger and throw all his cards into the air in his frustration before slouching in his seat, his shoulders sagging and his head drooping. "There there. You'll get another chance to be numero uno soon." Matt consoled him with a pat on the shoulder. "Here; why don't you pet Ringo for a while and maybe you'll calm down?" He picked up the gray tabby, who mrrowed in surprise, and deposited her onto Eduardo's lap. The feline instantly curled up and started to knead Eduardo's legs as he ran a calloused hand over her soft fur.
In the other room, Edd chuckled at their antics and pulled his phone out of his pocket before looking at the caller ID, only to realize it's an unknown number. Curious, he answered the call. "Hello?"
"Hello, Edd."
The familiar sounding voice he thought he'd never hear again came through the phone, turning the blood in Edd's veins into ice and a shiver ripple down his spine apprehensively. His heart beat faster in his chest like a caged bird.
Recomposing himself, he spoke, albeit weakly. "R-Reagan?"
He glanced back toward his friends, making sure they wouldn't hear him. Since going back on his word to leave and making amends with Matt, Edd frantically tried to contact the Irishman to alert him of his change of mind but to no avail. He told himself that he would resolve the issue when the time comes – that Reagan and the Red Army can't force him to join if he doesn't want to anymore, but he was never quite sure. He hoped it wasn't too late to tell Reagan that, and avoid trouble while he still can.
"What a- what a surprise to hear from you. I've been trying to call you, but you never answered any of my calls! How is it going?" Edd cleared his throat and tried to be as cheerful as he could, acting like nothing was amiss.
A profound silence met his words, and no answer whatsoever. That unnerved Edd, who shifted awkwardly. "Uh, hello?"
"Sorry sorry! I got side-tracked by… something else for a second there. Doesn't matter, really." Reagan's voice was strangely erratic through the phone, as though he was distracted and not all there. "Anyways; hey, Edd! How's my bud doing?"
Edd frowned. It was weird to hear the Irishman refer to him by anything other than his usual nickname. He'd grown so used to being called 'Eddie' by him. "I'm doing good. Doing good! Yeah. Uh, what about you?"
"Oh, I'm fine. You know, just doing the usual things that I tend to do…" Reagan trailed off awkwardly. "Drinking beer and… stuff."
"Great to hear!"
An uncomfortable silence fell over the line. Edd wanted to blurt out and straight up tell him about his decision of joining the Red Army, but he was slightly afraid of how Reagan might react to that. Doesn't help matters that Reagan was acting bizarre.
"Listen, Reagan, there's-"
"There's something I need to tell you, Edd."
Both paused in surprise at the other's words; neither of them sure how to proceed. After fumbling around a little, Reagan let Edd speak first. The brunet shot one last glance over his shoulder toward his friends to make sure they weren't eavesdropping.
"Alright. Reagan, you remember the whole deal you offered me about changing my life and joining the Red Army to escape my grief? And that I accepted your offer?" Edd began nervously, clutching the cell phone tightly in his hands.
"... Yes."
Edd grimaced. Did the Irishman already guess what he's about to say? Was he mad with him? "I kinda, maybe, sort of thought better about it and I changed my mind about joining the organization. I know I should've thought through it properly before I gave you my answer, and I'm really sorry if I am getting you in trouble for this, but my friend Matt and I sat down and talked things out and-"
"Actually, Edd… the funny thing is that; the reason why I am calling you was to tell you that you weren't accepted into the Red Army." Reagan cut him off sheepishly. "Turns out that Red L- I mean- the boss, wasn't all that impressed with your file and they denied your admission. So… I guess this means you're not too upset?"
Edd blinked in surprise at the news, breathing a sigh of relief. "Huh, weird. I mean, that's great for us! We both get what we want in the end. But, like, any particular reason why I wasn't drafted?"
Reagan appeared to flounder around a bit at the question, as if caught off guard. "Oh, uh, actually the boss didn't specify! I mean, I didn't ask cuz the boss always knows better and he calls all the shots and stuff, so I dare not doubt my leader's judgement. You understand, right?"
"Right! Right. I get it." Edd conceded. "Well, then I guess I no longer have to worry about getting kidnapped in the middle of the night and drafted against my will. That's good to know."
"Edd… I'm sorry. About everything. For any hurt and ill I might have inflicted on you. Please, forgive me."
Tilting his head in shock, Edd could hardly believe what he was hearing. Reagan wasn't one to apologize. But then again, Edd always liked to believe there was a softer side to the Irishman. He knows there is! He entrusted him with his past, apologized then, and even gave him the choice to leave him. It just felt weird to hear Reagan sound so desolate now, knowing the sly and funky persona he usually brandishes.
"It's fine, Reagan. Everything is fine, now. I promise." Edd murmured softly. "I guess this means we probably won't see each other again, huh?" A pang of hurt pierced his heart at the realization.
"One day, maybe. Who knows? But I need to work on myself first before I see you again." Reagan replied solemnly. "I promise you this though; I won't go anywhere near you until I am sure we're both ready for that meeting. There's a lot I need to atone for."
"O-okay? You do that." Edd didn't know how to respond to that. "Reagan, are you feeling alright? This is weird even for you."
Reagan chuckled, sounding more like his usual self now. "Probably all that beer, I bet. I'm ranting at this point, sorry, I will just… hang up and sober up or something. Catch up on some Zs perhaps? See yah on the flipside, Edd!"
Edd smiled. "See you around, Reagan."
He went to hang up the call, when Reagan's voice drifted through for one final time. "Until we meet again, my friend."
Edd blinked. Did he hear that right? Thinking he might be imagining things, he put away his phone into the pocket of his hoodie.
"Who was it?"
He whipped around in surprise, huge eyed as he found Eduardo standing by the doorway, leaning against the wall with a can of diet coke in his hands. The burly brunet watched him with a calculating gaze. "Oh, no one that important, really." Edd shrugged and responded vaguely. He didn't owe Eduardo a sincere answer, and he hasn't forgotten the ugly argument between them the last time they discussed Reagan. Last thing they need is reopening old wounds.
Eduardo narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced but not in the mood to press further. "Come on, loser. We're leaving to get tacos."
"Coming!" Edd hurried to join the others outside, the remnants of the call still reeling through his mind. Reagan sure sounded off in that conversation; and he's been around the Irishman while he's drunk plenty of times to know his behaviour by now. Was he keeping things from him? Did something happen? Did he get in trouble with his boss for trying to help him, ad that was partially why he was declined?
He'll never know now, and until he meets Reagan again he can only hope he is alright.
(Meanwhile…)
Seated at his desk, Tord was hunched over and quiet amidst the wreckage of his office during his earlier rampage. He tried to fix things as best he could once his temper had cooled down, but he didn't actually have enough patience to pick up his mess, and just settled down at his desk and got to work with amending his mistakes. His arms were crossed over the table with his head lying on top of them as he stared around his office blankly and sighed with weariness.
The shortcut elevator in his office leading down to his deputies' quarters revealed itself; one of his bookcases slid out to make way for the lift. Tord lifted his head blearily and watched Paul emerge into the room, carrying a plate of what appeared to be chocolate cake in his hands.
"How is Tom doing?" He asked.
Paul yelled abruptly in shock and doubled back, nearly dropping the cake to the floor. He stared at Tord wide eyed. "What the h#ll, sir? Why are you talking with that annoying jerk's voice, especially after what happened?"
Tord frowned. He forgot to remove the voice modulator after he was done with the call. He carefully lifted one hand up to his neck and pinched the device out, not minding the little jolt of static that stung him. Tord cleared his throat. "Just cleaning up the mess he made, I suppose." He sighed. Or rather, the mess I made.
Paul blinked at him sympathetically and handed him the slice of cake. "You haven't eaten anything all day, sir. Maybe this will cheer you up?"
Sighing, Tord picked up the fork stabbed the cake half-heartedly and took a bite out of the chocolate goodness. He won't deny that it made him feel a little better. "How is Tom doing?" He repeated. He wondered if Tom missed him, and whether he felt anything like the ache that filled his chest whenever he thought of him.
"He's doing good. We watched a couple films together, and he crashed on our sofa for the night." Paul responded, however Tord caught a grim look in the Commander's eyes. That worried him.
"What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Paul shifted unsurely. "Well… yes and no?"
Tord raised an eyebrow at that.
"Tom is absolutely fine, I promise, and he doesn't want to be fussed over. He gets uncomfortable. With that said, he told Pat and I something, uhm, interesting. It's best if he explains it to you because… I get it – at least I think I did, anyway – but he knows how to better explain the situation then I can."
"What is it?" Tord prompted.
"Trust me, sir. You'll definitely want to hear this from him."