TWs: Worrying/anxiousness and past scars. Stay safe :)
"What? The Black Army?" Yan spoke from Tord's laptop on the dining table, "Are you sure, Tord?"
"Positive! Their General even attacked an ex-member." Tord affirmed. You and Yan glanced at each other, seemingly in agreement.
"Alright, we're on our way," Yan told him.
"Really?" Tord raised an eyebrow.
"We've been planning on heading over for a while." You peered over Yan's shoulder as he looked at the screen.
"I want to move there!" A voice yelled in the background.
Tord chuckled as he heard the British voice, "Maybe soon, Clay."
"Soon doesn't come fast enough...!" He whined.
"We'll see you then, Tord," Yan said as he gave a small salute to the camera.
"Till then, my friends!" The Norsk hung up the call, looking over at his roommates, who were silently talking to each other.
Pau seemed worried, silently holding Pat's hand. Of course, he had known about the existence of the Black Army longer than Pat and Tord.
"You okay, Pau?" Tord asked, frowning at the scene.
He hummed, "I'll be fine."
Tord and Pat glanced at each other, knowing Pau was lying. Pat rested his free hand on his cheek, carefully going over the scarring that remained from the 'confrontation,' as they had labeled it.
"How about you lay down for a bit?" Pat spoke softly, "I can join you if you want."
Pau nodded, reluctantly letting go of Pat and walking away. Pat stared after him, sighing as he looked at Tord.
"I hate to see him like this." He told him, "What are we going to do?"
"There's only one thing we can do." Tord shrugged, "We wait."
"I suppose waiting is good, although, with the Black General, he can be very erratic," Arthur spoke to the group, "Meaning the longer he waits, the more he'll become impatient and unpredictable."
"How do you know?" Tord asked.
"Ah, I think I glossed over the fact that I knew him at one point." The older blinked, adjusting his cane.
"You what!?" Everyone exclaimed.
"Surprise?"
"That's not a very good surprise..." Matt muttered.
"Why didn't you bring that up before?" Tord huffed.
Tapping his cane, Arthur hummed, "I don't have the best memory."
'Sounds familiar.' The Norsk glanced at Matt, "Then, does that mean you know what he looks like?"
Arthur paused, thinking for a moment, "I think I do... it's been so long, though, so he might've changed his appearance."
Tord turned to Edd, "Think you can draw based on a description?"
"You know I can."
Once Edd got a notepad and pencil, he sat down and began drawing, listening to Arthur's description.
"About 5'10, and a bit on the chubbier side. Always had messy, unkempt hair that was unusually spiky and kept in a high ponytail most of the time and square glasses that he lost or broke constantly." He explained.
"Eye shape?" Edd looked up at him.
"Uh-hm..." Arthur glanced around at everyone, "Kind of like Tom's."
"How...?" Tom mumbled.
"My AI gives me detailed descriptions of what everyone looks like."
"Clothes?" Edd glanced up again.
"Teenage rebellion," Arthur commented, making the cola lover confused, "That means punk."
Edd decided to draw a skull on the shirt, one of those chains that attached around the belt loops, ripped jeans, and worn-out vans.
"Why vans?" Tord peered over his shoulder, questioning the design choices.
"It felt right," Edd responded.
"Couldn't be more accurate." Arthur chuckled.
"I think," Edd examined it, "I'm done."
The group looked at it, analyzing the drawing over his shoulder as Arthur stood off to the side.
"He looks familiar," Tord stated.
"I was just about to say that," Matt spoke.
"Ah, I see it now..." Edd muttered.
"What are you guys on about?" Tom questioned, "I'm not seeing anything."
"Maybe if I color it, it'll look less familiar." The taller stated, "What's his skin color?"
Arthur thought for a moment, "Tan- no- brown? Wait, no, he's tan... or is he brown?"
"It can't be that hard." Edd deadpanned.
"I think he's tan."
"'I think,' he says... hair color?"
"Blonde, but darker."
"So dirty blonde?" Matt tilted his head.
"Yeah, that's it."
Edd colored it lightly, shading some parts when he figured out where the lighting was. Tord didn't move from where he was perched behind him, peering over his shoulder. There was a familiarity in it that Edd found comforting.
"How about now?" Edd leaned back in his chair, letting the others see.
Once they got a glimpse at the colored drawing, Tord frowned, "Nope, he just looks even more familiar."
"Yeah, no- there's something about him that reminds me of someone," Matt spoke, crossing his arms.
Edd nodded, silently agreeing.
Tom analyzed the drawing, now seeing what the others were noticing. There was something familiar about the guy.
"I don't think one of us has met this guy before." The taller brunet stated.
"Yeah, and I have a terrible memory." Matt nodded. Tord just rolled his eyes, agreeing along with them.
Tom said nothing, staring at the drawing as a thought prodded from the back of his mind.
'He looks like...'
The bassist shook his head, shaking the thought away.
'Nah, it can't be. He's dead, after all.'
Arthur heard the uncomfortable shifting of Tom, quirking an eyebrow as he stared in his direction.
"Well, I should go to the hospital to check on Larry's condition," Arthur said.
"Can I go?" Matt asked.
"Actually," The older ginger glanced in his direction, "I was wondering if you could check on your uncle, as he seems to be doing... not great."
"Oh, okay." The younger ginger nodded.
"What about us?" Tord inquired.
"It would be best to lay low for now, just focus on coming up with ways to protect us and take down the Black Army." Arthur shifted his gaze, "Tom, I need you to come with me."
"Why?" Tom raised an eyebrow.
"To talk to you." He awkwardly tapped his cane, "Privately."
The shorter glanced at Matt, who gave a half-shrug and a tiny nod.
"Alright, then."
Tom followed Arthur, surprised the older ginger walked at a swift pace despite being blind. He seemed to know his way around well.
"Does your AI tell you of obstacles all the time?" Tom spoke, prompting Arthur to tilt his head toward him.
"Ah, no. I've learned to hone my senses after I became permanently blind, especially my hearing." He replied, "My AI only confirms them."
Tom nodded as they drifted into silence, the tapping of Arthur's cane against the sidewalk becoming the only noise besides the chirping of the birds and cars passing by.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" The bassist questioned.
Arthur faltered in his steps, settling his gaze toward him, "I want to formally apologize."
"What for?" Tom huffed, giving him a confused look.
The older slowed to a stop, prompting Tom to falter as he looked at him.
"The Red Army," He paused, "stole documents I had taken of you and your mother."