Work Text:
6:28P.M
Behind the wide steel desk, Tord worked on his routine. The scratch of his pen across paper was the only sound in the room with his prosthetic emitting whirrs and creaks in the process. Page after page received the same precise signature, pressing his thumb against ink and printing it on the paper. He had taken over Britain, Venezuela and soon planning for Greenland. The overhead light casts a shadow across his face, leaving his eyes hidden beneath his brows, his mask sat on the table isolated.
The door did not knock.
It opened with the blunt certainty of someone who knew interruption was permitted only when it mattered. Boots first, two soldiers, and a slumped man between them. His legs dragged against the floor, even though he tried to imitate a walking gesture but to no avail. The metal cuffs clinked with every forced step. He was then pushed forward, no chance to catch himself up since a soldier grabbed his shoulder and forced him on his knees.
The soldiers did a sharp salute. Chins up, hands against heads, legs touched together.
The Leader did not look up immediately.
He finished the signature; ink first, thumbprint second, sliding the paper towards the other signed ones. Order before curiosity.
The pen clicked shut.
Only then did his gaze lift.
“At ease.” He commanded, the soldiers lowered their salute and held their hands behind their backs.
Edd was thinner than memory flashed for him.
Not the kind of thin that came from time, but the kind carved by hunger and cold and nights without sleep. The green hoodie still clung to him like an identity, dirt-streaked, torn at some edges. Blood darkened one side where fabric had stuck to skin, his beard was uneven, his hair longer, greasy.. and eyes the same.
Always the same.
Those soft, unmistakable heterochromia eyes always caught his attention first about Edd. It wasn’t one brown and one green, no, both eyes were mixed beautifully with hazel brown and olive green, so rare. Truly. Only did he notice that they got a little droopy, a little tired.
Edd scoffed and lowered his head, but his hair was caught by a gloved hand and forced his head up with a groan.
“Face the Leader.” The soldier snarled.
Tord only had to raise two fingers for his soldier to release Edd and take a step back.
“Edward,” he stood from his seat. “it seems as though life hasn’t been treating you fair. You’re wounded everywhere..” his harsh accent was one of the traits people recognized the Leader. It kind of stood out.
Edd exhaled exhaustingly. “Ask your minions, they would know.” he spoke hoarsely.
“My soldiers hurt you this way?”
“You give guns and knives to irresponsible children and shit happens, m’i right?” Edd held eye contact with Tord. And to his surprise, the Leader genuinely looked confused.
The two soldiers stood nervously.
Tord lifted Edd’s chin and checked his face; a purple punch mark under his eye, a bleeding bruise on his forehead surely caused by a gun slammed on it, his nose bent slightly sideways and bleeding. Broken.
“Present,” the Leader started, the soldiers stiffened. “arms.” they saluted sharply. Tord slid his hand from under Edd’s chin, he held his arms behind his back and started circling around the three, slowly. His boots’ heels tapped on the floor with a precise rhythm.
Despite his height, being fairly smaller than most soldiers, Tord’s dominion devoured. The tension he sets can cut someone in half. Proof being the soldiers’ foreheads and necks drowning in sweat.
He ceased circling. He stopped in front of the soldier on Edd’s left side; a brunette with a ski mask, curls slightly popping out of the edges, eyelids flickering, not daring to lock gazes with the Leader’s.
“Private Léonel Achille.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“Repeat the standing rule concerning the fugitive present with us right now.”
A chill crept up the french soldier’s spine. He swallowed a choking lump before he spoke,
“The detainee designated Edward Golde is not to be subjected to gunshots, strikes, and any harmful force beyond restraints.”
Edd’s face scrunched. He didn’t take it as pity. No, his hate just grew wider. He didn’t feel safe. He felt like he was being tossed around like a sacred object.
“That’s correct, thank you.” Tord walked to the soldier on Edd’s right side, still saluting as his Leader did not give him the command to be at ease.
“Sergeant Stefan Kaiser.”
“Sir yes s—-“
“Did you abide to the rule your trainee just spoke out loud?”
The sergeant’s jaw clenched, his eyes trying to find anything but the Leader’s eyes to stare at.
“Negative, sir.”
Tord nodded. “Do you enjoy being a sergeant in the R.E.D base?”
“Most certainly, sir.”
“Do you wish to stay a sergeant in the R.E.D base?”
“Only if sir allows it, sir.”
Tord’s eyes relaxed towards Edd. That one hasn’t moved yet, probably catching his breath now that he’s not actively running for his life.
“Sir,” the private spoke again. “the fugitive was being difficult. He wouldn’t—“
“Stand down.”
He immediately shut up at Tord’s order.
“I required no explanation. You are dismissed.”
Both soldiers hit their boots against the ground and successively left the office. The door simply clicked shut.
“You don’t get to destroy my life and then decide how gently others are allowed to handle me.” Edd shifted slightly, but was held back down by a firm metallic hand clasping his shoulder.
“You misunderstand my intentions, Edd. I have things to get done, I h—-e so—ld—rs—- — -“
Edd’s breath hitched. His sweat felt cold. His head felt too heavy, some dots were plaguing his vision.
“—dd?”
His stomach churned, his head pounded, his wounds bled.
“E—d? Edd?”
He looked up at the Leader. When did he sit on the couch? When did the restraints get removed from his wrists?
“I see you are not fit for a confrontation right now. Fair, regarding your.. state. I will have you medicated and patched up, and then fed.”
Whatever all those muffled words meant, Edd rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch. There’s no fighting back, there are about 4 soldiers just behind Tord’s door, and hundreds of them outside the base.
Edd was smarter than that.
9:02P.M
The Leader sat in front of Edd across their table at some fancy restaurant. Tord’s plate remained untouched, meanwhile Edd.. didn’t really understand the concept of ‘fancy.’ Eating with both of his hands, two different sandwiches in each fist, a glass of cola that was refilled for the third time.
In his defense, he was starved.
“Good?” Tord’s hands held each other on his laps.
Edd vigorously nodded while he was taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Hold yourself, Edd, the food’s yours.”
“Can we refill this?”
He asked with a full mouth, sliding the empty cup towards the Norwegian.
Tord sighed and raised his hand slightly, a waitress with a red mask over her face walked towards their table. Her movements were too precise, yet lightly slumped. Flawless. Almost inhuman. The smile on the mask painted their emotions. Their as in the whole population of Britain and Venezuela.
“Please get us a Cola refill.”
“Not diet!”
Tord sighed. “Not diet.”
She nodded and took the cup, not facing either men before she left to the task.
Edd’s eye twitched, yet he just took another bite of each sandwich.
“So that’s what you do, huh?”
“Pardon?”
“You just put a mask that controls people’s brains with directives and call it ‘fixing the world’? You’re really fuckin pathetic.”
He opened his mouth and reached his pinky finger in to reach for a chunk.
“Do you see street fights happening? Do you see people killing people over money? It’s civil here. It’s great here. That’s how I fixed it.”
The waitress came back with the cup, she placed it in front of Edd and left again. The bigger man snatched it and began chugging it down.
“You’re just usin’ bunch o’ tech and weapons to make ‘em obey. You don’t have dominance, you didn’t really earn it. You threatened for it.”
“I might have, but I have gone through several sacrifices to reach this point. You can criticize me as much as you want, only me and my hand men know what we went through to achieve this goal. I seek no wars, I want peace around countries.”
“Are you gonna finish that?” Edd pointed at Tord’s plate. The superior sighed and placed two bills, a 20 and a 5.
“Move. I am done.”
“I dunno I kinda feel relaxed here??”
“Edd, move.”
9:47P.M
Streetlights illuminated their way, the city’s lights helped roughly as well. The way back to the base was mostly quiet for now.
Edd walked half a step ahead. Not because he was leading, because he refused to be escorted.
The cuffs were gone. Tord had ordered that ever since Edd was doing bad enough that he blacked out in Tord’s office.
Tord walked beside him, boots steady, prosthetic arm whispering its mechanical noises with every shift. Metal remembering motion. Metal refusing weakness.
Neither of them spoke at first.
They reached some alleyway.
A flickering sign buzzed overhead. Green light washed over Edd’s hoodie. For a second, he looked exactly like the man Tord left behind years ago.
Tord noticed.
He looked away immediately.
Edd broke the silence without turning.
“Did you practice that?”
Tord’s voice stayed level.
“Practice what.”
“The whole… pretending this is normal thing.”
He gestured in the air.
Tord shook his head. “I am only trying to get you to my side.”
“I think you’ve already done enough of that.”
“I suppose you are still angry over your home.. and your friends. Frankly, I apologize.”
Edd halted. He turned to face Tord.
He was sure he heard that correctly.
“You don’t have to keep doing this,” Edd muttered. “The… escort. The food. The rules about not harming me. You can just let me go live freely with my friends. That’ll do.”
A small glance. Defensive already.
“I get it. Guilt. Very dramatic. You can stop.”
Tord didn’t answer.
The silence stretched.
Edd shifted his weight, uncomfortable under a gaze that used to mean pranks, stupid jokes, fighting over bacon, shared plans that had nothing to do with armies.
“What?” Edd said, quieter. “What are you looking at?”
Tord’s voice came out lower than usual. Less command. More fracture.
“I’m trying to word my next decision in an easy way for you to understand.”
Another pause. The prosthetic whirred softly, fingers flexing then stilling.
Tord stepped closer.
Not leader to civilian. Not interrogator to subject. Just… closer.
Edd tensed automatically. Reflex. Muscle memory. Fleeing from everyone around him. Tord noticed that too, that might have been the worst part.
His jaw tightened. The words didn’t want to exist. He had built an entire life around never needing them.
But they were there. Waiting. Rotting.
“I still need to make sure you stay alive,” Tord said. No strategy. Just the truth laying flat between them.
Edd’s shoulders went rigid.
“I left without explanation. I came back with a weapon. I chose power over…”
A small pause. The word hurt.
“…you.”
Edd stared at the ground. The concrete suddenly fascinating! Majestically built! He truly wasn’t great at this confrontation.
Tord’s voice dropped even further.
“I told myself you were collateral. That it was necessary.” He inhaled.
“It wasn’t. You betrayed me.” The words landed hard.
“Point is,” the Leader continued. “I am willing to keep you just like how I kept Matt and Tom.”
Edd’s eyes flicked up fast.
Tord didn’t look away. He understands.
“I only want to make sure you do not cause trouble around the city, you wander without a mask and you are soo… rebellious. Indeed, leaving you galavanting freely is dangerous. So you’ll stay, and I ensure your safety.”
No theatrics. True speech.
Edd blinked once. Twice.
Anger showed first. Of course it did. It was safer. It was all he’s known for years.
“You think saying that fixes anything?” Edd’s voice shook, which annoyed him immediately. “You think that apologizing and then saying you want to keep me safe makes me hate you any less?”
Tord shook his head.
“Fuck you!” Edd barked. “Fuck you, Tord! Fuck you and fuck what you became! Fuck your mentality, fUck— you hurt me! SO MUCH!”
Tord hasn’t seen Edd crack this way, and Edd hasn’t seen Tord crack in any way yet.
The wind moved between them. Cold.
Edd’s eyes burned. He hated that. Hated that Tord still had access to emotions he’d buried under survival.
“You were my best friend,” Edd said, barely above a whisper. “You didn’t even give me the chance to be angry before you… became this.”
Tord absorbed it without defense. No argument. No justification. Just weight settling where it belonged.
“I know,” he said. “I’m apologizing because I acknowledge what I did, I don’t necessarily seek forgiveness. But I’m also not your enemy, I don’t want you hurt out there. I am not trying to fix what happened back then. Those are long gone, Edd.”
Another silence.
Edd seemed unfocused for a bit before his gaze turned back to Tord.
“Are you sure.. you have control over the country? Are you sure you can take up that responsibility?..”
“I already have, Edward.”
Edd wiped his face quickly, pretending it was nothing that wet his cheeks. “You’re late,” he muttered. “That apology was years late.”
He approached Tord with precise steps, his hand reached for the man’s glock in his belt and aimed at him. The Leader, slightly taken aback but with no overreaction, raised his hands in surrender.
“You’re going to kill me?”
“I don’t want to see you. I know I won’t kill you, but I need you to understand that I don’t hesitate anymore.”
One gunshot.
One loud, exploding bullet piercing through skin and muscles.
Blood splashed.
A groan choked in the air.
Edd lowered the glock.
The Leader turned around to the policeman bleeding out on the ground, with a gun in his hand that was ready to take down Tord.
“I’m going to ask you again.” Edd rasped. “Are you sure you have full control over the country?”
The Leader let out a shaky exhale as he watched the cop’s life fade from his eyes. Once he turned around, Edd was gone.
Tord reached for his walkie talkie, his stare fixated on the empty space where Edward should have been standing.
“Paul, do you copy?”
A static, then a crusty audio: “copy clear, sir.”
“Plan a meeting in two hours with Patryck, General Scarlett, Lieutenant Miles and the senior engineers. We need to advance the masks.”
“Aye, sir.”