Chapter Text
There was nowhere else to go.
After a short montage of hurriedly packing his things up, throwing panicked glances over his shoulder to ensure he was alone, Tord had left the motel. He’d taken absolutely everything with him, conveniently storing it in a little bag at the end of a long, spindly, half-shriveled stick he’d found outside the motel. He’d set off to go find somewhere else to stay - probably another hotel. Maybe a friend’s house. Maybe swing by Kim and Katya’s home with the hopes of Edd hesitating in attacking the one girl he’d supposedly liked. Though Tord never really understood what Edd saw in her - he can’t get an erection anyway. Probably just sought her for the sake of pursuit or whatever.
Either way, Tord told himself he’d figure things out on the way there.
And he would’ve if it weren’t for the rainstorm. Not surprising, given the place he lived in. For now he’d hunkered down beneat, shuddering from the cold and the rain. Listening to the hum-drum of cars overhead. Eventually his eyes caught on something - a poster. The contents of the poster itself weren’t important. What WAS important, however, was the name attached to it, at the bottom.
Christopher Bingbong. He knew that guy. Not warmly, but did that matter?
Stepping up to the poster, Tord tore it off its nail and studied it for an address, which it conveniently had on the back.
Off he goes, with nothing but his knapsack and a poster over his head. At least it provided him with minimal shelter from the rain.
Chris Bingbong, known by just Bing by most. Movie director first, professional evil mastermind second. Master inventor third. Some forth thing, forth.
While horrors played out within the main cast’s group, this side character was far more busy with less terrifying things. Namely, script writing. As his introduction title said, his passion was filmmaking. Even if he was no good at it. Even if the majority of their money came from selling off evil weapons of mass destruction, that was merely a sidestep in his quest to make films the entire world would enjoy.
He was getting there. Slowly. Today was dedicated to brainstorming ideas. He needed a good monster design above everything else. Come up with a badass design first, plotline comes after. Then his beloved lackey Larry could run through the concept and see if it was worth pursuing.
Of course, none of that could happen unless he could come up with a blasted design. This brainstorming session has been useless so far. Annoying, usually rainstorms helped him come up with something. Alas, no luck tonight. Reviving Osama Bin Laden? Done before. Boring. He needed something ghastly. Something awful. What a waste of time. Damn. Maybe he might as well-
A knock at the front door. Oooh, company!
Usually this would be something Bing sent Larry off to deal with. But with the writer’s block looming over Bing’s head, he'd gladly accept any distraction possible. Hopefully if he could get his mind off things for a little bit, he could come back with a fresher head.
Only a few seconds would pass before the door opened. Almost immediately, Bing was left.. somewhat confused. Obviously he knew exactly who this was. Well, mostly. It was just hard to say which Tord this was.
Cue the performance. Cue the puppy dog eyes. Big, wide, sopping wet, irises dilated and overtaking most of the whites of his eyes, a huge frown that surpassed his face, maybe even a little bit of the waterworks. That should do the trick. With his hair darkened and pressed to his scalp, it almost resembles two ears pressed down against his neck. With the poster still held over his head, Tord was just about to start begging for a place to stay when Bing got there first.
"Escaped clone or the real deal?" Bing questioned with a raised eyebrow, leaning his forearm up against the doorframe. His tone lacked warmth, carefully shielded by cautious curiosity.
Tord’s performance was quick to cut off, replaced with a momentary look of confusion.
OH. He remembered. How could he forget?
“Real deal.” Tord admits, shifting his grip on his little knapsack. The poster nearly sticks to his skull in the process. “Listen, I really don’t mean to bother you but I don’t.. really…know where else to go. Mind helping a poor DNA donor out?”
Interesting..... very...... Interesting....
Bing pondered for a moment. "Depending on the situation." Despite this, he stepped away from the doorframe and gave the sopping wet Norwegian a little 'come on in' wave.
"May as well come in while you explain. What, those other three finally kick you out?" He gave a mischievous little grin, waiting for Tord to step in before closing the front door behind him.
Tord did a little gesture of excitement with his fist, finally tearing away from his miserable nature entirely and letting a satisfied smile crowd over his face. With a foothold now secure, Tord waded his way inside, lowering the poster and tracking water inside.
The building was less of a house, more of a workplace/warehouse/living space combination. Why spend money on a hundred different locations when you could just ram everything into one? As a result the first room past the entryway was simply Bings workplace, a large cluttered lab filled with tools varying from radioactive equipment to movie props. There was a nice couch by the door though, one that the mad scientist gestured to as he made his way into the room.
Upon getting past the front door, Tord set his belongings down and shook himself much like a dog would, spraying a comedic amount of water EVERYWHERE. Hey at least he’s dry now. Not a speck of water to be seen on him. The room… not so much. “Ehhh, not. Reaaaalllyyy?” Tord started, collapsing into the now-soaked couch like it was nothing. So much for drying out. “It’s this whole… thing. It’s really complicated.”
Trying to ignore the water being sprayed all around his lab, Bing made his way over to his desk not too far away. He took a seat, spinning around to face Tord. Of course he took a classic villain pose, one leg propped up on the other, tented fingers, the whole nine yards. All he was missing was a cat to stroke.
Tord’s eyes naturally looked over the room, deeply intrigued by its appearance. It didn’t feel like a place any normal person would like to stay at - the air here had a strange stillness to it. A lack of flowing. An eerie variation of calm. Like sitting in a dentist’s office. Like Tord was supposed to be at ease, but he couldn’t relax enough. His gaze eventually settled on a strangely shaped structure, kind of shaped like…
“...a giant panini-press?” His hand soared, pointing at it instantly. He wasn’t wrong to assume, considering it did look like a massive cage perched on a notably large shelf. Bing’s eyes followed the man’s finger, landing on the so-called ‘panini press’.
“Thhhaaat’s a cage.” Bing pointed out, eyes the color of steel resting on the cold glint of metal bars. His face eventually rotated all the way back to Tord, squinting suspiciously.
"Oh."
"So? What's the issue? Spit it out already. I'm a busy man as is."
Hopefully the issue would be quick to resolve, or at the least, didn't require too much time on Bing’s end.
Bing’s wish was his command. Tord’s words flowed out like a torrent, a harsh winding river of syllables and vowels forming on a whim. In the meantime, he got to work showing his ‘research’, opening the comedic speckled knapsack and pulling out the photographs. Despite the pouring rain outside, the paper stayed intact.
“So Edd - green guy - finds this empty vending machine, right? He stupidly decided to buy the banana cola. That led to him collectively losing his mind and like... Going into this hell hallway that he can spawn at any door he pleases. He starts morphing into this octopus-man-thing and takes Matt - purple guy - and Tom - blue guy - into the hell hallway so they can become incomprehensible Eldritch monsters too.”
Bing blinked, listening to this explanation with bewilderment. It came so quick and so simply that it was hard to process what was even being said.
"Okay, first off. I know your names." He said simply, scooting himself up a little higher in the chair. He gave Tord a skeptical look, clearly not following along.
"Second. You're saying the guy who drinks nothing but Cola drank cola, and it turned him into a magic door octopus."
”Yes! Exactly!” Tord piped up, not yet seeing that Bing didn’t follow his story. Brushing aside the question, Tord sat up on the couch, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders.
Admittedly this was the exact type of nonsense Bing would usually come up with. But hearing it from someone else, it sounded pretty insane.
"Yeah. You'll have to back up and explain a little further.”
Tords excitement flattened out. “Fine, I’ll start at the beginning.” He leaned down to retrieve a picture of the blank vending machine he’d found on the interwebs. Without hesitation, the man pointed to it sternly. “Edd bought banana flavored cola - which, for the record, does not exist - from this vending machine.” He started off, voice much slower and easier to comprehend
That's a little better. As someone who had no interest in soda in the first place - coffee provided Bing all the caffeine he needed - it was also helpful to know this fabled 'Banana Cola' realistically shouldn’t be there.
“He drank it, got Matt hooked on it, and let Tom have a little sip too. Do you understand what I’m saying??”
Bing leaned forward in his seat, plucking the paper from Tords grasp and looking over it once. Ominous.
"And you're saying it caused some sort of mutation?" He questioned, looking up from the paper with a more interested look this time around.
”Yes! Yes! That’s the word I was looking for, thank you.” Tord replied, a look of glee illuminating his face. At least Mr. Evil director understood him!
Back to the neurodivergent infodump. “So he mutates, right? He’s like. Turning into this weird octopus monster. His skin’s all yellow and his face starts- st-” His voice paused as the cracks begin to become apparent. Tord’s hands had started to shake. The image of his rubber mask peeling away… It made him want to vomit. His gut churned. Swirled. Swished.
But before he could fully drown in the awfulness of it all, he pushed on. Breaking down wouldn’t help either of them. “And his face… melts off. He- just loses his mind. Gone completely mad. He’s off- off the shits.”
Bing pondered this explanation, bringing his gaze back down to the paper in his hand. Intriguing. Very much so.
"Now explain the hall thing. Where does that tie in?"
He offered the paper back, returning to his original tented finger pose.
To him this sounded like.... movie potential. A real blockbuster too. Might compete with the likes of that damn giant ape everyone loves.
"And the other two. What became of them?"
Once offered the paper, Tord gingerly took it back and took a long look at it. He even brought it up to his face, squinting violently as if trying to decipher any hidden secrets he had yet to uncover. “The hallway is a thing Edd learned to summon. It’s like this long space that stretches on forever in every direction.” He explained, folding the paper and putting it with the rest in his bag. “Matt got sent there, came back blind. Tom got dragged there yesterday, haven’t seen him since.” A pang of guilt erupted in Tord’s gut as he tenderly remembered the final struggle, the one he’d stupidly witnessed despite having the power to prevent it.
"Fascinating....."
More pondering. Bing did a full spin around once in his chair, thinking over the tale he had been told. Yes. Yes, definitely had film potential. The older man rotated back around to face Tord, raising an eyebrow.
"So, what is it exactly you came to me looking for? Need help fixing them or something to that effect?"
Already Bing was coming up with a solid deal they could make. He'd be down to help with anything necessary, just under one certain condition.
Tord sank down in his seat, his lower half sliding forwards while his upper half slid downwards. He kind of sank into himself, blinking a couple times so he could turn on his puppy dog eye look.
Clearly something was broken, since he had to sit up and smack his head a couple times for it to work. He then frowned dramatically, sticking his bottom lip out. “Oh, sir. I’ve no place to go, see. My house is unsafe. The motel is unsafe. I’ve got no cent to my name, sir.” Thus began the eyelash fluttering, irises dilating to extreme degrees almost on command. “And I’d love a helping hand in getting my roommates back to normal.”
"Oh, cut the act." Bing did a little dismissive wave, obviously not putting up with the man's shenanigans. "I'll give you a place to stay AND help fix this mess If, and ONLY if.."
He leaned in a little bit. Suspenseful dramatic pause.
"You give me the rights to make a movie adaptation with full creative liberties."
That was literally all Bing wanted. He didn't care about money, he's already rich enough. Plus the movie will definitely blow up and get him even MORE money.
Tord blinked a couple times, his face resetting back to its normal state. He didn’t even have to think about Bing’s offer for long - he was desperate enough to accept anything that came his way. Besides, no reason not to. The second Bing stopped talking, Tord shrugged his shoulders casually. “Sure, why not? Go wild.” The words were quick to leave his mouth. He didn’t ponder the consequences of this agreement - Tord was certain that the movie probably wouldn’t be seen by anyone besides a handful of people. There was nothing to lose and so much to gain.
Bing gave an evil grin, a sinister expression overtaking his face as he stood up. He didn't directly have any malicious intent to *betray* Tord or anything like that. That was just how his face looked. Naturally dubious.
"Brilliant. I'll want that in writing later. Oh and while you're here, I might ask you to wear something else so we can spot you easier."
The man wandered over to his whiteboard, popping the cap off a marker and beginning to scribble out the basic facts of the conundrum. Hopefully Larry wouldn't mind being called in to work this late.
"Any chance you have a can of Cola on you? We'll need some to figure out how to reverse the effects."
Luckily for Bing’s deal, Tord didn’t find this look to be any sign of danger. Fuck’s sake, this guy witnessed Edd peeling his own face off right in front of him, so you seriously think he’ll be bothered by some kooky guy smiling weirdly ? Didn’t think so.
Miraculously, Tord had left the house with a single can in store. One of the few Edd left behind that wasn't completely empty. The one he'd been given, which had remained as evidence within his pile of research. “Oh! Uh- right.” His left hand dipped into his hoodie pocket, fishing it out with ease. Tord offered it to the evil director, not even bothering to look at it. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. “Would this work?”
Bing glanced back, obviously immediately fascinated by the mysterious can. He gave a nod, taking it and looking it over. He turned the can around slowly in his hands a few times, reading over the utterly nonsensical nutritional info.
"Remarkable. Right, you can stay here, make yourself at home or whatever. I'll be discussing the situation with my assistant." Bing announced, before wandering out of the room and down the hall.
With the can now out of his possession, Tord sank back into his seat on the couch. He slipped out of his hoodie, taking Bing’s advice despite not being 100% sure what it meant.
Tying the hoodie around his waist, Tord got as comfortable as this new environment would allow him to. Lazily crossing his arms over his belly, Tord looked down at the opened bag at his feet. And now, he played the waiting game.
~
While Tord was left to his devices, a conversation had begun in the other room. It started rather violently. Despite knowing Bing would likely be staying up late to work out the next big movie project, Larry had decided to turn in for the night a little earlier than expected.
Without much of any warning, the lackey's door suddenly swung open. There stood Bing in a wide stance, wild and eccentric as always.
"LARRY. THIS IS THE BIG ONE LARRY. GET UP."
Larry had gotten quite used to Bing’s overzealous antics. Being woken up by screeching, machinery, or yelling at the tender hours of the night had become commonplace. It was unheard of to get proper shut eye for the full 8 hour duration. Power naps in the middle of the day were his saving grace.
Slowly, the lackey sat up in bed. Wearing what looked to be pajamas with glass beakers and vials full of luminous liquid that glowed in the dark, the man sleepily looked over to the door. Wordlessly, he slipped out of bed and dragged himself over to the small closet on one side of his minuscule room, opening it and shuffling through identical suits and even more identical eyepatches.
They were quite used to how the other worked by now, meaning Bing was ready to immediately delve into his tale. While Larry woke himself up proper and got dressed, Bing began to explain the situation.
"You'll never guess who just walked in the front door." He started, relaxing his pose a little bit while still keeping the same energy.
"One of the originals. He says the other three have become horrible goblins, and he's looking to us for help fixing them."
Ultimately Larry chose to slip his clothes right on top of his pajamas. Quicker. Easier. As he finished with the eyepatch being adjusted over his socket, Larry turned his head to face Bing. He combed a hand through his messy hair in an attempt to make it somewhat presentable. His eyebrow raised inquisitively, while the rest of his face remained frozen in that uninterested, almost bored looking expression. “Goblins?” He mirrored, voice sounding horribly lost. “Have you checked for drugs on him?” Here we go again with the drug theory.
"Not quite yet. You're lucky he gave me the exact substance necessary for such a test." Bing remarked proudly, pulling the yellow can from his pocket and holding it out for the blond to see.
Said blond stepped closer, looking at the can closely by tilting forwards and folding his arms behind his back. His eye squinted, yet his expression remained unchanged.
"But that's not the important part. What matters is that he's waived all filmmaking rights to me. Even if it's a wild drug trip it's got great potential behind it for a film, Larry. He's been talking about teleporter doors and a bunch of other nonsense."
Ah. Good, good. At least they’ve got the legalities out of the way. Standing back up, Larry offered a hand towards the cola, obviously wanting to hold it for himself. “Pretty impressive for an LSD trip. May I?”
Bing gave a nod, placing the can in the other hand. "Just don't open it yet, obviously."
The director stepped back a little bit, beginning to pace a little around the room.
"The way he talked about it, he seemed to imply that the soda was what did it. Claims it was found in a weird blank vending machine. So either a drug trip, or we've got something big on our hands." He remarked.
With the can in his clasp, Larry began turning it over and slowly analyzing it from every corner.
Peculiar.. the nutrition facts were in this garbled nonsensical language he couldn't understand. It intrigued him in so many ways. A vague sounding 'hm' came from his lower throat while Bing listed off the can's odd place of origin, eliciting the man to look up from his task of looking at the can really hard. "Did he say where this 'blank' vending machine is located?"
"No. Showed me a picture though, it's a real thing." Bing explained, slowing his pacing only somewhat.
"Guys got a big pile of papers in his little hobo-sack he brought. With our luck he's done all the research work for us."
Finally the man came to a stop beside the door, opening it a little wider in preparation to leave.
"I say we bring it to the lab and run a few tests. See what we've got on our hands before we go any further."
That meant Larry wouldn't have to sit himself in front of a computer, staring at all the niche little forums, trying to decipher what was false and what was real. If Tord had done the research for them, this meant they could get to the fun part sooner. Without any hesitation, Larry pocketed the can in his breast pocket, which was conveniently juuuust large enough to house the drink. Without another word, he nodded and made his way to the door.
~
The silence Tord had sat in wasn't welcome for very long. He could only vaguely hear the ambiance around. This truly did feel like sitting in the waiting room for a nasty dentist visit, huh…
Luckily, Tord was only alone for a few minutes before a familiar face slunk his way into the room. His presence was pretty much silent, given he was only wearing socks.
"Nice hobo sack. You practicing for the future?"
Distinctly Edds voice suddenly rang out behind the Norwegian. Just a few paces behind him, positioned right in between Tord and the door.
Tord’s thoughts came to a violent, shrieking halt when he heard a voice all too familiar to him. The man slowly sat up, eyes shrinking to the size of pinpricks. Hoooly shit.
“I don’t have a canonical future form, dumbass. Unless you count whatever the hell the fandom’s doing.” This was the first thing that came to mind. See, it’s not very smart to insult the same guy who’s probably going to drag you to hell.
A little snicker.
"Does anyone around here?"
The voice grew closer, before Edd came up beside the man. Tord was just about ready to spring from his seat and lunge for the closest door in hopes of escaping. His heart was absolutely racing, breath held, eyes slowly turning to face the man he’d inevitably encounter once more. Aaaand…
Oh.
Rather than the tall, lanky yellow figure that had become his friend, the man beside Tord looked quite normal. Though, a bit younger. You could tell by the slight art style change, with this Edd having messier hair and lines for drawstrings. He bore a silly little grin, and a half eaten BLT in his hands.
It’s a clone. Definitely a younger looking Edd. He could tell based on the less refined look. And the intact face. Guess that's what Bing meant by ‘make yourself easier to spot.’
Tord exhaled loudly, placing a hand on his pounding heart and sinking down into the couch. “You scared the shit out of me.” He forced a chuckle, sitting back up and even scooting a little to the side. It was second nature for him to move over and let an old friend have a seat. Almost nostalgic.
The clone gave a little chuckle. "I'm a real scary guy." He remarked, not quite realizing the sheer irony of the statement.
Of course with the nicer and more detailed look, it didn't take long for Clone Edd to realize this Tord was not quite like the ones he was familiar with.
"You an Original?" He questioned, taking a small bite of his sandwich and chewing for a second. "Never thought I'd meet one of you guys. Especially not here."
It felt a little odd to hear Edd’s voice sound so… normal again. There was no hint of malice. No unhinged nature. None of that. Just unfiltered silliness. Friendliness in every word. Again, Tord felt awfully nostalgic for a time that had been not too far ago.
Upon being questioned, Tord briefly looked down at himself as if expecting a ‘Hi, my name is ___!” Name tag to show up somewhere on his chest, proudly displaying his ‘Original’ status to everyone in this building. Luckily for him, there was nothing of the sort. “Gee, Is it really that obvious? I was hoping I could blend in.” He jokingly replied, not yet looking up. Yet despite the calm nature of the conversation, Tord couldn’t bear to look at the clone in the face for long - the hyper realism of the dead flesh was just too much. The way it peeled away like latex… otherworldly. Ugly. A part of him feared that if he were to look back up, he’d be staring right into that same eerie window of flesh and blood.
"Little bit. What brings you here anyway?" The clone questioned, seeming to hold a bit of admiration for the man. In a way this was sorta like a cool older brother, finally coming back home to visit. Maybe the other three originals were somewhere around here! It'd be really swell to finally meet the man he was copied from!
Stroking his chin as if searching for some stray hairs that might indicate a beard was forming, Tord frowned thoughtfully. This guy is REALLY good at asking questions. Questions Tord was more than happy to answer.
"Ehh, just a bunch of stuff happening at home. You know, the original Edd losing his mind, becoming a banana squid-thing, being a danger to both himself and society as a whole.."
Tord sat up in his seat, clasping both arms together and sort of hunching over. Oh god. Rant mode is activated. RUN WHILE YOU CAN!
"You know, you kind of don't realize how much you miss someone until they become this.. unrecognizable husk, you know? It's like he's not even the same person. And I feel like I could've done something to prevent that. I could've been there for him when he needed me most. I could've... ripped that god forsaken soda out of his hand and gotten him to a hospital sooner. Before everything kind of exploded into this big mess. You feel me?"
Clone Edd only listened to this tale in silence, obviously missing a lot of the details. He took another bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly while Tord spoke.
Even if he didn't understand what the hell Tord was talking about, the clone still knew the man well enough to recognize when there was an issue that genuinely impacted him. Tord wasn't the type of person to let his emotions show easily. So, Clone Edd took a seat on the couch beside the man. Carefully he slipped a slice of bacon out of his sandwich, offering it out to the Norwegian.
"Sounds like things are going well." He remarked sarcastically, a little crooked grin creeping onto his face.
By now, emotions had begun flowing freely along with his thoughts. Tord didn't even realize he was venting to someone who didn't understand the complexity of the situation, nor the guilt he'd harbored for the last dozens of hours. Upon feeling the man sit down next to him, Tord's eyes glanced over to look at Edd and then the bacon slice being offered. He hesitated for only a moment before taking it, biting into it quietly. Absolutely delicious. Invigorating enough to keep on talking.
"It's so stupid! Like I knew something was wrong, but did I act on it? NOoOoO I didn't. And Now Tom's involved in this and got himself dragged to hell. I could've prevented all of this if I'd just manned the fuck up and went with my gut." Cue comedically loud bacon bite. With Tord’s mouth muffled and full, he continued raving on about the situation at home. "It's weird, too. Like I know I should hate the guy and not feel anything about him being gone but like.. He trusted me to save him when he got dragged away. I watched it happen! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE!" He cradled his head in his hands, munching on the last piece of the bacon he'd been offered in the meantime.
The clone went back to his sandwich while Tord ranted, thoroughly enjoying every bite. Mmmmmmmm BLT….. Of course, seeing how distraught Tord was growing, the clone gave him a little elbow nudge.
"Oh, it'll be alright Tord." He reassured, far more relaxed than the other was.
"When's the last time thing's didn't fix themselves eventually after some horrid disaster? And don't actually answer that question. I wouldn't know about anything past like.... 2008."
Edds clone went in for another bite, taking a second to chew before he spoke again.
"Just cause Edd's out for the count doesn't mean it's all hopeless." He added on.
”But how? How do I make it alright?” Tord whined, head still buried in his hands. A mark of shame. “Matt’s out of the picture, Tom’s fucking gone, and you’re-“ it was at this point when Tord realized he’d made a horrible mistake. No clue if that’s going to affect his mental state or something. Maybe clones combusted when they started believing they were the real deal.
Luckily for Tord, the clone was already well aware of his status. He didn't even flinch at the mixup, simply going for another bite of his BLT.
"Hey, don't ask me mate." He remarked simply. "I have no idea what's been going on."
Cramming the last of the sandwich into his mouth, Edd dusted his hands off and mimicked Tord’s pose.
Tord eventually straightened himself, only to sink back into his couch seat. Cue sopping wet miserable expression. “Urghh, I just want to go home and sleep forever, man.” He complained childishly, his hands dragging down his face and flopping at his sides.
"What'd you say it was? Something about soda?" The clone questioned.
"Guess I'm safe then. Never was a fan of the taste of Cola. Bingbong says it's a miracle I ever survived past a day." The greatest plot twist of all! The clone was a reject all along.
Upon hearing the reject mention his gimmick, Tord cement sound effect turned his head to look at the clone, a bewildered expression on his face. Oh he’s... He’s a WEIRDO. He’s been venting to a FREAK OF NATURE.
At least it snapped him out of his miserable, guilt-riddled, rant-y mood. “Well yeah, that is a miracle.” Tord mumbled, noticing that the clone had copied his posture and choosing to change it up by lazily crossing his arms over his belly. “The Original Edd starts losing his mind if he goes two seconds without carbonated stuff.”
"Yeah, all the other Edd-type clones are like that as well. I'm just a weird outlier." Edd said with a shrug. This fact didn't seem to bother him much, oddly enough.
He’s so… peculiar. It was actually kind of difficult to imagine a cola-less Edd. Like a koala without its iconic big ears, or an orca without its spots. Cola had become such a huge part of Edd that the mere thought of an Edd being perfectly capable of surviving without cola was just. Freaky. Weird.
"Was it Cola that made 'im go cuckoo? Did he just hit like a limit or somethin'?" The clone asked, leaning forward a little bit and resting his arms on his knees.
“Well, the original Edd found this taste of cola that doesn’t really..exist? Something about it made him lose his mind and start spawning these infinite hallways that made him start morphing into this weird octopus form.” Tord mumbled, recounting the details.
The clone listened to this story, rubbing his chin a little bit.
"Freaky." He remarked, feeling even more grateful that he wasn't a fan of soda.
"Maybe he's just auditioning for the sequel to Monsters Inc." He suggested finally, looking back up at Tord with another silly grin.
"There's going to be a sequel??" Tord would've done a spit take if he'd been drinking something. Instead, his body lurched anyway. Spit takes for everyone!
Talking with this guy was actually doing wonders for his shame. He was actually starting to feel much better. Like a cloud in the thundering storm had blown away. "On the topic of auditions - what do you guys even do around here? Just make movies? That's it?"
"Oh, yeah. Make movies, act as general help around the place, or become guinea pigs for the lastest inhumane experiment." The clone said casually.
"We've got a team of Edd-ish clones that do special effects which I'm part of." There was a vague sense of pride in cola-less Edd’s words.
Tord listened with genuine intrigue, curious as to where this guy fit into the social hierarchy of this place. He'd barely noticed the 'latest inhumane experiment' at all, since it was said with so much ease and lack of inflection. He's in the Special Effects department!
~
So uh. Maybe the soda’s a bit more.. radioactive than they thought.
Larry had stuck a sticky note on the can saying ‘DO NOT DRINK’ only a few minutes prior. He knew the small scribbly clone - whatever the fandom chose to call him - would probably lock eyes with this beverage and immediately offer it to a cast member. They could not have Eldritch horrors wandering about on set. Not yet, atleast.
Larry had seated himself in front of a conveniently placed computer, sifting through PDF files and reddit threads. Searching for any sign this mysterious naner-flavored sucker existed outside of the room it currently sat.
While Larry did the research, Bing worked on making sure the stuff wouldn't kill them all. So far he was able to ensure the radiation remained contained within the can itself. It was like old painted porcelain. Fine to hold, but still radioactive enough to kill you if you're not careful. The next step was making sure they could withstand being around the thing if it was open.
And so, the Banana Cola was sealed within a storage unit with lead-lined walls as they continued their research.
The final consensus was easy enough to come to. The drink was terribly dangerous, but only if you came in direct contact with the soda itself. Holding the can and carrying it around was safe, though a little risky thanks to the chance it could splash out and land on someone.
It was a surprise Larry hadn't heard any explosions in the background while he tapped away at the keyboard. He’d decided to organize his work on a few digital sticky notes; Elephant foot tour prices here, radiation effects there. You know, the usual.
Eventually, Larry had compiled and printed out a small pile of research. It was rather nice to work on something again. It kept his hands busy.
Larry turned his swivel seat around, sliding it over to the other side of his room by awkwardly shuffling his feet against the floor. Here he began checking to pour over his readings, reaching over to dramatically turn a library light on and start re-reading. He even slipped a reading monocle on, frowning slightly with perfect focus.
With the soda contained, Bing wandered back over to Larry and scanned over his work so far.
"Good news. As long as we dont come in contact with the drink itself we'll be safe." He explained.
"I think the only reasonable next step is to start injecting clones with this stuff and see what happens. You find anything useful?" Bingus asked, still skimming over all the little sticky notes and papers the man had collected.
”Not much.” Larry admitted, briefly adjusting his monocle. He squinted his eye before ultimately slipping it off and cleaning it with his suit sleeve. Just as quickly he slipped back on, looking over his carefully crafted work. “I’d suggest starting with minor exposures to see what the limit is.”
Boooooring. Going to the max immediately sounded so much more fun. Regardless, tests would have to be run eventually.
"Well here. You can begin cleaning up the testing chamber and find a clone to use. I'll go discuss the findings so far with our guest."
With that Bing wandered back out into the hall. Seemed like he'd have to find a room for Tord to stay in as well.
"Fantastic." Despite his monotone voice, Larry could almost feel a vague sense of.... almost excitement? Like he was… actually looking forward to this… Oh boy. Without any hesitation, the lackey got up from his seat, pushing his chair into the table and putting the monocle in his breast pocket. With that, the lackey separated to go find a clone to use as a Guinea pig.
~
In the other room, the chat had continued on for quite a while. Safe to say Tord was enjoying a conversation with a comparatively normal Edd. It was alarmingly easy getting over the initially oddities. Instead, the clone had spoken of lovely things; how the atmosphere here was warm and welcoming, once you got used to it. How there was an intrinsic camaraderie amongst those who shared an appearance and DNA with him. Like an eternal sleepover. He spoke of the lovely folks that manned the special effects, the hilarious actors, the shenanigans they all underwent as a mock-family.
Tord was jealous. But not in a literal sense - he had something quite similar to that at home. But it was hard not to miss the so-called ‘older’ days when Colaless-Edd’s stories reached for that unbearable itch, that desire for comfort.
It was at this point that Bing returned, immediately taking note of the clone's arrival. "Oh, brilliant. We can use you to test that stuff." He said simply, obviously not having much concern over his clone’s well-being.
Tord found a small pit forming in his stomach. Just like that, it seemed his new Edd would be used as fodder to test the dreaded cola. Bummer.
Unless... he could possibly save this guy….
Before Tord could enact his plan Bing wandered closer, putting his focus on Tord.
"Remind me, have you had any of that Cola? Any at all? And have you ever come in contact with more than just the can?"
Tord shrugged. “Nope. Been in the hallways for a bit, but haven't drank any. Edd used to have this HUGE supply of it in the fridge, which I cleaned out. All shut and sealed."
"Hallways are another story... we might want to decontaminate you just to be safe." Bing thought aloud.
Thus came the turning. Slow, gradual. Accompanied by the grating noise of concrete against metal.
After the description of what would happen to those who drank this mystery cola, Sfx Edd #3 had no interest in testing out such a thing. Internally panicking, the clone scrambled for an excuse as the conversation moved on without him.
"Now hold on a tick, I'm the Edd who doesn't like cola. You may as well find someone who's more willing to drink it, right??" He protested.
Aha! Tord’s chance to fight in Sfx Edd 3’s honor. “I’m pretty sure it’ll work best if he, you know, continuously drinks it. Plus maybe it’s got something to do with already being addicted to the drink beforehand.” Tord added on to the reject’s plea, proceeding to give the guy a solid and firm pat on the back.
Hearing both the clone’s and Tord’s pleas to avoid the forced mutation, Bing was quick to oblige. "Suppose. You're a special case as is, I'll want to keep you alive as long as possible." He remarked, eliciting a sigh of relief from the clone.
Whatever. Back to the topic at hand.
"The soda itself is extremely radioactive. Melt-your-face-off levels of radiation. It's safe to hold just the can, somehow. So other than your trip into the halls you should be safe from whatever this stuff does." The director reassured.
“Aaaand how exactly are you going to decontaminate me?” Tord inquired, raising a confused eyebrow. His arm slid back down and landed back in his lap. He’s curious like gorge the monkey
"We've got a shower in the back." Bing gestured with his hand down an ominous - you guessed it - hallway.
"Just leave your stuff in a pile, I'll have Larry go decontaminate all of that once he's found us a proper lab rat. Then you can probably just go to your room after that, we'll deal with more of the scientific nonsense tomorrow." He added on.
“Oh.” That made things much easier. Plus, Tord could do with a good shower. That motel felt dusty, and the rain had been quite cold. Hopefully he brought some stolen motel shampoo with him in his knapsack.
“Awesome, alright.” Without further ado, Tord slunk off.