Yes Sir - (TordTom)

Sir - 2

"Is that everything?" Tom's father asked as they finished packing the small amount of luggage Tom was allowed into the car. "Yeah, this is... everything." He spoke quietly and got into the passenger's seat, not bothering to speak a word as they drove; there was no point in trying to converse while his father was stoic and Tom himself was in a state of constant consternation.

Just as the car ride had been, the lobby of the building they checked into was nearly dead silent. Trying to see the better side of things, Tom at least figured that it was better than the whole building being obnoxiously loud. Admittedly, he was not sure of what to expect. He practically ignored the possibility of this outcome in hopes he could demanifest its tangibility. It was a pipe dream, though, and here he was.

"See you in a while, kid. Don't do anything stupid." His father gazed blankly toward him for no more than a second before walking away coldly. "We'll be flying you out to Norway for this one. Too much overflow at the base in London. We apologize for the short notice." The lady at the front desk began explaining the situation a little better than his father did. "Norway? I don't know Norw-" Tom coughed, "Norwish? Norwe... nor... the language!"

The lady chimed in with her subtle southern accent, "Most people in Norway know pretty good English, as well as half the kids there are also from around here, sweetheart, so don't worry about a single lil' thing!" She waved her hand kindly. "We'll have you board the soonest flight. Just head right over to this quarter of the building and hurry up if you can." She handed him a stamped ticket, pointing to one of the hallways.

Tom made it down the sector and found a group of other people boarding the plane. It felt surreal and so incredibly sudden despite the many months of warnings his father had given him. Somehow, the moment in action just felt... different. "Ugh..." He managed his way onto the plane, anxiety clawing at his brain as new, unfamiliar faces and scenes enveloped him and his surroundings.

He spent his time on the plane trying his best to not think about the circumstances, which proved to be agonizingly difficult. Sleep was easier. And much needed. "Come on." A co-pilot with a sturdy voice nudged him awake, staring down at the boy curiously but impatiently. "Come on, kid!" He pushed the tired, frail boy out of his seat. "Geez, sorry!" Tom huffed and grabbed his carry-ons, stumbling out of the plane alongside everybody else, quite disoriented.

They were led down a long path that went past multiple levels of defense, passwords and security measures being utilized left and right for every gate and building they went through just to reach the main training base. A man in a formal long overcoat arrived, shaking hands with the co-pilot. "Jeg har det fra her." The co-pilot nodded and saluted, then turned to face everybody alongside the man in the extremely formal get-up.

"Hello, all. This is my lieutenant Patryck, he'll go easy on you because he's only best at flying planes. However, Paul is my second in command and he will choke you out for fun on a Sunday, so keep that in mind." What appeared to be the ruler spoke with an amicable laugh, showing his charisma proudly. "I am your sergeant for training, you report to me-"

"Name?" Tom asked, drawing the leader's attention in the worst way possible. "I was getting to that, but first, may I ask what is yours?" He walked over to Tom with a growl emitting from the back of his throat, his expression temporarily unreadable. "Tom... Thomas Rockwell." He stammered and took a step back. "Tom. Ah, short just as your height." He earned a few laughs from the other new recruits before he smugly turned around and went back to his previous spot.

Tom blushed a little and looked to the side, ashamed of something he couldn't help. "My name is Tord Larkin, as I was saying. But you can just call me Larkin." He collected himself further, "Before we truly begin, I will have you all set up in your rooms. You each get a bunkbed. Follow Patryck over there and he will have you all roomed." Tom stayed in his spot and started to laugh, obviously attempting to hold it into some degree. "Something funny?" Tord hissed and once again turned his gaze toward the small male. "W-what kind of n-name is Tord?!" He said through constrained giggles.

"Wow. The only thing cuter than your height is your lack of mature humor." Larkin raised an eyebrow and spoke in a lower voice, his accent carrying across smoothly. "Well, you're like, what? Two or three years older than me?" Tom snickered and poked fun at him. "Yes, but far more than two or three inches taller, little one."

"I could be your height by the time I'm done here, so don't push my buttons, mister Tord." Tom pronounced the Leader's name in a ridiculous tone, immediately regretting it as the leader boldly accosted him and grasped his wrist, bending his arm into an uncomfortable and increasingly painful position. "Stop that!" Tom panicked, holding back nervous tears. "If you don't want to deal with this again then don't act up, you fucking brat. Simple isn't it?" Tord let go and harshly pushed the new boy toward Patryck.

The boy with black eyes did a doubletake between the leader and Patryck. "Rockwell?" Patryck asked, deadpan. "Y-yeah, Thomas Rockwell." He responded, glancing up and over at the leader who watched him with a dark expression. "Room 201, down that way. Your other luggage will be delivered later today." Patryck gestured and watched as the boy ran off with his things to his room in a daze.

"Christ! That guy was tough!" Tom gasped while lunging himself onto the bed. "They seem rough huh? Must be scary for a wimp like you." One of the roommates chuckled maliciously. "Dude fuck off! My life is actually shit right now. I screwed everything up, you don't even know." Tom closed his eyes and tried to relax for a little while. Who knew the worst part about this wasn't going to be the army-like labor, but the leader himself?

"Oh, yeah, difficult life, huh, Tom?" The same guy responded, and suddenly his voice felt very familiar to the boy in blue. Tom turned to his side and stared at the male, recognizing him as a bully from his school he had plenty of experience with. "God, not you!" Tom ground his teeth together, starting to sit up. The boy bolted toward his bedside and leaned over him. He grunted and pushed Tom down, holding him down on the bed angrily. "You're not going to last out here, mister five-foot. And you better not mess with my shit." He huffed.

"Get off of me you cunt!" The boy with cute black eyes struggled around, trying to get free. "Shut it, tiny!" The bully covered the small one's mouth with his hand, only for his fingers to be bit. "Ah, fuck!" He shouted and quickly backed off, stumbling to his feet off of the bed. "It's not that bad! I didn't have a choice!" Tom insisted, getting to his feet. "You tore my fucking skin off!" He yelled out, grumbling in pain.

The door to their room opened and naturally, of course, Larkin stepped in, his coattails following behind him with an updraft elegantly. "Is something wrong?" He analyzed the room for a moment before laying eyes on Tom.

"He bit my hand, look how deep!" The bully complained, showing his wound off to the leader. Tord examined the marks and sent the boy to the infirmary, then gazed down at Tom calmly. "Why did you bite him?" He asked kindly as opposed to potentially coming to an improper conclusion. He had the time to waste on the little things that piqued his interest.

Tom went into thought and looked away when he finally responded. "I-I'm sorry... I don't know..." Larkin sighed, "Can I see your teeth?" He inquired and began waiting as Tom opened his mouth wide, showing two subtly keen eyeteeth up at the leader. "Ah, interesting. You were made to hunt, Thomas." The leader chuckled calmly. "Well, I'd rather be the predator than the pray, Tord." Tom closed his mouth and blushed a bit.

"Ah-ah, you're a soldier and so you call me 'Sir'." The leader smiled and folded his arms. "Again, you're like only a few years older than I am!" Tom complained adamantly. "We aren't on a first-name basis, little one. Unless you know something I do not." Tord teased, gauging Tom's reaction to the nickname he was given. "I'm not that small..." He muttered out quietly, looking off to the side shyly.

"I'll be seeing you for practice. Check your schedule now." The leader smirked and turned his back, exiting the room in a harsh and sudden silence.