#Mr. Svenson | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snaillamp · 1 year ago

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Vaccination Day

Enjar folded his hands onto his lap, threading his fingers together in an effort to hide he shaking. He read the advertisements along the desk again, trying to get his mind off what was coming. One was about asthma and staying safe in winter, one was about diabetes and talking to the doctor about some new, fancy blood glucometer and the last poster… the one that kept sending chills down his spine: Get your flu shot today! Prevent the spread of the flu! The flu stops with you!

He turned back to the glucometer ad, shuddering. Enjar had never liked needles, who did? But as his eyes flicked to the deep scars on his arms, he remembered the doctors. The needles poking him, hurting him… He could’t make them stop as he was strapped to the bed, the cannula hurting his arm as…

Vaccination day was always the worst. He had always hated needles, but now, they were a weapon, bringing back memories he'd rather forget.

“Svenson, Ulrich?”

A young doctor looked up at the group of people waiting in line. An old man pushed up and out of a chair, cane shaking as he got to his feet. He shuffled toward the man. The doctor greeted him, helping him into his office.

Out of the corner of his eye, Enjar felt someone sit next to him, causing him to twitch a little. Glancing at who it was, his eyes sparked in recognition. “Hello Enjar.” Dr Fayed murmured, smiling warmly. “You look a lot better than last time I saw you, good to see you’re doing well.” The man’s thick accent calmed Enjar, who smiled back, nodding as he tucked a little bit of hair behind his ear. His fingers brushed the scar on his face as he did, before he sat back and looked over at his friend.

“Thank you, Ahmed…” He looked around, wondering what to say. “Uh, how’s things with you?” Dr Fayed laughed, “Ahhh, you know. Two teenagers in the house and a busy work life. My wife says I’m married to the job as much as I am her!” He chuckled again, twisting his wedding ring. “I’ve actually organised a reservation in the city for her birthday, I even flew in her brother from France. She has no idea.” The man grinned wickedly. “I’ve been planning it for months.”

Enjar couldn’t help but snort at the doctor’s grin. “You’re a piece of work, Ahmed.” Enjar murmured, watching as a doctor he didn’t recognise stepped into the waiting room. “Ahh, that’s Dr Hillmar, new in town. I hear he’s pretty good… Big city hotshot if you ask me.” Dr Fayed snickered, before leaning back and patting his stomach. “Nielson, Enjar.” The doctor spoke, and Enjar froze, his stomach dropped like he had just hurtled down a rollercoaster.

“You got this, big guy.” Dr Fayed patted his shoulder, breaking Enjar out of his frozen state. He stood, letting out a breath, before approaching the doctor. ‘Trust me to get the new guy. Where’s Dr Bloch when I need her?’ Enjar thought as he swallowed his anxiety. Dr Bloch always knew how to work with him to make him feel calm, to get him through the injection…

“Nielson, Enj-oh.” Dr Hillmar looked down at Enjar, who had approached him. The doctor was at least 6 foot, compared to Enjar’s smaller 5'8. Enjar watched the usual eye movements as the doctor’s watery blue eyes danced over his scars. He clenched his jaw, making the scar ripple a little, a subtle way to remind the doctor there was still a person under the scar he was gawking at. Enjar usually wouldn’t mind people staring at his scars, but he wasn’t in the mood today.

He inhaled, making himself look slightly bigger as the doctor met his stormy, grey eyes. “Mr Nielson?” Dr Hillmar raised his eyebrows, looking slightly nervous. Enjar nodded, clenching his jaw harder to hide his anxiety. “Right this way…” Dr Hillmar gestured timidly, guiding Enjar to his office.

“Uh, take a seat and I’ll be with you in a second.” Dr Hillmar pointed at the uncomfortable plastic chair sat by the door. Next to it was a wall decal, a giraffe with heights for children marked on its; neck. Dr Hillmar sat by his desk, typing away at his computer, pulling up a file and reading it. Enjar could tell from where he was sitting it was his medical files, the short, curt message, completely useless to explain how he got his scars. Below that, a new note had been added, presumably from his last trip to the hospital… Enjar winced, remembering how awful he had been to the nurses.

“Soooooo… Mr Nielson, you’re here for a checkup and a vaccination, correct?” Dr Hillmar’s bravado was returning slightly as he spun in his cushy leather chair to face Enjar, who nodded. “You’re uh, a quiet one, huh?” Enjar shrugged. “That’s fine.” Dr Hillmar chirped, reaching over to his desk and grabbing a fancy stethoscope.

He watched Enjar for a second, studying him as Enjar did the same, each man taking in the other’s face. Enjar was good at reading people, he could tell the doctor was intimidated by his appearance, but he could only hope his own nervousness was well hidden behind a scowl. He didn’t want a repeat of last year.

“So, let’s start. Uh, it says in your files that you’ve had some bad experiences with medical professionals. Just know that here, you’re safe and anything you say or do is confidential. Any time you need a break, just let me know.” Dr Hillmar smiled, trying his best to break through Enjar’s scowl. All Enjar could do was nod. He just wanted Dr Bloch.

“You must be wondering, Dr Bloch has moved to another practice and I will be taking on her patients, she left some notes about you, actually. Let me see…” The doctor stood, reaching to the shelf covered in folders as he pulled a large, fat red one onto the desk flicking through. “Ah, here it is. Uhhhhh,” The doctor hummed as he skimmed the notes. “Pretty much what it says on your file. Just take it slow…” He frowned, mumbling to himself. “Huh… weird everyone else is so detailed… She was never one to miss anything… weird.” He replaced the folder, turning back to Enjar who was reading a poster tacked to the wall.

It had a person, all the layers of muscle, bone and organs revealed, listing them all. Dr Hillmar glaced at it, before grinning. “You like it? It’s a new one.” Enjar could tell the doctor was desperately trying to befriend him, but that made him want to shut off even more. “Did you want to start?” Dr Hillmar asked, leaning forward. Enjar nodded, sighing. “Sure.” Dr Hillmar smiled, thinking he’d made progress.

“Hop up on the bed there for me.” The doctor asked, Enjar complying. He watched the doctor prepare, gathering a few tools and cleaning his hands. The man was older than him, probably in his 50’s, his red hair slowly thinning and greying. He had a scratchy beard and a small, barely noticeable tattoo on his right wrist. It looked like a date. He wore black, rectangular glasses, pushed high up on a large nose and as he got closer, Enjar noticed a hole in his ear, a former piercing probably.

His dress shirt and pants were neatly ironed and his shoes were shiny, fancy leather ones, all pulled together with a red, silk tie. A large leather belt sat around his waist, the buckle engraved with a bear paw print. Enjar’s nose twitched as he caught a whiff of the doctor’s cologne. It smelled musky.

“Okay, we’ll go head to toe, so just let me know if you need a minute. Nice and slow, I promise.” Dr Hillmar sighed as he pulled out a light. “Can you just pull your hair back for me, please?” Enjar complied, reaching up and tying his hair up with a spare hair tie, feeling the scars on his arms tug slightly as his arms moved to the strange angle.

“Wonderful. Okay, follow my finger with your eyes for me.” Dr Hillmar instructed, watching as Enjar’s eyes locked onto his finger, following it closely. “Okay, now I’ll just flash a little light in your eyes, let me know if it’s too bright.” The doctor flashed a small penlight in each eye, comparing them. “Wonderful. I’ll do your ears now. You haven’t had any issues with hearing? I read that you’ve been knocked unconscious a few times.” Enjar glanced at the doctor as he put an otoscope in his left ear, looking at his lips smile as he saw a presumably healthy ear canal. “So no issues?” “Nope.” Enjar replied, as the other ear was checked. He kind of liked the feeling of the cold, smooth tube in his ear.

“Alright then, mouth time! Open wide, I’ll put this stick on your tongue, it’ll be quick I promise.” Enjar’s jaw tightened before he opened his mouth, he hated tongue depressors. Dr Hillmar placed it on his tongue, pressing down a little too far back in his mouth. Enjar gagged a tiny bit, pulling his head away, the memories of the tube crammed down his throat flashing through his mind. “Oh, are you alright?” Dr Hillmar asked, kneeling down to meet Enjar’s eyes. After a couple of breaths, Enjar nodded, opening his mouth and balling up his fists as the doctor checked again. After a few seconds of brief panic, he settled and felt fine, the doctor finishing that section of his exam. “Well everything looks healthy up there. Did you want to move onto your chest or do something else first.” Enjar looked at his lap, appreciating being given the choice. ‘Ahmed was right, he is good.’

“Something else first, thanks…” Dr Hillmar smiled at Enjar’s reply, nodding softly. “Okay, well take off your shoes for me and we can do a few more checks. Enjar complied, placing his shoes on the floor beside the plastic seat. “Okay, just stand here on the wall for me, nice and straight.” The doctor reached up, pulling the measuring device down to touch Enjar’s head. “Wonderful, and just take a few steps forward for me.”

“Good.”He pointed at a poster next to the anatomical one. “Just read those off for me, top to bottom.”

“A, X, R, V, M, Q, R, T, U, Y, O, L, K.”

“Awesome. Jump back on the bed, and I’ll test something else.” Enjar could tell the doctor was stalling a little. He didn’t mind that though, so he sat back on the edge of the bed, watching as Dr Hillmar stood in front of him. Sitting on the bed, they were almost the same height.

“Okay, just grab onto my hands for me, wonderful. Squeeze them tight for me.” Dr Hillmar’s hands were soft, unlike Enjar’s own calloused ones. He squeezed hard, until the doctor gasped slightly. “That’s good, that’s good. My, you’re a strong guy, what do you do?” Looking at the doctor, Enjar blinked, not expecting his strength to be brought up. “Lighthouse keeper. Though I do a lot of work for the coastguard too.” Dr Hillmar’s eyes widened, “That would explain the muscle. And just pull your right arm against mine, good, now your left. Wonderful.” Dr Hillmar kneeled down, looking at Enjar’s feet. “I’m just going to touch your feet, alright.” He placed his palms against the bottom of Enjar’s feet before looking up at him. “Wonderful, just press down for me. Good.”

Standing back up, he checked the nervous response of Enjar’s knees, tapping them with a small hammer, making them kick out. “Well… I’ve done everything else. You ready for me to check your chest?” Dr Hillmar smiled at Enjar again, who nodded, the anxiety in his stomach twitching. “Okay, just pull your shirt off for me. I promise I’ll be quick.” Enjar was beginning to feel annoyed, the doctor was coddling him a little. ‘I’ll be quick, I’ll be quick… I know, you keep saying it.’ His thoughts flashed through his head as he tugged off his shirt.

“Ready?” Dr Hillmar lifted up his stethoscope. Enjar nodded. “Okay. I’ll listen to your heart, then your lungs alright?” Nodding again, Enjar straightened, before the cold bell of the stethoscope touched his skin, sending goosebumps prickling over his body. The doctor listened for a moment, before moving to a new space, lower down, then another, more to the side of his chest. “Beautiful. Alright deep breath in.” He asked, placing the bell back on the front of Enjar’s chest. “And another.” This time, Dr Hillmar placed it on the other side of his chest.

“Again. Good. Once more on this side. Wonderful.”

Enjar watched as Dr Hillmar stepped to the side, “Just lean forward a little, I want to listen to your back too.” They repeated the process, Dr Hillmar nodding happily when he was done. “I’ll just check your stomach, then you can put your stuff back on, okay?” Enjar nodded again, he wasn’t looking forward to this. “Just lie back for me.” The doctor patted the bed.

Enjar lay back, sighing as he stared at the ceiling. “I apologise if I have cold hands. I’ll just press down a little then I want to check the scars from your surgery, then we’ll be done.” Enjar nodded, shutting his eyes as the doctor pressed gently on his abdomen. He went around in a circle, pressing four places with the flat of his hand, feeling for anything out of the ordinary.

“Good, I’ll just move your pants down a little, is that okay? I just need a better look at your mower abdomen.” “Mhmm…” Enjar mumbled, breathing in calm, slow breaths. The doctor moved the hem of his pants down, examining the scars from his appendectomy. He pressed them a little, making Enjar twitch. “Ah, still tender, sorry. How long has it been since the surgery?”

Enjar’s mind danced around dates, trying to remember. “6 months, give or take.” He grunted as the doctor pressed the other scar. “You had a laparoscopic surgery?” “Yeah…” Enjar’s head began to feel fuzzy and the doctor stepped back, he could feel the anxiety gripping his mind more. ‘This isn't that place...’

“Okay, all done. You can sit up now... Mr Nielson?” Enjar groaned, squeezing his eyes tight before opening them, sitting up slowly. “Are you feeling okay?” Dr Hillmar asked, looking concerned. “Yeah… just a little tense… I’m fine.” Enjar reached over to his shirt, pulling it back on, the room feeling quite cold all of a sudden. He shivered a little, before hopping off the bed to replace his shoes. “And we’re almost done, just the vaccination now. Uhh, I see here you have an… ‘aversion to needles’ is that right?”

Enjar looked up at Dr Hillmar, frowning as he glanced at his notes. That was a new one. Must have been Dr Mathieson, maybe Dr Singh. “Something like that…” he mumbled in reply. His mind drifted to his last hospital stay, ripping the cannula from his arm and throwing it at the wall. “You’re not prone to fainting are you, cause I don’t think I’m strong enough to catch you!” Dr Hillmar joked awkwardly, waving his smaller arms. Enjar certainly had more muscle than he did, the doctor was probably lucky to be 80 kg soaking wet. Shaking his head, Enjar sighed, taking a seat back in the chair. “I just… haven’t had great experiences with them. I uh… was treated for injuries in a pretty traumatic way.” He gestured at his arms. He heard the doctor hum, “Did you want to eleaborate? It’s okay if you don’t.”

Enjar shook his head, “No, may as well… I was injured, loosing a lot of blood, barely conscious… The medics, the doctors were just trying to keep me alive. They stuck me with so many needles I just… They remind me of that time… It makes me… quite anxious.” Enjar chose his words carefully, he didn’t want to overwhelm himself, or spill too much... if he went into anymore details, he might actually collapse.

“Well, we will look after you, you’re safe here, I promise. I’ll go get the nurse to prepare the vaccine for you.” Dr Hillmar stood and slipped from the room, leaving Enjar to lay back in the seat and breathe. He rested his head against the wall and sighed, soothing the rising anxiety creeping up his throat. ‘It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re not there, you’re here…’ He repeated his mantra in his head, before he heard the door squeak open, making him jump. “Oh, my apologies. The nurse is here now, just sit tight, or did you want to lie down?” Dr Hillmar offered the bed with a gesture, but Enjar shook his head, swallowing his fear. His stubbornness was playing up again, he wasn’t going to take the bed, no one else did, why should he?

The young nurse walked in, all the pieces ready to go. Enjar watched as she prepared the injection, his stomach tingling as she did. She handed the needle to Dr Hillmar, who thanked her before walking up to Enjar. “Alright, which arm do you want it in?” Enjar sighed, thinking for a second, before looking back at the doctor. “Left.” He eyed the needle, long and sharp, glinting in the light. It looked a lot longer up close than it had a second ago.

“Okay, just relax your arm for me.” Dr Hillmar directed, as Enjar fixed his stare at the anatomy poster. He felt the cold cleansing wipe clean his skin, before a sharp prick and a flood of cold fluid into his arm. He felt mostly fine, except the temperature of the fluid making him feel a little dizzy. ‘Huh... No flashbacks, great!’ He thought as glanced over at the needle, watching it slide out from inside him, before a cotton wad was placed neatly over the small hole it left. A glimmer of hope beginning to burn in him, he had made progress and hadn’t even realised it.

“And we’re done. I’ll just ask you to stay in the waiting room for 15 minutes so we can monitor you and then you can go. All just standard procedure from here.” Dr Hillmar instructed. Enjar smiled softly, thanking him, before standing. He took a step, before his vision blurred, spots spinning around him and the world going black as he came crashing down onto the cold, hard floor.

Dr Peter Hillmar smiled at the strange man sitting next to him. He didn’t know what all the fuss had been about, the man took the needle without even a flinch. “Thank you, Dr Hillmar.” The man spoke in a low, quiet voice, glancing up at him with tired, grey eyes.

Peter watched as he stood, before frowning as the blood suddenly drained from the man’s face. As he took a step, his pupils grew wide, before his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the floor. “Oh!” The young nurse cried as she leapt back. Peter’s mind jumped into action. He rolled Enjar’s limp body over, pressing his fingers into his neck. The man’s pulse was racing, sweat beading on his forehead. “Get Dr Dahlvig!” His tone urgent as he spoke to the young nurse, who nodded, racing from the room.

“Mr Nielson? Enjar? Can you hear me?” Peter raised his voice, shaking Enjar’s chest as he tried to make him wake up. Nothing. “Shit. Come on, wake up for me, Enjar.”

The nurse returned with the senior doctor of the practice, Dr Clara Dahlvig. “Peter? Oh, what’s happened here?” She asked, leaning down to assess his patient. “Don’t know, he just went out like a light.” Clara looked at Enjar’s face, frowning. “Ahhh, I know him. Enjar Nielson, right? Something is always up with this guy. Weird, he’s never collapsed like this before though.” She mumbled, feeling the pulse in his wrist. “He hit his head hard?” She asked, slipping on some gloves and feeling Enjar’s skull. “No idea, he just went down like a rag doll.”

Clara nodded, before pulling her stethoscope out and putting it in her ears. She listened to the man’s chest, counting the breaths. “He seems fine, he’s just fainted I think. Maybe get him up on your exam bed, let him come to. If he isn’t around in a few minutes I might get you to call an ambulance.” She helped Peter lift the heavy man up onto the examination bed, before huffing and leaving the room.

“Ah, Dr Fayed, could you come here for a second?” She asked, standing outside the door. Peter glanced around, not recognising the name. There wasn’t a Dr Fayed at this practice was there? He watched the door as a short, stout man walked in, glanced around and spotted Enjar, slumped on the bed. “Oh no… What’s happened?” He asked, his voice sympathetic. “Don’t know, I was hoping you might know, you know him right?” The new doctor nodded. “Well, I shouldn't say much... but off the record, yes I do. What happened?”

The doctor’s strongly accented voice broke Peter out of his stupor. “Uh, just collapsed after a vaccination. Blood drained from his face and he went down.” Dr Fayed frowned, “Maybe it was the needle, what happened last vaccination?” He asked Clara. “Bloch and I watched him hyperventilate for about 10 minutes before he was fine and took the injection like nothing happened. He was a little shaky after but nothing out of the ordinary.” Peter huffed exasperatedly, it seemed all the doctors knew this guy.

At that moment, Enjar groaned, turning his head as he came around. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared blankly at the room, not recognising it. “Be quiet, he might be reliving something, let him come back in his own time…” Dr Fayed whispered, looking at the man’s glazed over eyes. Peter frowned, this Dr Fayed guy knew a lot more about Enjar than he was letting on.

Outside the room, someone dropped something, causing a loud clatter. All four people in the room cringed as an old man yelled a loud, angry, “FUCK!”

The young nurse slipped from the room, pulling the door shut to help the old man, but the damage was already done. Enjar stiffened, eyes wide as his breathing quickened, becoming uneven and gasping. He pushed himself up, before trying to get off the bed, but the second his feet touched the floor, his knees buckled. Faling to the ground, shaking as tears streamed from his face, moaning low, panicked words. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

He gasped, pressing his head into the floor, his entire body quivering. Peter reached out to touch him, his fingers barely grazing the man’s shoulder, but Enjar ’s hand shot up, grabbing his wrist and yanking it, pulling Peter to the floor. Peter yelped as he wigged, trying to get out from the Enjar’s grip as the man pressed a knee firmly on his chest, pinning him down.

He looked up in horror, at the man who had seemed so withdrawn and quiet a moment ago now baring his teeth and growling, eyes wild and angry. “Hey, what’s-your-name?” Dr Fayed hissed at Peter. “Dr Hillmar.” He replied. “Dr Hillmar, stop struggling. You’re making it worse. Just close your eyes and take a deep breath, go as still as possible.” Peter followed the order, closing his eyes and breathing deep, letting his body relax.

“Good, good.” His chest hurt as Enjar pressed into it harder. “Enjar, it’s Ahmed. Can you hear me? I need you to stand down, this man is not a threat.” Peter opened an eye to glance at Enjar, who’s eyes seemed to spark with a semblance of recognition. They danced from side to side as his grip loosened around Peter’s wrists. “Stand down. Stand down.” Dr Fayed spoke firmly, talking to Enjar like a superior officer in the army might, was this guy ex-millitary or something?

Peter watched as Enjar blinked, his weight shifting off his chest and life coming back into his eyes. He grunted, skittering back and pressing himself into the corner where the bed and wall met “Get away from me...”

“Hey, look at me Enjar, you’re okay.” Dr Fayed knelt down speaking softly as Enjar’s breathing quickened again. “Look at me. Do you know who I am?” Enjar glanced up at Dr Fayed, jaw shuddering a little, before he stuttered a name. “A-A-Ahm-Ahmed…” Dr Fayed nodded, “Yes, and what’s your name?” Enjar looked at his hands, whispering his name. “Enjar…” Dr Fayed nodded again, “And where are you Enjar?” Peter watched as the shaking man’s breathing calmed, and he rubbed his eyes. “At the GP’s clinic…” He groaned loudly, leaning back against the wall and placing an arm over his eyes.

Enjar felt like he’d been hit by a high speed train as he suddenly realised where he was. Dr Fayed asked him where he was and his spinning mind suddenly slowed as he focused on his surroundings, making him feel even more nauseous. “At the GP’s clinic…” He groaned, embarrassment flooding his body. What had he done? He could vaguely remember grabbing something that had attacked him. Lifting his arm off his face, he looked at Dr Hillmar, sitting on the ground looking shaken. “Wait… whaddid I do..” He mumbled, words slurring slightly as he fought to keep his eyes open. “Hey, Enjar, stay with me.” Dr Fayed reached out, “I’m going to touch your shoulder, okay?” All Enjar could manage was a weak “Mhmm…” as he focused all his energy to staying awake, it felt like it was draining from him with every breath.

Dr Fayed’s hand touched his shoulder, and Enjar pressed his cheek into it. The hand, Ahmed's hand, squeezed his shoulder hard and Enjar closed his eyes, feeling the floor under his fingertips, hearing his breath and heartbeat, and feeling the squeeze. After a moment, he opened his eyes and tried to stand, his legs unstable. Dr Fayed help stabilise him, and after a few breaths, the finally world stopped spinning around him. He stared at the ground, not making eye contact with anyone. “What did I do?” He whispered again, haunted and shaken.

Dr Fayed frowned, “Don’t you remember?” Shaking his head, Enjar’s shoulders drooped. “Ever since the appendicitis… I’ve just been a little easier to tip over the edge, and I remember less and less. I just need time to get back to where I was and I'll…” Dr Fayed sympathetically wrapped him in a hug. He knew all too well how much it hurt being pushed back in recovery. “I was better… then that stupid infection…” Enjar's voice cracked as he whispered into Dr Fayed’s shoulder, a tear falling from his eye.

Standing up straighter, he wiped his face. “What happened? I need to know.” Dr Hillmar stepped forward. “I uh, touched you and you pinned me to the ground. You were... You weren't there, behind your eyes, there was nothing.”

Enjar took a step back, swallowed his anxiety again, looking at the doctor squarely. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” Dr Hillmar smiled, easing the tension a little. “Just my ego. I’m fine, I promise. It’s you I’m worried about. Hop up on the table, I wanna check you over.” Turning his head slowly, Enjar sighed.

Dr Hillmar waved the rest of the people in the room away as Enjar laid back, eyes glazed over as his blood pressure was checked, then his oxygen saturation, heart rate, respiratory rate, everything the doctor could think of. “Have you ever fainted like this before?” He looked over at Enjar. “No…”

Dr Hillmar hummed, checking Enjar’s pulse again. “Well, I think you just... fainted. I’d like to observe you for a little longer though. Check out in the waiting room and I’ll see you in 30 minutes.” Enjar groaned as he sat slowly, before shuffling to the waiting room and sliding into a seat with a grunt.

He noticed someone idle over. “You look awful.” Dr Fayed pointed out. Placing his head in his hands, Enjar rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the haze in his brain. “At least I’m vaccinated…” His tone sarcastic as he feigned joy. Sitting up, he slumped back in the chair staring at the clock on the wall.

“I’ll shout you a coffee, you and me.” Dr Fayed suggested, looking at Enjar, who’s eyes slowly moved to meet his. “Mmmmph… I can’t ask you to do that, Ahmed.” Dr Fayed shook his head, smiling. “It is of no problem for me. I promise, think of it as a friend looking out for his friend.” Rolling his eyes, Enjar smirked, “Fine.”

They sat together in silence for a while, before Dr Fayed leaned in and murmured something, causing Enjar to stiffen. “I still go to meetings, you know. You should swing by, catch up. People have been asking about you.”

Enjar pulled his had through his hair, grimacing. “I- I’ll think about it. Its’ been 3 years, I just… Wanna move on, but the world won’t let me. Every time I think I’m fine, I get someone breaking into my home or I get sick, or I collapse… I’m just tired, Ahmed… I want to be okay again�� For good.” Staring at his arms, he traced the thick scars.

“I’m seeing Dr Dall next week... Dr Singh told me to see her… I finally got around to booking it.” Dr Fayed placed a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I understand. But the burdens we carry, they are not something we will ever stop carrying. Instead you have to train your mind, make it stronger, so that the load is easier to carry. It will always be there, but you can carry it. You’re stronger than you know, my friend.” Enjar smiled weakly, nodding. “I wish I felt it.”

Dr Hillmar came out and did a quick check over of Enjar before nodding and dismissing him. Dr Fayed followed him out as they wandered down the street to a cafe. “So I just fainted for no reason? Great.” Enjar grumbled, scuffing his foot into the concrete. “I’ll add that to list of things that’s wrong with me. PTSD, scars, no appendix, and now faints after needles.” Enjar’s sarcastically gleeful tone made Dr Fayed laugh as they took a seat at a table in the sun. A young waiter came out to take their order, before rushing back inside. “Hmmmm…” The doctor hummed, staring at the sky.

Enjar raised his eyebrow, curious. “What you thinking about?” The doctor looked at Enjar and smiled, “In a week it’ll be 7 years since we left Syria.” Enjar nodded, “Oh… Alright.” Dr Fayed smiled, pleased at the response. “See, you get it.” He looked up as their coffee arrived, thanking the waiter. “You know how to respond.” The two men looked at each other for second, before they both left the conversation at that. They both knew they didn’t need to add anymore to it.

“So your anniversary? How many years of marriage?” Enjar piped up, enjoying to warmth of the coffee as he sipped it, it made him feel slightly less dead inside. “20 years. Best 20 years of my life.”

The men talked for a while before they both finished up, going back to their respective cars and driving off. As he got drove, Enjar kept thinking about what the doctor had said to him.

When he got inside his cabin, he picked up Ulrich’s skull and sat it on the dining table, looking at it. “What do you think? Should I go back? I want to but all those people… their stories… They made me so sad. They all went through way worse stuff than I did… I shouldn’t complain. They have a reason to be traumatised.”

The seagull’s eye sockets stared blankly back at him. “I don’t have to go back if I don’t want to, right? Like Dr Dall said, if I don’t want to be there I can leave.” He picked up the skull and held it in his hands. It was so light, so delicate. He could crush it in his hand if he wanted to…

“I guess you’re like me huh? Breakable. Then again, I guess all people are.” He placed the seagull back on the mantle above the fire, before climbing the tower and setting up the light.

He stood on the balcony watching the churning black sea for a while, enjoying the taste of the wind and the sound of the waves. He was better than he had been when he first took over this place, but he knew he could be even better than that. He wanted to be. “I promise to be better, for you guys…” He whispered looking at the stars as a slight breeze picked up. He felt his team smile and for the first time in a long time, the weight felt a little easier to carry.

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knightmareaceblue · 4 years ago

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AO3

The sun had set. and the heist was on.

Sven had led his fair share of capers even before taking over the clan in the absence of the Chief and his Right Hand. He’d robbed countless banks, cleaned out god knows how many vaults, and stolen millions of euros worth of invaluable treasures. But for this heist, the stakes were higher than they’d been throughout his entire career. The prize on the table was not a giant shiny Emerald, or a sweet pair of solid gold pants.

This time, victory was the means of securing the very survival of the Toppat Clan.

The destruction of the Space Station had left the Toppats at a quarter of their previous numbers. Only a handful remained, and those who’d successfully evaded capture had found their way to the cement bunker that had, in the days before the Airship, served as a place of gathering for the Toppats of the past. It wasn’t pretty, far from the luxury most of their surviving members had grown used to under Chief Reginald’s reign. But it was out of the way. Here, they were safe for the moment.

For the moment. But it wouldn’t last forever. It probably wouldn’t even last them the week. They needed a new plan. They needed Chief Reginald and his Right Hand Man back.

It had been Reginald that had pulled the Clan out of the abyss Terrance Suave had gotten them into. They’d still been reeling under the bankruptcy that Randy Radman had put them through (He’d, at least, had the honour to own up to his mistakes and pay the full price), and Suave’s ‘solutions’ had been a series of increasingly risky jobs that were very rarely worth what was lost. When Chief Reginald took over Sven had been relatively new, but he still remembered the chaos of those first few years as Reginald carefully planned their return to power while his Right Hand Man, entirely loyal from day one, weeded out discord and silenced any dissenters.

It hadn’t been easy being a Toppat in those days, but watching the Chief’s endless toiling had lit a fire in Sven, one that would never extinguish. The Toppats were his family, the only people who’d ever accepted him. Sven couldn’t let them die.

And saving the Clan meant bringing back the men who’d saved them before. Chief Reginald was the only one who could save them from Sven’s mistakes.

The explosion had granted them one advantage: surprise. They had to strike now, while the world still believed the Toppats were a threat extinguished. There was no floor plan for the prison Sven was about to invade, as the plans to break them out had been lost along with the station and could not be recovered. But the one thing Sven had been able to recover may have been even better than a map.

“You sure this is a good idea, Sir?”

Burt Curtis, acting Right Hand Man only by virtue of being close enough to Sven to bother volunteering when no one else wanted the job, seemed to disagree with him on that matter.

Fortunately, the Right Hand would never have the authority to supersede the Chief, so Sven merely shot back, “It’s not like we have any better ideas. We can’t afford to fuck this up, and with this,” Sven held the shiny red crystal higher, so that Burt could get a good look at it, “We literally cannot. Not when we have literal time on our side.”

The gem hadn’t been an intentional grab. Sven and a few others had snatched valuables from a museum that specialized in ancient civilizations, intending to grab some old tomes or weapons that would have fetched a high price on the black market. The gem hadn’t even caught his attention initially, because it was badly cut and the clarity was absolute garbage. He’d dismissed it as some meaningless relic of ancient culture, maybe an example of their currency. It had been the Witch, accompanying them due to her knowledge of magical history, that had shrieked in surprised and joy when spotting the crystal and insisting they grab it. It wasn’t until the team returned to base that she excitedly explain why.

This was a Time Crystal. It allowed any human, regardless of their natural proclivities, to use Master level time magic. Even after what felt like hours of instruction, Sven still didn’t entirely get how it worked, but the Witch had been calm and patient as she’d guided him through lessons like a child.

...she’s gone now. She, and many of the Toppats that Sven had worked with in the past. The thought of her gleeful smile as she rambled on and on about the possibilities of the crystal fueled a cold anger in Sven’s heart.

Burt still didn’t seem convinced, but ultimately shrugged and fell to his side as Sven waltzed over to the other two Toppats joining them on this mission. They were both chosen for their particular skillset: Mr. Macbeth, the Toppats primary train conductor and wielder of the clan’s most brutal weapon, had been invited along for both his abilities as a ranged fighter and his skills as a get away driver. He’d been a part of the clan much longer than Sven had, and was one of the few executives that didn’t whisper in hushed tones as he walked past. On the contrary, Gremlin, the other of the two Toppats, had been brought along for her CQC abilities and her lockpicking skill, which far surpassed Sven’s own. She was younger than Sven, having joined up a little before the airship raid, and had greeted Sven’s rushed ascension to chief with a salute and a smile. He admired her. All but one of her friends had been lost in the explosion, but she still followed Sven’s orders.

They were both skilled, but more importantly, they both trusted his leadership abilities. He didn’t deserve them, god he didn’t, but unquestioning loyalty was just what he needed right now.

“Alright, everybody, this is the big moment,” He announced. Not too loudly, as they couldn’t afford to be caught before they’d even started, but loud enough that Gremlin and Macbeth could hear him, “Are you ready?”

“Ready!” The Gremlin grinned, holding her broadsword aloft.

“Ready!” Cheered Macbeth, charging his giant laser gun in preparation.

“Ready,” Burt mumbled with all the enthusiasm of a child at a dentist’s office. He did double check his pistol to make sure it was properly loaded though.

Each ready got a nod from Sven, who turned towards the prison, held up the time crystal, and...

File Saved.

Okay, the spell was cast. Now came the tricky part.

“I think our best option would be... hum...” Sven thought a moment, then decided, “We should climb the fence and go in through the yard.”

The four Toppats sprinted up to the fence, Sven in the lead. Once they reached it he boosted up the other three before climbing over himself, hopping down into the prison courtyard. All four were posed for combat, ready for any ensuing attacks by the guards.

They were not ready for the dogs.

The demonic things came as a surprise. One moment they were running across the dark courtyard, the next Macbeth was screaming as something grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him into the shadows. Then one jumped past Sven, barely missing him and tackling poor Gremlin to the ground. Her screech echoed through the courtyard, and spotlights were pointed at them from all directions.

“Shit...” Burt whispered, backing up with an arm held up as if to protect Sven, despite being almost two heads shorter than him. Sven’s hand went to his pocket, and pulled out the crystal, raising it above his head.

“Okay, now’d be a good time to send us back!” Sven said. He didn’t go back, but in his peripheral vision something glowed yellow.

Load Save?

“Yes, yes!” He cried, reaching for the yellow glow. His fingers tapped it, and the crystal in his grasp grew hot, so hot it was difficult to keep hold of it. But Sven held on, and...

“Sir?” Burt poked his back, “Have you decided how to approach the jail yet?”

His hand was still burning, but the pain was nothing compared to the elation Sven felt in that moment, “It worked!” He cheered, then turned to grasp Burt by the hand, “Burt it worked! We went back in time!”

Burt was normally a fairly difficult person to shake, but Sven’s sudden change of attitude had him in visible confusion, “We did?”

“We did!” The look on Burt’s face was enough to calm Sven, at least a little, “You don’t remember? We went into the courtyard, and the dogs... they bit Macbeth!” As if only suddenly remembering, Sven pushed Burt gently to the side, “You’re okay?”

“I... don’t remember that happening either,” The older Toppat admitted, but the leg that had been bitten bounced once, as though a part of him did recollect the pain.

“It’s probably ‘cause you have the crystal,” Gremlin mused aloud, “Makes sense. You cast the magic, so you’re the only one who knows about what happened before you went back.”

Sven nodded, “Well, the courtyard’s a bad idea. Kind of obvious in retrospect,” Sven scanned the walls of the prison again, and spotted another way in, “Aha!”

The group pressed forward again, this time towards the outermost wall of the prison. Sven pressed himself against the wall, then had Burt boost him up to a ventilation shaft. It would be a tight fit, but if they went one at a time, Sven was confident they could swing it. The vents were dark, but they had a glowing crystal on them, so Sven wasn’t particularly worried about not seeing. He was a tad worried about losing someone in this labyrinth of a vent system, but every time he thought that he’d pause for a moment and glance back, seeing Burt directly behind him, face blank as always, then Gremlin behind him, then Macbeth, attempting to peer over her shoulder to find out what the hold up was. And every time he confirmed that everybody was still there, Sven would sigh in relief and continue on.

When he found an empty room, Sven carefully undid the vent and dropped down alone into what appeared to be a breakroom. The lights were off and the hallway outside was dead quiet. Once Sven finished his inspection, he signaled for the other three Toppats to descend.

“Ah, this brings back memories,” Macbeth mused with a fond smile, picking up a used paper cup from the counter, “First time I got arrested, there was a break room just like this down the hallway from my cell. Smelling that coffee everyday and not being able to have any pissed me off enough that I broke out just to get me a cup.” He chuckled, tossing the cup haphazardly into a nearby garbage can.

“Riveting,” Commented Burt, voice dry as the desert sand. He observed their surroundings for a quick moment before spotting a cork board on the wall, nearly hidden by the darkness, “Hey Chief, bring that light over here.”

Sven cringed a bit at the moniker, but approached to provide light for Burt’s reading.

“Okay... let’s see what we’ve got,” Burt looked through the tangled mess of sticky notes and tacked up fliers. It was nonsense to Sven, too much raw data to be sorted through in such a short amount of time, but Burt was their Communications Specialist for a reason, “Hmm... potluck on Friday, progress on the doughnut thief, oh, somebody had a baby, that’s nice...”

“Burt,” Sven tossed him an unamused glare, “focus, please.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grumbled the other man. He mumbled to himself as he continued to look through the mess of notes on the wall, “Ah! Here, take a look at this: ‘Alert to all guards! The prisoners in cell 86 are NOT to be separated at any time! Disobedience could result in serious casualties to both yourself and others. We do NOT want a repeat of the Sandwich Incident! Sincerely, Chief Miller’.”

Gremlin pumped her arm, excited, “That’s gotta be them!” She cheered, still mindful to keep her voice down, “No one else would throw a fit about being separated like the Right Hand Man!”

“I’m more interested in this ‘Sandwich Incident’,” Said Macbeth.

“We can ask them after we get them out,” Sven interrupted, “Do you have any idea which way we should go, Burt?”

Burt hummed as he continued to examine the cork board, “Give me a moment... ah, okay, looks like cells 80 through 90 are on the tenth floor. We can probably get up there using the vent system.”

“UGH,” Groaned Gremlin, “More vents?”

Her comment earned her a sneer from Macbeth, “You know kid, during MY first heist I climbed seventeen stories up a dumb waiter. Couldn’t rest for even a moment, or I’d fall to my doom! In comparison to that-”

“You’re just making that up, you crazy old man-!”

While the two of them bickered, Sven held the red crystal above his head once again and stared at it. When he’d first stolen it, the thing had seemed dull, and the clarity was so cloudy that he’d initially thought the magic stone was pink. But now that it’s magic was active, it radiated light. The cut was still uneven, there was no fixing that, but the impurities seemed to have melted away, leaving behind a clean, shimmering ruby. It was actually quite pretty. Once the mission was done and over with, Sven might have it made into a necklace for himself.

File Saved.

“Alright, enough wasting time,” Sven scolded the two, who immediately fell into silence upon his command, “We’re on the third floor right now, and who knows how long it will take us to navigate seven stories up. Burt, give me a boost up. I’m the one with the time powers, so I’ll be leading the way.”

His tone left no room for argument, so the four reentered the vents and went on their way.

-----------------

They had to reload two more times before finally reaching the tenth floor: firstly when the vent shaft broke underneath their combined weight and dropped them in front of a group of guards on their way home for the night (That one was Sven’s fault. He should’ve realized the vent wasn’t supported enough for all of them.). Then Gremlin’s phone went off somewhere on the 6th floor, alerting a nearby guard to their presence (That resulted in Sven taking the phone from her and smashing it beneath his heels). When they finally managed to navigate their way up, Sven made sure they were in a secure location before making another SAVE.

They were in what appeared to be a janitor's closet. Burt pressed his ear right up to the door and held up a hand to signal that somebody was passing by. They remained silent until he gave the all-clear.

“Okay,” Sven said before he opened the door, “Our next step should be to find the bosses. Gremlin, are you absolutely sure you can pick the locks on their cells?”

“Is the inside of a cutlass scabbard oiled?” She asked, as though the answer should be obvious. From somewhere to his side, Burt gave Sven a subtle thumbs up, so he assumed the answer was yes.

“Once we get the chiefs, we’ll come straight back here. Out the way we came.” Sven waited until he had three nods of acknowledgment before proceeding. “After we get out, our escape vehicle will be parked half a mile northeast. We can use Burt’s cell to find it, since someone-” Gremlin suddenly became very interested in watching the reflection on her sword, “-didn’t remember to turn theirs off.”

Macbeth huffed, but before he could go off on one of those obnoxious ‘kids these days’ rants, Burt cut him off with a simple, “You got it, Chief.”

“Hopefully I won’t be chief for much longer.” Sven mumbled. He didn’t miss the way Gremlin and Macbeth suddenly averted their eyes, or how Burt’s stern, bored expression suddenly softened. “Alright, everybody, let’s move!”

They checked the perimeter once more, then began moving.

Sven thought it might have been hard to locate their leaders in this labyrinth of a prison, but once again the Right Hand Man made life easier for them by shouting something incomprehensible. His voice, as always, sparked a strike of fear through Sven’s heart, and Gremlin and Burt’s simultaneous flinches implied they shared the feeling. Macbeth, though, just smiled in amused familiarity.

“-and if you even think about bringin’ another strawberry anywhere near this cell, I’m gonna fuckin’-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Sven grabbed Burt by the hand and pulled him around a nearby corner to avoid detection from the guard who just ran past, practically crying their poor little eyes out. All four Toppats cringed in sympathy. They’d all had their fair share of the Right Hand’s infamous scoldings, after all. They knew how he worked.

“Honestly, Right,” That was their other boss, Reginald Copperbottom. Hearing his voice stilled Sven’s heart for a moment, “You didn’t have to go so hard on the poor kid. He’d clearly brought it for himself-”

“They bloody well know you’re allergic. You’d think they’d have learned their lesson the first time-”

“Glad to see you two haven’t changed,” Macbeth chuckled as he walked calmly into the room, as if there was no time limit and this was just a social visit. The two leaders immediately stood up straight and ran right up to the bars.

“Macbeth!” Reginald smiled widely, gazing upon his four rescuers as if they were the lost city of Atlantis, “Everybody! Oh, it’s good to see you! When we heard about the space station, I was so sure the Toppats were done for. But you’re here!”

They heard about it. Sven’s heart sank.

“About bloody time,” The Right Hand grumbled, “Ya didn’t think getting us out sooner woulda helped ya any?”

“Sorry, we were a bit preoccupied.” Sven apologized, “We weren’t even sure where you were until a few days before- before we lost the station.” He signaled to Gremlin, and she knelt beside the cage and began picking the lock. Her tongue stuck out as she fiddled with the door.

“Ugh, fuckin’ government assholes. Hope they went down with all the Toppats they took,” The Right Hand scowled, the kind of scowl that curdled milk and made children cry. It even made Macbeth cringe a little. But Reginald’s hand in his own, a small touch from the man he’d devoted his life to, and it was like all that anger melted away. There was a part of Sven that couldn’t even begin to comprehend how one person could have that kind of effect on you. Another part of him coveted that for himself.

The thought of interrupting the moment of peace was painful, but as acting chief, it was Sven’s duty to report to them what was going on, “We’re down to about a quarter strength. Most of the Toppat Clan died up on the Station. About 30 percent of those who survived were captured upon reentry into the atmosphere. Everyone who’s made it is gathered in our remote facility from before the airship. I- we’ve done the best we could without you sir, but nobody has any idea how to move forward. We need you, Chief.”

At that moment the door swung open, and Reginald stepped out. He paused, inhaled deeply, then smiled and squared his shoulders, once again carrying himself with confidence. Beforehand, Sven had assumed the confidence came from his power, from what leading the clan had brought him. Now the Swedish man knew he had it backwards; it took great strength and confidence, greater than Sven himself possessed, to hold together an organization as big and chaotic as the Toppat Clan.

“Well then,” He said, “Let’s get started.”

For the first time in a long time, Sven felt hope in his soul.

-----------------

As they walked away from the cell, and Right Hand Man was distracted entertaining his subordinates with the riveting tale of how he’d taken down guards who would dare separate him and Reginald using only a submarine sandwich, Sven turned to his boss and said, “Sir, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hm?” Reginald looked at him questioningly, as if he had no idea why Sven would need to apologize.

“The Space Station,” Clarified Sven. It felt like there was something caught in his throat; he had to force out what he wanted to say, “I-I really screwed things up, sir. You and everyone else were counting on me, and I screwed everything up.”

Tears stung at the corners of Sven’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. At least, not until Reginald put a firm hand on his shoulder and forced him to look into the Chief’s eyes.

“Svenson, you did great!” The shock of hearing that, for the first time in his entire time as acting chief, shocked Sven into letting a few tears fall. This was all Reginald needed to continue, “There was nothing you could have done differently to prevent what happened. It’s not your fault some government stooge with a hero complex decided to ram their spaceship into our engine. You did the best you could with what you had. Seeing the future is a little too much to ask of you, don’t you think?”

Sven took a shuttering breath and dried his face. This was why Reginald was in charge; any other Toppat would have scolded him for his behavior, or just ignored it to focus on the mission. But Reginald had a special talent for knowing just what they needed. He always did. Once, before the Airship Raid, Sven had asked how he always knew just what to say, and Reginald had smiled and told him to just ‘wait and listen’. Sven hadn’t gotten it, still didn’t despite all his attempts to be a leader like Reginald, but his shoulders felt a little lighter, like they always did after talking to the Chief.

“Thank you, sir,” Sven said when he felt his voice was steady enough, “I can’t even begin to-”

The words of gratitude that Sven had in his head were evaporated by the sound of a familiar scream, followed by an equally familiar zapping noise. Something had hurt Gremlin, and Macbeth had fired his laser in retaliation. And when the two chiefs rounded the corner, that’s exactly what they found.

The poor girl was on the ground, not unconscious but clutching her arm. She didn’t appear to be bleeding, but Sven was at her side at a heartbeat, gently inspecting her arm. No broken skin, but it would bruise badly.

“We got careless when we thought it was safe.” Macbeth huffed, brow furrowed. It was hard to tell if he was angry or disappointed.

To the side, Burt and Right Hand Man were crouched over the body of what must have been a security guard. The Right Hand had picked up his weapon, a simple handgun, and was checking his ammo. Burt tuned in on the frequency of his radio before smashing the thing.

“He must have radioed for help before he ambushed us,” Burt noted casually, as if discussing the weather, “I’m tuned in on their transmissions. They’ve got a small squadron heading up to our location.”

“Should we go back again?” Sven asked, already reaching for the gemstone in his pocket.

Gremlin shook her head. Despite her wound, she gently pushed Sven back and picked up her broadsword, “This isn’t a bad thing. Everyone will be on there way up here, so if we hurry, we should have a clear path out.” The girl ran forward, and Sven let her. Their destination – the closet which led to the vents they were using to get down – was only a few meters away, and everyone was ready for another attack.

“Alright, c’mon, Reg,” The Right Hand Man pulled himself up and walked over to his partner, taking Reginald by the hand to pull him closer, “Stay close ta me. I’ll protect ya.”

“You don’t need to make excuses to hold my hand,” The Chief retorted. The Right Hand Man didn’t say anything in response, but he went red as he pulled Reginald along, only stopping to smack a snickering Macbeth on the back of the head

Burt was still playing with the settings on his headphone. Sven stopped to gently tap him on the head, “C’mon. We’ve got to keep moving!”

“I’m trying to tune in on their superiors, trying to see what their plans are-”

“You can do that in the vents, let’s go!”

Burt finally complied, and this time Sven brought up the rear of those crawling through the vent system. Going down was, naturally, quite a bit more intense than coming up, but between Reginald’s cautious instructions and the Right Hand’s incredible strength, they made it all the way down to floor 3 without incident.

And then the vent broke again.

In hindsight, Sven felt so stupid. The Right Hand and Reginald had added at least 150 kilos to their load. Of course they were going to break the stupid vent! Why hadn’t he seen this coming?

To make matters worse, they’d also managed to land smack dab in the middle of an armed guard, likely patrolling the floor in search of them. At the moment they were only outnumbered by two, but if the way the one near the back was whispering into his talkie was anything to go by, it wouldn’t remain that way for long. Before the group could even get there bearings and right themselves, they were surrounded.

Sven cursed under his breath, feeling for the magic stone that was now in his pocket. Should he use it now? He hadn’t cast a SAVE since they reached the top floor, so they would lose quite a bit of progress. But still...

No, he’d go a little while longer. If anyone got seriously hurt, he’d go back. But for now...

For now, Sven launched himself at the guard directly in front of him, taking everyone by surprise except Burt, who immediately began providing cover fire. The months they’d spent as chief and second-in-command had lead to them becoming quite familiar with the other’s fighting style. Right Hand Man was the next to react, taking his pistol in one hand and bracing the other into a tight fist as he launched himself into the fray, trailed after by the Gremlin, who charged in with her sword raised above her head. Macbeth and Burt held back to both provide cover fire and protect Reginald, the only one of them who lacked a weapon.

The man Sven knocked down was only stunned for a moment before he began to fight back. He had a clear weight advantage, but Sven had the clear brain advantage, because when the man turned them over and tried to punch him in the face, Sven merely tilted his neck and the man instead punched the cold ground. God knows what those floors were made of, but it must have been pretty hard for the guy’s fingers to make that sound when he hit it. Sven almost felt sorry for him. Not enough to not headbutt the guy, though.

After his guy was taken down, Sven took a look around. They may have had the number advantage, but the guards had mostly fallen to the vastly superior skills of the Toppat warriors. But in the distance, Sven could hear doors opening, elevators chiming. Reinforcements were on their way, and the Right Hand Man was already out of ammo. They were going to be swarmed if they didn’t get out of here fast.

Sven tried to focus. He looked to the left, to the concrete wall that would lead them outside.

“Burt!” He called to his right hand, still standing in front of Reginald with Macbeth, “Do you still have the good stuff?”

“The good stuff?” One of the older clansmen mumbled. Sven wasn’t paying enough attention to know who it was.

It was a rare occurrence when Burt would put on an actual, genuine smile. But at that moment a tiny one formed on his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of their back-up plans: a C4 explosive device.

“Ah, that good stuff.”

Burt placed the device, and less than ten seconds later they’d successfully installed a new door on the third floor of the prison.

Descending from the third story was an easy feat, compared to their other escapades throughout the night. Unfortunately, they landed in the courtyard, and Sven could already hear the growling of dogs all around them. He tensed, and so did Macbeth beside him.

“Too much is going wrong,” Sven decided. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Time crystal, “We’re going back.”

The yellow glow once again appeared, but before Sven could reach out for his SAVE, his hand suddenly was engulfed by pain. This time it wasn’t the burning of the crystal that was causing him distress; no, this time it came from the smoking end of gun from somewhere unseen. Sven gasped, and the crystal flew out into the yard.

“No!” Sven cried, and ran after it without much thought. He could hear the others behind him, screaming at him, but all his focus was on the glowing red gem. If he’d been paying attention, he might have noticed how Burt broke formation to provide him cover, or how Reginald was whistling to attract the dogs over to him, where Gremlin made quick work of them with her sword. But none of that registered in Sven’s mind. Only the crystal did.

Once he had the Time Crystal in hand, Sven immediately lifted it above his head to use it again. But something was wrong. Dangerous red sparks were cast out from the gem. On one side of the gem a giant crack ran from one tip to the other. Before Sven could even begin to comprehend the danger he was in, one of the sparks struck his hand, burning him so badly he dropped the gemstone on the ground.

“Sven!”

Someone called to him, but the painful feeling of his flesh being magically fried was so bad Sven couldn’t comprehend who. He shook his burnt hand, desperate for the sensation to go away. The pain was unbearable; it was like Sven’s hand was on fire. Everything around Sven was muted; the screaming from behind, the yelling from ahead, the crackling fizzle from below.

What finally broke through the haze of pain was a sharp jab to his side, tossing him several feet away and knocking him flat on his back. Sven lost his barrings for a few brief moments, but looked up just in time to see Reginald be caught in the crystal’s explosion.

It was like the entire world went silent. The guards stopped. The Toppat’s stopped. Even the dogs stopped to stare at the horrendous spectacle. Reginald’s mouth was open; he may have been screaming, but there wasn’t any sound over the terrible crackling of the explosion, like a thunder strike that was going on for much, much too long. The light of the explosion didn’t hurt Sven’s eyes at all, but it struck terror in him, like the very cosmos themselves were at war in front of his very eyes. And Sven suddenly understood.

What was in that crystal hadn’t been time magic at all. It had been a force much stronger, strong enough to bend time to the holder’s will. Something powerful enough to reshape the very world. And he’d held it in the palm of his hand, without any idea of what he was truly wielding. God, what a fool he’d been.

Then the explosion stopped. The crackling stopped. The noise, the light, everything stopped. Then Reginald fell.

To his feet.

Then his knees.

The face down in the muddy courtyard, still as death itself.

It was the Right Hand Man who reacted first. It only felt like a moment to Sven before the older man was kneeling next to the Chief, his hands hovering hesitantly above his fallen partner.

“Reg...” He whispered, words so silent they were more like a breath on a wind, “Reg, c’mon, wake up. Please... please don’t do this to me.”

The words broke whatever spell the explosion had put on Sven. The weight of the ultimate power he’d wielded but moments ago was forgotten in favour of the present. Reginald; his Chief, his boss, his teacher, was dying on the ground. Sven had to do something.

There was a single fence between them and freedom. All Sven had to do was knock it down, and he could save Reginald. It was his duty; as a student, as a fellow Toppat. As the failure who caused this mess in the first place.

Sven doesn’t think. He just does.

And the fence went down with a single punch. Sven only saw the blue glow around his fist for a single moment before it faded.

When he turned around, everybody was staring at him. Knocking the fence down had caused a second wave of paralysis in both the guards and the Toppats. Even the remaining dogs were stilled by the display. In truth, Sven himself was still going more by instinct than any active thought.

“Let’s move!” He called out to the other Toppats. Burt was the first to respond to his call, cocking his gun and pointing it around as a warning. Then the Right Hand Man. Under normal circumstances he brought up the rear of any given group, covering for his fellow Toppats and striking fear into the hearts of their enemies. But with Reginald in trouble, it didn’t take any encouragement for the normal battle-hungry Toppat to lead the retreat, tailed by Macbeth, then Gremlin, then Burt. Finally, when the entire party had made their way through, Sven followed behind, glaring at the guards over his back. After the display of power he’d just performed, none of them seemed eager to follow behind.

And thus ended the reign of chief Sven Svenson: The biggest failure in the history of the Toppat Clan.

-----------------

Their vehicle arrived at dawn, just before the sun was set to rise. It felt darker than it had been when they left, for more reasons than the obvious.

Initially the Toppats were happy and excited to see them, but any cheer died the instant they saw the Right Hand carrying their Chief. People whispered in the background, and Sven tried not to listen, but he couldn’t help hearing his own name among the chatter.

It wasn’t until Reginald had been put to rest in a proper bed that the debriefing truly begun.

“What the hell happened?” Demanded Ms. Cross. She wasn’t exactly known for being easy on the younger members of the clan, and her reputation held true now.

The Right Hand didn’t respond. He sat by Reginald’s bedside, holding the Chief’s limp hand in his own. If he felt anything at the moment, he wasn’t showing it on his face.

Macbeth grumbled and looked to the side, and Gremlin twiddled her fingers together. As leader of the exhibition, Sven knew he needed to be the one to respond, but one look at the choir of angry superiors was all it took for his tongue to tie knots around itself. That left the explaining to Burt.

“We infiltrated the prison, exactly as planned,” Burt spoke, steady and calm despite the harsh eyes on him, “Got in undetected, found the Chief and the Right Hand, broke them out. No problems. Then on the way out, we ran into a guard who wasn’t on the roster. Macbeth shot him dead, but not before he signaled to the rest of the prison that we were there. From there, it was only a matter of time before somebody got hurt,” Burt sighed and looked at the ground, “It’s just a shame it was the Chief, I suppose.”

He wasn’t lying, but Sven noticed how Burt didn’t mention the magic crystal. Or how Reginald had to save him from it. Or how Sven had somehow managed to knock down a prison fence wall with a single punch. He didn’t bring up Gremlin or Macbeth’s mistakes either. From the way he put it, it sounded almost... inevitable. A tragic accident that couldn’t be avoided. Sven could almost believe it himself.

Of course, that wasn’t the truth, though. Sven stepped forward. Somebody had to take responsibility for this mess, and he was the leader. It fell on him.

“What happened to the Chief is my fault,” He confessed, “I brought a secret weapon onto the mission, and it didn’t go off quite like I’d planned. The- the Chief had to save me. That’s how he got hurt.”

It was Macbeth, surprisingly, who put a comforting hand on Sven’s shoulder. “Hey, it ain’t your fault, kid.”

Surprisingly, being treated like a small child wasn’t exactly helping Sven’s guilt.

“Thank you,” One of the Toppat Elites – Fredrickson, Sven recalled – nodded to him, “for your honesty, my boy.”

“Honesty’s not exactly a Toppat virtue, Gene,” Cross scolded, then turned her ire back onto Sven, “What exactly was this secret weapon, anyway?”

Sven swallowed, and began to spill everything out all at once, “Well, during this raid a while back, Witch and I picked up this magic crystal, she said it was a Deference Crystal or something, but turns out it was actually some sort of time magic, and she taught me how to use the time magic and it, let me tell you, it is not easy to use time magic, I mean, first of all, it can’t just drop you off anywhere, you have to create sort of a jumping point, Witch said it was easier to imagine it like saves on a video game file, so that’s how I’ve sort of been viewing it, and it became a lot easier after that, then jumping back is a whole other, completely different skill, and it’s just as hard to do, because you have to reach backwards in time, and that is one hell of a confusing thing to do, because-”

“ENOUGH, Sven,” Ms. Cross shouted with a scowl. Her voice called everyone’s attention to her, even the Right Hand sitting behind her, “Macbeth, give me the short version.”

“Kid could time travel, I guess,” He shrugged, “I mean, I don’t remember time traveling, but I do sort of remember a dog biting my ankle, which didn’t actually happen. I dunno. Shit’s confusing. Crystal blew up, though.”

“And that’s what put the Chief in this state?” She scowled.

“Yup.”

“And Sven, what on EARTH made you think to bring this thing without running it by the board?”

It wasn’t Sven, or Macbeth, but Burt who responded to her, “I’m sorry WE forgot to tell you about that ma’am,” He shrugged. Even without a clear tone of anger, the lack of respect or patience in Burt’s voice was clear, “We were kind of busy making sure the mission to rescue the chiefs actually went ahead before we all got caught. It only took two days for the board to decide we could even bring two people onto the mission, we didn’t want to risk the chiefs being moved by making you decide on even more pointless dribble.”

“I say, Curtis!” Scowled Poshley, stamping his fancy cane on the ground. He didn’t even need a cane, he just thought it was too posh an accessory to leave out. “You’d do well to show some respect! If the Right Hand was the board’s decision, you’d have been kicked out on your rear ages ago!”

“And what, put you in the role of clan protector?” Burt smiled and shrugged, “As if you’d ever shot anything but champagne corks in your life.”

Now, watching rich people squabble wasn’t exactly a favourite pastime of Sven’s, but there was something mesmerizing about watching five people who hadn’t seen action in years squabble over a failed mission they knew so very little about. Burt kept fueling the fire, too, which probably wasn’t good for his position in the clan’s future, but it sure made things interesting. Macbeth, also a board member (that was easy to forget, sometimes) joined into the fight, and Gremlin, too afraid to really say anything, backed into a corner and tried to pretend she didn’t exist. Even the Right Hand Man and the Chief were watching.

...

Wait, the Chief was watching?

Sven blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking back at the lone figure lying in the corner of the room, and sure enough, Reginald’s eyes were open, watching them. In his surprise, he couldn’t help but exclaim, “Chief?”

All the squabbling dropped into dead silence as everyone turned to the bed. Right Hand Man, already sitting by his side, turned and leaned over the Chief, softly whispering, “Reg?”

The Chief was, indeed, awake. But something clearly wasn’t right. His gaze was far off and glassy, as if he wasn’t seeing anything at all, and the once vibrant blue-green colour of his eyes had dulled to a stoney gray. He didn’t respond to the call of his subordinates, or his beloved Right Hand. He simply continued starring forward, face blank, body still. Looking him directly in the eyes made Sven shiver.

It was like looking directly at a corpse.

The Right Hand either didn’t get the same feeling from looking Chief Reginald in the eyes, or was better at ignoring that cold shiver down his back than Sven was, because he turned the Chief onto his back and looked him dead in those cold, cold eyes.

“Reg,” He breathed out, like a prayer, “Reg, can you hear me?”

Reginald didn’t respond.

“C’mon, don’t do this. I know you can hear me. You... you rememba’ what ya promised me, yeah? That we’d do this together? You can’t leave me now. You promised,” The Right hand reached down the front of his shirt, pulling out a plain chain adorned with a golden ring, “You promised.”

Nobody said anything. Not even Carol Cross, who silently averted her gaze from the scene.

Reginald didn’t respond.

“...a’ight, I get it,” The Right Hand Man tucked the ring back into his shirt, “You’re sick right now, yeah? Whatver that crystal did to ya, it fucked with yer brain. That’s al’ight. I pulled ya out of that explosion in Cancoon. I nursed ya through Chicken Pox when we found out the ‘ard way your parents were lazy fucks. I broke ya outta that mob den when Terrance left ya behind. I’ve saved your life time and time before, and I can do it again,” The Right Hand Man leaned down, pressing his forehead against their poor, sick Chief’s, “So hang in there, Love. I’ll bring ya back ta me. I promise.”

Reginald didn’t respond.

Sven swallowed past the lump in his throat. Suddenly the air was heavy, and his eyes burned. He needed to get out there, be anywhere but there. Without waiting to be dismissed, he turned around and silently slipped out of the room. He walked, and kept walking, and managed to make it all the way down the hallway before the weight became to much. Sven collapsed to the ground and sobbed.

What had he done? What the hell had he done?

“Hey,” Burt’s voice was somewhere above him. Had he watched Sven flee? Or merely followed the sound of pathetic wailing? “You doing alright?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Sven barked, then immediately retracted, “No, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that. I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself,” Sven buried his head in his hands, “I broke the Chief, Burt.”

Burt had always had a tendency to pull wisdom, or some other impossible trick, out of his sleeve when Sven needed it most, so Sven half expected some fount of knowledge that would instantly make him feel better. Instead, Burt shrugged, “Yeah, kinda.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean you can’t fix him,” Burt plopped down next to him, adjusted his top hat, then put a hand on the floor between them. Sven accepted the silent invitation and placed his hand on top of Burt’s, letting his former right hand grasp it and rub circles into his palm, “Remember when I screwed up those coordinates and we flew headfirst into a military ambush?”

That had been so long ago. Sven had only just come under Reginald’s tutelage then, and they’d nearly lost the airship because Burt had put the military pilots several dozen miles south of where they actually were. The Right Hand Man had, rightfully, chewed him out over it, and Reginald gently told him that he expected better of them and man, if there was one thing worse than the Right Hand’s anger, it was the Chief’s disappointment.

“I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen you cry,” Sven noted, smiling sadly, “You were so sure we were going to just drop you.”

“And you said...?”

Sven paused and thought, “And I said... something about tomorrow, didn’t I? ‘There’s always tomorrow’, maybe?” But not even pseudo-wise teenage Sven would have said something that corny.

“You said ‘So what if you hit rock bottom today? I bet by tomorrow, you’ll be back at sea level.’”

Yeah, Sven thought with a snort, that sounded more like something he’d have said. God, teenage Sven was so embarrassing.

“And then you found the Bandanna Clan’s secret silver stash just the next week,” Sven remembered, “Reg- the Chief gave you a whole toast to yourself at dinner that night. And the Right Hand Man took you along so you could see the results of your hard work yourself. Everyone was so proud.” Sven smiled wistfully. He had been proud too, of course, but in a vicarious sort of way, like seeing a younger version of himself finally get the recognition he deserved. He himself didn’t start thinking of Burt as Burt until they started hanging out shortly after this event. It was then that he learned Burt was actually two years older than him.

“My point is, that even if you think you’ve screwed up so badly things will never be okay again,” Burt paused, looking down at shoes as he got lost in those bad memories, “There’s always a way to fix it. You just have to keep searching.”

Burt smiled, and while his heart was still heavy, Sven managed to smile back.

“Thanks,” Sven let his head fall onto the other’s shoulder, “I needed to hear that.”

They sat silently for a moment, just basking the other’s presence. Quiet moments between them were uncommon, as usually one of them always had something to prattle on about, but when they did occur, they were always the moments Sven felt most at peace, and this was no exception.

Naturally, of course, some idiot had to ruin it all.

“Guys! Guys! Guys-!” Sven didn’t know this Toppat by name, just that they’d been freshly recruited when the Station had gone up. As such, he didn’t think to show the respect that was customary of a Toppat to their chief, which was, in this particular moment, not a bad thing at all, “You will NEVER guess what just happened?”

“The Chief almost died?” Burt guessed.

This puzzled the newcomer so much that his excitement dulled for a moment to stare at Burt, maybe wondering whether he was serious or not. Sven wasn’t sure what answer he came to, but he responded with a hesitant, “Er, no. It’s news from outside the clan,” The his excitement picked back up again, “But it’s pretty big news! Bigger than anything that’s happened in the last hundred years!”

Sven kind of doubted that, but asked anyways, “And what’s so big, friend? Out with it, the suspense is killing us!”

The Toppat recruit glanced between them both, let out a gleeful sequel, and spat out, “The Monsters are BACK! There are videos all over the internet showing them being taken to some government camp just last night!”

Burt sat up straight, unfortunately forcing Sven off his shoulder in the process. The two clansmen exchanged a look that the recruit wouldn’t get.

Monsters. The originators of magic. Experts on the lost arts of the past.

Maybe there was hope for Chief Reginald after all.

-----------------

This contains... a lot of conjecture about the Toppats as an organization in the post-GSPI endings. Basically, I just put everyone where they needed to be for the story to proceed. Hope it doesn't distract too much. Anyway, we won't be with the majority of the Toppats for too long. The real fun begins after we take off to help Reginald. Hope you enjoy!

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