Tord threw papers around his desk, set on finding a certain box. He finally spotted the matte sheen of the case. It was a chess set, one he had brought from his home, so none of the pieces were missing. The board itself was made of dark and light wood, and the pieces themselves were made of black and white marble. He opened the door and began to make his way towards Tom's cell. It was a much shorter walk to his cell now, since he had been moved out his previous office upon his request. His new office was much smaller than his old one, but he worked around it.

The seconds flew by as he entered Tom's cell, and began one of their countless games of chess.

Now, in the midst of playing (and winning) chess, Tom had been feeling...on edge. He felt nervous and fluttery, but like...in a good way? Tom had no idea why he was so happy, but he would gladly take this nervous feeling over anything else.

Tom was nearly about to take down Tord's king, which wouldn't matter much because Tord had requested that they play for pieces, since Tord wasn't necessarily the best at chess. Tom analyzed the board, planning his next course of action. Then, while Tom was thinking, Tord was silently moving one of his pieces to take out Tom's queen.

"The queen is dead!" Tord shouted in mock surprise.

"You can't do that! Violation of chess rule #368! Using the opponent's thinking time to take out pieces!"

"Is there really a chess rule like that?"

"Of course!" Tom stated, pointing his finger in the air like he was recalling it from memory, then pointing at Tord, "Nah, I just made it up to get you. And it worked! Because you're such a nooooob at chess. Yup that's you."

"Shut up!" Tord shouted, pushing Tom by the shoulders.

"Nooooooob! You are a...nooooob!" Tom retaliated by poking Tord's face.

"If you won't stop, then I guess I'm leaving." Tord sighed, beginning to pack up the board.

"Wait!"

"What? What is it?" Tord asked with a funny accent, enunciating each word.

Without saying another word, Tom leaned forward and hugged Tord tightly.

Tord immediately felt his face heat up as Tom squeezed the life out of him. He unconsciously took a deep breath, catching a whiff of wet dog and a slight tinge of alcohol.

"Uh- I'll uh...see you later Tom." Tord breathed as he snapped the case shut and hastily made his way towards the door. He could feel Tom's pits for eyes burning a hole in his back, and made an effort to not turn around.

He stopped right outside the closed cell door, and stayed perfectly still, trying to process what the hell just happened. Tom hugged him. Made unauthorized contact with a staff member. Normally, this would result in some sort of punishment for the SCP, but in this case...Tord didn't quite mind. Or he did. Even Tord himself didn't quite know.

...

Tom knew he was awake, but decided against it. He held his eyes shut and tried his hardest to stay still, barely noticing he was sitting upright. He had learned to sleep on uncomfortable surfaces very quickly once he'd arrived at that place so long ago. Finally, a scraping noise jolted him out of his half-slumber. As his eyes snapped open, he suddenly noticed everything had a slight green tint to it. And it looked sort of...pixelated? But it all looked so clear at the same time.

Tom soon figured out what the scraping noise had come from. And by soon I mean immediately. A metal door had opened and closed and the patter of shoes suggested that someone walked through. He tried to standing up, but found out rather quickly that his hands were tightly cuffed to the table. So tightly, in fact, the he could barely move his fingers due to lack of circulation. Tom struggled to slip his out of the restraints, when a familiar laugh reverberated in the small room.

"Tord?" Tom called out, " Tord is that you?"

No reply.

"Tord please! I've been stuck here and someone put this thing on me and waaaAAAAAAIIIIIIT! SHITHEAD? SCUSE ME?!"

Muffled laughter.

"TORD! What the hell! What is this?! What were you thinking? What's going on? Who was that woman? What did I do wrong?= What is on my face?"

A spiky haired silhouette emerged from the shadows of the small room.

"5043, you must slow down if you want any of your questions answered." Tord stated, his face dark and rigid.

"5043? What does that-oh. Oh. Tord, what has gotten into you?" Tom asked, his face melting into one of sincerity and confusion.

"All of that was an farce. A little acting thing I did to gain your trust, and allow me to get closer to achieve my goals. Is that enough of an answer for you?"

Tom's body went rigid and his heart sank to his shitty shoes. His face heated up at rapid speeds and fresh tears began to spring up in his eyes.

"W-what makes you think I'll trust you now, huh? Why would you even tell me this?" Tom asked, his voice cracking and his pixelated eyes pleading.

"Simply because you asked, and it won't matter anymore."

"'It won't matter anymore' ? Tord what do you mean?" Tom squeaked, shrinking in his seat.

"Because you'll never have your own mind back!" Tord nearly shouted at the poor man. So you know how I feel..a small part of Tord, the real Tord, thought. "Observe." He pulled out the small remote out of his pocket. The same small remote that went with the visor, and could control the wearer's every move.

Tom was fucked.

Tord pressed a button and Tom went limp in his seat. His finger found the small hatch and flicked it open, revealing a small button. Seconds flew by as he pressed the button and Tom jerked to life, green digital eyes turned red. Tord grabbed the game-controller esque joystick and slammed it up, causing Tom to bolt up in his seat. He grinned evilly and made Tom look left and right. It worked, albeit not very smoothly. But it worked. Tom's muscles were rigid and stiff, despite not having been barely used for the past few weeks. He was going to be the perfect killing machine once Tord had the kinks worked out.

Tord decided to give Tom once last taste of free will and thought, as a treat for giving Tord the sense of power that was coursing through his veins. He flicked the small switch again, Tom's head lolling to the side before snapping up again. His face was painted with fear and confusion.

"What. In the fresh fuck. Was that?" Tom cried.

"Just one of the many new features on that little thing in your head!" Tord exclaimed with false joy. "Take a look at this!" He pressed a button with a small flame decal on it and Tom's visor beeped.

"What was that?" Tom whimpered quietly.

"Oh, just a little heat vision."

"Heat..vision?" he trailed off.

There was a quick awkward silence while Tom looked around the room, testing his new ability. Inevitably, his eyes trailed to Tord.

"Hehe, you look warm. Especially down ther-" Tord cut him off by angrily flicking the switch for mind-control on and off. Tom jerked up in his seat and his eyes flickered back and forth between red and green. His head lulled against his chest for a second before popping back up to stare at Tord with a gasp.

"Please, don't do that again, I'm begging you," he pleaded, "Tord plea-"

"DO NOT CALL ME TORD! I AM DR.L TO YOU AND THAT IS ALL YOU WILL KNOW!" Tord snapped.

"Tord, plea-" Tom was cut off by violent spasms as Tord flicked the button on his remote, snapping Tom into mind-control mode. Fury roared in Tord's ears, and without thinking he pressed the deep purple button on the top of the remote. Tom shuddered in his seat for a second, the signal shooting through his body. Mist began to leak from beneath the visor, and his fingertips hardened and became sharp and black. The darkness spread only halfway up his arms, the thickening of his forearms busting the restraints open with a pop. His teeth grew sharp and his hair flattened as he snarled.

Tord slammed the joystick upwards and Tom shot out of his seat. He firmly clasped one arm around Tom's shoulder to steer him in the direction of the door. Tord pulled the walkie-talkie from is pocket and sent the request for the door to be opened. The request was soon granted as the door slide open with a hiss.

Tord, being the taller of the two and the one in charge, took the lead in dragging Tom to the Site Director's office. He was flanked by two MTF guards just in case something malfunctioned.

They eventually arrived at the office, but not after punching in multiple codes and scanning a hand print to get there. I mean, it was the Site Director, if she died everyone was fucked. Tord rapped on the cool metal door, his grip on Tom unknowingly tightening.

"Come in!" a voice calls from inside the room. Tord opens the door and pushes Tom through, the two guards following close behind.

"Here he is," Tord says, pushing Tom in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

"Oh wow. You've really outdone yourself, Larkson. This one here will give us a major advantage over the competition." she complimented Tord on his work, standing up and inspecting Tom. Tord shoved his hand in his pocket, a reflex leftover from the past. His hand grazed the boxy shape of the controller, and a rogue thought popped into his head.

I have a murdering machine at my will. All I have to do is press a button. I know he won't attack whoever holds the remote. I can-

His thought was cutoff by a question from the Site Director.

"Do you have the remote? I want to see this thing in action. Ah- you," she said, pointing to one of the MTF guards. "Go get a D-Class set up in a testing room. Quick."

The guard in question fled the room in a hurry, off to complete his task. That left only two targets in the room. Tord pulled the remote form his pocket slowly, using the Site Directors fascination with Tom as a cover.

Five seconds. Five more seconds and...

Adrenaline began pumping in Tord, just the mere thought of being promoted- or no, taking the spot of Site Director was enough to get him going.

Now.

With one swift movement, Tord slammed the button, and Tom's clawed arm swiped up. The Site Director screamed and lunged for the desk, making a futile attempt to escape. Tom advanced upon her and it was over in seconds. She fell to the floor, limp and dead. A shot rang through the room and Tord turned seeing MTF guard, who had made a shot after him. He missed, and Tord sent Tom after the guard. His screams quickly died down as Tom ripped through the armor and got his prey. Tord kicked the gun under the desk, following suite and taking a seat in the cushy chair. Opening a small compartment in the back of the remote, he pulled a USB.

Time to take my place.

i hated writning "mind-control mode" it sounds so dumb but i cant think of anything better.

fun-fact: tom's visor can play music and i will use this fact eventually and you can do nothing about it

turds a noob at chess lol

-trashbag