The explosion sight came into view clear as day as Tom arrived in Stavanger a few hours since he detected the initial blast. He pulled up as close to the wreckage as possible. It seemed he'd been right to guess that it was a Red Army stationed that was destroyed after all.

Soldiers ran to and a fro amidst the remains of what once was their base of operations, their faces stricken with panic; carrying their wounded comrades away and salvaging what they could from the wreckage.

A long line of soldiers formed a barrier between the curious Norwegian citizens who wanted to inspect the damage for themselves, and the disaster heap still going up in flames behind them; impeding anyone unauthorized to venture in.

Tom didn't let that stop him. He could hear people crying out for help, and he detected the iron tang of blood masked underneath all the smoke and dust. He had to help!

He surveyed the scene, his senses on high alert for any signs of injured soldiers in the wreckage. He spotted a young woman kneeled on the ground, rocking back and forth sobbing as she cradled her dead comrade in her arms. Tom wished he could say he'd never seen a sight quite like this in all his travels, but then that wouldn't be true.

A man half-buried in debris was reaching out from under the gap, trying to crawl away but to no avail. His movements were sluggish and getting weaker by the second.

"Don't move." Tom ordered as he approached the man. "I am going to help you get out."

Using his claws, Tom swiftly dug him out from under the pile of metal and stone that had collapsed on top of the soldier. Tom thought that was what had been impeding the man from getting out, but then the scent of blood became overwhelming and Tom had to pause his work.

The soldier had been impaled by a long, thin copper tube jutting out from his chest. Tom didn't dare try and move him for fear of having the man bleed out on him.

"Help! I need help!" Tom flagged down a couple of passing soldiers over to his location.

Fortunately one of them was actually trained in medicine and took over the situation for Tom. There was nothing more he could do for the impaled soldier. He wasn't adept in medicine, and Tom had to have hope that his comrades would take him to safety to be cared for.

Following his nose and ears, Tom continued salvaging soldiers left and right, bringing them to safety. Some soldiers were puzzled by his presence, asking why an unauthorized civilian was going out of his way to help fully trained army personnel. Tom didn't have the time or patience to grant them a proper answer; far too busy saving lives.

Most of the survivors Tom salvaged were lucky if they'd only gotten a limb crushed or were bleeding a little. However, far too many soldiers he stumbled across were charred to a crisp. The hairs on the back of Tom's neck fizzed as he sensed the presence of nuclear energy still radiating in the area; stifling his powers. This was no mere explosion.

And it couldn't have been a bomb either. The blast was too focused on the Red Army base. A regular nuclear bomb was way more catastrophic than that and would've surely taken out the entire city of Stavanger in the process. This was a deliberate and focused attack.

A lot of time flew by. Tom could tell by the position of the sun behind the gray mass of clouds in the sky. But he didn't feel tired.

He climbed a pile of rubble and surveyed the landscape, looking for any more survivors in need of help. His ears elongated and twitched, swiveling in all directions like a radar to detect even the faintest of sounds.

"Uh…"

A low whine could barely be heard underneath a nearby pile of debris. On closer inspection, Tom glimpsed an arm poking out.

He immediately got to work digging the helpless soldier out from under all that rubble. Tom stiffened as he moved a particularly large piece of metal away only to find a tuft of orange hair caked in dust. A familiar scent of vanilla drifted to his nostrils. It can't be…

Heart racing, Tom frantically dug up the remaining pieces aside and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the familiar body lying motionless amidst the debris in a puddle of his own blood. His face was unrecognizable, and wearing the iconic Red Army uniform. For a brief moment Tom entertained that thought that he'd been wrong. This wasn't who he thought he was. It can't be.

But that scent. Tom recognized his friend's scent – they grew up together. He'd know that scent anywhere!

Tom carefully maneuvered him to get a better look at his face to confirm his suspicions. Even with all the ash, dirt and blood, Tom could make out the remains of his friend's mangled squared jawline and at one point he even opened his good eye briefly to reveal a pale blue orb.

There was no mistake. This was definitely Matt. His Matt.

Panicking, Tom quickly pressed his head against Matt's chest and was relieved to hear his heart was still beating. Holding back tears, Tom cradled his friend carefully in his arms and carried him back to where all the soldiers were transporting the dead and injured back to main base.

He hid away his monstrous traits as he stepped out into the open crowd.

"Is he alive?" One soldier dared ask as Tom approached, eyeing the injured soldier in his arms.

"Yes." Tom rasped. "But he needs urgent care at once."

A different soldier nodded. "We'll take him from here." She stepped aside to let Tom inside the truck. She eyed him curiously. "You know, you were of great help us out here. I don't know if we would've gotten our injured comrades out in time without you here."

Tom laid Matt down on a gurney. "I only did what I had to."

The girl hesitated. "If you don't mind, I'd like for you to come with us back to home base." She suggested. "I'm sure Red Leader would be delighted to meet the man who aided his army today, and he would reward you immensely for your efforts."

Tom considered her words at a great length. While part of him still dreads reuniting with his so called beloved boyfriend a lot sooner than he intended, he now has to think about Matt's wellbeing first and foremost. He wanted to make sure his friend will be alright, and he definitely wanted to find out how he came to be a Red Army soldier directly from the source.

"Alright." Tom agreed. "But I'll follow you on my Harley."

She nodded, her eyes bright. "I'll inform HQ you're with us."

(Meanwhile…)

Never before had Tord been so utterly frustrated.

His careful plans had blown spectacularly up in his face, as per freaking usual and quite literally! When he received urgent news that their base in Stavanger had been destroyed like the previous ones, Tord was absolutely livid. This was way too close for comfort. What's stopping their enemy from targeting the main base next?

The secret weapon. His mind immediately supplied an answer.

Somehow their enemy knew their moves. That they would be transporting the secret weapon away from the main base and that they would make a brief stop by Stavanger before following through with their journey to Germany. Their enemy knew they were onto them and they struck first before Red Army agents could even begin their mission! And so close to the main base… whoever their mysterious opponent is wanted to send them a message.

That they could effortlessly strike the main base at any given point, and they wouldn't even see it coming.

Someone inside the Red Army really is leaking information. Tord grit his teeth in frustration. It's the only explanation!

He will need to send more agents to investigate the matter, but he swears, the moment he gets his hands on whatever traitorous rat was currently residing in his army he will take great enjoyment in their demise. And he will not make it quick and painless either!

For now though, Tord needed to focus on damage control.

When he first received word of the attack on Stavanger, Tord immediately sent soldiers over to recover the dead and aid the injured and bring them home to the main base. Truthfully part of him was actually worried enough to want to come along and help, but his generals were quick to convince him otherwise.

"I don't like this." Paul murmured to him as they stood together in the hangar, watching the choppers land close by and the trucks roll in from their rescue mission. "I don't like this at all."

All around them soldiers charged to and fro, helping escort their wounded comrades to the infirmary as nurses quickly rushed to remedy the situation. Blood dripped all over the hangar, and the scent of iron was strong in the air.

Tord watched them work with a calculating eye. "Any sign of test subject #1827?" He inquired, his jaw clenched.

"No, sir." Paul shook his head. "We have no news of his whereabouts. His body wasn't recovered from the wreckage."

"Do you think he's escaped?" Tord narrowed his one eye pensively.

"It's possible. But since this mysterious enemy of ours seems to be targeting wherever he goes it is also likely that, maybe… they managed to capture him during the chaos following the blast."

"So you think the explosion was a distraction?" Tord murmured. "But from what our sources tell me, there was no sign of any invaders in the area. Not to mention the explosion was nuclear in nature and had a high risk of killing him. If the perpetrator's goal was to capture him, they took a big risk."

Paul shrugged. "True. Point is… we don't have access to our secret enemy anymore."

"Damn it!" Tord hissed, resisting the urge to blast something with his repulsor.

A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder as his Commander stepped closer to him. "Don't beat yourself up for this, sir. Have more faith in our soldiers to get through this. They will find our secret weapon and unmask our enemy. You'll see!"

Tord took a deep breath to compose himself. He is the Red Leader. If he loses his temper every time something doesn't go his way he'd be no better than a toddler.

"You're right. There's nothing I can do to mend the situation now." He said. "The best I can do from this moment forward is to lead our soldiers along the right path to victory until we know more about our enemy."

Paul hesitated. "Do you… want me to call Yanov or Patrick over, sir? I'm sure neither of them would mind aiding you if you need-"

"I'm fine!" Tord snapped. A heartbeat later, he seemed to realize that he may have been too harsh on his friend. He sighed. "You don't have to worry about me all the time, Paul. I am not the one who got caught in the blast and I am not hurt."

"Doesn't mean there ain't anything weighting your mind these days." Paul said with kind eyes. "Ever since the war started you have been a ball of stress. Thinking about the war, strategy, soldiers, your friends – it can't be good for you to keep so much bottled up."

Tord chuckled without any mirth to his voice. "I am the Red Leader, Paul. It's my job to be informed on what's going on in my own army, even if it weighs me down in the end." He stated, changing the subject. "Besides, it's not like you don't have your own problems to worry about. How are the wedding plans?"

Sensing the shift in tone, Paul didn't try to press his leader more and went along with it. "It's coming along great! We think we might start rehearsals in a couple of months or so. Although Pat and I have different tastes when it comes to decorations and meals, so that's fun to figure out."

Tord listened intently, saying nothing until Paul had finished. Then he smiled faintly. "Some good news now amidst all this tragedy will definitely do us some good."

Paul nodded, his throat suddenly dry. "Any news from Tom, sir?" He asked, eyes full of sympathy. "I know how terribly you must miss him."

The Red Leader met his Commander's gaze, surprised to hear him mention his boyfriend. Even the sound of his name made his chest tighten with sorrow. "Nothing." He muttered, shaking his head. "Not a word in years. For all I know, he might not even be alive anymore."

"Don't say that!" Paul nudged him affectionately before squeezing his leader's face in between his hands. "This is Tom we're talking about here! The handsome, badass eyeless man who resisted the temptation of the voice for an entire decade and can turn into a powerful monster at will. He is by far the safest man out there, sir!"

Tord narrowed his eye. "Did you just call my boyfriend handsome? Should I start worrying?"

"What? He is handsome! I like Patrick better, of course, but I won't deny good looks when I see them." Paul exclaimed fondly, wiggling his furry eyebrows in a humorous manner. "Point being; I am sure that Tom is perfectly fine wherever he is, and he will return to you someday. Just wait a little longer and you'll see!"

I just wish that day would come a lot sooner.

Tord opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by the arrival of more trucks escorting the dead and injured from the blast sight in Stavanger. Soldiers rushed past to escort their comrades to the infirmary as fast as they could.

There was nothing out of the ordinary with this scene and he was ready to proceed speaking up until he heard a chorus of mournful cries coming from a crowd of soldiers as they surrounded another body.

"Oh no!"

"Poor Matt. He is so sweet and friendly!"

"He really didn't deserve this."

Tord watched them from afar. He didn't think much of it – just another soldier who'd been gravely injured in the blast, big deal – up until he caught a glimpse of striking ginger hair go past him on a bloodied gurney.

He stiffened, his gaze following said gurney until it faded from view. That… no… that can't be right…

"What's wrong, sir?" Paul asked, sensing his leader's confusion.

"You would tell me if one of my friends were here, right?" Tord demanded. "That wounded soldier that just went past me… it can't be who I think it is right?"

Paul stared at him, looking awfully confused. "Who? Matt? I don't see what the big deal is, sir. He is one of the newest recruits in the army, and he's been all over the place. He's been with us for a while now, hopping from one base to another; looking for his friend Todd… oh." Suddenly it clicked as he spoke, and Paul stared at his leader with an apologetic smile and an undeniable feeling of dread.

Tord fixed his Commander with an iron stare, a look of shock and fury creeping over his face. "So let me get this straight." He hissed out through gritted teeth, grabbing Paul by the collar of his uniform until their faces were inches apart from each other "You knew that there was a soldier by the name of Matt with orange hair, square chin, and blue eyes who recently joined our ranks and was looking for a friend whose name rhymes with Todd, and you didn't bother informing me about this despite knowing I had a friend who ticks every box I just described?"

"I'll just say, from the bottom of my heart… my bad, sir." The Commander ducked his head and mumbled earnestly. "In my defence, Matt is a very common name and he said he was looking for a Todd – how was I supposed to guess he meant you?"

Releasing him, Tord stepped back with an exasperated sigh and rubbed his temple with the palms of his hands. How come all my friends somehow keep getting involved in my life this way?

Paul blinked at him. "Sir?"

"It's fine, Paul. This is absolutely fine. Just caught a little off guard is all."

Matt is a recruit for the Red Army. Apparently he willingly chose to join him. He is here, in the main base, within his grasp. The doctors will look him over, heal him, and then Tord can finally come clean to him and apologize for his behaviour in the past.

Everything is absolutely fine. Can things possibly get any better?

"Red Leader!"

Tord turned and found a Sergeant bounding towards him and Paul, with another soldier right behind her. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir, but we have brought our report from the Stavanger sight. I knew you'd want to hear it right away."

"Of course, Sergeant Gwen." Said Red Leader, quickly recomposing himself. "What is it?"

Sergeant Gwen went on. "Our number of casualties so far are: three hundred and two deaths, and two hundred and forty five injured." She announced with a dip of her head. "It is thanks to the quick thinking and actions of our rescue teams that we were able to salvage so many of our comrades in the nick of time."

"Indeed." Tord agreed.

"However; with that said, sir, our number of casualties would have been a lot higher if it wasn't for the help of this brave citizen who went out of his way to rescue as many of our soldiers as he could."

The Sergeant glanced behind her just as a Harley pulled up into the hangar and circled slowly to a halt in front of Tord.

His heart leaped out of his chest as he recognized the man mounted on the beautiful vehicle by his black and blue uniform alone. His face was obscured by a helmet. The "stranger" fixed their gaze on Tord, and he swore he'd stopped breathing altogether. He couldn't read their expression behind the helmet, but he didn't need to. A few heartbeats later the rider reached up, unlatched and removed his helmet. Tord stared at the man before him in complete shock and awe.

The familiar round face that stared back at him was the same as last time he'd seen him. Spiky and unruly light brown locks buffeted in the chilly wind that breezed past them. His strong and lithe body was fit and sturdy as he slowly climbed down his Harley, and his neon digital green eyes gazed steadily back at Tord.

Red Leader could hardly believe he was finally back after all these years.

But it's true.

His dear beloved Thomas has finally come home!