Six: Truth and Lies

Hiccup's eyes flickered and then opened, the bleary emerald depths focussing on the unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying on an improbable four-poster bed in a huge high-ceilinged room with two full-length windows and alabaster detailing on the ceiling. Heavy pieces of dark wood furniture were stationed against the dark red painted walls and a pale cinnamon carpet was placed centrally, covering all but the outside foot of the mahogany floorboards. He blinked again and sat up, head snapping round as he scanned his surroundings. This was either the best hotel in Berserk or he had made it into Dagur's central base of operations.

He smiled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and then he stared: a man was stationed at the door and he inspected the waking Hiccup with unfriendly eyes. Self-consciously, he levered himself to his feet and swayed, the room tilting. He had obviously hit his head harder than he had realised and his fingers trailed up to the lump hidden under his tussled auburn hair. He winced slightly as he felt the firm swelling and grimaced, closing his eyes and mastering the nausea. Blinking determinedly, he stumbled to the door. Predictably, the guard stepped in his way as Hiccup offered a small smile.

"Um...which way is it to the bathroom?" he asked. The man scowled. "Bath...room?" he tried more deliberately. The man inspected him like a nasty insect, then grabbed his arm and hauled him roughly from the room and along the fine corridor, the wallpaper a pale cream with vivid hand-printed flowers stretching from the deep lapis Persian carpet to the white painted ceiling. Dark wood doors were closed on either side and Hiccup allowed himself to be hauled along. Abruptly, the guard stopped at the furthest door, opened it and shoved the auburn-haired man in, before taking station at the open door.

"Um..a little privacy?" Hiccup asked dryly, eyeing the toilet, the huge old-fashioned sink and the elaborate roll-topped bath with cast iron clawed feet. The man scowled but Hiccup was standing his ground until the man closed the door. Immediately, Hiccup sped to the sink and started the water running, then quartered the room once more, before he made it to the window and opened it, peering out to see a view of the street. His sharp sight found the casual blond shape parked on the street corner in a beanie and mirror shades. He sighed then lifted his watch, making sure the light reflected off the glass and briefly flashed a few letters in Morse before silently closing the door and bouncing down to use the toilet, then washing his hands and splashing water on his face before the guard got bored. He was still drying his face as the man burst in, granting Hiccup barely enough time to pull the flush before being hauled away.

"Wow-if you were that desperate, I could have waited," he suggested, offering his goofy smile. The man growled and muttered under his breath, shoving the lanky auburn-haired man forward. He reached a wide staircase that curved elegantly down to a huge marble-floored hallway, an elaborate and frankly enormous chandelier gleaming overhead. Inclining his head, Hiccup stared up, wide-eyed, at the impressive space and circled round as he hit ground level. "This is impressive," he commented as the man shoved him forward. Dressed in black leather with the Skrill symbol on his back, he was clearly one of Dagur's men and Hiccup played along as he was shoved through a pair of moulded double doors and into a huge Dining Room, an enormous oval mahogany table dominating the Georgian space, plain indigo walls highlighted by white coving and roof and full length windows. At the far end of the table, the poised shape of Heather was seated, a second place setting waiting at her right. The man shoved Hiccup once more and grunted before withdrawing to the door and closing it behind him. Pausing, the young man turned his bright emerald eyes on the raven-haired lawyer.

"Not amazingly chatty," he commented lightly. "Um...why am I here?" She rose gracefully to her feet and gestured to the seat at her side and warily, he advanced, taking the seat and sitting with his hands on his lap, forcing himself to sit back.

"You saved my life," Heather told him calmly. "The blast knocked you out so we brought you here." Hiccup looked up and around and then back at the young woman, who was inspecting him intensely.

"Um...thanks," he commented self-consciously. "And...why? I mean you could have just called an ambulance..."

"You saved my life," Heather repeated. "I am Heather Oswalddottir. I am the sister of Dagur 'the Deranged'." Eyebrows rising, Hiccup nodded.

"Um...heard of him," he commented. "Still not really answered the question..."

"We take care of our own," she told him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "So why did you save me?" He shrugged.

"I heard there was a plot...in a bar, strangely enough. I don't really trust the cops...or authority really...so I thought I'd come and tell you directly. But when I arrived, you were already walking towards the car and I could just see the red reflection of the light on the device. So...I just acted on instinct." She smiled.

"Good instincts," she complimented him and he grinned back.

"Well, sometimes you need to live on your wits and I'm not the kind of guy who just sits back and watches bad things happen to innocent people." She lifted her crystal glass and sipped her wine.

"Interesting-because most people would assume it was far easier to not get involved-especially if they don't want attention," she pointed out and he shrugged, his left hand reaching out to carelessly unfold then refold the serviette, smoothing the heavy starched material down absently.

"Not who I am," he admitted self-consciously and she inspected him more closely. With his tousled auburn hair, bright emerald eyes and pale, faintly freckled face, he was unusual enoug to attract her attention.

"That's not a Berserk accent," she pointed out. He shrugged.

"Busted," he admitted lightly. "I'm from Berk. Or I was. Had to get out in a hurry...because people there don't like me. Especially the Sons of Odin. Seem to think I'm a nuisance..."

"So who are you, Mister 'I don't like authority and have some people on my tail'?" He flashed her a grin, the lopsided expression self-deprecating.

"Hanson Halvardson," he introduced himself easily and then pulled a face. "Yeah, traditional parents-gotta love 'em!" She smiled at his tone.

"So why not so keen on authority?" she probed, filling his wine took a sip.

"Used to be military-Asgard Squad," he explained, seeing her eyes widen. Asgard Squad were the most infamous Special Ops unit in the Archipelago. They had only been captured on camera once, storming a foreign embassy taken over by terrorists, their enclosing balaclavas ensuring their identities were concealed but their deeds were legendary. "I had a...disagreement with my senior officer. His actions cost two friends their lives. So I broke his jaw...and got court-martialled and dishonourably discharged. And since then, no one will hire me either. So I do what I can. And allowing a lawyer to be blown to Valhalla doesn't feature on my list of 'to do' things..." She smiled at him in surprise.

"You know, my brother will insist I accept a bodyguard," she told him, sipping her wine. The door opened and two neatly dressed servers brought in places of food-poached salmon in a watercress and dill sauce on a bed of wild rice, served with spring greens. The raven-haired woman waited until the servants had left and the door closed before continuing. "And he will appoint some violent thug who will scare away my clients and restrict my freedom and ability to do my job." Hiccup grimaced.

"Which would be a nightmare," he admitted, digging into the food. The salmon was cooked to perfection, the pink flesh falling apart. "Mmm...I must get blown up more often!" She watched him eat with precision, chewing furiously as he attacked the meal with gusto and she smiled.

"I take it your current arrangements are less opulent?" sh checked. He swallowed and wiped his mouth neatly.

"You could say that," he admitted. "The motel I'm in has hot and cold running damp and the only vending machine that works sells rubbers. Even the local Diner has been closed down by the health inspectors." She looked sympathetic.

"You know...you have the qualifications and I do owe you my life," she commented. "Maybe you would consider risking it again and become my bodyguard?" His eyes snapped up.

"Wouldn't your brother have something to say about that?" he checked in a concerned voice. She shrugged.

"I'll deal with Dagur-if you look after me," she said and he paused, then nodded.

"Sounds like the best offer I've had since I was canned," he confessed and grinned.

"Pending a check of your ability to shoot-and a few small background checks..." she amended and he nodded.

"Hey, I wouldn't expect anything less," he told her easily. "You don't get to be a lawyer by being dumb. I'm just grateful that I may be able to move to a motel where the roof doesn't leak even in dry weather!" She began to giggle. "And what's so funny about my dismal accommodation?" he asked in a mock-hurt voice. She just laughed harder.

"It just sounds so dreadful," she commented. "The sort of place even my brother wouldn't admit to owning!" She wiped her eyes. "So what's this dive called?" Hiccup smiled.

"The Edge Motel," he said.

oOo

The sign outside the Edge Motel flickered as miserably as the sign outside Gobber's bar, both 'E's more off than on. Inside his room, Toothless was scowling at his laptop and boiling his small portable kettle to try to make himself some decent coffee. As a soldier and used to the relatively poor accommodation provided by Fury's contracts, he always travelled with a kettle, toaster and two-ring hob packed in his second rucksack with his computers, clothes and weapon in his computer bag. He had just managed to slosh the steaming water onto the brown powder that the local garage had assured him was actually 'value' coffee when the alert sounded on his computer and he snapped back to the screen, his possible-coffee forgotten.

When Hiccup had asked him to set up the intercept and fake website, he had known the man was serious, because it was a risky strategy. If their man was as good as Toothless, he would realise he was being redirected and that the whole thing was a ruse. The one thing helping them was that Asgard Squad was so secret it was monstrously difficult to hack their site so re-directing whoever was tasked with confirming Hiccup's back story to his fake site was relatively simple.

Green eyes narrowing, he swiftly opened the page that had the correct logo, details, contact information and secrecy warnings that he had copied from the real page which he had entered after a lot of effort and allowed the man to scroll down the list of inactive members. As he watched, the cursor hovered over the name of 'Halvardson, Hanson, Second Lieutenant' and clicked on, to reveal Hiccup's actual service photo, his correct biometric data and completely fabricated service record. The only thing Toothless had kept was his expert marksman rating and prowess in unarmed combat-because both would be useful in his cover...if it worked. For family, he was listed as 'orphan, never married'.

But he had and Toothless stared at the screen. He had been Best Man, handing the rings to the happy couple and seeing his friend's face light with such happiness at marrying his lover and best friend. She had completed him and when their son was born, life had been perfect...

...until the Oswaldsons had systematically taken everything from a man whose only crime was to follow the orders he was given by his superiors, sanctioned by the President himself. Those responsible had gotten away scot free while Hiccup had watched his life shatter and had almost died as well. And Toothless could still recall that horrific scene, finding the man all but dying, collapsed mud-smeared and bloody over his own grave, his hand clamped to that of his dead wife. His friend, his smiling, joyous friend had been left in that wood and the driven, ruthless hitman had been all that was remained of his brother-in-arms...but Toothless was determined to help him finish his fell mission because then maybe...just maybe...he could move on and perhaps see some hope for the future. Because, Gods knew, he deserved it.

The steady tap of the keys sounded as he traced the query back to source and smiled. They had taken the bait. He hoped Hiccup had been convincing enough to ensure he was given access to the Berserker organisation.

oOo

Snotlout and Astrid walked up to the warehouse by the canal docks and carried straight on in, knowing they would have been detected by the surveillance cameras. The first man who tried to stop them was unceremoniously punched out by the blonde while Snotlout body-slammed the next. Before the remaining three men could react, they found themselves covered by automatic pistols as Astrid quartered the main warehouse to check for more men-and see what was on offer. Snotlout grinned at the men and walked slowly around them, making them put their hands on their heads and kneel: it was how Oswald and Dagur had their captives wait before they were executed.

Astrid glanced at him. It wasn't that he was an exceptionally bad agent, it was just he was brash, over-confident and incredibly insensitive with low emotional intelligence. If he was just a straightforward law-enforcement agent, he would do fine-but in the very grey world of the Special Intelligence Services, he was hopelessly unsubtle and behind the curve. But he was good at the more physical aspects of the job and had stepped up well to the role of rival gangland boss-eventually. If only he would take the message that Astrid wasn't interested...

She circled round and found a few boxes of ammunition and a small box of grenades-nothing really worth her close attention but the man they had shaken down in the bar that morning had intimated there was a very valuable cargo of Dagur's being stored in this shabby warehouse. But as she peered back, she saw a movement in the gloom beyond the doorway and her pistol snapped round, her entire posture on alert as she inched forward, ready to take down whoever was hiding. Dodging through the door, she pressed back against the wall and then her arm dropped, along with her jaw, as she realised what she was facing.

In the area behind the main warehouse storage area, there was a large cage. And inside, crouched down and looking completely scared and cowed were about a dozen young women. Most were in scruffy clothes, hair straggly and eyes hopeless. Their faces were bruised and all looked thin and very scared. Astrid lowered her gun completely and looked at them, then sighed.

"I think we need to get you out of here," she said quietly and reached for the door. A couple of women started weeping silently and most cringed back. "Hey, hey-I'm not going to harm you," she added gently, unlatching the lock. "Do any of you understand me?" There was a pause and a couple of the women at the back nodded.

"Y-yes," an emaciated young woman said, her copper ringlets framing a bruised face with huge scared grey eyes. Astrid felt her heart sink recognising a Berserker accent. "We-we're from the village of Maniacal in north Berserk. We were captured about six months ago.." She stopped and palmed a tear off her face. "We've been his ever since."

The young blonde agent hunkered down, her heart congealing in her chest. She knew what she was facing and beckoned. "Come on," she said urgently. "Hurry. We need to get you out of here..." It took a lot of urging but finally she managed to get all the girls on their feet-though many were so weak and beaten they could barely walk. She could hear Snotlout rambling on about something and hoped he could watch the men a little longer. Quietly, she padded through the back of the warehouse with her little entourage-and found the truck. It was a simple wagon, nothing specialised but more than sufficient for her purpose and as she helped the girls into the back, she smiled...until she saw the warehouseman that no one had realised was there.

He charged her and in a second, she was flat on her back, almost pinned. But the memory of those girls, of the big frightened eyes and the mute, unspoken pleas for help filled her with fury and she threw him off, spinning to kick him in the face and them clubbing him unconscious with her pistol. She could see the women peering through the flap at the back of the truck, faces shocked that she had resisted-and more so that she had succeeded. With a sinking heart, she guessed that some of their number had tried in the past-with horrible lack of success. She dragged him behind some boxes and checked the key was in the ignition before she raced back into the main warehouse.

"Time to go!" she announced, causing Snotlout to look up.

"But we're just getting started, babe," he grinned. "I was just telling these fellas about my awesome college football record..."

"And they're not bleeding from their ears with boredom yet? I'm impressed," she commented dryly. "Boys-you have precisely five seconds to get to that door before we kill you. How lucky do you feel?" She lifted her pistol and Snotlout stared at her, scowling. He hated not being in the loop, She smiled. "Okay boys...on the count of five...FIVE!" And she fired just over their heads. Needing no more prompting, the Berserkers ran for it with Astrid firing at their heels to keep them running. Then she headed towards the back door and the truck, grabbing a couple of grenades on the way. She handed on to Snotlout and pulled the pin.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" he whined.

"Last one to get a grenade in that box of grenades a loser," she taunted him and he perfectly lobbed one in-which hers followed a second later.

"Okay, babe-so now what?" he grumbled as she grabbed him and hauled him through the back door and into the truck. "I knew you couldn't resist me," he added unwisely, earning a punch in the stomach as soon as she shoved him into the cab. There was a pause as she started the engine with a sigh of relief-and then an explosion blew the warehouse apart. Grinning, she peered over her shoulder into the back and the scared women there. Snotlout gaped but for once, he kept his mouth shut as they reversed out of the bay and lurched up the road.

"With any luck, Dagur will think that you went up with the warehouse," she called back to the women. There was a collective hitch of breath. "And don't worry. We have friends who will get you away." She shared a look with Snotlout. "Looks like for the moment, he's on his own..."

oOo

"Okay-so the beanie and sunglasses were bad enough," Toothless growled at the twins. "But the Imperial Stormtrooper helmet, Tuff. Really?"

"Look, T, it did what we wanted," the male twin replied, lying on the couch of Toothless's horrible room, his voice muffled by the white replica helmet.

"Which was?" The tone was impatient.

"Giving the impression we're lunatics," Ruff told him as if it was obvious.

"He's in-and he told us he was okay," Tuff added. Toothless sipped his coffee and grimaced. It was as horrible as he had anticipated.

"They took the bait and looked into his fake profile," he admitted. "If all goes to plan, they'll accept he's available..."

"Have you ever known Fury not to be able to talk his way out of anything?" Ruff asked him with a grin, flopping back on his bed. He sighed.

"This time, he's trying to talk his way into the organisation that murdered his wife and son," he reminded them grimly. "And if they suspect who he is, they won't hesitate to kill him." The twins shared a look and Tuff finally pulled his helmet off.

"Then maybe we should drop in and visit the agents who are supposed to be watching his back," he suggested. "C'mon, Butt-Elf. Let's go make a house call."

oOo

It had been a strain not to hit everything, but Hiccup had managed to lower his usually exceptional scores in the very well-appointed range in the basement of the house so that they would believe that he was worth his 'expert' marksman rating but not to arouse too much suspicion. As the report of the last shot died away, he removed his ear defenders and glasses and stared at the target, pretending to be happy with the performance and fashioning his lopsided grin.

"Not bad, huh?" he managed to the non-committal grunt of the goon assigned to watch over him. The weapon was swiftly handed back and he was led upstairs to the main level and an office where he could hear voices-one of which was Heather and the other was one that haunted his nightmares.

"I don't care who you want to appoint, I'm not having one of your brainless goons following me around, encroaching on my professional meetings and ruining my practice!" Heather snapped.

"Better get used to it, sis, because it's happening!" Dagur snapped. "This was a serious attempt. My men tell me that device would have killed you."

"You don't need to have your knuckles dragging on the sidewalk to guess that, Dagur!" Heather shot back. "But the fact is that I am NOT having one of your idiots peering over my shoulder and interfering. I will make my own arrangements!"

"As in the skinny stranger who shoved you out of the way of the blast in the nick of time? And that doesn't seem a bit...convenient to you?" Dagur growled over the speakerphone.

"Nothing in this life seems convenient!" Heather snapped. "I wanted to do Family Law, remember? But no-I had to concoct this weird mix of conveyancing, criminal and financial law so that I could be of use to Dad. And because of that, I am almost blown to Asgard! So no, I am not having your man. I checked this guy out and he is what he says-ex-special ops, expert marksman, dishonourable discharge for hitting his superior officer. And seems to have manners, wit and is easy enough on the eye to tolerate. I believe he could even stand in a business meeting and not scare away all my clients."

"Scores checked out," Dagur commented over the line.

"Do I need to know how you knew that?" Heather growled.

'My house, my men, my facilities," the gang boss told her bluntly. "They ran to me with the results. Does seem to check out of the shooting front."

"Satisfied?" Heather retorted.

"No," Dagur told her equally directly. "But I'm not gonna dissuade you, am I? So you tell him this from me: doesn't matter what unit he served in-he harms my baby sister and I will hunt him to the ends of Midgard and pull him apart, piece by piece. Did it to the guy who killed Dad-and I'll do it to him."

"And coming across as psychopathic and disturbed," Heather sighed.

"Hello? Deranged?" Dagur teased her. "I'll be watching closely." Heather sat back.

"When are you coming back to the Compound?" she asked and there was a pause.

"Not for the moment," he admitted. "I'll send for you and we can spend the weekend together. Just the two of us..."

"And all your men," Heather reminded him. There was a huff.

"Love you, sis," Dagur the Deranged said and hung up. Hiccup waited and was then shoved in by his escort as Heather glanced up-and her face lit up on seeing him. He shrugged.

"Sort of heard-sorry," he apologised. "I think the secret is out..." Heather stared at him-and then smiled.

"I'd like to invite you to be my bodyguard, Hanson," she said. "As you were listening, you will know my brother doesn't trust you...but I do. You check out...and you've already saved me. Your social security, military record and discharge all confirm what you said. And I like you." She smiled. "I don't want to be constrained by my brother and his paranoia...so will you be my protector?" He grinned and offered her his hand.

"Heather," he said cheerfully, "It will be my pleasure."

oOo

The twins were wandering through downtown Berserk, heading for the cheap hotel that the agents were staying in. It was suitably inconspicuous, with peeling paint, a restaurant that was closed and a poster of Oswald still displayed proudly on the crumbling wall.

"Looks like they've gone for the hiding in plain sight approach," Ruff commented as they ambled past. "No one would suspect them to be here. It's a dive."

"Looks like it'll fall down any time," Tuff added professionally. "Should have brought their own accommodation." He checked the number scrawled on the back of his hand. "Room Seven..."

A car roared past and the twins ducked, both reaching for their guns. A black SUV screeched round the corner and a machine gun drilled a line into the wall, deliberately defacing Oswald's poster. The twins stared as it screeched down the street and fishtailed out of sight then proceeded to get up from the ground where they had thrown themselves.

"Tuff," Ruff said, staring. "We may have a problem."

"Oh?"

"You know how these spooks are pretending to be a rival gang here to stir up Dagur?"

"Yeah. Good plan." Ruff shook her head urgently.

"Not so much," she told him. "Our pretend rival could have a problem-because a real one has just driven in." Tuff stared. "Tuffnut Laverne Thorston! That was Madguts the Mincer, the Head of the Murderous Syndicate!" Tuff hit his head on the floor.

"Loki," he grumbled. "Now we're in a proper gang war!"

"Yeah-and Fury's right slap in the middle of it!"

A/N: For Asgard Squad, think SAS