Chapter Text
“Has anyone seen Red?”
The answer was the same around base; no one had seen the leader. There were a couple higher up ranks who thought there was supposed to have been a mission today, which was strange; Tom, even as second-in-command, knew of no such mission, nor had any unit of soldiers left the base. Nonetheless, he took the time to check the log that technically all ventures should be recorded in; sure enough, there was a record declaring Red Leader and several soldiers had left the base at 0500 hours.
This was still suspicious, but with the other responsibilities begging for attention, Tom decided to accept the explanation for the time being. More than likely Tord was doing something impulsive, without telling anyone, and a sentry had filled in the log the best they could. It had happened before, it certainly wasn’t impossible, and if that was the case the biggest inconvenience would be the extra work Tom had to look after in the meantime.
No, it wasn’t until a short intercom address later that Tom thought to reconsider his assessment. He perked up, listening closely as the the more feminine voice of the two hosts locked in the booth began, “If no one has checked the security cameras from H4-6 to E3-1 at 0438 this morning, I would recommend doing so immediately.”
While the radio hosts often said this kind of thing as a joke or misdirection, given the nature of the day Tom decided it was prudent not to ignore them. There had been a select few times where they actually had been correct about rather important matters, and as Tom pulled up the footage it was very obviously one of those times. It quite clearly appeared that the Red Leader had been kidnapped.
The non-emergent alarm spread quickly- that is, word of mouth. Anyone else who had security access to the surveillance system had also gone and checked after the broadcast, just out of curiosity, so the panic was quick to spread. Tom had to step away from an emergency meeting with all the highest ranks in order to broadcast his own message, ordering all troops to go about their regular daily tasks until a course of action was agreed upon. It was debatable how much good this address did the anxious soldiers, but there was nothing they could do immediately. Not only had their leader been stolen away, but the soldiers who had been with him and also marked absent on the log had been killed, their bodies stolen so as not to leave evidence. People were mourning, and terrified that their Leader would be next, especially considering the lack of ransom note.
Tom sighed, rubbing his stiff neck. He had relocated to his office after the many meetings on what to do. There was a sizeable number of forms before him, protocols and order sheets before him waiting to be filled in and signed. Obviously some sort of retrieval mission was necessary, but the group who had taken Tord was a large one, and very well prepared in case of an attack. To make such a big production happen, all sorts of hoops had to be jumped through to make sure everyone was on the same page. Most of the work here was with the short timeframe of the mission, as some of the work in planning could not be delegated to captains but all had to be figured out now. Time was of the essence, because for all they knew, Red could already be dead. Probably not, because his tracker was still helpfully displaying his location even in enemy territory, but those had been known to malfunction before. If he was dead, there would be another whole mess of issues to deal with.
….For instance, Tom could be blamed for this. He was Tord’s second, supposed to be there to stop these things from happening or take the hit for it. It could be seen as an attempt to seize the leadership, and although Tord’s advisors, Paul and Patryck, would back him up in his innocence, mob mentality was unpredictable and it would only take one person suggesting a course of action to turn the whole base against him. That was quite the unpleasant thought, and did nothing to ease his nerves.
The intercom turned on suddenly with a sharp squeak, making Tom jump. He glanced up at it, startled, as it began to speak. “A friendly reminder that regardless of your rank, your mortal bod needs rest! If you’re not already unconscious, go to sleep!”
Tom glanced at the clock: two am. What business the intercom pirates had being up at this hour was beyond him, especially when assumedly they would have to be up at five with the rest of the army. He chose to ignore the obviously pointed message about his own state of consciousness.
About an hour later, a knock came at the door- to Tom’s surprise, Paul and Patryck walked in. “What are you two doing here, it’s three a.m.”
“We could ask you the same thing.” Patryck glanced at the papers now sprawled across the desk- he turned towards Tom, unimpressed. “Have you slept at all?”
“Of course not.”
“Even we got a few hours, you really need to as well if we’re all going to be at 100% tomorrow.” Paul had stepped around the desk and began picking up papers, reading over the notes and plans scattered about.
Tom watched with a frown. “The plan isn’t done, I don’t have time to sleep.”
“What isn’t done?”
“Plenty! This isn’t exactly the kind of operation that should be thrown together the day before!”
Looking up at the shift in tone, Paul interrupted, “Look Tom, we could always leave it up to the generals if you’re really that concerned about it. But from the looks of this, you have a solid plan.”
“But if anything goes wrong-“
“Then that’s what happens,” Paul interrupted, “and that’s just how it’ll be. You can’t start second-guessing yourself.”
Tom rolled his eyes, obviously not in total agreement with them. “This is a bit more important than a regular mission. I can’t afford to overlook any detail.”
“And we won’t. What haven’t you gone over yet?”
“…the exact distribution of soldiers in individual squads, I know I need a custom set for retrieval but I don’t want to break up or imbalance any others.”
“Then leave that to us, and go get a couple hours of rest, sleep if you can.” Patryck opened the door, shooing Tom towards it. “We’ll message you at 0500 with a status update, then we’ll address the teams.”
“Sir, they know we have him.”
“We’ll simply have to speed up our schedule. Prep the medical team.”
The air of anticipation in the base was reaching a boiling point by the next day. Somehow a rumour had spread that the vehicles leaving for the mission were first come first serve, so chaos couldn’t help but spread when the assigned squads arrived to their stations only to find other soldiers already camped out there. Tom, Paul and Patryck had to give several lectures on why yes, some soldiers had to stay back to protect the base and couldn’t join the rescue. All in all their support was something to be admired; but ultimately the fussing and moping about of the recruits forced to stay didn’t aid much in a timely departure.
Nonetheless, the mission got underway, the advance squads quickly taking the lead and leaving the rest to make their way in their own destined time. By the time Tom and the majority of the squads arrived at the enemy base, the front doors so to speak had already been broken in and a path of destruction set to lead them inside.
The soldiers spread out, all following the routes and tasks assigned to them. Tom had a group mainly composed of special ops soldiers and medics, fully aware that with the lack of demands in Red’s capture the odds of finding him unharmed (or even alive) were very slim. They followed a rough map of the building built by the intel department, dashing through hallway after hallway before coming up to an intersection.
An echoing scream filled the hall, fading out only to be replaced once more afresh. The soldiers looked at each other, mildly spooked, but their leader paused only a moment before pushing onward. Gunshots rang out across the hall, the enemy in this area seeming more unsettled and less prepared for the fight. Before long Tom pointed his men towards a cell-doored room, the guards of which had already died. The screams had quieted just moments before, leaving an even more uneasy absence of sound. Tom slammed the door open, and there was a brief moment of gunfire before all the unfriendlies within had fallen. The only figure still within was tied to a chair, a low table beside him; none of the soldiers recognized him but Tom let out a low curse before rushing forward to his side.
“Red Leader. Sir, we’re here.”
The recruits blinked at each other in confusion. Not only had they never heard Tom use that tone towards anyone, let alone their leader; but besides, how could this man possibly be the Red Leader? He wore no armor, no signature helmet- scars littered his downwardly bent face, reaching down his neck and below the bloodied grey tank hung awkwardly against his form. His hair was ruffled against a sweaty face, spiked in a strange manner that resembled the messy state after sleep. Only one eye was open, the other long shut amongst the rest of the scar damage on his face. A more pressing detail, both his arms seemed to be missing. It was common knowledge of course that one of Red Leader’s cyberkinetic arms was a prosthetic, but surely someone in this degree of beaten down damage could not be /their/ leader. There were a few gasps in the crowd as they saw what the table beside him had obviously been used for: a still bleeding arm rested upon it, matching the dripping stump of a shoulder beside it.
The man in question groaned quietly, looking up drowsily at the impromptu leader. “Tom? What… what are you doing?”
“Red Leader, the army is here.” Tom’s tone was insistent, despite Tord’s exhausted demeanour and tone.
“What?” Tord blinked, before whining softly with a glance at the table. “My arm…”
Tom actually grabbed Tord’s face, steering his gaze back to his own. “Don’t look at it. We’re going to take you back to base, and get you patched up. I need you to tell us what needs to be done right now.”
Meanwhile the soldiers standing in the front of the room were watching this scene unfold worriedly. There were whispers here and there, but most were far too scared to say a word. Two soldiers in particular, a medic and technician near the front of the group, had been murmuring back and forth for several minutes now. The technician sighed suddenly, muttering at a terribly audible level, “Obviously it’s fresh, Johnny.”
And with that comment, the crowd sparked into a rush of whispers and anxious mutterings. Tom stood suddenly, whipping around and glaring at the group. “Did your leader say you could be at ease?”
They dropped silent at his harsh tone, a few quiet “no sir”s breaking through the stifling air.
Tom sighed before continuing, “All medics stay here, unless you need to go get supplies for any reason. Squad one, go back up 3 and 4; squad two, take the map of the base and go find Red Leader’s tech. Make sure none of it is missing, we can’t let them keep even a small piece. Bring what you find back here.”
The soldiers saluted, before rushing to their various jobs; the medics stepped forward, surveying the damage to their leader quietly. Obviously the bleeding was the first thing to stop, but even getting him out of here would be difficult.
“Red, you need to tell the medics how to bandage you up.” Tom had knelt before the leader once more, snapping him to attention.
“Right, of course…” Tord looked slightly more alert, trying to watch the medics’ movements clearly. “Careful with the bandages, it needs to be just so- No! Not like that.” The medic trying to dress the wound flinched at the harsh reprimand, waiting for direction. “If you wrap it that way the connections.. the nerves will be too damaged to connect to a prosthesis later, wrap it clockwise.”
The medics did their best to replicate Red Leader’s instructions, despite the distracting nature of the entire task. They realized before long that their leader had been drugged, probably so he could be conscious throughout the operation for full effect. It was nothing lethal, but could account for his confusion. As soon as his shoulder seemed properly tied to the best of their ability, they moved him to a stretcher to be taken out.
Meanwhile, one of the groups had returned with Red’s armour and gear. Tom joined them, checking what they had reclaimed and making sure the majority was present. “There’s no way to guarantee it except by Red, and he’s not in a state to check. We’ll knock the place down I think, at least we can bury any more tech. Get the bomb squad to begin placing charges, everyone should vacate the building within the next ten minutes.”
“Liz. Liiiiiiiz.”
Liz glanced up, shooting the medic a curious glance. He motioned for her to move to the empty seat beside him, a nervous look on his face. She got up to move; the rest of the vehicle was full of anxious whispers, as recruits shared what news they had with each other and pondered the fate of their leader. Johnny, as the medic was named, bent down to unzip his large medical pack as she took a seat. “What’s up?”
“In my bag,” Johnny muttered, and Liz bent forward to peer in as casually as possible. She froze, before leaning back slowly. “…did you see it?”
“Why did you take it?!”
Her hissed reply had him scrambling for an excuse. “It’s not my fault! thought it would be helpful, but the others took care of Red and then we were all leaving-“
“Bring it back!”
“I can’t! It’s too late for them to reattach it, especially by the time we get back to base-“
“Oh my gosh Johnny.”
They sat in silence for a moment, Johnny carefully zipping back up his pack. No one in the car seemed to have noticed their hushed commotion, thankfully. “…I’m so dead,” Johnny muttered.
“Not if they don’t find out.”
“Oh really, you don’t think they’ll notice it?”
“Not if it’s somewhere they’ll never find it.”
They exchanged a long look, before Johnny sighed. “What a conversation piece this’ll be.”
Red Leader was patched up quickly once at the base, besides of course his freshly lost arm. The time spent to get back to base was too long to have even a slight hope of reattaching the appendage; that is, if they had even had it. The arm had gone mysteriously missing in the scramble to leave. Regardless, Tord would not settle on some regular prosthetic, no, it would have to match his other in special features.
This meant it would take some time to build, particularly as he would have to rely on others to finish the project. It had been hard enough to do with one functional arm the last time, but now he had only the rather imprecise robotic limb to work with and could not do minute adjustments accurately. Of course his support staff was there and ready to cover whatever work he did not have the time or capability to accomplish.
One of these evenings, Tom was in the Red Leader’s office, helping him type off communications to other bases and units. It would literally have taken Tord twice the time to type them up, and since he refused to take off his helmet in order to use the diction software properly, Tom was stuck composing the messages for him. Tord was currently sitting on the edge of the desk beside Tom, dictating messages to be sent off.
“Did you make sure it was clear we won’t be sending them additional troops?”
“Yep, didn’t tell them why but I think that would sound too much like an excuse anyway. They’ll figure it out, they should be fine with just the extra weaponry.” Tom tapped a few more keys, before sending the order out. “Alright, it’s just the manufacturers’ orders now, then we’re done.”
Tord hummed, watching Tom click around the computer screen for a moment. “Tom?”
“Hmm?”
“Listen, eh…” Tord actually seemed a bit uncomfortable, robot arm wrapped around his empty left side. Tom stopped typing, turning to look up at him. “You did well in my absence, and with the rescue-I did not think it was possible. I just wanted to say thank-“
“Nope, don’t even start. It was no big deal.”
“It was a big deal, you had to worry about the whole force on top of saving me from the mess I had brought myself into.”
Tom cut Tord off with an exaggerated “sssshhh”, waving a hand at him to be silent. “Believe me, it was bad enough having to do your job, the rescue was nothing.” Tom turned back to the computer, but a small smile had settled on his face. “Don’t worry about it.”
Tord watched him quietly, before nodding. “Alright. Are you ready to take down the order?”
“Been ready for the last five minutes, c’mon.”
“Alright, alright.”