Under My Command (TomTord) (DISCONTINUED)

Part 7

(3rd Person PoV; Tord's Office)

    Tord sat in his worn leather chair, shuffling through a series of papers, aka Charles's personal profile. He searched for any clues that could possibly lead him to the intruder's destination. He was going to let them go, that was until they shot up the base front, injuring one of his men.
The red leader glanced up at the clock mounted on his wall with tired eyes, 4:34 am. Approximately three hours after Tom got shot. He had no information on the Brit's current state, which only increased his temptation to go see him. But he assumed the medics were still working on him, doing their best to cover up the bullet wound. Which Tord had to admit was in a bad spot, he'd need aid while walking for a short period of time.
While undergoing the newfound stress of his old friend's state, he placed the file on his dark wood desk. Rethinking his orders just hours before. He blamed himself for Tom's injury, after all, he did run on Tord's command.
The Norwegian sunk into his thoughts, only to be disturbed by a sturdy knock at his door. "Yes?" The door opened to reveal Patryk. "Oh, hello Pat.." He only nodded in response before informing Tord that everything was taken care of and the base was settle once again. "Good to know. You wouldn't happen to have any information on Tom's state would you?" The brunette sheepishly grinned, "I was just about to check on him after this." Tord tilted his head the slightest, "Oh, I'll accompany you then. If you don't mind.." he shook his head in return, "No, not at all sir."
    That said the two made their way out of the office, heading for the infirmary. The bottoms of their boots creating an echo that whispered throughout the main hall as they did so.
    There were small groups of soldiers here and there, switching shifts and such. Occasional glances were shifted to the leader and his soldier, respecting the space between them.
    It wasn't long until they arrived at the entrance of the medical center, the room seemingly more empty than before.
    Hospital beds were in neat rows, little of them occupied by wounded or ill people. He spotted a bed with a familiar face, "There.." he said quietly to Pat as he walked over.
    Tom lay there in the bed, eyes closed most likely from exhaustion and pain. His chest would rise and fall slowly underneath the white blanket, assuring Tord that he was still breathing. A few things were hooked up to his right arm, monitoring his health and so on.
    Tord grabbed a nearby chair, taking a seat as Pat remained to stand, his uniform's blue tail lightly swaying. As he sat down he spotted a nurse walk up to the Brit's bed, she stood near the end, clipboard in hand. She had dirty blonde hair and wore a white coat over a red pullover, which complimented her dim green eyes.
    "Good morning sir, didn't expect to see you here this early." He only nodded in return, not really wanting to speak his reason for being here. He then changed the subject ever so slightly. "So, how is he?"
    She switched her gaze to some papers that lay stiff on her clipboard, a few moments later she turned her attention back to the leader. "Well, he was pierced with a bullet just above his right hip, which will of course affect his ability to walk for a fair amount of time...and there were of course a few minor complications with the tissue and such. But other than that he's most likely to live."
    Tord gave a small hum in return, "What about the recovery time?" The blonde looked at Tom quickly before replying, "Mm, it's hard to say, the bullet didn't penetrate him to deeply, but if you'd ask me I'd say maybe 3-5 months..."
    The devilish haired male was immediately filled with grief and sorrow. It was all his fault.
    "Thank you." She nodded only before walking over to Tom's right side to check his vitals. A question suddenly came to mind as he watched the nurse work. "One more thing, when do you think he'll wake up?" She once again looked up from her clipboard to answer his question. "A couple hours I'd say," she started, quickly pulling up her wrist which was engulfed with a silver watch. "Maybe come back around 10:00 am or so."
    After giving the time she walked away, leaving the three in solitude. Tord glanced at Pat who returned his gaze. "Well, at least he's alright." The standing man said in attempt to somehow lighten the mood. "Yeah, somewhat." With that he stood up from the metallic seat, gesturing for Patryk to follow him out.
    They walked side by side back towards  the main quarters, speaking to each other in low voices. The two comrades discussed arrangements for the rest of the day, despite it being about 5 in the morning.
"By the way, when was that meeting I scheduled a while back?" Tord questioned in urgency. It took a minute for him to recall the set up, "I'm not for sure, but I remember Paul saying something about some sort of meeting coming up, so I assume pretty quick here." The Norwegian said nothing in return as they re approached his office.
He stepped into the room, the hardwood floor giving a small creak as he did so. Patryk stayed still by the door as Tord collapsed into his chair, throwing a cigar into his mouth and lighting it.
"Pat, fetch Paul for me would you?" The man gave a curt nod as he took off down the hall. He glanced at the paper bound file on his desk, tempted to re open it to see what he could find.
He went with his temptation and grabbed the folder with his red metallic hand, the object slightly glinting in the dim light which he almost never shut off. It was a bad habit of his, he just never remembered to flip the switch on his way out.
The leader studied the papers with his one good eye, the other of which was constantly covered by a patch that hide its silver color.

Charles L.
Age: 23
Sex: Male
Height: 5'7
Weight: 165 lbs
Birthdate: 02/07/--
Placement: RA, soldier
Features: Slim/lanky, messy brown hair, green eyes, has a scar on the nape of his neck due to a surgical procedure.

    He could read on but Paul had finally arrived to his office front. "You called for me sir?" Tord put the file back down onto his desk, leaving it for later. "Ah, yes come in. You too Patryk...Have a seat." The two men then occupied the once empty chairs in front of his dark oak desk as Tord puffed out some smoke.
"First off, Paul do you happen to remember the date of that meeting we scheduled a while back?" He perked up at the say of his name, "Yes sir, it's this upcoming Wednesday, you'll be speaking with the bases medics." Tord nodded in silent gratitude.
"Now about the attack earlier, I've been looking through Charles's old file in search of a lead to where he's going, but I've found nothing..." he said as he pointed to the folder with his cigar in hand.
    The two men were quiet for a moment before a sense of realization came over Paul, "Sir! Are you seriously thinking about attacking them?! We've already got a fight started with the Purple Army!" His voice was raised and his eyes were wide with a tinge of disbelief. Tord thought for a long moment, remaining calm despite Paul's outrage.
"Paul you do realize that they attacked us fist, not only that but the trespassed the base front at god knows what time in the morning." Tords voice was raised in the slightest but not enough to be considered yelling.
Patryk then took the moment to speak up. "But sir, don't you think things would get out of hand if we were to attack Charles? I understand that they started this and you're seeking revenge but we've already got to much to deal with."
Tord took a long huff from his cigar, blowing out the smoke to the side. "I understand that...It's just....after all he's done to this army." Patryk and Paul looked down to the wooden floor, grim flashbacks coming to mind. "I trusted him for the longest time! I didn't want to believe he betrayed me...but then he started that war and I knew it was all over." Tord began to get lost within his memories, but pushed it aside to think about at another time. They were debating war here. Not feelings.
"Alright well, um...Paul I need you to set up another meeting. Erm, set it up with the high rank captains..." he said getting a tad frustrated, "What day sir?", "Thursday will do." Paul straightened his stature a bit, "You already have arrangements on Thurs-" the leader cut him off, "Fine, Friday!"
    He exhaled with slight misery as Paul pulled out a small notepad from his pocket, scribbling some words down on it.
    The trio then talked a bit more in detail about the attack earlier that morning, discussing the consequences and their new schedule.
    Time began to fly as it was now 8:54 and the three men were still talking, just now closing their conversation. "...yeah. Well, you two are dismissed, I have some things to attend to." With that said the two men stood up, quickly saluting to the norski before walking out. 
    The horned male stood up as well, glancing to the picture frame that forever stood on his desk. Of course it was a picture of him and his old friends, back when they were still pure and happy.

            'Those days are over now.'

(A/N; what do you guys think? Let me know your thoughts in the comments...I'll be writing a past tense chapter after this, then back to the present then eventually a future skip. Or something like that..anyway, thanks for reading.) -Swingster