Chapter Text
Did you do a thorough background check on all the kitchen staff yet?
Red Leader's face was pale beneath the large horned helmet. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he read the small scrap of paper again. Neatly typed, it had been laying on his food tray when he sat down to eat in the officer's cafeteria. He crumpled it and shoved it into a pocket before anyone could notice. He looked around. Had anyone noticed? Would the culprit be looking at him to silently gloat or focusing too hard on avoiding his gaze? These questions were exhausting but all too necessary.
This wasn't the first message he had received. The first had been about a week after the infiltrator had shot Tom, before being shot himself. Everyone had thought that would be the end of it; it wasn't. Upon receiving the piece of paper which read “Did you think he was the only one?” under his lab door one night while working, Tord had discreetly pressed Tom for more information regarding the mole. One of the few new pieces of information was that he had mentioned a boss, which Tom wrote off as a pitiful scare tactic. At the time, Tord had agreed. As more papers appeared throughout the base, always in public places only Tord would find them, he began to rethink. They were always cryptic, often oddly specific questions like today's note. The details lent them weight, showing this was no some elaborate prank. The clearance levels alone for the fifth one… No, it was best for him not to think on that.
The notes came every couple days, at different times usually. Somehow they had managed to nail down his chaotic, barely existent schedule. Even attempts to further his unpredictability had thus far failed.
Movement blurred on the edge of his vision and he jerked his head up, hand darting to his holster. Tom looked at him curiously, one digital eye slightly bigger than the other and a small smirk on his face, “A little jumpy, sir?”
Tord knew the honorific was thrown in only as a tease, but ignored it. “You didn't have to set down your tray so quickly, I was obviously thinking about important matters. You shouldn't've disturbed me.”
“Important matters? Do tell,” Tom casually lifted his sandwich and took a bite. How he was so calm right now, Tord wasn't sure. Ignorance must truly be bliss.
“Nothing with relevance to you. You forget enough as it is, don't need useless information knocking around behind those goggles,” Tord dug into his food with a distinct lack of enthusiasm and more of a determination, probably to avoid conversation. Tom looked at him again. Something had been off with him for the past little while, though Tom wasn't certain what, or when it had started. He decided not to press the conversation; now was obviously not the time. They ate together in silence, surrounded by the gentle chatter of the other officers, each man lost in his own thoughts. Tord planned how to expose the numerous moles within his operation, while Tom plotted on how to get Tord back to normal.
When he finally finished eating, Tom stood, but was stopped by Tord’s cold hand on his sleeve. “Be sure to order a background check on all the kitchen staff. Make sure it's done by the end of the day.”
Tom blinked then nodded, perplexed by the odd command, but not wishing to disturb Tord further. As he left the cafeteria, he passed the orders to the appropriate officers.
Tord watched this with satisfaction. He had been deliberating all meal about the best course of action and had settled on this. Perhaps they wanted him to take the bait, but more likely they were getting over confident and figured he would shy away from such an obvious ploy. Well he'd see how they liked that, now wouldn't he. He touched his communicator and ordered for the 13:00 meeting to be moved to a new location, before exiting the cafeteria himself. No one ever ate with him except Tom, unless they had business.
Tom's day was fairly open. Except for bringing Tord supper, he had no plans or duties he felt like attending to. This left him very free to figure out what was going on with his leader. The man had been downright jumpy. Tom wrung his hands habitually as he thought, wandering aimlessly through the halls, but walking as if he had a purpose. He certainly wouldn't open up to Tom, but something had to be done. Maybe if he had a gentle reminder of the old days, that would do the trick. Nothing to make him defensive, just a little taste of their shared past and dynamic.
As time wore on, Tom formulated the perfect plan. It held the right mixture of affront and familiarity, lightheartedness and surprise. Tom was going to pull a simple little prank, and he had all day to prepare.
Tord felt good being out of the noisy, crowded cafeteria, but the halls carried their own threats. Every few meters was a new intersection from which anyone could come out of; doors only open a crack lined long stretches of the walls. The less busy wings were barren, almost no halls to escape down and the few doors were often left ajar, dark rooms lying beyond the threshold. Around a corner just ahead of him he could hear two recruits chattering to each other. The lack of stealth was calming until he remembered that either or both of them could just be putting up a front. His hand rested on his gun as he passed the corridor, both recruits snapping a smart salute as he glanced at them. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. They were no threat. Nonetheless his ears strained for the telltale sound of a gun being cocked or the safety being flipped, or even a strained voice as the chatter resumed. He forced his shoulders to relax, and his hand fell away from his gun.
He was getting close to the recently adjusted meeting place when a door slammed ahead of him and hurried footsteps pounded in his direction. Heart racing, he rolled against the wall and into a nearby doorway. In the same smooth motion he had drawn his gun and held it in both hands near his face as he peeked out. The footsteps didn't slow and the midlevel soldier ran right past him, her eyes focused dead ahead. He stepped out into the hall again, but kept the gun in his hand hidden behind the door frame. “Hey! You there!” The hurried woman stopped and turned at his voice. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
She panted a bit and her eyes darted down the hall both ways urgently, “Coffee got spilled as it was being set up in the meeting room, Sir. I was sent to fetch a mop and paper towel, Sir.”
Tord hesitated, “Why were you sent?”
“I'm not due to give my report until near the end of the meeting, so if you were to arrive before my return, it could still begin on time, Sir.”
“Very well. Go on then,” he nodded thoughtfully as she turned her back and resumed running to a supply closet. She was headed to the nearest one, and wouldn't have been the most important asset if there was an attack on the meeting. Additionally someone of her rank wouldn't have been in charge of coffee, so she wasn't likely to have spilled it either. Yes, he was satisfied with all this and holstered his gun before continuing on to the meeting.
The meeting was long and the room smelled strongly of coffee the entire time. A few times he had needed to ask someone to repeat themselves; they talked much too fast and gave him very little time to actually consider what they had said before moving on to the next thing. A few had seemed uncomfortable, but he had already run extensive background checks on most of them, so there wasn't too much extra work added to his pile.
The rest of his day was spent shut in his office working. Well, mostly working. He occasionally took a break from signing documents to skim one of his well worn magazines, though he was much too distracted to enjoy them lately. Due to this, his breaks turned from that to running background check and browsing the security feeds. Whenever he saw something suspicious, he would send an officer to investigate indirectly. Very few signatures were actually written, but that wasn't much different from normal. Generally his paperwork got put off on Tom. Besides, security of the base was infinitely more important anyway. Someone could get hurt if Tord wasn't careful.
Yet again he considered confiding in Tom, or even Paul and Patryck, about the numerous crumpled notes that were stuffed into his coat pocket. They could share some of the work of the hunt. Would they do it as well as he did? Tord had his doubts, and double checking all their work would only waste more time. Besides, Tom knowing would only put him at risk again. They knew he wouldn't turn on him, so if he were to become an actual threat, drastic measures may be taken. Dealing with it alone was certainly best. This way was efficient and contained; there were much fewer risks all around.
As time ticked on, Tord’s eyelids grew heavy. He longed for his bed, and yet he was reluctant to leave his office. With the exception of his lab, it was the safest place in the entire base. There was only one way in, and only he knew the escape routes. His lab carried the risk of excessive preoccupation, and while that normally wasn't an issue, it was unacceptable with the threat of infiltration and destruction looming above him. However, sleep wasn't really an option either. No one else was alert to the potential danger, so he would have to stay awake tonight.
He stood and slowly opened the door, finding the tray of food exactly where he expected. Steam still rose from the pasta; Tom must've been awfully busy to have brought it so late. Still Tord was thankful it had worked out like this. The freshness was comforting; it meant there was less time for it to have been tampered with. He took it back to his desk and ate slowly at first, focusing on the flavours for anything that was off. He almost didn't eat at all, knowing the message about the cooks had to be hinting at something. But he knew Tom wouldn't bring anything suspect. The man was aloof, but he obviously cared. The incident a few weeks back had proven that. This thought refreshed the purpose of tonight in Tord's mind, and he turned away from the food to focus on the various computer screens to one side of his desk.
All night he gazed upon the dimly glowing displays. The feeds held little activity, but any that was there, he saw. He had his own private security feeds, which were protected separately from the main feeds. Even if they had been hacked though, he had the main feeds up to compare footage as it happened. There were no inconsistencies that he could see, but he stayed vigilant. Occasionally he picked at the food, but he couldn't keep his attention off the videos for long.
When morning rolled around, Tom was frustrated. Tord had stayed shut in his office all night. At least he had taken the food in, though that was no guarantee it had been eaten. Whatever was bothering him was getting bad; Tom's plan seemed very timely. If he could ever get the man to leave his office that was.
With a sigh, Tom stood and straightened his tie, off to try and get Tord out. To his surprise, the man himself walked past his room. He didn't so much as spare him a glance, but Tom didn't mind right now. Once the footsteps receded, he slipped out and headed towards Red Leader's office to set up.
Meanwhile, Tord had his mind set on going to the lab. It was a risk, but a brilliant idea had occurred to him early this morning. The messages perhaps contained some sort of secret message. The rats were clever, and they obviously enjoyed mocking him. He was headed to his lab because it was the only room in the base without cameras attached to the main security feed. No one could see the messages. His fingers fidgeted with the balls of paper littering his pocket. There was roughly 2 dozen by now; surely if there was a pattern, it would be evident by now.
He was so caught up in this new idea that he didn't even bother to listen for threats or scan the halls for suspicious people. Only the loud growl of his stomach brought him out of his mind for a moment. There was a bread roll with bacon bits baked in back in his office, and ice cream in the mini-fridge. He hadn't gone too far yet, so he turned around and headed back for the snacks.
Tom was disappointed to see so much of last night's supper still on the desk. No matter, it wouldn't affect his prank if Tord had eaten or not. He left the lights off, using the dim glow of his visor as he shuffled around in the desk for what he needed. Here was the magazine, but was that footsteps he heard? As they got closer, he could hear the distinct clink that could come only from Tord. New plan then. He would just jump out and surprise him. That would definitely lead to a good laugh, after Tord got over his anger and humiliation.
As Tord approached his office, he noticed with a dropping feeling that the door was slightly ajar. Had he really been so careless? Such a foolish mistake could cost him his life with enemies in the base. From within he heard a drawer slam. The blood rushed from his extremities in a wave of cold as his heart raced and his hand flew to his gun. Very softly, he stalked forward, cursing his mech arm as it clinked softly. He took slow shaky breaths, trying to still his hands. Once he was close enough, he threw open the door and flicked on the lights, gun infront of him. There was a moment of silence, and he breathed in a calming breath, but then a figured leaped up from behind his desk. In a panic he trained his gun on the target, and angled his body to be a smaller target himself. A familiar shout as he pulled the trigger caused a new form of panic. Much too late he diverted his aim, and the body fell to the floor after staggering back a step. Hands shaking horribly, he tried to holster his gun, but dropped it instead. That wasn't important now. He leaned out of the doorway and called out for someone to bring in a medic. As his own protocols came to mind finally, he activated his com and repeated in a shaky voice, “Officer down in head office! Tom has been shot!”