TWs: Mention of death and surgery, crying, hospital, light arguing, and mention of alcohol/being high. Stay safe :)

Matt couldn't believe it. He couldn't. The person he'd known since he was nineteen had been shot. The same person who helped him when he was struggling with his mother's death. The same person who sometimes gave the ginger sweets when he was in a good mood or even let the ginger hug him. Matt couldn't believe Larry was shot.

'How could this happen...?' Matt thought as he peered down at his lap, his hands gripping his jeans as silent tears rolled down his face.

Bing sat beside him, hunched over with his head in his hands.

Arthur was nowhere to be seen, as Bing told them he had left before they arrived, seemingly in a hurry.

The others sat on the opposite side of them, with Edd in the middle.

Tom was watching Matt closely in case he needed support, and he didn't want to look at the primarily white interior of the hospital as it gave him unwanted memories.

He scratched at his wrist as he watched the ginger silently cry. He was growing worried and concerned, but he knew Matt wanted space to think. The taller always came to him when he needed support.

The bassist was startled as someone gently grabbed his hand. He turned to Edd, who looked at him with a frown.

"Deep breaths, Tom." He whispered, "Remember what I said?"

Tom slowly nodded, not realizing he had been scratching his wrists again. He needed to stop before it turned out like high school. How he hated high school...

Edd kept holding onto the shorter's wrist, turning to look at Tord, who was on his phone. The taller quirked an eyebrow as he noticed something, tapping his free hand on Tord's shoulder.

"Hm?" Tord hummed.

"Hearing aids," Edd glanced at his ears, "where are they?"

The Norsk looked at him, wide-eyed as he averted his gaze, "Uhm- in my pocket...?"

"Take them out then." The brunette challenged.

Tord pouted as he checked his pockets, 'Please be in here, please be in here...'

To his relief, they were in his pocket. He sighed in relief.

"You win this time," Edd rolled his eyes, "now put them in."

Tord nearly groaned but did so anyway, adjusting the volume on both of them.

Edd, now satisfied, turned to face Matt. The ginger's head was still down, and he had changed to sit with his legs to his chest, his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort himself.

"Lawrence Gilmour?" A nurse spoke, walking up to them with her clipboard, "You're here for Gilmour, right?"

"Yes, that's right." Bing nodded, sitting up. Matt lifted his head, peering at the nurse.

"Alright." The nurse nodded, checking her clipboard, "It looks like the surgery went well; we're still waiting on the patient to wake up."

Bing breathed with ease, now knowing his friend was okay.

"Oh, and here." The nurse handed Bing some papers, "Your friend with the lab coat asked for these."

The director looked through it, confused, "Aren't these supposed to be classified?"

"He said he was a doctor." She shrugged as she walked away.

Bing groaned, "Of course."

Matt's phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking at the number, it was his father.

Arthur: Meet me at the house.

"You asshole, I cannot believe you just up and left like that! What were you thinking?" Bing glared at the older.

Arthur sighed, expecting this, "I know you're upset-"

"Upset doesn't even begin to describe it!" Bing crossed his arms.

"I had to lea-"

"Wha-"

"Let me finish, Chris!" Arthur yelled, much to the surprise of everyone, as the older ginger had never raised his voice, "As I was saying, I left to see if there would be clues at the scene of the crime; the studio, in this case."

"Huh...?" Bing muttered to himself.

"When the doctors said he was found at the studio, I had to check it out." Arthur took his phone out, "There was graffiti on the studio door."

He showed them the picture of the white outline, almost appearing like an atomic bomb, except it was spiky.

When Tord saw the photo, his eyes widened, "It can't be...!"

Everyone looked at him, mainly confused.

"You know what that weird symbol is?" Edd asked.

"Of course he does." Arthur answered for him, "Judging by his reaction, I can only assume they were a rival of the Red Army."

"What makes you say that?" Bing inquired.

"The Red Army had a lot of enemies, sure, but they had one main rival they wanted to get rid of..." Arthur turned his head toward the Norsk, hearing his unsteady breathing.

"The Black Army..." Tord gritted through his teeth.

"Of course, I had heard of them and their so-called 'accomplishments,' but I don't exactly know what their goal is."

"Nihilism, basically." Tord spoke, glaring at the floor, "An army who has rejected society and wants to destroy it at any cost; that's what my father said anyway."

"Wasn't that the Red Army's goal?" Tom questioned.

"No, the Red Army wanted to take over the world with communism, not destroy it." The Norsk rolled his eyes.

'And that's not the same thing...?' Tom thought. Then he looked at Arthur, "Can I see that photo one more time?"

Arthur handed the bassist his phone, letting him get a closer look.

"The can it was sprayed from must've been used a lot as there are a lot of breaks and cracks that a professional would usually cover up; also, there's a lot of shakiness in the wrist happening, almost as if the guy was high or had too much coffee before he did this," Tom explained, handing Arthur his phone back.

Everyone stared at him wide-eyed.

"What? I used to graffiti."

Arthur thought about what Tom said, 'Shakiness in the wrist... makes sense if it was William; he's a prone alcoholic.'

"But why would the Black Army attack a civilian like this?" Tord muttered, "It's not their usual style."

Arthur sighed, figuring it was time to tell them, "Bing, did the nurse give you documents?"

"Uh yeah, but why did you say you were a doctor?" Bing raised an eyebrow as he gave him the papers.

"Technically, I am a doctor." He smirked, "She just didn't ask if I meant medically or scientifically."

"Right..."

Flipping through the papers, his AI read to him what it said. He hummed in thought.

"What is it?" Matt peered at him.

"Nothing." Arthur said, 'And that's the problem.'

The older ginger turned his head to Tord, who kept muttering to himself.

"The Black Army doesn't see Larry as a 'civilian.'" He spoke, bewildering everyone.

"What? What are you on about?" Bing questioned.

"The Black Army, or rather, the general, sees Larry as Major Lawrence Grayson."

"Major!?" Tord exclaimed, "He was in the army!?"

"Yep, but he left when he was 30, or... tried to." Arthur sighed.

Tord was shocked, beyond shocked. His father couldn't even come close to stopping these guys, yet they might be able to.

He got out his phone, sending a code to Pau and Pat.

'Warning Code: Scorpion has been sent.'