TWs: Weapons (guns and bombs), minor gun violence, family issues/shitty father, misgendering, minor character death
Tord took a final glance around his room. The walls were bare, and the shelves were barren of books. His bed still had the covers, except for his weighted blanket, which he packed tightly in a box. His closet was also void of anything except for the cobwebs that always seemed to come back no matter how many considerable times he dusted them.
This was it. The final moments he had before he eventually got out of this hellscape.
Pau and Pat were checking that everything was loaded on the plane, making sure their escape route was clear on the way back.
Tord quickly checked his gun's ammo, which was an AKM. He then checked the clock on the wall.
Exactly 0100 hours. Pat and Pau should be here any second.
There was a soft knock on the door, prompting Tord to open it. Both of them were out of breath, yet unharmed.
"Are we ready?" Tord questioned.
"Yes. The Nightwatch soldiers seem to be heading southward." Pat said.
"Perfect, let's go." Tord took charge as the three soldiers walked quickly and quietly through the dark hallways.
They got to the archives without bumping into anyone, making Tord uneasy.
'Something's not right...' He thought as they walked into the room. Pau slid the shelves over, revealing the outline of the doorway. He pushed in the wall as he did before, and it opened with ease.
The trio trekked down the stairwell, Tord in front once more. As soon as they got to the bottom, Pat stepped in front of Tord to make sure it was clear.
He pushed the wall open and looked between the shelves on the other side. The bottom of the stairwell led into an old office that didn't seem like anyone has been in for a long time.
"Clear," Pat said. Pau nodded and moved the shelves over.
They kept going down the shady hallways once they got out of the office. Tord was tense the whole time, as they hadn't bumped into anyone.
Tord saw their destination, the one that led to the training fields.
Once they got to it, Tord was reluctant to open it, as if something was waiting on the other side.
The leader shook it off as his anxiety getting to him and pushed the door open.
As they got outside, though, Tord wished he listened to his anxiety.
"Hello, son." His father said. The Lieutenant General stood at his side along with other higher-ranked soldiers.
Tord clenched his fist around his gun, "How'd you find out?"
"It's rude to not greet your father, Tord." He said instead of answering.
"It's also rude to not answer a question," Tord growled.
"I have my sources." His father spoke vaguely, then he turned to scowl at Tord, "I don't understand why you're so adamant about leaving, this is your home, is it not?"
Tord rolled his eyes, "Really? You're giving me a lecture while your men are pointing their weapons at us? I don't think you know what a home is."
"I gave you everything you could ask for; what more do you want?"
"I told you what I want! All I've ever wanted is to be an inventor, to craft things, not just weapons, but other things as well."
"It's a pointless aspiration, Tord! You won't get anywhere with it." His father dictated.
"How do you know?" Tord queried.
"Your mother never got anywhere, so why would you?"
Tord scowled, "How dare you..."
Pat heard a few clicks of guns in the crowd of soldiers as Tord raised his gun. He stepped closer to Tord, muttering, "Calm down, Tord."
"Listen to your Lieutanant, Tord. She seems to know a lot more about controlling anger." Tord's father smirked.
'She'. Pat's eye twitched. He wasn't going to let that slide.
He raised his gun, not bothering to check where he was aiming, and shot a soldier in the upper abdomen. They grimaced and fell to the ground, pulling the trigger of their weapon. The stray bullet nearly shot another soldier, only missing by a hair.
The General glared at the three, "Enough games, you three will not leave."
The soldiers had all raised their guns at the trio. Tord was contemplating what to do.
Just when he thought they lost, a voice shouted, "Eat my bombs, punks!"
Suddenly a mirage of orbs came tumbling down in front of the General's squadron. They immediately went off, except Tord realized these weren't ordinary bombs.
They were flash and smoke bombs.
Suddenly Tord's hand was grabbed, "Come on!"
That was a familiar voice.
"Clay? Where the hell did you get all those!?" Tord shouted.
"From me!" A voice spoke behind him. Tord glanced over, just now realizing You and Yan had joined the trio.
"Ah, makes sense..." He replied to You.
Once they got to the plane hangar, Pat and Pau headed to start the plane while Tord looked at the others gratefully.
"Thanks for the assist." He said.
You and Yan nodded, but Clay frowned.
"You will come back for me, right?" He uttered.
Tord gave a soft smile, "I promised, didn't I?"
"Yeah." He nodded.
Tord thought for a second, then told him, "Wait here."
He went inside the plane, looking for something specific. He smiled sadly as soon as he saw it, then walked out to where Clay stood.
"I want you to have this," Tord revealed the item to him.
"Your pickelhaube?" Clay gasped.
The Norsk nodded, "Something to remember me by."
"Are you sure?" The boy asked.
"Yep." Tord handed it over, 'It gives me bad memories, anyway.'
Clay inspected it carefully. It was in bad shape, and the point was a bit crooked, but he seemed to love the gift despite all that.
Then there was a commotion in the distance, what sounded like a stampede heading for the plane hangar.
"You should go," Yan said.
Tord nodded, "Thanks again."
The light brunette entered the plane, seeing Pat and Pau almost ready for lift-off.
"Ready yet?" Tord asked.
"Ready," Pat said as he pressed a button and pushed a lever. The plane started rumbling and moved slowly down the runway, picking up speed little by little until Pat pulled the lever and pressed a few buttons. It lifted into the air, causing a bit of turbulence.
Tord always felt sick because of the turbulence, so he decided to go hang out in the back of the plane. He had set up a makeshift bed for himself to lie down on, so he did just that.
He slowly fell asleep hearing the soft rumbles of the plane and the occasional bickering of his companions.
"Remember, min ildflue, if you ever need me, come get me. Okay?" His mother looked at him with her silver gaze.
"Okay, mamma." 10-year-old Tord nodded.
Snefrid smiled, "Now go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."
Tord grinned as he was reminded that his mother was finally taking him out to town, another birthday present he got. His birthday was a few days ago, but his mother had been so busy with other things that she had no time.
She leaned over to kiss her son's forehead, "Godnatt, ildflue."
"Godnatt, mamma."
He watched as his mother left the room. When he went to get the remote for the lights, he noticed that his mother left her snowdrop hairpin behind.
The 10-year-old took it upon himself to return it to her. He picked it up and headed out of his room in his bat-themed pajamas. He walked down the hallway, seeing his mother at an end that turned right. She seemed to be talking to someone, but Tord couldn't see who since they were behind the corner.
He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a gunshot.
His mother fell back on the floor.
Tord screamed, "Mamma!"
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Norwegian =
Min ildflue - My firefly
Mamma - Mom/mum/mama
Godnatt - Goodnight
(Translations brought to you by Google Translate)