Tord is tossed in prison for a crime he didn't commit.
A reunion with his friends shouldn't drudge up anything, right?
AKA Clone Tord Theory is good. Let's expand on it and make it really gay.
Crossposted from Ao3. Will be posting the chapters up sl...
With the large volume of bodies and chatter surrounding him, it was almost easy to miss that telltale sound of a shotgun cocking. But he heard it, just in the nick of time. It may have been just dumb luck that he was in close enough proximity to the four originals to notice them brandishing their weapons. He's not the type to consider the what ifs, but it was still just by chance.
He was also usually the type to jump into battle, he decided in that very moment. Though he hadn't existed for more than a few hours, he could sense that with some certainty. But... unarmed and stuck in a packed space like that little living room, he weighed his options. When he saw the blood splatter across the room, the gruesome noise of metal hitting skull and the blasting of automatic gunfire certainly coming from the identical hands of his doppelgänger (well, he himself was actually the copy, but he would like to think an improvement on the original), he instantly scanned around to make his plan of escape.
A bullet whizzed past his ear, getting dangerously close. He touched his right cheek where the stinging sensation bloomed up, finding blood dripping down the freshly opened skin. Uh oh. He needed to high-tail it. Now.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Red pushed through the crowd, found his way to the wall where he knew the window was. This was technically his house. He had somewhat vague recollections of living here just through the shoddy memory transference that came with the cloning process. Should he maybe have shuttled some of his fellow dummies outside with him? Perhaps. It would have proven difficult to pick out his favourites from the crowd. The clone sent a sad prayer to his brethern for only a fraction of a second before hoisting the window open and clambering out, unnoticed amongst the cacophony of bloodshed unfolding behind him. He was almost sad he was going to miss watching the show.
The clone ran across the lawn. Where to? He didn't know at the time. Survival instinct was all he'd been running on. Maybe he'd leave the country. Change his name. Lay low for a while.
Of course, Red had ambitions. He was not one hundred percent sure what those were at the moment, as he was still coming into a real sense of being and self awareness. You know how it is, being a fresh clone. He did know that he didn't care much that he'd run off and abandoned that life that his other self was living. It just wasn't big enough. He needed something more. He'd show them all what he was worth. Not just another body in a pile.
Oh it felt good, adrenaline pumping through as he had run down the street. Red's face broke out into a twisted grin. He remembered the Underground. A perfect ticket out of here. To where he'd end up... well.
Home seemed like a good place to start. Real home. Where his original self was born. Now, the clone had no plans to return to the childhood home he could scarcely remember, but still. Red was off to Norway. Even with no finances to his name, he'd find a way. Stubbornness was a helluva drug.
There were big things ahead.
----------------------------------------
Edd waved a solemn goodbye. He was in fact the only one waving. Matt was stood dazed and confused to his left, and Tom had just eaten asphalt. A sigh escaped him as Tord's car disappeared around a corner, and he wondered. Would he end up super successful? Chasing a big dream, is what he had said. He just didn't have the space or resources at their house. Edd had insisted they could easily accommodate it, build another floor or toss out some of Matt's rubbish to make room. However,Tord wasn't the type to be swayed when he made up his mind, so all attempts proved futile.
So Edd watched one of his best friends hop in the car and peel away. His heart wrenched at the thought, but he'd survive. Matt and Tom were an excellent distraction. He knew neither of them minded the norski's absence nearly as much.
Oh well. He'd call and write, of course. They'd keep in touch as much as possible. Edd was desperate to hear about his friend's aspirations, especially when Tord decided to be so mysterious about them.
He sat down a few nights later to type his first email. When or if his friend got to checking a computer he'd see it. Edd attached a little farewell drawing and told him good luck for the hundredth time. Maybe the email was a little long, typed a bit too eagerly as he recounted a recent escapade that the norski had missed, but Edd didn't think much of it as he pressed send. Tord was a best friend. He deserved to be in the loop.
There wasn't a reply for two whole weeks. Edd had expected one within twenty four hours, so he refreshed his email with a fervour throughout the day. Nothing.
When he had almost forgotten about it, a new email popped right up at the top of his inbox. Edd opened it excitedly, a bit disappointed to find Tord's response rather curt. He told Edd he was bummed he missed out, and that he didn't have much access to email yet. He added that he would send a postage address over soon.
At least that was some potential for more communication.
And when he was able to, he wrote. Edd actually bought stamps, and penned letters. He sent Tord drawings. Fit what he could into the envelopes. It felt really outdated, but he did it anyway.
Even when Tord didn't respond. Days turned into weeks, and there was nothing.
Sure, maybe Edd's heart pounded when there was finally a small white letter with Tord's name on the return address about seven months later. Maybe he tore it open and read it immediately, standing outside next to the postbox barefoot on a nippy fall morning. He was just excited to finally hear from his friend, could you really glean anything else from it? Of course not.
He would deny that he always checked the mail first from then on. Tom and Matt definitely weren't jumping to do a chore like that. It was all Edd's.
His enthusiasm for emailing didn't lessen. Undeterred, Edd recounted everything he could.
They had a short phone call at one point, and he swore he could have jumped through the ceiling from excitement at hearing Tord's voice, and what he'd been up to. Edd pitched a comic idea, and the norski had laughed. That was the best.
It was only once that Edd had gotten the chance to ring him, though. And it cost way too much, they both decided.
So, he got a few more written replies.
Until he didn't.
Edd kept writing, but the longer he went without an answer in return, the more he wondered... had Tord moved on from their friendship completely?
...
It'd been eight long years since Tord left. Edd was more than used to the radio silence by now. So when the blower rang, caller ID displaying an unfamiliar number, Edd picked it up without a second thought that it had anything to do with his old buddy. Might be a telemarketer. He heard a voice he wasn't expecting. A bit different than he remembers, but everyone sounds odd over the phone, don't they?
"Hello, old friend! Mind if I drop by sometime soon?"
