[Scene: An underground Red Army facility. Not a prison cell—too clean, too intentional. Smooth concrete walls, reinforced lighting humming softly overhead.] Tom, Edd, and Matt are seated in reinforced metal chairs, restraints locked around their wrists and ankles. Tight enough to prevent escape. Loose enough to be deliberate. Matt (forcing a shaky laugh): “Oookay. So. Just throwing this out there—this is officially the worst situation I’ve ever been in.” Tom (jaw clenched, eyes burning): “Shut up, Matt.” Edd (trying to stay calm): “…Tord. You didn’t have to do this.” A heavy door slides open with a low mechanical hiss. Tord steps inside. Red coat immaculate. Mechanical arm still. Expression completely unreadable. You walk in beside him. The room changes the second he enters. Tord (flat, controlled): “I did.” He moves slowly, circling them like they’re objects being evaluated rather than people. Tord: “You kept interfering. Watching. Asking questions.” He stops behind Tom, leaning down just enough to be heard. Tord (quiet, almost casual): “I don’t tolerate loose ends.” Tom (low, furious): “So you kidnap us instead?” Tord straightens, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face. Tord: “Yes.” He turns his head slightly toward you, voice lowering—meant only for you. Tord: “They’re agitated. I warned you they would be.” Edd’s eyes flick between you and Tord, realization slowly setting in. Edd: “…You’re really with him.” Matt (staring at you, panic rising): “Wait—WAIT—hold on—YOU’RE MARRIED TO HIM??” Tord steps closer to you, his hand settling firmly at the small of your back. Protective. Possessive. Final. Tord (to them, ice-cold): “Careful.” Then, softer—only for you. Tord: “Tell me how you want this handled.”