The sound of his bedroom door being open reached Tom's ears. He clutched his pillow tighter and buried his face deeper into the mattress, ignoring the intruder in favor of sleeping in a few more hours. Maybe if he ignored them, they'll go away eventually. Usually Tom is a heavy sleeper, but given the circumstances of his imprisonment, his senses were more alert in case the Commie tried anything with him lowering his guard.
His attempts to go back to sleep and ignore the severity of the situation was shattered when his bedroom lighting brightened significantly; as if someone drew open the curtains to his window to let the sun in.
Tom swiftly sat up in bed with a startled hiss.
"Good morning!" Someone greeted him cheerfully.
Tom couldn't see them right away, too busy rubbing his eyes to try and get his bearings back. His temper flared. If there's one thing Tom hates more in the world (other than hangovers and Tord) is being woken up early in the morning. He blinked a couple of times to dispel the sleep away, and when his sight gradually returned Tom looked around.
A soldier stood faithfully at the foot of his bed, holding a tray of food. He had neat dark brown hair, his bangs styled like an arch over his forehead almost resembling the omega symbol, olive pale skin, and honey-green eyes.
In a moment of clarity, Tom was made aware of the bed sheets wrapped around him and the comfortable room temperature. In the end, he wasn't forced to endure a freezing night as punishment. So Tord had been bluffing last night after all. Tom thought mildly.
"Eat your breakfast now." The soldier drew closer and propped the tray to stand over Tom's lap as the Brit sat up in bed. "We have to hurry if we want to be on schedule. Red Leader will not be pleased if you arrive late on your first day."
The soldier removed the lid from the tray and the most amazing smell drifted to Tom's nose and his mouth watered at the sight before him. Scrambled eggs, avocado toast, smoked salmon, and black coffee. If this is what the prisoners eat, Tom can't even begin to imagine what the higher ups in the Red Army must eat.
He was given a pair of plastic cutlery and without needing to be asked twice he began to dig in - scarfing down his meal like he was just saved from a deserted island. Tom wished he could say the food was bland or of terrible quality, and though he'd never say it out loud, he had to admit to himself this was the best meal he's ever had in his life. It even puts Edd's cooking to shame, much to his chagrin.
"Drink!" The soldier suddenly blurted, making Tom pause mid-chew; his mouth stuffed full of food.
Tom glanced around, confused. Was the soldier ordering him to drink the coffee? What a random and weird request. That made Tom pause. Was the coffee laced with something? If the soldier was urging him to drink it, maybe there was some kind of mind controlling drug inside of it. Tom narrowed his eyes and stared back at the soldier with distrust.
However, the soldier was no longer looking at him. He turned away and promptly left the room in a hurry.
Tom didn't get the chance to act at that moment. Just as quick as the soldier left, he returned with a glass of orange juice. "My apologies, I almost forgot your drink."
"Ah." Tom sighed. So that's what he meant by drink. "It's okay."
The soldier gasped. "My goodness I seem to have forgotten my manners! I swear, if my head wasn't attached to my body I would probably have misplaced that as well." He cleared his throat and dipped his head politely. "I am General Patrick, pleased to meet you, Thomas. I have been entrusted with your wellbeing during your stay here."
Tom arched his eyebrows in surprise. "General?" He echoed. "Did you get demoted or something? Why is a General stuck with looking after me?"
Patrick giggled behind one hand. "Not at all! Though I do not blame you for your thought process." He said. "I am one of Red Leader's most trusted soldiers. I guess he figured entrusting you in my care was the best possible outcome until…" He suddenly trailed off, scratching the back of his head with an uncomfortable glance.
"Until what?"
"Nevermind that." Patrick shook his head dismissively. "Finish your breakfast, Thomas. You still need to shower."
"Just call me Tom, please."
Shit. So I do have a set date. Tom figured, eating the rest of his meal with more guarded caution. But a set date to what? My execution? Tord made abundantly clear that Tom had a very important part to play should he choose to join the Red Army, but other than making him his personal secretary that doesn't give him a lot to work with.
When Tom finished his breakfast, Patrick removed the tray and urgently ushered Tom into the bathroom to his right. "Hurry up now. Here's your uniform," He handed Tom a folded pile of clothes. Blue and red like every other Red Army soldier. " Please set your old clothes aside. I will come collect them once you're done showering."
Tom backed away, hugging himself. "No way! You're not gonna thrash my clothes, are you?"
"Of course not." Patrick chided, as though correcting a small child who just made an absurd leap in logic. "Your clothes will be washed and returned to you as soon as they are done drying, you have my word."
Satisfied with that knowledge, Tom gave a small nod and Patrick let him be; closing the bathroom door behind him.
Alone at last, Tom set to work on undressing.
Stepping into the shower stall he turned on the water. Tom set to wash himself as quickly as possible. While the shower water was warm and soothing, there was a distinct eerie sensation pricking the hairs on the back of Tom's hair the longer he took to finish. He didn't like it one bit. It's as if he was being watched.
As soon as the last of the soap left his body, Tom hurriedly stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself.
He surveyed the bathroom with a more analytical eye but found nothing amiss. It was just an ordinary bathroom. It seems even his mere absence did not stop Tord's influence from unsettling Tom wherever he went.
Drying himself, Tom went to put on his new clothes.
He put on his trousers and shoes no problem, but then Tom had to pause and grimace as he dealt with the red sweater and blue coat. The blue coat was fine, all things considered. But the sweater was hot, incredibly itchy, and constricting around his body; especially the neck area.
Tom looked at himself in the mirror, and a hot wave of embarrassment washed through him. God I look so stupid! And maybe that was Tord's intended idea, but he looked awfully out of place and uncomfortable in the uniform. It didn't help the added humiliation that he was forced to adorn the Red Army's colors. As though he were officially one of them now.
"Tom?" A rapid knocking came from outside the door. "Are you ready?"
Tom breathed out a long suffering sigh. Let's get this shit show over and done with already! "Yeah."
He stepped out of the bathroom only to immediately bump into Patrick, who seems to have been anxiously waiting for him this entire time. Tom was acutely aware of the General's eyes briefly flitting over his figure, assessing his new attire with the hint of a frown on his lips.
"Look, can we just hurry up and go now?" Tom's temper flared.
Startled by the harsh demand, Patrick blinked back to reality and dipped his head apologetically. "Certainly!" He said. "Hold your hands out, please."
"Huh? Why?"
"It's just a safety precaution, I'm afraid. Red Leader's orders."
Tom opened his mouth to argue when the bedroom door slammed open. "Sir, is the prisoner giving you trouble?" A woman demanded as she barged into the room, glaring at Tom with insolent brown eyes. She must've been standing guard outside the door the entire time. She grabbed the front of Tom's uniform until they were nose to nose. "Hands. Out. NOW."
All the fight left Tom at once and he immediately complied and held his hands out in front of him.
"That was unnecessarily brash, Lieutenant." Patrick admonished as he proceeded to tie up Tom's hands with a long rope. "There was no need for aggression."
"He obeyed, didn't he?"
Tom hated that they were talking over him like he wasn't hearing every single thing they were saying, but he was kept away from making a snarky remark by the soft feeling wrapping smoothly around his wrists. The 'rope' that was often used as a makeshift handcuff and leash to guide him around the base had been obviously replaced with-
Silk? Tom stared at the textile on his wrists in baffled confusion.
For a few heartbeats he was just standing there in muted shock, wondering why this absurd change was made to begin with. The events of last night came flooding back, replaying in his head and Tom recalled a small off-hand remark the Commie had made about the rope chaffing his skin.
"I knew I should have chosen a softer material for you. Forgive me, this won't happen again."
What the fuck?
Was Tord being serious? So what if the rope hurt his wrists a little? Don't get him wrong; Tom was glad for this abrupt and strange change - it goes a lot easier on his wrists. But why did Tord care if his skin got a little irritated? He fucking threatened to kill him! The type of rope binding his wrists should be the least of his concerns.
Once his wrists were securely bonded, Patrick and the woman began to guide him through the Red Army hallways; with the General on the lead, tugging at his ropes, and the Lieutenant crossly bringing up the rear.
They brought Tom to a wide, circular room with a dome ceiling where several soldiers were running to and fro. Computer screens and monitors lined up the sides of the room with more Red Army members diligently typing away at them, their attention so transfixed in their work it's as if they were afraid of catching the eye of the singular figure standing in the middle of the room.
Tord was looking at some files some soldiers had brought him with a restless, bored expression. Tom recognized Paul at his side, whispering urgently to his leader about something or other when they approached their position.
Patrick cleared his throat and bowed his head. "Sir, we've brought the one you wanted."
Tord looked up, his expression brightening when he spotted Tom. "Ah! There you are!" He exclaimed, only to pause; his smile fading away to be replaced with a small frown. He tipped his head, scrutinizing Tom from head to toe.
"What?" Tom asked, uncomfortable with his intense gaze.
"Oh, nothing." Tord stepped closer to thumb the hem of his coat's sleeve. "It's just… I thought red would be a good color on you, but I guess I was wrong." He chuckled. "Red really isn't your color, my friend."
Great! Just what I needed to hear today. Tom thought, irked. That I look stupid in front of Tord and that wasn't even his intention.
Tord untied his biddings and stepped away. "No matter. Now that you're here it's a good opportunity to show you the ropes of what your new job here in the Red Army entails." He snapped his fingers and a soldier scampered closer with a tablet in hand and courteously gave it to Tord before making himself scarce. "This is your Redex. I highly suggest you grow well acquainted with it because it will be your new best friend during your stay here."
He carefully handed Tom the device, and he watched it glow to life before sliding open and showing a menu screen with many options Tom couldn't even begin to fathom.
"The Redex serves as your ID; it will give you clearance to certain areas depending on your ranking and soldiers will know where you're placed, so don't lose it." Tord explained. "There are several features in the Redex I'm sure you'll come to know in your own time. But for now I'd like to turn your attention to the Taskbar feature. As my assistant, your primary mission is to take care of my schedule, take note of my meetings, and make appointments as I see fit. So let's start with making an easy appointment, shall we? Try to schedule a visit to the Tailors Sect at the earliest convenience."
Tom slowly tapped the screen, carefully reading over the options before figuring out what exactly he needed to do to complete the task. He tapped on the timetable, clicked the schedule tab and it showed all the different departments in the army. He had to scroll a bit to find the Tailors Sect, and when he did a timestamp appeared. Shrugging to himself, Tom decided to schedule the date for next Wednesday since it was the only available slot between all the other shit Tord had to attend to.
Overall, the device, while complex and very refined, worked like any ordinary tablet. Tom can see himself getting the hang of it.
"Done."
"Good. The sooner we get you a more fitting uniform the better." Tord nodded with approval.
Tom paused, deeply confused. "Wait, what?"
"Oh Thomas, I won't have you looking so miserable by my side. You need a proper uniform that's befitting to your character." Tord chuckled knowingly. "I'm sure my tailors will be pleased to work on something other than the usual red and blue uniform. They'll design you something better, I'm sure!"
"I guess…" Tom conceded begrudgingly. It's not like he was a fan of the uniform to begin with, so it won't be missed. But it's strange that Tord would go out of his way to save him from the embarrassment of looking so silly and miserable in this itchy uniform.
Tord clapped his hands together. "Splendid! Well now… What's the first thing on the schedule for today, my dear assistant?"
Tom lifted an eyebrow but made no comment on the term of endearment as he tapped the device on his hands. "Uh… A meeting with the Council of Generals in ten minutes."
"Very well." Tord nodded to Paul and Pat to walk ahead as he beckoned Tom to follow him.
As they made their way to the meeting, Tom saw several soldiers standing guard around the area. At first glance, Tom wondered if they were there to keep him in line, but quickly thought better of it. It's an army. Soldiers have better things to do than keeping one lowly prisoner in line. Especially if he's already heavily guarded by the leader himself.
They passed through the Mess Hall on the way to the meeting, and Tom looked on in awe as he watched over soldiers converse and laugh amongst themselves on the floor below. Some of them even lining up to drink something steaming out of handheld pots. He noticed the soldiers all looked well fed, well rested, and seemingly content with their lives here. Tom scoffed indignantly.
"Something the matter?" Tord asked, glancing back at him over his shoulder.
Tom mulled over his words. "It's just sickening to see so many resources going to waste like this." He nodded at the scene below them. "You could be going around offering help to the people in need when instead you much rather save your strength to brutally conquer them instead."
Tord smirked. "While that's a nice sentiment, you can't claim the world as yours by feeding the poor, I'm afraid. History has proven that time and time again."
"Well, it's not right." Tom insisted.
"It matters little to me if it's the right or wrong thing to do." Tord broke in roughly. "All I care about are results. If an iron fist and a show of strength is what will get me to be in total control of the world, then so be it. I don't care who has to die along the way to make it so."
Tom rolled his eyes. "That's right. You're a war mongering conqueror, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment. My mistake."
"I think you'll find, dear Thomas, that I am much more than that." Tord whispered, licking his lips.
Tom stared after him for a moment, wondering if he just imagined that odd scenario happening. With a tense shiver, he obediently trailed after Tord without another word.
When Red Leader arrived at the meeting, a flurry of footsteps and hushed voices sounded all over the place as everyone hurried to get themselves organized. Generals swept closer or manifested from the shadows to take their seats at the round conference table, their own personal assistants dutifully lingering nervously behind them. Tord settled himself in the big throne at the front of the table, which was labeled Red Leader.
Following the example of the other assistants, Tom stood awkwardly to the side. He felt out of place in this environment.
"Thomas," Said Red Leader, finally taking notice of his assistant's awkward stance next to him. "You can sit over here." He beckoned him to the vacant space to his left.
Tom started. "That won't be necessary-"
Tord snapped his fingers and a soldier hurried forward to bring another chair for Tom to sit on before he could finish his protest. "My dear, I am the Red Leader here. Everyone else here has to listen to me and me alone. If I want to have you sitting down, you will be seated. As is my will here. Anyone who dares to argue against that will be put in their place." He drawled confidently. "Have no fear. You belong here just as much as everyone else. More so, even!"
Wordlessly, Tom sat down beside Tord on the labeless chair. He was not oblivious to the envious looks some of the Generals and assistants were throwing his way.
The seat to Tord's right was labeled Commander, where Paul was rightfully placed. To Tom's left he noticed Patrick dipping his head courteously to him before greeting the other Generals in the room; his seat was labeled Treasury.
"Good morning, sir!" A short, bubbly woman with wavy brown hair said, bowing. "I'm aware yesterday was an incredibly eventful day to you, but I hope you slept well."
The woman in question was tanned, with freckles dotting her cheeks, and warm brown eyes staring eagerly at her leader. Tom eyed her cautiously, wondering what her rank was.
"Yes, yes. Thank you for your concern, Lily." Tord waved his hand and brushed her off with clear disinterest. "Take your seat and we can begin this dull affair, shall we." His gaze scanned the rest of the council.
The woman looked hurt for a split-second, before she whipped away to her seat. But not before throwing a dark glare in Tom's direction as she left. What's her problem? He wondered. Not my fault if Commie is a prick. He watched from afar as she took her place in the Communications seat across from him.
Looking around the table, Tom remembered some familiar faces from the day before - Yanov sat to Lily's left, conversing eagerly with a blond man next to him, his seat was labeled Health. Bing, the resident mad scientist of the Red Army, had his hands folded neatly in front of him, leaning forward with a mad glint in his eyes as his assistant, Larry, whispered something in his ear; he was seated in Science & Research. Tom didn't know the other Generals, but from where he sat he could see the labels Justice, Espionage, War, Engineering, and Defense.
"Now that we're all gathered around and present, I officially claim the start of this Council meeting." Red Leader stated, leaning back to prop his feet casually on the table. "Patrick, report." He ordered.
"There have been no drastic changes to our economy this month, sir." Said Patrick coolly. "The Red Army's funds are safe, as always. Food, medicine, and other materials have been successfully stacked and should last us the rest of Autumn with no damage to our funds."
"Splendid." Said Tord. He nudged Tom with his elbow to notify him to write down the details into his Redex. "Bing, report."
Bing grinned. "Our experiments are going wonderfully. Better than we expected!" He said. "It would be my utmost pleasure to showcase the fruits of our work to you in person after the meeting, sir. Words alone won't do enough justice."
Tord turned to Tom. "What do you say, Thomas? Is there time in my schedule for such a visit?"
Tom frowned, and quickly scanned the Timetable tab to see there was a small window of time later in the day to accommodate such a task. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
Tom grimaced. "Yes, sir." He gritted his teeth, nearly spitting the words.
"Very well. I'll be sure to come down to the labs and see what you've been up to." Tord murmured. "You got my interest piqued, to say the least. Lily, report."
Lily touched one of the silver hoops in her ears and smiled. "All of your bases are in order and awaiting further instructions at your command." She said eagerly. "And may I say, sir, your brilliant mind knows no bounds-"
Tom zoned out halfway through the meeting, bored out of his mind. He opened a blank document on his Redex and began doodling with his finger, pretending he was still paying attention and typing down every little thing that happened. As if! Tord can handle his own meetings, otherwise why would he even bother to show up?
He knew in hindsight that, if he wants to have any chance of taking down the Red Army then he should really pay more attention to the Red Army's ongoing actions, but it was so hard to stay focused when most of the people here spoke like Tord was some sort of God. It was sickening to say the least.
Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched.
Tord had long since taken note of Tom growing distracted in his job, though he made no attempt to correct his behavior. He could hardly blame the poor thing. These meetings were always tedious, and Tord had to give him credit; he lasted a total of five minutes into the meeting before discovering the Paint Tab on his Redex. He watched Tom draw, leaning on his robotic hand fondly as he half-listened to the rest of the meeting. Tom wasn't half as good at drawing as Edd is, but that didn't seem to deter him.
So far everything has been going well.
He'd sent Patrick in this morning to get Tom ready for the day. Being his most trusted soldier, his new assignment was to become Tom's primary caretaker, in a sense. Patrick, while being a General and a very busy man, was the perfect candidate to watch over Tom when Tord was unavailable. He is kind, trustworthy, and loyal; more so than most other members in the Red Army. Anyone else would have given Tom hell on a regular basis for what he did to their leader, and some of them were, well… Jealous. He couldn't exactly blame them. His soldiers were oh so devoted to their gracious leader it was hard to get mad at them for wanting to protect him. But in this scenario it was unneeded. He needed someone who wouldn't torment Tom out of spite. He'd also like to keep the number of casualties in his army to a minimum if possible. Tord would hate to start picking off his soldiers one by one if they so dare lay a single finger on his precious Tom.
That reminds me, I need to start teaching Tom Norwegian soon. Tord recalled. If Tom was going to be part of his army then he needs to learn Norwegian to get his way around. He smiled. I can't wait to spend some quality time with Tom. Teach him my native language. We will finally have something in common.
After what felt like an agonizing eon, the meeting finally adjourned. Tom heaved a sigh of relief and quickly closed the Paint Tab.
His relief was short lived however, as Bing and Larry began to lead the way to the laboratory, followed closely behind by Tord, who insisted Tom walked right beside him at all times, and Paul and Patrick flanking on either side of them. Jumping from one boring task to the next.
They descended several flights of stairs and came around a bend in the hallway where big metal doors blocked the path, but slowly slid open with a resounding hiss as they approached to reveal a huge room; brightly lit but unkempt and in a state of disarray. Papers were scattered everywhere, broken glass and empty stained beakers lied around carelessly, while foaming vials of colorful concoctions boiled without supervision in the far right corner.
Tom noticed Red Leader give the laboratory a disdained glance over. Clearly he was not impressed by Bing's organization skills.
"Come, come!" Bing said eagerly, leading them towards the lower floor of the lab. "I'll show you our latest bioweapon."
Bioweapon? Tom thought with alarm. He tried to catch Tord's eye for an explanation, but he wasn't surprised when the Norwegian man provided none.
They hurried after Bing and Larry and discovered a large, wide open area resembling an arena with several reinforced steel gates of various sizes surrounding the entire space. To Tom's horror, they were nearing the biggest gate.
Bing approached the control panel in the center of the room, pressing a few buttons to summon a wide screen to flicker on to display the bioweapon contained inside. Tom had to physically bite back a gasp. The creature featured on the screen looked like a giant white bat with twisted ram horns and malignant icy blue eyes as it screeched a horrible high-pitched shriek. The creature itself was terrifying in its own right, but what made it worse was the state it was in. Tom could see its ribs on full display as it heaved on its hind legs, flaring its wings, clearly malnourished; one horn was broken, fleshy pink scars spread over its body, broken sharp teeth, and a horrible open gash around its neck showing muscle and bone underneath the dried blood.
If Tom wasn't so fearful of his own predicament he would've openly expressed pity for the bioweapon.
Tord looked on in awe, clear interest shining in his one eye as he stepped closer to the screen. "Most impressive. Tell me, what's this asset's current skill set?"
Bing excitedly started to blab nonstop about the bioweapon, while Paul and Patrick conversed amongst themselves and Larry looked on miserably.
Tom hung back a little ways away, shuffling uncomfortably by the control panel. He didn't want any part of this. Looking around the room Tom guessed the other chambers also contained more bioweapon specimens. He could only imagine what kind of experiments were dealt to these unfortunate creatures in this awful place.
He promptly turned away from the scene. How much longer was Tord going to spend gushing about his science project?
Bored and disturbed with the place, Tom leaned on the control panel… And accidentally pushed a switch.
Alarms immediately started blaring throughout the laboratory, everyone looking around in a panic as the gateway to the bioweapon they were spectating began to lift open. Tord whipped around, his gaze hardening as it landed on Tom. "What did you do?" He demanded.
Tom didn't get the chance to defend himself as the white bioweapon lumbered into the open, snarling and gnashing its teeth. It set its gaze on Bing and Larry first. Upon recognizing them as its primary tormentors, the monster lashed out at them. Paul managed to push them out of the way just in time.
The monster shrieked in displeasure, the sound so loud and awful it made Tom fall to his knees clutching his head; his eardrums on the brink of bursting.
Then it fixed its attention on Tom next.
The white bat-like beast loomed closer, tipping its head. Tom froze. He could only watch, holding his breath as the monster stared deep into his eyeless sockets with a questioning glare and a low growl rumbling in its throat for several heartbeats that seemed to last a lifetime.
The monster reared back and shrieked, flapping its wings wildly and swiping down at him. Tom cowered away only to be shoved sideways, slamming onto the ground far away from the beast. Tom gasped, eyes flying open as he stared at Tord's powerful physique towering protectively over him. He saved me? He thought. What does it matter if I live or die? Doesn't he hate my guts?
He didn't have time to dwell on that, as the bioweapon began to carve a hole in the ceiling with its claws and burrowed its way out of the laboratory, just as reinforcements arrived a moment too late to do anything to stop the creature from escaping. Everyone could only watch in horror as their first openly successful bioweapon escaped from the facility; alarms still blaring on everyone's ears.
Tom was frozen on the spot, unable to comprehend what just took place. But he finally snapped out of his daze when Tord got off of him, glaring down at him with the fury of a thousand suns. If looks could kill Tom would've become a past tense right then and there. He gulped.
"Take him to his room and out of my sight!" Tord snarled to his soldiers.
At once, soldiers rushed over and grabbed Tom by the arms; they didn't even bother with the usual rope spiel as they wordlessly hauled Tom out of the laboratory.
So much for exchanging his life for his freedom. First day on the job and Tom already managed to screw everything up for himself. What would become of him now? Tord was going to execute him for sure. Would the same thing happen to Edd and Matt? Tom's lips wobbled in despair just thinking about it. His friends' lives depended on his cooperation and now he doomed all of them with just one careless action.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts he hardly flinched when the soldiers tossed him into his quarters. He landed unceremoniously on the cold, hard floor of his room. Tom didn't have the luxury of being alone with his thoughts for long, however, as Tord charged into the room right after; having apparently followed them the whole way up from the lab.
Tord grabbed him by the front of his uniform. "What happened down there? What did you do?" He demanded, absolutely livid.
"I don't know, I just-"
"Answer ME!" Tord shook him roughly. "Did you really think your little plan was going to work?"
Tom blinked. "What?"
He flinched as Tord shoved him away, screaming in anger while knocking over the nightstand, and slamming his metal fist through the wall just beside Tom's head, barely missing him. Tom could only stand there in horror, trembling, his blood running cold as Tord began to chuckle darkly.
"You released the monster in hopes of escaping, didn't you?" Tord drawled with barely suppressed anger. Smiling from ear to ear with a steely glint in his eye. "You thought you could foil my plans and release my best bioweapon out into the world in hopes of getting under my skin, didn't you, you savage little thing?" He roughly gripped Tom by the chin with his metal fingers.
Tom had never been more terrified of Tord than right this second. He was unhinged, mad, and totally out of control.
"I didn't do anything!" Tom cried out in protest. "It was an accident! I swear."
"I don't believe you." Tord growled, thrusting his face closer. His warm, pungent cigarette breath fanned over his face and Tom wrinkled his nose. He's too close for comfort.
The grip around his chin tightened, so much so Tom was afraid Tord was about to try and rip his lower jaw off for his insubordination. What an awful way to go. But Tord was beyond reasoning at this point. He was furious with Tom, and it seemed like every attempt to defend himself was only worsening the situation.
Tom started to mentally cite his last prayers, knowing this whole awful ordeal was about to end in a bloody painful way when Bing, like the godsent angel he is, stopped by the doorframe and politely knocked on the wall to get his leader's attention.
"Pardon me for interrupting what would be an otherwise entertaining resolution, but I bring news from the lab." Bing said.
"What?" Tord spat, ripping his gaze away from Tom.
"It seems your charge is speaking the truth. Or so we think, anyways." Bing stated. "After extensively reviewing the laboratory's security footage, we can see that our good friend Thomas here, while directly responsible for releasing Test Subject #643, had done so unintentionally. His body language expressed discomfort and boredom. Not the usual signs of someone who is on the brink of plotting something nefarious, and he visibly displayed surprise when pushing the lever. I say it's a safe bet that it was indeed an accident."
Tom dared breathe a sigh of relief at the news. It was a mistake.
"I'm not buying it." Without warning, Tord grabbed Tom by the hair and dragged him over to the bed. Tears pricked the corners of Tom's sockets from how harshly Tord handled him. "You tried to escape. You wanted the monster to kill us so you could make your escape. Answer me!"
"I- I didn't." Tom rasped, his words dying off into a whine as Tord's grip on his hair tightened further. Suddenly, a burst of anger exploded inside him and he grew bold. "What did you expect from me as your personal assistant? To stand idly by and comply? I told you I was going to make your life a living hell if you kept me here. Release me!" He stared steadily into Tord's burning gaze with all the courage he could muster.
Tord bared his teeth and shoved him away with a grunt. Tom staggered back, dazed.
The Red Leader stared him down. "Release you? I think not. You need to pay for your insubordination with your life, as is my will. Your folly will cost you dearly, my dear. Do you think it's fair to Edd and Matt to have you go free and unpunished after what you put them through? Remember; they wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you." He pointed out. "You don't deserve freedom. You don't deserve to be happy. Do you see logic with what I'm saying?"
Tom glared back at him, but privately he couldn't help but agree. Had he only listened to Edd's warning none of them would be here right now.
"You will remain here for the rest of your life, Thomas. You're not going anywhere else without me present at all times. The Red Army is all you'll ever need from now on. And in due time, you will learn to appreciate all I can provide you with - your life here from here on can either be very pleasant or absolute agony, but it all comes down to you. Do I make myself clear?" Tord began to turn away, his coat swishing behind him as he began to leave the room.
"When can I see my friends?" Tom dared ask.
At once, he realized the horrible mistake he made when Tord glanced back at him, his one eye blazing with fury. Without warning, Tord grabbed his arm and threw him aside as he barged past him. Tom could only watch from his crumpled position on the floor as Tord stripped the bed of its comforter and sheets and pillows and threw them all out the door next to Bing, who was still witnessing everything by the doorway impassively. Tord stormed out, and glared at Tom one final time. "Never!" He slammed the door with a thundering force that threatened to knock the door off its hinges.