A Song of Two Hearts [A TomTord Highschool AU]

Chapter 23

Tord had a strange relationship with the red army base. It was an open place for him to learn the art of war and grow stronger, but it was tainted the memories and hatred of his father. It was night, maybe about seven. Tord once on base headed to his father's office, he would decide if Tord would sleep or not.

Tord knocked on the door of the office.

"Sir! It's Larrison."

The door clicked, Tord turned the knob and stepped in. His eyes stoney, his posture straight.

"At ease, Larrison."

Tord didn't ease, red leader gave a sinister toothy smile. He stood up and circled around the boy.

"Good job, Larrison. I see you still have Trisha's eyes."

Tord so badly wanted to bark at the man for even breathing his mother's name, but bit his tongue.

"Last time I mentioned your mother you nearly bit off my finger," the man laughed. It was powerful, but Tord hated it; he heard it in his nightmares. "Now, get out of my sight."

Tord saluted and walked out of the office.

Finally in his room he eased his posture and set down his bag, unpacking. He pulled out a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a fresh set of pajamas. He hung the old overcoat in his closet, and pulled out the blue sweater. He smiled just looking at it and pulled it over his head. He grabbed his phone and opened up a text with Tom. Tord needed to know if the man was mad at him.

Tord: Are you mad at me?

No response.

Tord: did I do something wrong?

Nothing.

Tord: it's ok if you're mad at me, just tell me, please don't leave me in the dark...

Tord gave up waiting after half an hour. He flopped into the hard bed and slept putting on an early alarm.

Tord awoke early and got in uniform to train. He walked out of his room to the mess hall. He ate a hefty meal knowing he would need it, and finished, clearing his tray and going to his early morning training. It was physical fights, guns, knives, anything was legal. They were dangerous and realistic.

He survived with a few cuts and had people beg for mercy under his heel. It was exhilarating, the power to strike fear into people twice his size and age. To have them cower beneath him, it rushed back to him as to why he loved it so much, but was soon reminded of why he hated it.

There was the sound of slow claps from across the field. The blonde man in the overcoat never breaking in his posture. He eyes full of delight, but a delight caused by the pain of others. Tord knew this was coming. This always happened when he got into the battles he fought.

He broke posture, and he would have to pay with public humiliation. He could fight back and show strength and earn respect or could submit and avoid further punishments. But his father always wanted a challenge.

Tord felt a knee slam into his gut, and he felt the instinct to crumple over in pain. But pain wasn't allowed. Instead, Tord channeled the anger, feeling it consume his body, adrenaline loudly pumping through his head. He spit out a bit of blood and looked disgustedly at his father's encouraging smile. Tord steadied himself, bringing his hands back up to a defensive position. Tord quickly moved towards a case to his left. In the case was an array of weapons. He quickly grabbed throwing knives and sped them towards his father, which the man simply dodged.

"Is that all you got? I'm ashamed to call you my son." Tord's eyes narrowed and his breathing steadied. He quickly dashed towards his father, his body moving on it's own. Just as he was almost at the mans feet he pivoted, his back spinning around. His leg spread out as he channeled the momentum into a back heel kick. But the man dodged. Tord quickly recovered from the useless spinning motion, landing back in a fighting stance. He started to throw an array of jabs and hooks at his father, his hands blurring at the speed. The man simply dodged them or blocked them, almost not giving off a sweat.

The man finally decided to counter. Just as Tord went for a punch he grabbed his son's arm, pivoted his back to the boy, and flung him over his body to the ground. He then slammed his foot into the boys shaking figure. Tord felt blood spew out of his mouth. He clenched his teeth and used all his strength to pry the man's foot off his stomach, but the foot barely moved an inch. He used the little space he had to slide out under it, and quickly rolled away before standing back up. His vision was slightly blurry and he felt exhaustion creeping over his body, but that wouldn't do.

Tord quickly ran at the man again, this time specifically targeting the open spaces in his father's defenses. He pivoted off punches and kicks, hitting at different levels of the body to force the man to focus on defense. And finally a hole appeared. Tord lowered his body and threw his weight into an uppercut. His father stumbled back a few steps. His eyes hardened, and a psychotic grin raised to his face. Tord felt like backing up, disappearing. The overwhelming power radiated from his father. Those cold, calculating eyes would stop at nothing. But Tord swallowed his fear, forcing it to sit quietly in his stomach.

His father came at him with speedy, precise punches. They each had a specific target, and Tord felt himself stumbling backward from dodging. Eventually Tord fell to the ground on his back. He quickly kicked the ground, to push him to the side of his father, and used his legs to sweep the man to the floor. He then scrambled to the man's head, wrapping his legs around his father's neck. His dad at first tried prying him off, but the lack of oxygen made him more frantic. He started slamming Tord into the ground, trying to pry him off. The red leader's face turned a purpley red as he gasped for air, desperately trying to pry his son's legs from his neck. Tord flinched each time his father slammed against the ground. His body felt like it was going to explode and his legs were growing tired. But this was a fight for death, and even more importantly: respect. If he lost things would end up much worse for him. So he held tight, ignoring the pain in his body. His father started to go limp. And finally the man collapsed, crushing Tord under his unconscious weight. Tord wiggled out from under his father, and carefully stood himself up.

The soldiers who could still make noise exploded into applause and screams. The medical team came and carried off the unconscious man through the field to the infirmary. And for once Tord was proud of his fighting skills.