After staying in the infirmary for a little while longer, Yanov officially discharged him after Tom was deemed fit enough to leave, and he was escorted back to his quarters straight away.

To Tom's astonishment, when he returned to his quarters everything was in order. The lights were on, the bed was arranged, and the temperature was comfortable. Tom didn't know what to make of it. It's like Tord was trying to pretend none of this ever happened.

Commie has another thing coming for him if he thinks I'm just going to brush everything off.

He proceeded to take a warm shower, and when he was done, Tom stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist to find his old set of clothes neatly folded on the bed, a tray of food, and a note attached to them.

Tom ripped open the note.

Thomas,

Given the circumstances I have permitted you to take a small break from your duties for the foreseeable future. You will not be expected to assist me, and I have found a temporary replacement for you.

Enjoy.

In a fit of anger, Tom crumpled the paper in his hands and tossed it aside.

He put on his black sweatpants, gray shirt and blue hoodie with a small sigh of relief knowing he wouldn't have to adorn the humiliating Red Army uniform any longer. He removed the metal dome lid on the tray and found a plate of steak with white rice and a salad, accompanied by a glass of lemonade and one single chocolate chip biscuit for dessert.

Despite his misgivings about the whole affair, Tom dug into the meal with no hesitation. He was starving! He ate the whole thing in quick, famished bites and in a matter of minutes there was nothing left on the tray.

Tom moved the tray off the bed and onto the desk. He was tired and he just wanted this awful day to end already. He got onto bed and snuggled under the covers, appreciating the comfortable warmth that surrounded him after nearly freezing to death. With that said, Tom couldn't find much comfort other than that to sleep. The fact that he was a prisoner, forced to work here against his will for someone who utterly despises him, and nearly killed him for a mistake on his part terrified and angered Tom at the same time.

He can't expect much mercy from this place. This was only the first day, and look what happened!

So many questions were swimming around through his head as he lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to sleep.

What is Commie up to? For what purpose does he need Tom for? He could've easily killed him and gotten rid of him for good, so why didn't he? He seemed so pissed and sure Tom freed the bioweapon. What changed his mind? And why does he have a feeling that everyone around here knows something he doesn't?

The next morning, Tom woke up naturally on his own. Looking at the radio on his nightstand, it was 10AM. Patrick came in half an hour later to check if he was awake and brought him his breakfast. After the Polish soldier left, Tom was left to his own devices but within the confines of his quarters.

Tom was bored, to say the least.

He turned on the radio to play some tunes, but there was nothing to do in his room outside of reading. And the books that were in his quarters were about as interesting as watching paint dry. They were mostly documents pertaining to real world events, especially wars and revolutions throughout the ages. Tom was a bigger fan of works of fiction.

One particular book on the shelf that caught his eye was one titled "The history of the Larsin family". Sounds like a bore-fest. Tom thought, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He had no idea why such a book would be on his shelf, or even exist for that matter; did Tord hope Tom would take an interest in his history?

But then again, he had nothing else to do with his time, and hey, maybe the book can provide Tom with some sort of plan to take down the Commie? It was worth a shot.

Begrudgingly, Tom pulled the massive book off the shelf and sat down on the bed, legs crossed as he skimmed through the first few pages.

Something something, a long time ago, something about vikings, a red clan, yatta yatta yatta…

It didn't take long for Tom to shut the book in a sigh of boredom and dump it on the floor. Whoever put that book on his shelf clearly hoped to bore him to death. He wouldn't be surprised if it was the Commie's idea.

Tom lied down on his back and started to rummage through his Redex. It was handed back to him after Patrick fed him breakfast, but he didn't think there was much use of it outside of work. Tom browsed through the different tabs with disinterest. He had limited access to the internet, so he couldn't even watch a movie or contact anyone if he wanted to.

He could doodle on the Paint Tab, or check out Tord's schedule for the week to see what he was up to, but nothing really grabbed Tom's interest until he stumbled upon the map layout of the whole base. Tom sat up, and began looking around.

The base was massive, way bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Tom identified the conference room, the lab, and the infirmary, but Tom couldn't pinpoint the exact location of his own quarters. He knew it was up a flight of stairs, and there was a round circular room close by, but that still leaves so many options left it was hard to narrow down.

Tom began looking for a prison where his friends might be kept in.

There was a POW camp outside the base, and a prison close to the laboratory, but Tom had no idea which one Edd and Matt were being kept in. They could be in either one, or perhaps Tord separated them and kept one in each to make it harder for Tom should he escape; regardless, Tom had his work cut out for him. I need to find a definitive proof as to where Tord is keeping them.

Tom continued looking extensively at the base's blueprints. There was the option to view the camera feed from several areas, but when Tom tried to see into the prison he got a message pop up saying that his access was denied. Same thing happened with the laboratory and the conference room.

Just when he thought he'd gotten somewhere Tord had to prove him wrong yet again. "Damn it." Tom hissed.

"Well, apologies if my presence disturbs you so!" Patrick sassed humorously as he walked into the room with a tray in his hands. "I can always leave and come back later if you wish?"

"No, no!" Tom shook his head. "I'm sorry. I wasn't- that wasn't meant for you, I was just- this Redex ordeal is really complicated."

Far from Tom trying to be friendly with the soldier, but Tom legitimately kinda liked Patrick. It was rare to see a kind Red Army soldier, let alone have one serve him meals and clean his clothes. Out of everyone here Patrick was rather nice company to have; even if it is forced company all things considered.

Patrick blinked at him sympathetically. "Yeah, the Red Army's systems are plenty hard to get a hold of, but you'll get the hang of it in time." He said, placing the tray down on the bed in front of Tom before removing the lid to the platter to reveal a tuna sandwich, a strawberry jello, and a glass of lemonade. "How are you holding up, Tom?"

"I'm fine. Dying from boredom, but I'm good despite getting tortured and nearly freezing to death." Tom said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"You weren't tortured." Patrick scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Red Leader merely disciplined you, is all. Believe me, Tom, torture - REAL torture - would have made you take your own life long before death ever took you. Even if one had no means to kill themselves, the torture alone wold've made them get creative enough."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "What do you know?"

"I've seen Red Leader personally torture plenty of men and women who dared defy him in the past." Pat murmured coolly. "Time and time again Yanov would be sent in to put them out of their misery once all information and dignity had been extracted from the prisoners."

Cute. Tom thought with a flare of annoyance rising inside of him. Maybe Patrick isn't as pleasant company as he first believed.

He took another bite of his sandwich, and paused. "Why are you here?" He eventually asked. "In the Red Army, I mean. You don't look like you'd belong here. Honestly you look like you could have been a kindergarten teacher or something. So how come a guy like you end up working for a guy like Commie?"

Patrick lowered his head. "It's a long story…"

"Not like any of us have something better to do in the meantime." Tom pointed out mid-chew, and then added. "Please, I could really use a break from the boredom right now."

"Don't speak with your mouth full." Patrick admonished. His expression softened, and he released a tired sigh. "I was 16 years old when I was drafted into the Red Army, just one year away from graduating high school. I didn't know it at the time, but there was a reason why I was selected. Still, given the chance to achieve greater things I took the opportunity without a second thought. I was blinded by the promise of a future with nothing but glory and fortune, how could I not?"

Tom crossed his legs and leaned forward anxiously as he took another bite of his sandwich.

"I worked hard during training and climbed the ranks as best as any given soldier." Patrick went on. "But then, one day… I was approached with an offer. Commander Paul, it turns out, had taken a deep liking towards me and wanted me to marry him."

"You dumped him, right?" Tom couldn't help but blurt out.

Pat lowered his gaze. "At first, yes. While I was flattered by the Commander's interest in me, I did not see myself worthy of his affections at the time - things were simply moving too fast for my tastes, so I turned him down." He paused, frowning. "But a while later, I heard that my parents lost their jobs - dumped on the streets with no way to pay rent - and my brother and sister were cast out of school with no warning. I was desperate to save them from a life of poverty. Desperate enough to put my fears aside to approach the Commander and accept his offer."

Dread hollowed Tom's belly as he listened to the story and he gulped.

"Paul promised me my family would be taken care of. We got married in the summer of that year, and true to his word, my family was taken in by the Red Army." Patrick finished.

Tom swallowed. "What… happened to your family?"

"My father works in the Medical facility as a surgeon. My mother works down in the kitchens preparing meals for the soldiers." Patrick replied matter of factly. "My brother became a cadet last year, he should be promoted to corporal soon. And my sister married a high ranking officer, and she's expecting her third child."

"And how long have you been married?" Tom dared to ask.

Patrick hummed thoughtfully. "I'd say about four years now." He murmured. "Paul and I have even considered the idea of adopting children someday."

Hearing this, Tom couldn't help the deep wave of sadness that flooded through him. "I'm sorry." He said, blinking sympathetically. He lowered the remains of his sandwich back onto the tray. His appetite gone.

"What for?" Pat asked, genuinely confused by his reaction.

"You and your family were forced to join the Red Army. You had to marry a guy you barely liked just to keep a roof over your heads." Tom explained slowly. "You had plans for the future - your own life to live, and they just… took everything from you."

"No need to be so dramatic, Tom. Plans change! It's a part of life." Patrick dismissed his misgivings with a flick of his hands, rolling his eyes. His behavior irked Tom to no end. Here he is, offering sympathy for an awful situation, and the General had the gall to sit there like Tom was the one making a fuss over nothing. "I assure you my family and I are much happier here than we ever were out there. I love Paul, and he loves me; and that's good enough for me."

"He manipulated you."

"You don't know what you speak of. But then again, I can hardly blame you when you're so blinded by anger and vengeance." Pat shook his head sadly. "You just joined us. In time you'll come around and see the Red Army are not the bad guys you think we are."

Well, nevermind then - screw you too Patrick! Tom fumed, baring his teeth at the Polish soldier with distaste as he pushed the tray of food away from him. And to think I actually might've liked him.

"Are you done eating?" Patrick blinked down at him. When Tom did not reply he leaned forward to pick up the tray. "I'll be back later to bring you dinner. Is there anything else you need?"

Tom shook his head. He didn't want to look at Patrick for another second.

"Very well."

The soldier promptly left the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door shut Tom went back to rummaging through his Redex in search of vital information he could use for an escape plan. He needs to get his friends and leave as soon as possible. He won't risk turning out brainwashed like Patrick and the rest of the other demented soldiers here in this wretched place!