Tom and Reagan stared each other down for the longest time. A chilling and horrible silence fell over them as they faced one another.
"Actually, you see, I intended for you to kill him and then kill yourself once you realized you butchered your little boyfriend so I wouldn't have to get my hands dirty, but oh well." Reagan explained nonchalantly.
"Look, man, I don't know what you want from us or what we did to piss you off, but you have no idea what you are dealing with." Tom warned coolly. "So I suggest you leave now before it's too late."
Reagan laughed. Then he tipped his head, eyes glinting maliciously. "Do you?"
There was a strong sense of power and danger emanating from him. Tom couldn't understand why he felt so unsettled. The tingling sensation in his head was back, and he felt exposed as something probed around in his brain. The voice was eerily quiet for once, just a rapid flickering back and forth through his mind. Reagan's head was cocked to one side as though he were listening for something.
Tom's blood ran cold. A chill ran down his spine as Reagan's whole body seemed to change. Not his form or appearance, but his posture shifted, his shoulders squaring up and straightening, his head lowering. Before Tom's eyes, Reagan changed into a completely different person. No longer was he the carefree and arrogant man he usually portrays himself as. In his place stands before Tom a man with nothing left to lose. His whole face went very still, the sclera in his eyes flickering purple-white-purple-white.
"Meet your match, worm. ~" The voice was nothing more than a distant echo.
He's like me...
"I recognize your scent now." Tom growled finally. "You were… down here in the lab levels when you weren't supposed to." That's not the smell of iron… that's blood. He carries the stench of blood with him.
"That's correct." Reagan affirmed, his eyes settling down for normal. "All it took was a little distraction from doll face to give me the perfect opportunity to get my hands on this… wonderful gift."
Ella! Tom swallowed thickly once he realized what he's hinting at. He shook away the horrible memory and the sense of guilt that came with it to focus on the present.
"Why do you want to kill us so bad? I never met you until today!"
"It's not you I am necessarily after. It's him that I want dead most of all." Reagan motioned Tord's unconscious body behind Tom. "Everything I told you is true. He is merely using us, saying that this is all for our benefit to create a better world just so he can rule it. He used me. I did exactly as I was ordered and got sh#t for it. And now I want to make him pay for it."
Tom didn't answer.
"Hope you realize this is nothing personal to you in particular, freaky eyes." Reagan went on conversationally, twirling one of his hands idly. "You just so happen to be standing in my way, and honestly, I am not too keen on letting the only person in the world capable of hurting me walk away freely. You understand, don't you?"
There was a pause.
"Why are you so keen to protect him anyway? I get that you're in love and all, but… c'mon! You can't have possibly forgiven him for every horrible thing he's done to you!" Reagan observed. "He used you. Threw you away like garbage without a second thought. Mistreated you. Hurt you. Threatened to hurt your friends – the same friends I manipulated and he got angry over for no reason, by the way! And yet, just a few fancy words and a pat on the back here and there, has you completely disregard everything that's happened." He leaned toward Tom, staring at him intently. "How can you be such a soft-hearted fool? Just what sort of monster are you? You have the power to make the bastard pay for everything he's done, and instead you forgive him?! Are you nuts? Why are you so quick to defend him?"
His expression darkened, pointing a finger at Tom. "Do you realize what I could have done with this kind of power had I had access to it sooner? And yet, you, out of all people get to have it in the whole wide freaking world just because you got a bit of self-esteem issues. And you can't even use your powers correctly!" He said a little more quietly, raw menace dripping from his voice. "Can't you see that your very existence is an offence to people like me? Who actually have a reason to feel the way that we do and need this kind of power just to keep up with everybody else? The fact that you hate what you've become just seems offensive in my opinion. What a waste! Can you do anything right?"
"Wow, nothing personal my #$$! Sounds pretty damn personal to me!" Tom interrupted sarcastically.
Despite his attitude, Reagan's words seriously made a dent on Tom. How can he read him so well? This is only their second interaction in one day. Is Tom that transparent?
But… it couldn't be.
Reagan was saying things he couldn't have possibly learned on his own. Things about Tom as a person. His past. His relationship with Tord. But how?
There was the shifting sensation flickering through his head again, itching like crazy. At the same moment Tom took note of Reagan's smile widening, his head tipping to one side.
Tom tensed.
The voice. He swallowed thickly. If we both carry the serum through our veins, then surely he can hear the voice as well. His thoughts shifted rapidly. Is it the same voice? Could we be connected in some way beyond our condition?
It was worth a try.
Taking a deep breath, Tom tentatively probed forward into the dark expanse of his mind. The voice's dwelling place. Where everything was dark and he could be hurt and torn apart but never die. If the voice can reach both of them, then surely there must be a way for Tom to reach Reagan's mind in the same way he can reach his. He reached out and detected another presence on the other side of the shadowy mist. Thoughts. Feelings. Memories.
Pressing deeper, Tom stepped into Reagan's mind. He hardly had any warning as he was instantly assaulted by a powerful wave of anger. So much anger. And hatred so overwhelming Tom nearly mistook it as his own.
He forced himself through the barrier of rage, only to be swarmed by flashing glimpses of memories. They went by so fast past his eyes that Tom could hardly make sense of all of it, if it weren't for the tingling sensation in the back of his head instantly absorbing all the information on Reagan like a sponge soaking in all the water.
"Ah ah ah! Not so fast, you cheeky son of a b#tch."
A strong force repelled Tom, and he was shoved away from the mass of memories and emotions.
Back in reality, Tom felt suddenly drained of strength at the effort of trying to mentally connect with Reagan. He didn't fully understand how that was even possible, outside of the serum linking them together. But he'd seen enough.
Tom stared at Reagan with a new understanding.
He'd experienced Reagan's entire history in the blink of an eye and felt everything Reagan had felt, and recognize it. Tom knew so clearly what it was like to be so scared.
Reagan raised one finger and patronized, his smile forced as he broke him out of his concentration. "Rude! Trying to use my own tricks against me? I think not!"
Reagan was angry. Really angry. And rightfully so. With this kind of power in his hands he fully intends to get rid of both him and Tord, and whoever else dares stand in his way again.
At first, Tom had been fully prepared to fight him. To save Tord, himself, and give Edd and Ella the rightful justice they deserve after having fallen victim to Reagan's manipulation. Rage coursed through him, recalling half the things Edd and Ella must've felt and gone through under Reagan's influence and the fate that befell both of them.
Yet, there were still those nagging thoughts. The relentless, persistent feeling that this, all of this, was wrong. That he should be doing something that he isn't. That something wasn't enough.
He is a bad person. Tom told himself. The world will be better off this way. My friends will be safer if he's dead. He contributed to Ella's death. He deserves it.
But he had a horrible life! The other half of him argued. Maybe he can be changed. Maybe there is a better person inside him somewhere, if someone can be bothered to reach out. If only his mind wasn't so clouded with hatred and anger…
Perhaps there's no need to turn into a monster yet. Reagan is a person who can be reasoned with. The rage and hatred he feels is strong and a little demotivating, but Tom has to try. He can't solve all his problems with violence, and if he doesn't at least give it a shot Tom knows he will never forgive himself otherwise. Knowing he could have gotten a different outcome had he only tried to be more human.
"You don't have to do this!" Tom spoke up. "I know you feel like you need to get retribution after all the sh#t you've been through. I get it. But killing him won't change what happened."
Reagan laughed. "Save me the speech, freaky eyes. You won't sway me on this!" He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know how much you saw, but surely you can understand where I am coming from? I have to make him pay. It's only fair."
"Listen… I can't begin to understand what you've been through-"
"That's right. You can't!" Reagan cut him off, stalking closer.
"This has to stop, Reagan."
"Oh, it will. As soon as I am finished with the Red Leader-"
"No, Reagan." Tom interrupted. "You need to let him go. Let both of us go. There is nothing to be gained with our deaths."
"Why should I?" Reagan hissed.
"What he did to you wasn't personal. If anyone else had messed with our friends he would have defended them just as ruthlessly as he punished you." Tom told him.
"Okay, sure, but he humiliated me and used me for his own personal gain. He sent me off to a mission just to get rid of me, and when I did nothing but my job he tried to kill me! He is a part of my trauma too." Reagan insisted with barely suppressed contempt. "As for you, I can't trust you won't come after me someday. I wouldn't feel safe until I'm sure you're no longer a threat to me."
"After all you've been through – the beatings, the harsh training… thinking you have no voice of your own to defend yourself with… you have every right to feel the way that you do. But it doesn't justify murdering anyone, not even your entire family." Tom said.
Reagan snorted. "What about my old gang? You really gonna stand there and tell me I was wrong to kill them too?" He asked incredulously. "They weren't innocent lives at all and they would've continued doing more harm to others until I put an end to it. I was right to kill them all."
Tom hesitated briefly and wondered if Reagan was right to do what he did.
He glanced away unsurely. "Perhaps. But there were a lot of people there stuck in the same position as you once were. Children, even. Folks who had absolutely nothing to do with your misery." He pointed out. "Did they deserve to die too?"
"There was nothing more for them here. I took care of them the only way I knew how. Trust me, after what they've been through they are better off dead."
"But your family… and the gang members… they died. That's it. They didn't learn their lesson, nor did they regret anything. They weren't punished for what they did."
"Having them fear me for once in their miserable existence was good enough for me." Reagan growled. "Having them beg me for their lives, beg me for mercy where none can be found, was the best thing that's ever happened to me. They paid with their lives! I wasn't about to give them another chance to hurt me again."
Tom's mouth dried. His stomach was doing flips inside his belly, churning over nervously with dread. Reagan was set on his ways, no matter how awful or immoral they may seem. But then again he was raised in a gang, so there should be no surprise that his answer to his problems is violence…
"Sure I may seem like the bad guy in your… lack of eyes." Reagan conceded dryly. "But try and see it from my perspective for once. I am merely a victim fighting back. Am I really in the wrong here?"
"What they did to you – what they all did to you growing up… is unforgivable. They deserved to be punished. I am not saying you should forgive anyone, least of all forget what happened. And what's done is done." Tom said slowly, gathering his words carefully. "But you need to let go and move forward. You won't be able to live your life until this has all been put behind you. Death is not the solution."
"I know what I need! I'm not looking for a fantasy!" Reagan bristled defensively, green eyes blazing. "You must think of me as absolutely awful, don't you? For killing people. For manipulating others to do my bidding. For merely defending myself. But why should I have to apologize for my actions when none of the people who hurt me ever apologized for making me the way that I am? They made me this way, and then they paid for it. I am on the right!"
"How old are you?"
"Excuse me?"
"How old are you?" Tom repeated his question more firmly this time.
Reagan appeared to consider his question, shifting his weight nervously and glancing away. "27." He finally mumbled.
Same age as me. Tom couldn't help but note. "27! You are 27 years old and you haven't lived a single day of your life on your own terms." He huffed out in disbelief. "Your whole life thus far has always been on someone else's terms, forced into unhealthy positions you never asked for nor deserved it."
His words shook Reagan to his core and the backed away wide eyed.
"You've grown used to wearing masks as a defence mechanism." Tom began, gazing up at the Irishman. "You mostly wear them to get close to others to get what you want, but the truth is that you've been hurt so bad in the past that you're now too afraid to show your true face around others. You put up a front – you use people, and even when it seems they might enjoy your presence you immediately drive them away because you simply can't comprehend the concept of human emotion or relationships. You have trust issues, and who can blame you? No one in the past has ever given you reason to make you believe you're lovable." Tom hung his head with sorrow. "I am so sorry you had to live a life shaped by so much anger and pain."
"Stop." Reagan forced out. "Stop pretending that you know me when you only caught a glimpse of my past. You know nothing about me!"
"I don't need to see all of it to understand you. I know how you feel." Tom paused, his gaze darkening.
While he didn't have nearly as bad as Reagan, there were times Tom felt helpless and unlovable. Times where he was at his lowest and figured no one could possibly like him for who he is. That the only reason anyone would want him around was to serve them a purpose and then be cast aside again.
At least he had decent friends growing up and a relatively stable family. Reagan had no one.
"By killing all those people you just proved that they have gotten to you. That they won. That they left such a huge impact on you that you had to resort to stooping down to their level just to get a win." Tom went on, confident that he was winning Reagan over. "You had already left them. You had a brand new life here in the Red Army, far away from your past. Why did you not make the most of it?"
"It's not about just getting away and moving on. Just the fact that they would still be out there… knowing full well that they have gotten away with hurting me… I wouldn't rest easy. It's about not being afraid for once in my life." Reagan admitted a little more quietly. He stared down at his hands. "My whole life I've been helpless. But now I have this… gift. And it feels great. It may have its drawbacks like the voice and the vivid memories, but at least I won't have to go through what I did ever again."
Tom swallowed. "I know you were led to believe that you are nothing more than a bad person or a tool to be used by others, but believe me when I tell you that's not true." He urged. "Don't listen to the voice. Turn back and leave this place. Go live your life! Make some real friends. Do what you always wanted to do – it's not too late yet."
Reagan chuckled bitterly. "That kind of life… one where I can blindly trust others without fear… one that's less self-aware... It's beyond my reach at this point." His eyes glistened. "I just want to sleep without having to constantly worry about the intentions of those around me. Trust isn't something that comes easy for me, I'm afraid."
"Then work on it! Improve! I know it is difficult for you to believe, but the world hasn't turned its back on you. Your past wasn't a happy one, but that doesn't mean the rest will be the same."
"Whatever for?" Reagan interjected, his voice breaking. "There's nothing to be gained from friendship other than my own personal gain, and besides; who could possibly like being around me? I am awful and that's all there is to me."
"Edd liked you." Tom stared at him. "And Ella too… so did Ted. And you betrayed them all."
Reagan rolled his eyes and snorted, but did not respond.
"You did terrible, awful things but it's not too late for you to turn back now and start to do better. Repent. Move forward. Let us go. Start over. Live your life the way that it was intended. You're free now! The possibilities are endless for you. But you gotta let us go!" Tom said. "I know how tempting it may be to use your powers to hurt anyone you want and defend yourself, but you mustn't abuse it or the voice will take control of you. And then you will be truly lost."
Talking Reagan out of killing Tord wouldn't be enough. Reagan was a shady character. Letting him go free would be dangerous. Tom needs to be sure that Reagan won't unleash his monstrous rage on the first instance someone accidentally sets him off.
Tom's chest tightened. Is it the right thing to do to let him go unpunished after all the horrible deeds he's done? He suffered, but he's still dangerous. He hurt people. Shouldn't he be held accountable for his actions?
This is what you meant, wasn't it? Tom asked the voice in his head. Earlier. You said something about sending a kindred spirit to his death or help out a killer. He thought the voice had been referring to Tord, but in fact it was talking about Reagan; knowing the Irishman's plans to kill them both.
The voice was strangely silent.
Reagan hesitated. He seemed tempted but unsure of Tom's offer. But his expression wasn't angry, or suspicious. Tom thought it was more … desperately hopeful.
"I know how scary the future can be. I understand where you're coming from." Tom extended his hand out toward him. "But if you could live your life normally without fear of being used, even if the chance may seem slim, would you still be willing to do this?"
Tom paused, watching him expectantly.
A light was kindling in Reagan's eyes. Pieces were starting to come together in his mind, bubbling in a funny, hopeful, confused way. What would his life be like if he were to take charge of it for once, and not have to worry constantly about his next pawn to target just to get ahead in life?
For a brief moment, he actually considered Tom's plea.
Hope surged beneath Tom's skin as Reagan stepped forward, slowly reaching his hand out toward his.
A strangled cough broke through the silence of the immense enclosure, startling both of them.
Tom spun, heart soaring with relief as Tord finally gained consciousness behind him. The Norwegian groaned, trying to get up. Tom crouched down to check on him.
"T-Tom?"
"I am right here, Tord. Are you alright?" Tom hushed, cupping Tord's face gently in his hands. Tord eyed him warily and flinched. Tom felt a pang of hurt at the gesture but slowly moved forward. "I am not going to hurt you. It's okay. Everything is fine now."
"No."
Tom's eyebrows furrowed and he turned around.
Reagan's expression was as hard as stone now. His hands clenched into fists as he watched them interact. "Red Leader has to pay for what he did to me. He made a fool out of me, and now he has to die." He said, shaking his head vigorously. "I am so sick and tired of being afraid. I won't rest until he is dead!"
Tom blinked, looking bewildered. "Reagan, please, think this through." He pleaded. "You could be happy. You could even be loved, but you have to make that decision. You're the only one who can make that happen. Don't give in to that hatred. Don't listen to the voice!"
"I am making that choice!" Reagan snarled. "The voice has nothing to do with this. I always planned to kill Red Leader, one way or another, even long before he made a fool out of me. The only way I can ever be happy and fulfilled is if every single bastard who thought could get away with hurting me is dead! I can worry about getting my life back together once I make sure of that."
Tom stared at him in alarm. There was no possibility of reasoning with Reagan now. His hunger for power had twisted him so that in his mind his own selfish needs dominated everything. He won't stop until his thirst for revenge is sated. He will stop at nothing until Tord, and who knows how many more, are dead.
"You're not a bad person because you were abused for being born out of wedlock or joined a gang against your will. Every terrible thing that you did; each betrayal, each lie, each murder – that was never them. That was all you. That's who you chose to be." Tom told him, taking a defensive stance in front of Tord; blocking him away from Reagan's view.
Far from soothing Reagan, Tom's words only angered the Irishman more than ever. "Did I choose to be sold? Did I mean to work for a gang? I only did what I did to survive – don't you dare speak of matters you don't comprehend!" Reagan spat. "You know I wouldn't have done this if I had any other choice."
Tom bowed his head in the face of his fury. "You always have a choice; you just simply don't care enough to find another option."
"But — I have good reasons for everything I did!" Reagan insisted. "I was wronged and defenceless my entire life. Doesn't that count for something? Don't I have the right to be happy too?"
"Of course." Tom agreed. "But not when your choices are so dark and damaging toward others. Not when there were better alternatives you didn't even explore. You had better ways to go about this, and yet every step of the way you decided to constantly hurt others so as to not get hurt yourself."
"Blah blah blah," Reagan muttered, his hand simulating a chatting mouth. "This conversation is pointless. I don't think we have anything left to say to each other." He narrowed his eyes.
Meanwhile, throughout this exchange Tord watched them both wearily and confused. "Tom, what's going on?" He asked. "Why is he here?"
"No time to explain."
"I thought it would be really fitting for Red to be killed by the man he loves. Something very poetic and tragic. But since that's not gonna happen any time soon now, I guess I'll just have to take matters into my own hands." Reagan stated, his eyes glinting maliciously before they flashed purple.
Suddenly, he doubled over and started to shift.
Tom and Tord observed with growing dread as the tip of Reagan's fingers shredded into sharp purplish-pink claws. His arms and legs elongated, gaining a tinge of golden-brown to them. His ears grew longer and fuzzy. So did the stubble beneath his chin. A long, golden-brown, thick tail that thinned farther along with a bushed-up, fuzzy tip at the end, trashed wildly behind him. He has a pair of long and smooth-looking pinkish horns that curved slightly inward, giving him an almost regal appearance. Hollow spurs grew out from the side of his feet, one on each leg. Reagan's laughter turned hoarse and gravely, distorting into vicious growls as his teeth sharpened and darkened to a toxic purple, his dark purple sclera highly contrasting against his vibrant green eyes.
Tom quickly assessed the situation. In his condition, Tord wouldn't be able to defend himself against Reagan's monster form. With a flicker of guilt he was reminded that his prosthetic and main line of defence was destroyed because of him.
"Quick, Tord, run."
"W-what?"
"I'll deal with him while you get away from here." Tom ordered, bracing himself and focusing all his energy on shifting now. "Don't look back. Just get out of here and save yourself."
"No way. No! I won't leave you alone!" Tord insisted, struggling to his feet with just one arm.
Before Tom could argue, Reagan advanced on them with an inhuman, enraged shriek; claws outstretched.
He looked completely deranged.
Reagan tore across the enclosure, heading straight for Tord, teeth gnashing. Still transforming, Tom barrelled into Reagan before the monster could get his massive claws on Tord.
The Norwegian's eye stretched wide with apprehension.
The two of them grappled and rolled across the enclosure, purple and copper clashing, both of them shrieking at full blast. Tom ducked his head as Reagan tried to sink his teeth onto his jugular, jaws snapping near his ear.
"Go. Now!" Tom roared to Tord as he grappled with Reagan.
Helpless to do anything in this situation; unable to even defend himself or his lover, Tord knew he had no choice now but to retreat. For now. If I can get to my office and get a fix for my arm I can come back in time to help Tom!
Wincing with pain at his injuries, Tord hurried away. As he raced out of the enclosure, he glanced behind him and saw Reagan lunge at Tom, striking him across the face with a vicious swipe of his massive paw that sent Tom skidding across the compound. Tord winced, seeing the stunned shock on Tom's face as he landed hard and struggled to find his feet.
But he wasn't fast enough.
Reagan pounced on him, ripping him with his teeth and claws.
I must hurry! Tord urged himself as he left Tom behind and made his way back to his office as fast as his legs could carry him.
For now, however, Tom was on his own.
There was no time to notify his Commander and the Generals on the situation. He needed to act fast or Tom would die. Arriving in his office, Tord wasted no time fixing his arm. Just one look at it and he knew it was too damaged for even a quick fix; his forearm barely hanging on by a few exposed wires. He needs to be in his best top shape if he is to hope to fight Reagan off.
Switching his arm off to maintenance mode, Tord unlatched the clasps off his shoulder and ripped the broken prosthetic from the stump of his severed arm.
Thankfully he was always prepared for these kinds of situations.
Reaching into the cabinet below his trophy collection, Tord pulled out the robotic arm prototype. In his earlier days following the incident with the giant robot, before Tord could attach and use his robotic arm he needed a training wheel first.
This arm was dark gray and with no features. It was merely used for Tord to practice with motion controls and strength modules, and nothing else. But he kept the prosthetic around in case there was an emergency such as this and he needed an entirely new arm, and for research purposes.
Tord hurriedly attached the gray robotic arm to his shoulder, but did not switch it on just yet.
Reaching for a screwdriver, he dismantled the repulsor piece from his other arm to attach it to his new one. He needed some form of defence against Reagan's monster form.
His heart lurched. But the repulsor is not enough. He figured. I still won't do a thing against Reagan in his monster form with just the repulsor alone. I need something more...
An idea popped into his head like a coin sliding into a slot.
That's it!
Tom and Reagan circled one another cautiously, hopping wildly from column to column for the best way to ambush the other. There was a bleeding gash over one of Tom's eyes, and his shoulder had a chunk viciously bitten off. Reagan, meanwhile, had deep lacerations to the chest and a torn ear.
With an ear-splitting shriek, Reagan pushed off from the top of a platform and thrust himself through the air.
Acting fast, Tom twisted onto his back while Reagan drew gradually closer. He splayed out all four of his limbs, claws extended and ready. Just as Reagan was about to land heavily on Tom's belly, Tom immediately fastened his four sets of claws on Reagan's shoulders and haunches, catching him mid-air, and then swiftly rolled over; turning their positions around, pinning Reagan to the ground.
He proceeded to scratch and swipe at him mercilessly. His claws scored deep into Reagan's chest and belly, piercing his tough flesh despite the other monster's attempt to get away from under him.
What he wasn't expecting, however, was for Reagan to thrust his legs up and stab Tom's haunches with the hollow spurs on his feet. Tom snarled. He sensed something instantly burning through his veins. His mind was too hazy for coherent logical thought and he couldn't quite place it, and yet he already understood that it was poison.
Tom's grip on Reagan slackened.
Grinning a wide, sinister smile full of purple teeth Reagan stabbed Tom again and again with his venomous spurs until the pain became unbearable to Tom, and he had no choice but to let him go and wrench himself away from him.
Tom swayed on his feet, the poison turning him weak and sick.
But he still had the good sense to land a searing blow on Reagan's face as the Irishman prowled closer, lips curled into a wicked snarl. But he didn't even stumble. Instead Reagan lunged again and, grabbing Tom by the throat, flung him across the enclosure; staining the floor a purplish-black with his blood.
Coughing and retching, Tom scrambled to his feet and shook himself, feeling dazed.
Reagan came charging at him again, not allowing him any time to recover and gather his bearings. Tom leaped over his head and ducked into a roll as he landed, carrying him halfway across the enclosure. He spun to face Reagan as he turned and chased after him again.
With a vicious jab Tom sliced through Reagan's face, and now more purple blood sprayed the smooth steel floor. He dropped to a crouch, dodging a swipe at him, and darted forward to sink his teeth into Reagan's arm, growling as jaws clamped behind his neck. His heart lurched as he felt Reagan bite down hard. If he doesn't twist away now Reagan could very well crush his spine.
Tom slashed at his exposed belly, and Reagan freed him. Dark purple blood spurted all over his uniform.
Reagan reared up and tried to slam himself down on top of Tom, but he rolled away at the last minute, and he crashed face-first onto the hard floor as Tom shot out of the away.
Growling with rage, Reagan shook himself.
Suddenly he found himself being hauled backwards. His legs churned uselessly as Tom lifted him off the ground, his claws hooked into his tail. With a grunt, Tom spun him around a few times and flung Reagan away; smacking him against one of the columns hard as he landed several feet away.
Tom staggered back, panting. Drained of energy. The poison was blazing more prominently through his body now. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, but he needs to be certain that Reagan wouldn't pose any more of a threat.
Straightening up, Tom pressed forward, tail low and ears pricked as he searched for any signs of Reagan.
A single purple and green eye blinked open, and zeroed in on Tom.
A giant, golden-brown monster loomed tall over him. Its fur held a tinge of copper. Its claws were hooked and sharp, but small. Short fur for the most part, with longer tufts of fur around its neck and under its chin. Small ears. An upward facing crescent moon shaped head, with a long scar stretched over its one eye and across its muzzle.
The monster roared and charged forward, swiping a massive paw down on Tom, who barely managed to jump away.
It darted forward, jaws snapping at him. Tom deftly leaped and dodged out of the way. He sprung over the giant monster; biting its ears, scoring its claws down its back and sides, and battering it with everything he had but it was no use. The beast merely roared in annoyance as it snapped its teeth at him, and thrashed around to dislodge him.
Tom clung on, still digging in his claws into the large beast mercilessly knowing losing his grip would most probably mean death. But the poison in his system had left him weak, and little by little his hold on Reagan loosened.
With one last violent shake Tom was thrown clean off and flung away, splashing into the pool.
The copper coloured monster trampled its way over to the water, teeth bared and dripping with saliva. It peered into the churning pool, its reflection rippling in the water, searching for any signs of its opponent.
Bursting out of the water, a massive purple monster lunged out and slammed against the golden-brown one as it grew at a rapid rate, roaring and lifting its head challengingly, soaking wet.
The other monster roared back. Its one eye glowed as though victory was already his.
The two monsters stared each other down, tails lashing. The copper monster folded its ears flat and let out a hiss. With rippling muscles and one last roar from the purple beast, the two of them charged forward.
Horns clashing, the purple monster sank its fangs into the golden-brown one. Shrieking with rage it clawed its face back in retaliation. The purple one closed its jaws on the back of its neck and shook viciously, tearing chunks of fur in the process. The copper coloured beast reared up suddenly and batted the other away in a flurry of ruthless swipes from its hooked claws, until the purple beast lost its balance and fell back.
Jaws closed in around its throat and it was smashed roughly against the ground. The copper beast had it pinned down. Blood gushed from a wound in the purple monster's neck as it stared up at the looming threat that was the other beast.
Before it could rise up again, the green eyed monster had it pinned down under its paws; claws burying deep into its shoulder.
Its jaws opened wide, ready to rip out the other one's throat.
Right at the same moment Tord came rushing into the enclosure, uniform flowing behind him, wielding a sword in his gray robotic arm as he jumped over the purple monster and flung himself at the other beast to stab his sword straight into its face.
The golden-brown monster shrieked and reared back.
Tord climbed the monster and stabbed it again and again, this time on the back of its head and shoulders while the monster abandoned its prey to seek him out. It veered its head back, snapping its jaws to try and grab him, and thrashing around to dislodge him.
Having recovered, the purple monster lunged forward and barrelled into it. Tord safely hopped off the smaller monster and onto the other one's back, still holding onto his sword as he blasted the God forsaken monster with his repulsor.
The purple monster grabbed the other by its head with its jaws and flung it against a column, while Tord jumped on it to stab and blast it; returning to his ally's back once the rival monster tried to snap at him again.
It suddenly darted forward, its jaws wide open as a jet of purple goo shot out from its mouth. Tord and his monster both ducked and the goo landed splat sizzle on the far wall, the fireproof stainless steel eroding away gradually.
Acid breath? Tord thought with a flicker of dread in his belly. Reagan has acid breath. But of course he does. We better be more careful then...
Fire was rising in the purple beast's throat. The monster lunged and twisted to bring its mouth up to the copper monster's face and hissed a blast of fire breath straight into its eye. The copper monster slammed its eye shut at the last second, but fire immediately scorched across its snout and burned its face.
The copper monster's bellow of agony was like nothing Tord had ever heard before.
Tord and the monster seemed to work as one. While it attacked the opponent in a flurry of claws and teeth, Tord would switch in and hop onto the other monster's back to keep it from harming Tom, and once its attention had been successfully diverted, rinse and repeat.
They will take Reagan down in no time.
Or so he thought.
Just as Tord was returning to his place on his monster's back after stabbing the copper coloured one repeatedly, the purple beast pinned the golden-brown one against the wall, smashing it in with its bulk and powerful muscles so that only its head was wedged out between it and the wall. Pressed up against the purple fur where it had a clear perfect view of Tord standing on the monster's shoulders.
The other beast appeared to grin with malicious delight.
Tord's eye rounded with horror as it opened its jaws wide and blasted acidic purple goo straight at him.
He had no time to dodge being this up close and within a blank point range. He had nothing on him that would protect him from its acidic breath. There was nothing he could do. It's over.
Just as he closed his eye and embraced his untimely demise, he was nearly knocked off his feet as the monster below him moved around quite unexpectedly.
Tord blinked. What just happened?
It took several heartbeats for him to process what exactly had just occurred, but once he slowly began to realize that the acid had never struck him, horror gradually dawned on him.
The monster…
His monster…
Tom…
He had veered its head on the way at the very last second to shield Tord away from the acid. But in doing so, the venomous purple goop had splattered into its eyeless socket. A hissing noise rose as its face started to bubble and smoke. The monster bellowed in agony, swinging its head from side to side furiously.
It was the worst sound Tord had ever heard, and it broke his heart. "Tom! No!"
Taking the opportunity, the golden-brown beast slammed them away and tackled the wounded monster to the ground, fastening its teeth around its throat and biting down hard; increasing the volume of the painful wails the purple monster was emitting.
Tord landed painfully on his side. Gathering his sword close he rose shakily to his feet. Reagan had Tom critically wounded and pinned down. Tord closed his eye, feeling sick. But he couldn't stand idly by and let Tom die for him like this.
"Let. Him. GO!"
With a swing of his powerful robotic arm he threw the sword and pierced the copper coloured monster's shoulder.
It hissed, releasing its wounded and writhing opponent. It fixed its malignant eye on Tord and prowled closer. Tord stepped back, never once breaking eye contact with the beast. He was truly defenceless now. No sword. No hope of taming said beast. With only his repulsor that does minimal damage.
But it would be worth it. Saving Tom's life is always worth it.
He recharged the repulsor and took aim at the monster's eye as it opened its mouth wide, ready to shoot him with its acid breath, uttering an ominous hissing sound as it did.
That was sufficient time for the purple monster to recover its strength. Flashing like lightning, the monster lunged blindly forward and closed its jaws on the rival monster's throat, impeding it from unleashing its fatal attack on Tord once again. With a vicious snarl, it sank its fangs even deeper into its neck. It held on while the golden-brown beast thrashed and staggered wildly in its grip, lashing back with flailing paws that slashed and cut deep into the purple beast who refused to let go.
Tord watched as Reagan's struggles slowly weakened.
Once the monster finally stopped twitching and the beast holding on to it was sure it no longer posed a threat, it let go.
Straightening up, the only monster left standing lifted its head and tail and roared weakly; swaying sideways on its paws.
Tord stiffened. "Tom?"
Exhausted from the fight, it staggered forward and fell over suddenly, dissipating in a cloud of purple smoke.
"TOM!"
The poison and the acid had taken its toll on Tom, and he could no longer maintain his monster form. A stab of blazing agony went through his eyes. He felt himself burn both inside and out and Tom hunched over with a howl of pain.
Then silence fell.
"Tom?" Tord called out through the cloud of purple smoke that engulfed the room. He squinted and scanned the thick fog surrounding him, trying to glimpse Tom's form.
A low moan sounded a couple feet ahead.
Tord coughed and tried waving his hand around to clear some of the smoke away, when he let out a shocked gasp. Up ahead, lying eerily still, he saw Tom sprawled out on the floor; his back turned toward him.
Dread hollowed his belly. "Tom!" His throat tightened.
Trembling, Tord rushed forward and kneeled down next to him to assess the damage. Tom's head moved toward him with another pained moan. He's alive! Hope soared in Tord's chest. But they were immediately dashed once he saw Tom's eyes – those dark, mysterious and unique eyes of his that Tord loves to gaze at so much – have become deformed and burned at the edges; acid still eating away at the skin and flesh in the area.
Tord let out a mournful cry when he felt a hand reach out to touch his scarred cheek.
"Tord?" Tom's voice was so weak that the Norsk had to lean closer to hear.
"I'm here." Tord placed a long kiss on his hand and shuffled closer, gathering Tom in his arms. "I'm right here, Tom. You'll be okay now – you took down Reagan." He whispered hoarsely. "Everything is going to be okay now."
Tom sighed. "Tord, I don't want to leave you."
"What are you talking about? Of course you're not leaving me." Desperation filled his voice.
"I can't see you."
"I'll think of something to help you with that."
"My face burns. My insides too – I can feel them rotting away by the acid. It hurts so bad." Tom winced.
Tord's body shook with apprehension. "I can clean away the residue before any more damage can be made-"
"Tord." Tom interrupted, gasping. "Thank you for giving me another chance. And for not… giving up on me. Even when I already had."
The words took a couple of suspenseful heartbeats to finally register in Tord's brain and realize their meaning. Horror pressed at the edge of Tord's thoughts. "No. No! Don't say that!" He was talking like this was the end. "You're not going anywhere!" Tord pressed his scarred cheek hard against his.
"I'm glad I got the opportunity to understand you."
"No!" He mustn't die! He couldn't!
"You helped me out when I needed the most." Tom rasped weakly. "You showed me a path I never thought possible for me. You gave me hope."
"Tom, no!" Tord fought for breath, his thoughts spiralling into panic as he held the injured man in his arms. Tears welled up in his eyes. "Stop it! Stop talking like that! You can't go now – It's not fair!"
"I love you."
"Then don't leave me!"
"Tell Paul and Pat that I'm grateful for their companionship and support. They really should just get married at this point." He tried to laugh to diffuse some of the tension but he broke off into a cough. "And if you ever see them again, please tell Edd and Matt the truth. About everything."
"You can tell them that yourself!"
He felt Tom caress his face, and through his tears he thought he could see the eyeless man smile at him; even though he's blind. "I'm scared, Tord." He struggled to speak. "I don't want to die."
"You're going to be okay, I promise. We'll get you to the medical bay and they'll fix you up. You're going to be okay. Hey, are you listening? Hey!"
Pain flared all along Tom's body and he opened his mouth to scream but it hurt too much.
Then the pain was gone. Replaced by just a strange numbness that seemed to be spreading through his body. And then everything, everything — the pain, the worry, Tord and Reagan, all his friends, the truth he'd concealed for so long — everything faded away. For a moment Tom longed to call back to Tord, but unconsciousness was dragging at him, heavier than stones, stronger than a wave.
His mind was swarmed with churning shadows.
Tom fell limp in Tord's arms; his head lolling back to stare blankly at the ceiling. Tord could feel his warmth fade away and he let out a heart wrenching sob as he buried his face in Tom's body.
"Tom!"