"Clean this up." He gestured emotionlessly at the two bodies.
"What exactly should we do with them, sir?" An emotionless soldier looked at him with cold dark-blue eyes. His tall and muscular form stood tall, even as he had watched his comrades being shot.
"Burn them, throw them in a ditch, donate them to science, I don't care." He turned back to the bodies, and noticed Patryk blink at him weakly. Blood poured down his forehead, and Tord supposed that he had missed a bit. "Don't let anyone else know about this though. I do not want any more traitors showing up in my army just because I'm a supposed "psychopath"."
"no chance of it sir." the soldier gestured to his squadron, a gaggle of people who were all shorter than him, and spoke with them about what to do with the bodies.
"good."
Tord walked back to the two males, one dead, the other barely alive, and met Patryk's fading gaze.
"Say your last words if you must."
"I-I'll-" He coughed, blood spilling down his chin. "I'll see you in hell."
A flash of anger hit Tord like a truck, and he took it out of Patryk.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
The soldiers turned around at the sudden gunshots, just to find their leader furiously screaming at them to get rid of the bodies before he added theirs to the pile. They nodded and did what he asked, dragging the dead away.
Tord swore he would never feel anything for either one of them.
He would never feel anything for anyone.
HE WAS NOT WEAK LIKE THEY WERE.
He was not weak.
or so he thought.