Work Text:
He stood on the cliff, looking at the house. Well, what was left of it. He knew he'd done what he had to. It was useless to stay hung up on now, yet he couldn't seem to will his body to move. Paul and Patryck were waiting in the car for him. They had bandaged him up after the robot. The explosion with the harpoon. If only he had hit Tom instead of that neighbour guy. If only he hadn't let him find that wanted poster. If only he'd planned it out better. If only they had died. There were too many if only's. Not enough of his preferred results. But it was over. And so was his arm apparently. It was searing in pain under the bandages, as well as the side of his face. The arm was an easy fix. A quick ambutation, replace it with something, he'd make it work. The face, on the other hand, not so much. He'd live with a scar, and the eye was probably fucked as well. He could see the figures of the three moving below him. Walking through the mess of leftover house. He kicked a piece of debris that was next to his foot as though it had personally offended him.
"Tord! We gotta go!"
This pulled him from his thoughts, as well as the loud beep of a horn. He'd left the two idiots he called his subordinates waiting up for him. Tord sighed, turning away from the house and heading to the car. While walking, he spotted a photo on the ground. Four hoodies. Four idiots. Four stupid grins. A million memories. one scuffed piece of paper. He scowled at the sight, stomping it into the ground before walking off towards the car. He climbed into the back-seat with a small huff, buckling the seatbelt. He watched out of the window, seeing what was left of his plan roll away into the distance as a pile of scrap metal and regret.
The car ride was quiet. The whispering between Paul and Patryck was only just concealed by the radio, the hentai that tord kept in the seat pocket was left untouched as he clutched his arm, trying hard to ignore the pain. It was a long, torturous drive for the three of them. The second they pulled into the red army base, tord half stumbled out of the car. Patryck looked like he was about to ask if he was okay, but was shut down by the look he was given. It was clear tord wasn't in the mood for anyone's shit. From what they knew, he'd work himself to the bone for the next week or so to keep things 'on track' as he would say.
That afternoon, he disappeared into his work room for at least an hour and a half, maybe more, door locked. It's not like anyone would dare enter. He had instilled enough fear into his soldiers for them to know not to enter without direct permission from him or his two higher ups. When he emerged, half of his face was still covered in bandages, but in place of his arm was something else. A robotic arm.
Shiny.
Red.
Sleek.
Fake.
That's what tord did best. Broke things just to replace them. Even if the replacement was fake. Even if it wasn't necessarily better. It was how he ran the place. It was the way he liked things.
He retreated to his office at the end of the hall on the top floor. Once Tord entered his office, he slumped into his seat, taking a deep breath, exhaling as a long sigh. He stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, slowing his heart. He then looked at his desk. he had left it a horrible mess. A few energy drink cans, a stray hentai that he hadn't finished, a bunch of unfinished paperwork he needed to do soon, and a few photos. He picked them up, looking at them.
The first one was of him and Edd. They were sitting in the old kitchen, bacon and cola in front of them. That was one of the days when they had a very large fight over who got the last piece of bacon.
The second one. A photo of him and Matt. It was a simple photo. From that time when they went into that ruins when edd was burying Susan.
The third was a photo of him and Tom. It was a stupid drunk photo, both of them wearing matching t-shirts. Tom wearing one that said "I'm with commie" and himself wearing one that said "I'm with Jehovas witness." That was one of the nights where they got along better than most times. One of the nights of drinking he actually liked.
And finally, the last one. A group selfie of the four, all sporting cat ear headbands. Tom looked the most annoyed about it, probably the only one actually annoyed. It was wholesome. Portraying what could have been and what Tord gave away.
He stared at the photos for a while before shoving them in his drawer, grabbing the half read hentai he had been reading before he left a few days ago, beginning to read again, trying to block out the thought of the four he had left behind. The four he could have stayed with if it weren't for this place. But he made this decision. He dug his grave, now he had to lay in it.
He had skipped dinner. He wasn't hungry. He had more important stuff to do. The paperwork he had been procrastinating, the blueprints for his next design, working on that new gun, finishing this damn hentai, all stuff he needed done. He was exhausted, yes, and lack of sleep was getting to him. He'd slept in Toms bed the night before. Only a few hours. He needed Toms room for that mission, and he put it to use in that lab he had in there. But a few hours in that bed that reeked of the guy was enough. He was functioning. Barely, but he was.