Three: Past and Present

"Henrick?"

"No."

"Halvard?"

"No."

"Henry? Harry? Harrison? Harold? Harvey? Honda?"

"Honda?"

"Just thinking outside the box. Haakon?"

"Will you quit it?" Snotlout snapped from the wheel of their SUV as they sped through the streets of Berk. "And what are you doing anyway?" Hiccup inspected the stocky young man and gave a lazy smile.

"Kids game," he explained lazily. "I think of a word and Astrid has to guess it. The only thing she knows is it is a proper name and it starts with an 'H'." There was a snort from Snotlout and he accelerated through a red light, almost flattening a women with a child in a buggy. Astrid yelped and slapped the driver's shoulder.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped. "We're supposed not to attract attention!"

"Huh-we're only dropping this murderer back at that dive when we should be taking him to Hopeless Jail!" Snotlout grumped.

"Not likely to sort out your problem if I'm incarcerated with the worst of the worst," Hiccup pointed out, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "It's next right, Snotknee."

"It's SNOTLOUT you skinny smug overconfident murderous little..." Snotlout yelled and earned himself another punch from Astrid.

"He's just baiting you-and you rise to it every time," Astrid hissed. "You're letting him find out your weaknesses!" Snotlout laughed scornfully.

"Don't have any, babe," he sneered. There was a quiet chuckle from the back seat and Astrid flicked up to meet the piercing emerald gaze from the back seat. Hiccup had exactly the same opinion of Snotlout as her from a fraction of the exposure to the stocky agent and Astrid found herself grudgingly respecting the hitman's analytical abilities and ability to assess character. And his dry wit. They turned and began to weave through the narrowing streets until they reached the alleyways behind the Dragon's Edge, pulling up behind the bins.

Hiccup lazily opened the door and slid out, his movements graceful and purposeful, Astrid leaned out of the window.

"Remember-we expect to hear from you by 0900 tomorrow-or this place closes," she warned him and his emerald gaze hardened.

"Don't worry, Miss Vain-I'm not going to ruin your perfect mission record by leaving the country," he told her coldly. "I gave my word and I will not go back on it. I'll be in touch." Then he slammed the door and stalked off down the alley as the car pulled away. Pausing until he heard the sounds of the engine fade completely, he turned to the back of the bar and the solid metal fire door, before flipping up a panel and stabbing in a code then pressing his hand against the palm reader. There was a clunk and he flipped the panel down as the door cracked open and he walked in, locking it tight behind him and clambering fast up the steep stairs three at a time.

He ended up in his small apartment above the bar, glancing around and checking that nothing was disturbed. With his photographic memory and the idiosyncratic arrangement of items, it was very easy to see if anything had been displaced during a search-but his little space remained private. Thinking hard, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and tossed it onto the sagging two-seater brown leather couch and slid his shirt over his head, walking towards the bedroom that was filled with a sagging single bed and a clothes rail. A box served as a drawer. He hung up his shirt and jeans then tossed his socks and boxers into the washing bag before walking to the tiny bathroom, flipping the light on and turning on the shower.

He stood in the warm water, feeling it sluice over his tall shape, caressing aching muscles and more scars than he could count. He ran his fingers through water-darkened hair, massaging the back of his neck which was rock solid with tension. He could have killed them all-and probably should have, though it would have been difficult to get out of the base on his own...but he had stupidly allowed himself to retain a small number of people who he still counted as friends. And friends were a weakness, a soft spot to be exploited...like family. His hands tightened to fists, the knuckles white against the skin and he crushed the memories, suppressing them with a ferocity that would have shaken him before it happened. The ugly scar in his back was a stark reminder of the risks...as were the scars on his heart. He shook his head and began to soap himself down, shaving and drying himself before wandering back into his bedroom wrapped in a towel.

Swiftly, he made a coffee and toast, then dressed casually in faded jeans, pale green tee-shirt, khaki hoodie, brown boots, Berk Vikings baseball cap and brown leather jacket before leaving. He was already thumbing his phone and sending an alert before he walked easily along the alleys and out into the commercial district, heading towards the rundown Visithug Road shops and BERK CELLPHONE DEPOT, a dilapidated store with armoured shutters and unprepossessing signage. Hiccup ducked his head, the hood disguising his telltale auburn hair and emerald eyes shielded by the peak of the cap as he pushed the door open, the bell tinkling in a charmingly old-fashioned way as he entered the bright space and walked directly to the desk.

The man facing him was about his height, toned and fit looking with spiky jet hair, a deep tan and bright green eyes peering through his thick-rimmed glasses.

"Can I help?" he drawled easily and Hiccup nodded, pushing his phone across the counter.

"Can you check this?" he asked. "Had a recent brush with some undesirables and they may well have tagged my phone." The assistant tilted his head, thick brows arching thoughtfully over a small smile.

"No sweat," he murmured. "I'll fit a new ghost chip as well to ensure they can't track you."

"'preciate it," Hiccup mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets, apparently peering around the shop as the assistant prised open the phone, expertly sweeping it and removing the tracking device and swapping out the chip. He clipped the device closed and switched it on, checking the systems expertly.

"Anything else I can help you with?" the assistant asked casually, as Hiccup turned back to him.

"Everything you can find on Dagur the Deranged and his sister, Heather Oswalddottir," he added quietly. "I need a window to pay them a visit to ruin their lives. He's gotten them riled up enough to have even the secret services wanting him disposed of. Something has changed. I need to know what they are planning."

"Preferably to end them?" the assistant suggested. "About frickin' time, Fury. Man owes you blood."

"Owes us all," Hiccup murmured, his icy eyes flicking up. "You got my number?"

"I have now," the man grinned. "Be in touch by morning." Hiccup handed over a twenty and then turned back to the door, followed by the assistant, who flipped the sign to CLOSED and carefully lowered the shutter after the customer had departed. Then Taron Drake-formerly a black ops handler, codenamed Toothless-headed for his computers to find out everything there was about the new ruler of Berserker Enterprises.

oOo

Hiccup's next stop was a public shooting range, where he checked in, paid for a lane and chose a pistol. Calmly, he spent half an hour hitting everything he aimed at before checking out and heading back to his apartment, grabbing a warm yak sandwich on the way. The after effects of the drug they had used was still clouding his brain so he returned home, secured his lodging and went to bed, making sure the door was barred and a loaded pistol was nestled under his pillow.

"Okay, Dagur-this time I'm after you," he murmured and dropped asleep.

The hands round his arms were tight and the blood on his face was sticky and still oozing from the wound. Dagur's men were all around, armed and grinning as they were brought in. They had been badly treated and the blue eyes were shimmering with tears. Then the man himself walked in, his pale green eyes mocking.

"You know, it took a while to find you...but not as long as you would think," he sneered. "And I really was delighted to find you had people you cared about. It makes this so much more fun!"

"Dagur -you leave them alone!" he had grunted, earning himself another blow. "I'm the one you want. Deal with me..."

"I intend to," the Berserker sneered. "You killed my father. You attacked my family. It would be rude not to repay the favour."

"You bastard!" He barely recognised his own voice, hoarse and filled with hatred.

"Any last words, murderer?" Dagur taunted him.

"Let them go! Leave them alone. For the Gods' sake-your problem is with me! Keep this between us... They aren't involved! They're innocent..."

"Then after this, no one will ever dare cross me again," Dagur breathed. "How does it feel, knowing you caused this? That all these deaths will be on you?" He nodded. "Do it."

"NO!"

And then the shots sounded and amid the screams that abruptly cut out, he heard his own voice as the bullet ripped into his back...and it all went dark...

He awoke with a scream, the gun in his hand, pointed frantically ahead. Breaths lurching through his shivering shape, he stared wildly around, the horrific images still rolling around in his head. Deliberately, he thumbed the safety on then leaned forward. There was a cold sweat on his skin and a burning in his chest, the grief so severe it was a physical pain.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I couldn't stop him. But this time, we finish him for good..."

oOo

"Astrid? Can I talk to you?" The quiet sound of Fishlegs's voice jarred her from the reports on recent Berserker activity and she looked up, trying not to appear impatient. The little office in the base was cramped and the artificial light was hurting her eyes-so she had sent Snotlout out for sandwiches, since his moaning was hurting her ears as well.

"What is it, Fish?" she asked and there was a pause. Then he sat down next to her, the metal chair creaking under his solid weight.

"What do you know about Night Fury?" he asked in a low voice, his blue-green eyes worried. She frowned.

"What's in the official dossier," she revealed. He flipped his laptop open and displayed images.

"His record is remarkable," he said, "but all the indications show that he has exceptional aim, meticulous preparation and total patience. He has taken out people thought impossible...except for Dagur. Our sources indicate that he has been approached before about taking down Dagur...but he has refused because he just can't get close."

"So why did he agree?" Astrid murmured.

"Apart from the fact we kidnapped him?" Fishlegs mused. "Because we may we able to get him in where he has failed before." Astrid sipped her cold coffee and stared at the image on the screen and the list of kills: it was amazingly extensive for a man who had only been in business for two years. But all the names looked familiar... She shook herself.

"And it is personal for him," she murmured. "That much is obvious." She massaged her temples and then looked up. "Fish-search through the records between the date he quit the Archi Forces and maybe six months earlier. I'm looking for non-accidental deaths...any and all. Across here and Berserk. If it was personal, it would be because someone was taken from him. Also cross check with registrars of deaths. If we can find out what he lost, we can find out more about him. I am betting the people who sanitised his records can't erase others...whoever was taken from him." She laid her hands flat on the table. "I don't like mysteries, Fish. How are we doing with Dagur?"

"Holed up in his compound, same as usual," Fish sighed. "No unusual activity. No visitors the last three days. Nothing to alert anyone."

"Which means something is about to happen," Astrid said suddenly. "He goes silent and appears completely blameless just before something big goes down." She rose. "Alert security and raise the threat level around government buildings and major public areas. Any events going on?" The staccato sound of keys was very loud in the room.

"Several," the husky man said, his voice worried. "There's the 'Asgard' Festival starting tomorrow-about twenty five thousand party goers will be in Hamish's Park. The Valkyrie Women's Alliance will be holding a march through the city centre tomorrow protesting about inequalities in educational provision for women and of course, there will be the annual re-opening of government after the summer recess..."

"Get me Director Spitelout," she said. "Warn him that there is a high probability of an event!"

"I suspect he already knows," Fishlegs mumbled, "but I'll point out the pattern. Though security will be stretched paper-thin anyway tomorrow. Perfect for Dagur...not that we can predict where he will strike." Astrid's eyes hardened.

"Wherever he strikes, innocents will get hurt," she said. "Make the calls."

oOo

The building was quietly anonymous, a white-painted two-storey facility sited in landscaped grounds that some of the more mobile residents enjoyed escorted by staff. A Virginia creeper was blushing over the western wall and the wide atrium doors were open to the warmish late afternoon breeze as the tall shape walked in. Hiccup shoved his hoodie back and signed himself in before being escorted to a private room at the far end of the eastern wing.

The nurse looked up as he knocked and walked quietly in, her face expressionless. Hiccup framed a small smile.

"How is he?" he asked but he already knew the answer. The woman sighed, her cool brown eyes sweeping the charts.

"His renal function continues to deteriorate and we suspect he has another infection," she reported. "Are you sure you want to continue maintaining life support? He may require hospitalisation once more."

"You do what it takes," the young man said, hauling up a chair and sitting by the bed, emerald eyes sweeping over the figure lying motionless. The soft hiss of the ventilator, attached to the tracheostomy in his throat, sounded at reassuringly regular intervals. The equally soft beep of his heart was documented on the monitor and competed with the hiss and hum of the most expensive and advanced anti-pressure mattress to prevent potentially lethal bedsores. "I'll sign whatever is needed to continue life-sustaining treatment. I'm paying his bills. We give up when he stops fighting-and not before."

The nurse nodded, jotted on the chart and discreetly slipped out, leaving Hiccup to finally pull off his baseball cap and unconsciously ruffle his tousled auburn hair off his face. His hand stretched out and took the huge paw in his hand, his long fingers gently sliding over the warm skin. The familiar features were sagging in repose, the big nose as he recalled but skin a little greyer and cheeks a little hollower. The man's grey-streaked huge red beard was still carefully tended and Hiccup smiled as he recalled how proud he had been of it.

"It's me, Dad," he said in a weary voice. "It's almost your birthday and I've visited Mom today as well. I think I'm getting closer. An...opportunity has opened up that may mean I can finally get him. At least then you can rest in peace." He sat back in the chair, though he didn't relinquish hold on his father's limp hand. The comatose man continued breathing as the ventilator tirelessly pumped air in and out of his lungs but there was no other sign of life. The patient was a huge man-close to seven feet tall and formerly huge, though his shape was somewhat shrunken from years in a coma, fat and muscles gradually melting away as the days clicked by.

"I know you wouldn't be proud of me-and I'm no longer the son-the soldier-you were so proud of," he said in a low voice. "But at least this is something that should make life better. No one should have to suffer what you have...because of Dagur and his twisted vision of the Archipelago."

...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...

"I'll be back when I've completed the mission," he promised and stood, leaning forward to press a kiss to his father's forehead, brushing the grizzled flaming hair off his face. "Hang in there, Dad. Love you." But he sat back down and took his hand again. "But I'll just wait a while with you here, if you don't mind. I just want to sit here and remember you how you were...before I go and kill the man who did this..."

oOo

The enhanced police presence was everywhere in Berk as Hiccup walked through the main plaza of Berk City, his head down and baseball cap shielding his face. Sunglasses concealed his emerald eyes as he glanced across the wide space. To one side, the magnificent statue of Hamish the First stood on its plinth, dominating the vista while a cream stone fountain was sited in the centre, the shape of a Night Fury dragon sitting in the middle of the fountain. At the far side of the plaza, across a one-way street, the main entrance to Blessed Freya Hospital gleamed in the weak sunlight.

Hiccup sighed, eyes scanning the little cafe that was placed diagonally across from the hospital and seeing three shapes sitting at a small metal table, cups of coffee steaming in front of them. Astrid was in her leather jacket and jeans while Snotlout was in a sleeveless leather jerkin, his short-sleeved tee-shirt displaying his powerful arms. Fishlegs was wrapped warmly in a duffle coat, a computer bag sitting at his side. Without looking them, Hiccup got a coffee from 'Sven's Cafe' and walked easily to the table, sliding into the last seat.

"I thought you weren't coming," Astrid commented as Hiccup sipped his drink. His watch read '09:00' exactly.

"Said I would," he said defensively. "Okay, Miss Vain-what's the plan?" She glanced at his sarcastic tone.

"I thought we engaged you and you did the rest," she pointed out but he shook his head.

"I think you need to think again," he retorted. "I can't get close to the Berserkers without some assistance. Tried-but since Oswald was killed, Dagur has become extremely paranoid. He never gets into his car in the open, the windows in his compound are bulletproof glass and his remote business operations are secret so it's almost impossible to locate them and set up a hit."

"And you expect us to help?" Snotlout sneered. "Not sure that was in the bargain..."

"Nor was having a big-mouthed mutton-head persistently on the team but we all have our little problems, don't we?" the hitman retorted, eyes flashing behind the sunglasses. Astrid frowned.

"So why the 'bad guy about to do something' look?" she demanded and he sat back, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Who says I'm not?" he asked her lazily, seeing her azure eyes narrow.

"Your dossier says you plan meticulously, you assess what jobs you take on and everyone you have killed has a substantial criminal record or is a fugitive from justice. You don't kill innocents." He grimaced and took another sip of his coffee.

"The benefits of being self-employed," he commented, eyes sweeping the Plaza. "I may work for Madguts the Mincer but I get to choose..." His voice trailed away and he tensed, sitting up slowly and resting his cup on the table.

"Yeah...like that excuses anything," Snotlout snapped but Astrid was frowning, seeing Hiccup's face tense. He was focussed on something behind them and her neck craned round to try to see what he had.

"Hiccup?" she murmured. He stiffened-then flung himself to the floor, grabbing Astrid's and Fishleg's arms and hauling them down with him.

"GET DOWN!" he yelled as the staccato report of machine guns filled the Plaza. Snotlout flung himself to the floor, tipping up the table as a crude shield as all four glanced up. There were eight men, all in dark jackets and pants, spraying bullets at random and cutting down passers-by ruthlessly...as they headed inexorably towards the hospital, a building full of people who helped others and hundreds of innocent and acutely vulnerable patients. The cops started running towards the gunmen and two more gunmen emerged from the 'civilians'-mercilessly cutting down the cops without a second's hesitation. Astrid gaped and fumbled for her gun but Hiccup was quicker, pulling an automatic from the back of the waistband of his jeans and gunning down the two closest men down without hesitation.

Astrid stared at him. He had come armed-and he had seen what they should have. What the police and security forces should have picked out straight away-but didn't...and she reminded herself that he had been a soldier, extensively trained in black ops, meaning he would have faced hostile situations more times than she could count. She lined up her Svendson and Larson, seeing the gunmen turn towards them-but she was inhibited by the screaming civilians, still running for their lives even as the terrorists shot them. But Hiccup had no such qualms, firing without hesitation and dropping another two. Eyes widening, she realised that he was only firing head shots with complete success-and then she saw an opening, gunning down another man. Fishlegs was still fumbling for his gun and Snotlout was firing wildly-but with no success.

"I presume you knew about this," Hiccup snapped at her. "Hence the extra cops? But why didn't you realise he always chooses soft targets-Malls, Schools and public events. He hasn't hit the Hospital yet so it was obvious!" And firmly on his own personal level of heinous. He snapped off another couple of shots to keep the gunmen away. "These look like Berserkers, Astrid," he added, peering at the attackers.

"Dagur has gone silent," she reported, firing at the remaining four men. Screams sounded and sirens began to wail as the emergency services began to close in. "He usually does this prior to an incident happening..."

"Like now," he growled, lining up and shooting another man. "Cover me." And before she could reply, he dodged out and sprinted forward, his gun held trained on the attackers. They turned on him, the machine guns swinging round to point at the tall, poised shape. but even as they were moving, he took out two more with deadly accuracy. The remaining two men was suddenly surrounded by a hail of gunfire as Astrid began firing in earnest, hitting one of them four times in the chest. Hiccup sprinted after the remaining man, who was making a run for the hospital entrance.

"STOP!" he yelled as the machine gun chattered again and screams sounded. He saw three women fall and the guilt stabbed him so hard it almost took his breath. "Shit!" And he shot the man in the back, reaching him as he fell, the machine gun skittering from his grasp. Furious, he ripped the man's mask off and hauled him to his feet. "WHO TOLD YOU TO DO THIS?" he shouted in the man's face and the man gave a nasty smile and spat in his face.

"Guess," he sneered.

"What is Dagur planning?" Hiccup shouted. "I know he's not doing this at random. There's gotta be an endgame. Tell me or I'll..." The man gave a smug smile.

"I know my rights," he smirked. "I'll be out in..."

Four shots fired and the man's eyes widened and then he slumped, dead. Snotlout lowered his gun.

"Boom! And that's how it's done!" he gloated as Hiccup dropped the dead man in disgust and marched forward, rage boiling in his chest.

"I was talking to him," he hissed. "Or does the fact that you supposedly work in the intelligence service means that you aren't required to have any?" Astrid and Fishlegs were checking the other terrorists-though he knew anyone he shot was dead-but Snotlout was looking smugly at him.

"I just saved your life, murderer," he sneered.

"He was unarmed, Snotbrain!" Hiccup snapped at him.

"You just can't accept that..." Snotlout sneered and Hiccup had had enough. As Astrid was opening her mouth to tell Snotlout to shut up, Hiccup punched him. There was a brief silence as Snotlouts' eyes crossed and he collapsed unconscious on the ground, his just-fired gun spilling from his limp hand. Astrid threw her hands out in exasperation.

"Why..?" she demanded, her eyes flashing.

"He shot me in the Dragon's Edge...and he killed an unarmed man I was questioning to see if there was any way I could get into Dagur's organisation!" he snapped. "Is he normally this dumb?" She holstered her gun on her belt.

"Yep," she admitted. "This actually was a good day."

"Thor help me," he groaned as Fishlegs walked up.

"The rest are dead," he reported as the first security forces cars and vans screeched up and armed men poured out. There were injured and dead civilians, dead gunmen and the group all standing armed on the Plaza. The police stared around and then raised their guns, sprinting at them. Astrid stared at them and sighed.

"Uh oh," she mouthed.

"Don't move!" the nearest armed cop shouted above the sharp snap of a dozen firing bolts that sounded as they were surrounded. Hiccup quietly displayed his gun and placed it on the ground then straightened up, his hands held above his head and the agents raised their hands as well. The hitman swept the Plaza with his cynical emerald gaze as the first ambulances pulled up and medical staff poured out of the hospital to assist the injured.

"Just perfect," he commented. "Dagur stages another attack, innocents are killed, all leads are lost and we're the ones getting arrested." He turned his head to glare at Astrid. "Remind me why I ever agreed to work with you amateurs?"

"It may not start with an H," Astrid muttered as the police cuffed them. "But his middle name is definitely Moan."