Shattered To Be Put Together (Tomtord)

Prologue

His heart was racing. He ran as fast as he could, his crimson coat flapping behind him. He had to run, run for his life. If he would fail, everything would fall apart, his dream, his pride... Everything he built out of nothing.
  A gunshot rang in his ears. A piercing pain ran through his shin. He tripped over a metal pole and fell on the ground. His blood soaked glove held his wound, trying to stop the rubin river. The man growled in annoyance as the detonator flew out of his hand, thankfully not activating itself by that fall.
  He crawled as fast as he could to the little device, but it was too late. A weight pressed him against the ground, pinning him to the pole. Someone ran to the detonator and grabbed it quickly, not letting the man with horns get his hands on it.
  The frustrated leader knew that coat pretty well. After all, it was his own. The man in front of him was no one else then the Rebel Leader himself. He looked tired, but his lips formed a little smile. "The war is over. Now you'll pay for your sins. You hurt so many people, you destroyed families, homes, forbade Cola... I should've never trusted you." Tord had enough of Edd's bullshit. He rolled over and tried to attack the person that was on top of him. And well... He did not expect what he saw.
  Matt was the one who held him on one place, while Tom was pointing a gun at him. He watched people that he trusted to listen to that bastard. They betrayed him! They turned their backs on him when he really needed them. For what? He gave them everything! He saved their lifes even tho he didn't have to.
  Tord tried to attack Matt with the energy he had left. The wound in his leg was heavily bleeding. Before he could land even one hand on that metal-chined traitor, Tom shot him again. This time, he hit his flashy shoulder.
  Tord yelled out in pain, instantly covering his newly pierced part of his body. As he hissed in agony, he heard Tom growl in anger: "Don't you fucking move." When he looked at him, Tom's gun was still pointing at him, his fingers gripped the trigger as much as he could without firing again.
  Was this how Tom felt when Tord attacked him in his office? The only difference was, that he never shot him, only punched or choked him.
  His body was getting weak. The men's voices were muffled by Tord's memories of their moments in the base. He thought about Matt being the same stupid innocent cookie and Tom being the grumpy cold soldier that he knew.
  Tord's vision was getting blurry, his body numb. He tried to fight the tiredness, but unsuccessfully. He fell into a peaceful sleep. He couldn't even remember when he properly slept. Who cares tho, now he could make it up for those days.

  A cold drop on Tord's neck woke him up. It sent shivers down his spine. When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see anything. Was he blind? Was something covering his eyes? Either way, all he saw was never-ending darkness.
  His other senses started to kick in. Disgusting smell of fungus welcomed him. Also a smell of water. God, he didn't even realize how thirsty he was. He would beg for just a few gulps of that fresh cold liquid to smooth the pain in his throat.
  Another drop dripped onto his spine. Later on, it slided down his back- wait. How was that possible? Why he didn't have clothes? The chilling feeling stopped under his shoulder-blade. Tord's heart started to pump a bit faster. Where, who, why, when, all of those questions raced in his head.
  A loud wail of metal doors interrupted his thoughts. Steps followed it. They were getting closer. When Tord tried to free himself, a sharp pain stabbed his shoulder, his wrists ached from the tightly tied rope around them. One was also around his waist and ankles.
  A few more sounds. It was too close to Tord's liking. Rustling of keys, some scratching of metal and then another squeaking. A little click sound of switch and more footsteps. This time, they were right in front of him. They got something off of his face. It was a peace of cloak that covered his eyes.
  Tord didn't have to wait that long for his pupil to get use to the white light above him. The first thing he saw was the man in front of him. A familiar unamused face, as always. He held the peace of fabric in his hand, while in the other was a ring of keys.
  "Hello, old friend." Tord greeted him with a forced smile. His throat scratched as if a little mouse was stuck in it. The man in blue shirt, black pants and black west grinded his teeth.
  "After all you've done to me, you still have the balls to call me your friend?" His digital eyes were fixed on Tord's. It made him a little uncomfortable, but he shook the feeling off. He didn't break the eye contact. He didn't want to show any weikness to that traitor.
  Tord smirked. "Come on, Thomas, we know each other for a long time. We were good friends-" Tom cut him off.
  "You said it right, we WERE good friends. Not anymore. But I'm not here to have a friendly chat with you." Tom threw the piece of cloak on the ground and grabbed a pistol that was hanging on his belt. He got even closer, grabbing Tord's neck with the other hand and burying the gun in Tord's chin. "Now tell me, commie, why did you start the fucking war?"
Tord chuckled. "You're not gonna ask me, where are all the bases or what are my plans to the future?"
Tom got even closer almost touching noses. "Remember what position you gave me? I had permission to everything. Now answer me!" He spat out.
Tord gently bumped his forehead with Tom, feeling his heat. He didn't even realize how cold Tord was. "Classic stupid Tom. How many times do I have to tell you, that I don't take orders from you?" He whispered. His grin disappeared in a sec. A big blow to his cheek turned his face to the right. He could hear his neck crack.
  Tom took Tord by his hair and turned him around to face him again. "I'm gonna ask you again, you communistic bitch. Why. Did. You. Start. The. Fucking. WAR!" Tom's pation was running out, Tord could tell.
  "Thomas, you're terrible at getting information out of people-" another punch, this time in Tord's stomach.
  "Well?" His tone was not filled with anger this time. Just... Cold, monotone voice.
  "What?" Tord spat out in pain.
  "How does it feel, when you're the one, who can't do anything, not even defend himself?" Another punch followed, aimed on Tord's chin. "How does it feel to lose everything?" Again in the stomach. "How does it feel, to be betrayed by someone you trusted?!" In Tord's jaw again. One of his fangs chipped the other. Before he could spit it out tho, Tom brought his face up again and pointed the gun to Tord's forehead. "How does it feel to have your life in enimie's hands?"
  When Tord looked at the man, he could see a tear running down his cheek. Then it hit him. Tom was not angry. Tom was not taking revenge on him. He was just... broken. He was hurt by Tord's actions. He never forgave him. Well, there was nothing to be forgiven for at the first place, but apparently, from his angle there was.
  "Now commie, tell me-"
  "I'm sorry." Tord whispered. If he needed to play the feelings game to not get beaten up even more, he will. After all, this wouldn't be the first time he would pretend.
  "What?" Tom's grip on the gun loosened a little.
  "I'm sorry, Tom, for everything I did to all of you guys." He himself could not believe, how smoothly those lies came out of him.
  Tom swinged his arm down. "No. You're not sorry. And you'll never be." As he was putting the gun back on his belt, he continued: "You never cared for us. You only cared for yourself." Another tear escaped his goggles. "You never did." He finally whispered before he turned the light-switch off and left.
  Tord was filled with odd emptiness. Tom was right, he never cared for them, so why did it... hurt? Tord was left alone in the darkness with his own thoughts. His old memories flooded back to his mind. Only one question was coming back to him again and again. Was he really lying before?