Spare Changes

2 - The Real One

Summary: Tord is confused and Edd is... Edd

Notes: I wanted to tap into tord's (highly limited) characterization in the classic run of eddsworld, meaning our OG tord will be reserved, yet crass and a slightly maladjusted guy with a sadistic streak and an affinity for weapons. That's all we've got and I'm building on it. He's probably also emotionally constipated but that's my added spice.

This is a very long one (4k or so) so sit tight and enjoy!

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Tord meticulously smooths out the blueprints on his desk. He's been working on these for a while, some ideas that are out of the ordinary... and maybe a tad bit illegal... but his employees don't need to know. He's well trusted here. No one would suspect him of drawing up extra destructive weapons in his spare time. Everyone's focused on getting the regular old manufacturing process done, there's never been time to check. No room for them to question him in the slightest.

The norski sets his pencil between his teeth and ponders. No matter how long he has been with the company, he'll still dream about inventing something big. Sure, working closely with firearms has been a dream come true. The craftsmanship behind the intricate mechanisms inside of any gun sends Tord on a tirade to learn more and more. But man... if he could have the freedom to just make shit... sometimes he yearns for the lack of constraints.

He can't complain. His life has been comfortable for a while. When he arrived in New York eight years previously, he was unsure, jobless, and a little bit guilty for doing it all so suddenly. He didn't have much he was leaving behind back in England other than friends. Tord notices that particular guilty feeling settling down over him. He remembers why he left. Of course he was pursuing his ambitions, but he also had something he wanted to get away from, get over. It had settled into the back of his mind... but even after years, it wasn't easily forgotten. Tord tried his best to avoid it, distance himself from it.

Yeah, he really hasn't written to Edd in a while. There's been a few letters, sparse emails, and maybe they've called twice. International phone bills suck royally. He could be keeping up with it better, though. Even if he knows he shouldn't be. Talking to Edd goes against his long term goals.

Who knows if the guys ever even think about him at all these days. It's been nearly a decade. They're probably wrapped up in something entirely new. It's too late for him to get caught up on the vast amount of things he has inevitably missed, so Tord figures he'll let it fade into the background forever.

He is about to erase part of his current sketch (a futuristic laser gun) when there's a loud pounding at the door. Tord turns his head, and flips his blueprints over so they're not easily seen by prying eyes.

"Yes? Come in, it's open."

The door practically bursts off the hinges. There's a large man standing in the threshold, looking rather stern. He's dressed in a crisp suit, and Tord immediately notices the MI6 badge clipped to his front pocket. Not subtle at all. Oh joy.

"Tord Lageson?"

"That is the name on my door." He gestures with one hand.

The agent darts his eyes to the plaque, then back to the steady angry eye contact. Tord keeps his expression level, though he's a little nervous. He has questions. First, he wonders if he's busted for public indecency or something. He had taken a piss in an alleyway recently. Long story. Second, he's lost as to why this guy is clearly English, considering where they are right now. Though he only had spoken two words so far, the accent was obvious.

"You're coming with us." Yup, that's definitely an English accent— wait.

"Why?" Tord raises a brow, worry increasing. He doesn't let it show. He keeps his arm propped on his desk, covering the incriminating blueprints of extra dangerous weapons. They can't bring him in for ideas, can they? Corrupt bastards. Could almost make him rethink being a staunch Communist.