Eddsworld Oneshots

Abducted

It had been a week since Edd and Matt left on vacation.  I was basically the only one home, except for Tom, but we never interacted all too much. He was shut up in his room drinking his depression away, which was quite normal. I don't think I've ever seen that brit without some form of alcohol on him.  If given the chance, I bet he would marry his flask.

It was a lazy afternoon and I was busy relaxing on the sofa, lazily staring at the pixel images dancing across the television screen.  Ringo was curled up in his little cat bed, the slow rise and fall of his silver flank being the most peaceful thing I've seen in a while.

I exhaled heavily and proceeded to make myself comfortable on the cola stained cushions, lowering my head onto one of the old throw pillows, and stretching out over the rest of the couch.  My gaze remained locked with the colorful screen before me, hoping to catch the last few minutes of my beloved program.  However, my attempts proved unsuccessful when my eyelids became dense stone curtains, gradually drooping down over my tired, burning eyes as I began to doze off.

• • •

I was violently jolted awake by the nasty dream that settled in, the voices of those whose lives I ended during the war echoed through my aching skull, it was like their spirits were threatening to drag me down to hell every time I closed my eyes.  As the foggy remnants of my PTSD fueled nightmare evaporated into the tranquil atmosphere, I wiped the sweat and tears from my pale face and pinched the bridge of my nose, leaning forward on my elbows and reminding myself that the horrors I was subjected to were only part of a dream.

Once my heart rate returned to normal, I slid off the crimson sofa and pulled myself to my feet. I briefly glanced at the digital clock on the black cable box below the silent tv, the glowing green numbers writing out 17:36.

Damn

Still drowsy from my nap, I trudged out of the living room, dragging my feet across the rough faded carpet as I moved down the hall adjacent.

It had been almost 5 hours since I've seen Tom and Edd told me to check in with him every now and then to make sure he wasn't dead or something. Honestly I just wanted to see him again.  Since so much time had passed, I was eager to find out my housemate's status.

To my surprise, the alcoholic's decorated door was ajar and sunlight spilled out onto the worn rug. I picked up my pace and grabbed the edge of the wood, which was carefully wrapped in black and white, checkered duct tape. Rusty hinges screeched in protest as the entrance swung open, revealing the deserted room.

Maybe he's in the kitchen or the bathroom.  I thought, convincing myself his disappearance was just a coincidence.  Cautiously, I stuck my head out into the hallway and called out to the male, hoping for a response. To my dismay, I received no reply.  Worry set in, I clenched my jaw shut and gulped as the house took on an unnerving atmosphere. 

Something is wrong.

Instinctively, I began to investigate.  Tom's bedroom was littered with dirty articles of clothing, and his bedding looked as if it had melted off the mattress.  In the corner of the space was a beanbag, buried in a chest-high mound of miscellaneous items.  You could barely identify it as a beanbag.  The worn carpet was covered in vodka stains accompanied by little glittering shards of glass, embedded in the fibers, and a plethora of empty glass bottles stood atop his old spruce desk like transparent soldiers. 

In other words... it was a mess.

I shook my head and sighed in defeat.  If something bad happened here, I don't think I'd ever be able to differentiate between evidence of a struggle and just plain laziness.

As I was about to walk away and try another part of the house, something shiny caught my eye.  The unmistakable glimmer of stainless steel in my peripheral vision immediately earned my attention.  It was half hidden by the wrinkled grey duvet on Tom's disaster of a bed.  I approached the mysterious object and realization hit me like a speeding train.

My body seized up with horror and my blood turned to ice.  I could feel the color drain from my face as I carefully picked it up.......

It was Tom's beloved flask.....

with a note beside it.

My eyes carefully scanned over the blocky lettering scribbled across the lined paper.  It was a ransom note, reading:
Red, hand over 120000£ and reveal the location of your base by Monday or you can kiss your tipsy little friend goodbye. With love, your enemy.

I gulped as the page began to quiver in my hand.

Tom didn't have much time left.....