Seven: Family Ties

The twins stared after the vanished SUV then dashed up and through the door to the dilapidated hotel. It was a better standard than Toothless's accommodation but it was in completely the wrong district and now seemed to be in the firing line. Especially as the squeal of tires echoed through the lobby and the chatter of a machine gun echoed through the hotel once more. Ruff grabbed Tuff and hauled him to the floor as the bullets drilled straight through the crumbling wall, letting the weak sunlight eerily penetrate the damp gloom.

"Hey!" Tuff grumbled. "I knew I should have brought the stormtrooper helmet..." Ruff glared at him as she crawled to the Register and peered at the occupants of the rooms.

"I wish you'd brought the rocket launcher," she replied, hauling him to the back of the building and up the stairs to the next floor. "Room 53...47...49...51...here it is..." Then she knocked on the door. "ROOM SERVICE!" Both twins pressed against the doorframe as they heard steps approach and a gentle voice say:

"But I didn't order anything..."

They burst into action, erupted through the door and propelled the husky blonde guy within back all the way to the bed and pinned him down.

"There is no Room Service in this dump," Tuff pointed out.

"And we're here to get you out of here," Ruff added, motioning her brother to close the door. "We're friends of Fury. You're in danger here." A fresh round of gunfire impacted the wall and the building shuddered. "Anything you need to bring?" The husky agent nodded, staring up into her grey-blue eyes and blushing. She was lying across him and he was almost not daring to breathe.

"Um...my computers?" he murmured. "And the others' things? They may not be happy if I leave all their clothes behind..." Ruff stared at him then rolled her eyes and clambered off him, gesturing to the computers.

"You pack them, chubby, and we'll grab the bags," she sighed as the large agent sat up, his face folding into an indignant frown.

"Actually, I'm HUSKY," he told her. "Not...anything else!" She grinned at him as she grabbed clothes and tossed them into the bags. Glaring at her, Fishlegs hastily packed up his computers as the twins listened to the thud of bullets and fidgeted in an agony of urgency. As soon as he had finished, they hauled him down the fire exit and hid behind the bins.

"Where did you park the van, sis?" Tuff asked, peeking out again and she sighed.

"Back at the yard, idiot!" she sighed. "Look-we can flag down a cab..." Fishlegs stared at them.

"Why should I go with you?" he asked as the twins sighed.

"Because Fury needs your help," Tuff told him simply. "This is a job for you-but for him, it's intensely personal. Dagur owes him his life several times over. He took everything from Fury and he's sworn his life to make sure Dagur pays."

"And we're here to make sure he doesn't give his life to do just that," Ruff added. "Also, where we're taking you has kick-ass wifi as well as kick-ass cockroaches." Fishlegs went green.

"Look-we have a geek as well-Fury's best friend," Tuff chipped in. "He says you're real good-so we oughtta help you help him." There was a pause as Fishlegs's blue-green eyes narrowed and he nodded shortly. The hotel was a mess and clearly unsafe...and he was aware that these people may give him a few clues more about Fury-or Hiccup's-mysterious and highly sanitised past.

"I'll need to call the others so they can meet us there," he said and the twins nodded, Ruff walking alongside the heftier man.

"So what do they call you, handsome?" she asked him and he blushed, despite himself.

"Call me Fishlegs," he said. Tuff rolled his eyes.

"Oh Thor-here we go again..." he muttered.

oOo

Heather had put her new bodyguard to work straight away and he was unobtrusively parked in the corner of her office as she sat worked through the remainder of her day, phoning clients, dictating letters to her PA and eventually chatting with one of her friends and eating take-out after they had completed a very long and dull business meeting. Admittedly, she had sent him out to get a suit, since her view of his current outfit was pretty scathing and he had taken less than twenty minutes to return with a black suit, mid green button-down shirt, black tie and shades. Unfortunately, Heather and her friend-Elsa, a beautiful platinum blonde who was also a commercial lawyer-had brought alcohol and between them, they had polished off a bottle of wine and were scoring the males on offer-including Hiccup.

"Love your new toy, Heath," Elsa commented, sipping her wine and giggling. "Brown hair, was it green eyes, delicious body and that jaw..."

"And he came out of nowhere...just saved my life on the street..." Heather smirked, topping up their glasses with the dregs of the bottle. "I mean, he saved my life! And he's very easy on the eye..." Elsa inspected the tall figure standing quietly against the wall and her blue eyes narrowed.

"Oh, he has an excellent ass," she noted. "Have you taken him for a spin yet?" Heather choked on her wine and trust out laughing.

"He's the hired help!" she laughed. "Why would I sleep with him?"

"Because he's cute." Elsa repeated. "I'm not asking you to marry him...just fuck his brains out..." Heather turned her head and stared at the very stiff shape of Hiccup, his hands clasped casually in front of his waist, his eyes staring straight ahead, carefully fixed on the wall. All soldiers learned to ignore distractions while on guard duty and though he was very out of practice, he found focussing on the wall and who the raven-haired woman's brother was very effective in crushing any embarrassment. He had never been a field agent but a sniper sometimes needed to be unobtrusive as he moved through enemy territory to his position...and he was drawing on every second of his experience to convince in his new role.

"I shall take your recommendation under advisement, counsel!" she smirked as they turned back to the prawn toasts.

But later, once Elsa had been seen safely into a taxi, he had driven a very relaxed Heather back to her luxury apartment and supported her into the lobby, punched in her code and travelled with her in the secure elevator up to her penthouse. She had been drooping and giggly and very handsy and for a long moment, he had no choice but to endure her touch.

Would a poor chancer reject the chance to improve his luck?

Probably not...but I'm not what I claim to be.

She dropped the keys-almost certainly on purpose-and he leaned forward and snagged them, unlocking the door and almost collapsing through as Heather leaned drunkenly against him, her hands roaming his body at will. He had to sit her gently on the couch as he turned and locked and bolted the door before he turned back-to find Heather sprawled over the couch in a very suggestive pose. He smiled at her, trying not to appear exasperated but he knew was that this was all to get him closer to Dagur. Carefully, he checked the door once more, then lowered the automatic blinds and checked the phone for messages. The number '1' was flashing urgently and he frowned.

He jumped as a pair of arms wound around him and Heather pressed her head against his back.

"Hmm...she was right...you have an excellent ass..." she slurred, nuzzling against his shirt and pressing hard against him. Breathing hard, he spun to face her and found her leaning up to try to kiss him.

"I must make sure I include that in my resume," he replied sarcastically, grasping her wrists and gently prising them away. "Because that will win me so many jobs..." She pouted and leaned towards his face, rising on tiptoes.

"You could always spend the night with me," she murmured. "As thanks for the job..." His eyes cooled. This wasn't the cool and controlled lawyer but someone very different and much harder to handle.

"I think you need to go to bed," he told her. "Alone."

She whined in disappointment.

"I could order you," she protested and he shrugged.

"I can't guard you if I'm distracted, Heather," he tried to explain, gently attempting to push her away. "I'm certain Dagur would be unimpressed if I leapt into bed with you on my first day on the job." She dug her hands into his tousled auburn hair and ground against him.

"My brother need never know," she pouted. "You don't have to be scared of him..."

"No-because he has has such great reputation for tolerating being crossed! Not even mentioning he's already made clear what he'll do if I hurt you, Heather," he reminded her coolly. "He'll..."

Bury you in a shallow grave.

"Hiccup?" Her hazy eyes widened as he stilled and then, with a visible effort, he blinked back to the present, dispelling the horrific images that had suddenly washed over him. With a crooked smile, he gently swept her into his arms, carrying her into her bedroom and placing her tenderly on the bed, removing her heels and pulling a blanket up over her.

"Sleep well," he murmured and closed the door behind him with a click, leaving the woman safe in her room. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the door and scrubbed his face with his hands. He was certain that Dagur would have her apartment under surveillance and he didn't need to tip him off in any way. He would play the good and diligent bodyguard-until he got his shot at the man. Exhaustedly, he checked the front door once more, then settled on the couch, his pistol cradled in his hand.

This is for you, Milady. You and little bud. No matter what it costs, how much it hurts, I will avenge you.

oOo

Snotlout had driven Astrid almost insane with his self-important boasting as they wound their way down the hill to the Sanctuary. It was a secret location that Astrid knew all too well because she had experience dealing with victims of people trafficking during her time as a probationary agent and the perfectionist she had been had sought out the best possible option for her charges to recover. She had maintained a link with the place, ensuring that referrals were made and funds were diverted to support the centre. So while Snotlout boasted about how awesomely he had performed during the mission, she had driven the slow van with her cargo of terrified and abused women through the forest backroads, doubling back on herself and following the convoluted route she had been taught to locate the place.

It was only as they wound down the zigzag road through ancient pines that the black-haired man had looked up and asked:

"Where the Helheim are we going anyway, Astrid?" She smiled thinly, carefully taking the next hairpin and shifting down as the slope steepened.

"Somewhere safe," she said loudly enough for the women to hear her. Snotlout peered at his phone and tapped it irritably.

"No signal," he protested.

"No tracking," she reminded him and swung right, over a cattle grid and along a muddy track towards a large white farmhouse and a collection of very well-maintained wooden farm buildings. Calmly, she pulled up in the yard and killed the engine before she clambered out. A couple of people were already emerging from the main house, the larger being an huge woman with impressive chest, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore an unremarkable loose tunic top and a pair of beat-up jeans, along with work boots. At her side stood a spirited woman with long red ringlets and cool green eyes, her movements purposeful as she appraised the blonde intruder. Astrid smiled at her and nodded a greeting.

"Hello, Bertha," she said clearly as the huge woman arched a thick blonde eyebrow.

"Agent Astrid Hofferson," she said and then grinned, opening her arms and hugging the girl warmly. "To what do I owe this honour?" Astrid pulled away and her smile fell a little.

"I'm afraid I've got some customers for you," she said and her voice grew grim. "We rescued them from Berserk." She walked to the back of the truck and lifted the flap, showing the terrified women huddling back. "Taken from Maniacal about six months ago and used by Dagur's organisation since. They've all been physically and sexually abused and have probably witnessed atrocities as well. They need your specialist skills." The woman looked at the trafficked women for a long moment, her eyes infinitely sad-and then she smiled.

"Please, come out," she said, her brisk voice gentler. "My name is Bertha and you are safe. This is the Sanctuary, a secret location for abused women. Astrid here is a supporter." She extended her hand and the thin young woman with the bright copper ringlets warily grasped it and allowed herself to be helped down. She looked over to Astrid and gave a wan smile.

"Thank you," she said in a whisper as Bertha helped the other women down. Some could barely walk while others were so jumpy they were almost frozen with fear. Wisely, Snotlout shut his mouth and hung back as two serious-looking women emerged from the white farmhouse and helped the girls inside. Finally, Astrid and Bertha brought up the rear, the large woman inviting Astrid to have a seat while she settled the women in.

"Help yourselves to coffee," she invited them as she vanished deeper into the house. Snotlout stared after her and then took a seat, staring at the blonde.

"How did you know about this place?" he demanded.

"I take my job seriously," she told him tartly. "And as a woman, I tend to get sent on these sort of missions." Snotlout opened his mouth. "And if you say something ludicrous like 'that's what a woman agent should do', I'll tell Bertha and they can do to you what they do to troublesome bullocks!" His eyes widened and he stroked his disappointing moustache.

"Babe-you know you're fighting off my awesome manliness," he reminded her superiorly. "And you know you'll ultimately lose."

"Really, Snot? You're saying something that stupid in a Women's Collective?" she asked him and he gave a small scream. "Bertha Bogby is the last of the ancient ruling line of BogThorpe. And as you know, the Bogs are a feminist society. You are very much a second class citizen in this place so I would advise your next words are considered very carefully..." He glared at her and then checked his phone.

"Who builds a place where there is no mobile signal?" he grumbled, staring at the words NO SERVICE still firmly flashing in the upper left corner of his phone. "I mean, how are we supposed to check how Fishface is going on?"

"Fish is an agent in his own right and at the moment, we're monitoring how Fury's going," she reminded him in exasperation, making them both coffees. "And we've established you as a very dangerous rival gang boss. Let Dagur stew for the moment and try to anticipate your next move!" She handed Snotlout a cup and he rose, heading back to the counter and adding cream and three sugars. He sipped the hot liquid, his blue eyes sweeping round the nice little sitting room and then he started.

"Astrid..." he murmured.

"What now?" she asked irritably. He scowled.

"Why is there a picture of that murderer Fury in this room?" he asked and pointed. Astrid was on the point of snapping at him when her eyes followed his gesture and she froze. On the ugly brick fireplace was a picture in a simple polished wood frame of a couple on their wedding day. A young blonde woman with bright blue eyes and a pretty, laughing face was leaning close to a familiar face-maybe a four years younger-with his auburn hair cut short in a military style, his emerald eyes sparkling with love and happiness. He was in his dress uniform and he was smiling-but it was undoubtedly Hiccup Haddock, the man known as the assassin Night Fury. Eyes locked on the picture, Astrid rose and walked slowly to the picture, lifting it and staring into the face of a man who was undoubtedly having the happiest day of his life.

"What happened to you?" she murmured, staring at the couple as she heard steps close. Bertha peered over her shoulder and sighed.

"My daughter, Camilla, and her husband," she sighed and there was a sadness in her voice that had Astrid turning to stare at her.

"Your Daughter?" she murmured, filing the information away. She had heard of Cami Bogby but she had never ever seen an image of the remarkable young woman. "She looks happy..." And then she paused. "But something happened..." she realised. The big woman nodded.

"She died two and a half years ago," she murmured. "It was a car wreck, deep in Frenzied Forest in East Berserk. She, her husband and their son were all killed."

But he didn't die, Astrid thought, controlling her face carefully. What happened, Fury? Did you never tell her that you survived? Was it your fault? Or does she know and is she protecting you?

"Her son?" she forced herself to say and Bertha's face tilted in a sad smile. She fished out another image of the little family, a chunky boy with wild strawberry hair and big blue eyes sitting on Camilla's lap with the proud father kneeling by her, a finger gripped by his grinning son.

"Sam," she said sadly. "He was only eighteen months old-a beautiful bright little boy. Cami was my only child and to lose her and Sam all in one go was...devastating." Astrid replaced the picture and rested a comforting hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry," she said genuinely. Bertha nodded.

"She helped me set up this place," she admitted. "She was only eighteen at the time and she cared so much about helping others recover from being victims of unspeakable acts. She was a remarkable young woman-and her husband was so caring, so loving..."

He was a Black Ops sniper who killed whoever he was told no matter who or what they were, Astrid thought treacherously. But I don't doubt that you loved your family...and losing them would be devastating. Maybe enough to cause you to abandon your career and become a gun for hire?

"So I help others in Cami's memory and hope that the work is enough to replace the people I've lost," Bertha said and blinked. Then her mask was back in place. "The girls are all settling in and we will offer them the chance to write or record testimonies over the next weeks and months so if there is ever a trial, their evidence will be documented. And even if not, the cathartic process will aid their healing." Astrid drained her coffee and nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "We'll leave you to your work. Come on, Snot..."

But as they clambered into the truck and began to bounce along the uneven, muddy track once more, Snotlout stared at her.

"What was that?" he asked. "I mean, we both know he's still alive..." Astrid nodded slowly.

"Yes, we do," she said. "And now we have another piece of the puzzle that can tell us exactly who Hiccup Haddock is, what happened to him and what is between him and Dagur. Because no matter what he claims, it's personal."

oOo

The Edge Motel was even less welcoming from the outside than the shot-up remains of his hotel but Fishlegs was nothing if not professional. He followed the twins in, having spent an interesting bus ride with them to this very unfashionable end of town and clambered up to an unremarkable room with the '3' in the 23 of the room number hanging askew. The twins knocked, paused, knocked again and then paused.

"Will you two stop messing around!" an irritated voice yelled from inside the room and the door was wrenched open, revealing a fit looking man with darkly tanned skin, luminous green eyes and spiky, messy black hair. He peered through his thick-rimmed glasses and shook his head. "Come in," he sighed and turned back into the room. Tuff started forward and Ruff shoved Fishlegs in before her, then locked and bolted the door. Slowly, the husky agent spun around and inspected the miserable surroundings.

"I've been in better jails," he commented, "but I believe we're on the same team." The black-haired man sat on a wobbly chair by the tiny desk and flipped his laptop open.

"Look-even the cockroaches are desperate to escape from here," he commented. "And yes-I'm Taron Drake..."

"Fury's handler," Fishlegs said thoughtfully, sitting on the couch that sagged deeply under his weight. "I presume you were with him in the Army?" Slowly, Toothless nodded.

"You're the geek, the computer and electronics guy," he replied and Fishlegs shrugged.

"Of course, you appreciate that I also have well-honed observational skills and the ability to associate facts and synthesise a hypothesis...because you share those traits," he said evenly. "I'm just not really a field agent..."

"Though there is a reasonably demanding minimum weapons standard you will have met to be active," Toothless replied as Fishlegs awarded him a small nod at his own thorough homework.

"The stench of thinking is making me feel dizzy," Tuff announced. "Can I have my helmet back...?"

"And them?" Fishlegs asked, fishing out his computer and logging onto the wifi. The twins instantly crossed their arms and leaned against each other.

"Thorston and Thorston Investigators," Ruff announced snugly.

"These mutton-heads were in the army with us and they quit when I did," Toothless explained, peering at his screen. "They're actually gun shop owners."

"Really?" Fishlegs's tone was alarmed. "And they haven't blown themselves up yet?"

"Not yet-though they have a diverse skill set..."

"We blagged our way into your room, big boy!" Ruff reminded him.

"HUSKY!" he snapped back.

"Nuance," Tuff retorted. Toothless slowly looked up at the twins and scowled, gesturing to his laptop angrily.

"Just when were you going to tell me that a gang war has broken out-for real-in Berserk?" he demanded. Tuff looked unrepentant and then grinned and grabbed his Stormtrooper helmet.

"Now?" he guessed. "Look-Fury is in and this is what we faked. For the moment, we can use it to our advantage..."

"The whole point was that we controlled what the 'rival gang' did," Fishlegs told him in exasperation. "Now, we have no control and the others are out of coms range. Fury is on his own." The other three all stared at him.

"What?" Toothless demanded. Fishlegs shrugged.

"They've taken a truck of abused women to a safe place out of town," he said. "If we're lucky, they'll be back by nightfall...though they won't have a clue where we are." Removing his glasses, Toothless rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"You two-get out there and be waiting for them!" he ordered as the twins looked outraged.

"Why is it always us?" Tuff protested.

"NOW!" Toothless yelled and they got up and huffed out.

"Tyrant," Tuff grumbled as the door slammed. Both men stared after them and Fishlegs shrugged.

"I guess they'd get on well with Snotlout," he commented and offered his hand. "Finlay 'Fishlegs' Ingerman." Toothless shook his hand. "Look-I can tell that Fury has very personal reasons why he took the mission...and it was't for a big pile of money. On the way here, he jerked awake from a nightmare-he was thrashing as he woke, his gun in his hand. Something bad happened to him." Toothless gave a grim smile and sat back, reaching down to click on his kettle and snare his little jar of definitely-not-coffee.

"A lot of bad things have happened to him," he admitted. "And Dagur is responsible for the worst ones. You don't have to worry that he won't uphold his end of the deal-I can guarantee that Hiccup will do everything possible to complete the mission-even if it costs him his life." Then he turned his piercing gaze on the husky agent. "And we're here to stop it coming to that."

oOo

Hiccup was up early, making himself and his charge freshly brewed coffee and waffles and bacon. Then he logged onto Heather's computer as a guest and got Toothless to dig him out the schematics of Heather's building. He was finishing his second cup of coffee and wondering if he could grab a shave when he heard stirring and the sounds of the shower running. Making a few more mental notes about ways in and out and potential weak points and lines of fire, he snapped the computer closed as he saw the door open and a weary and damp Heather wander out on her fluffy dressing gown. He grinned.

"Morning!"

She muttered something unintelligible and stumbled to the coffee pot, sloshing out a huge mug of the hot liquid. Sipping it, she slouched to the table and sat opposite the hitman.

"My head is exploding," she grumbled. "Aren't you supposed to protect me?"

"From assassination-not suicide," he grinned back at her, his eyes twinkling with scant sympathy. "There are ibuprofen in the counter drawer and I put a pitcher of water in the fridge. There are waffles warming in the oven and I would recommend them with maple syrup, not bacon. The effects of hangover are primarily mediated by dehydration, salt loss, gastrointestinal disturbances, low blood sugar and disturbance of sleep so drinking plenty of water, non-steroidal painkillers, caffeine and uncomplicated food including syrup should address these issues." He rose and served her a plate of waffles with syrup, large glass of water, pair of tablets and another coffee. Raising her bleary eyes, she gave a grateful smile and tucked in as he walked to the door and peered at the phone on the way.

A red '14' was flashing and he frowned.

"I think you need to answer your messages," he advised her and she nodded, munching through her waffles but once she had finished and was looking appreciably brighter, she walked to the machine and stabbed the button.

"It will be Dagur, hovering over me like a mother hen," she said irritably. "He forgets I'm a grown woman." And she rolled her eyes as the familiar voice of her brother filled the room.

"Sis-call me as soon as you can. This is important. There's some new players in town and they're shooting the place up indiscriminately. I need you in the Main Compound."

"Hey, sis-still waiting for your call."

"Heather Oswaldson-this is not funny. Ring me."

"That bodyguard of yours better not be abusing my generosity."

"Heather-if I find he's fucked you, I'm burying him in a shallow grave."

"Sis-this is really important-call me!"

She stared at the machine and rolled her eyes again. "Drama queen," she condemned him and grabbed her cell, stabbing in the number and putting it on speaker as she sat down and sipped her coffee.

"About time!" Dagur snapped over the line. "Where the Helheim have you been?"

"In my bed. Asleep. Alone, in case your nasty mind had any ideas..."

"Is that so-called bodyguard with you?" Dagur growled and Hiccup sipped his coffee, looking unconcerned-though inside he was fighting a toxic mixture of hatred and fury.

"Of course," Heather snapped. "He's stayed guarding the apartment. I guess you hate that I've found my own guy to protect me."

"I don't trust him," Dagur told her bluntly. "You're my only living relative and I won't let anything happen to you! So please, sis-do as I ask. Come straight to the Compound. You can even bring your pet bodyguard if you want-as long as he doesn't get in my way." Heather sighed.

"I'm getting my things from the office," she told him sternly. "If you want to disrupt my practice, the last you can do is let me get what I need..."

"No! I absolutely forbid..."

"See you later Dag!" she said and stabbed the red button to end the call-before she looked up, her green eyes mischievous. "Okay-I'm getting a few things and then you can take me to the office..." Hiccup shook his head, sighing as he rubbed his stubbly chin.

"You would be safer heading straight for the Compound," he pointed out as she scowled.

"I need my computer..." she protested. He gestured. "My work computer, not my home one. And the files from the most recent issues I'm dealing with for Dagur... And I am the woman in charge so you do what you're told, Hanson!" He stared at her and then rose with a sigh.

"I'm not going to talk you out of this," he realised dryly. "You get what you need-and I'll drive. And you need to do exactly what I say, Heather-because if you don't, Dagur may be down to no relatives."

It was almost an hour later when they left, a bag slung over Hiccup's shoulder as Heather walked elegantly behind him. He took her straight down to secure parking and checked the car before loading her bags in and swinging out onto the main road. Calmly, he took them down to the lights as a large black SUV pulled up behind them, shadowy shapes sitting behind tinted glass. He had glimpsed a Meathead license plate as the vehicle pulled inches behind them and he felt a shiver run down his spine. Frowning, he dropped the side window and pulled his pistol from the holster before he thumbed off the safety as he saw the SUV shudder with a huge rev of the engine. Instantly, he reacted, slamming the gas pedal to the floor, lurching forward and just missing a small family saloon as they roared across the traffic a a cacophony of horns.

"What the Hel..." Heather yelled as the SUV roared after them and the crash of bullets smashed through the rear window.

"Down!" he shouted, drifting the car round the curve and flooring it, then exploding along the arrow-straight side road and spinning a donut as the SUV swung into view. As they spun, he snapped off three shots, bursting the front tyres and hitting the windshield directly in front of the driver's head. The screen held but the jagged impact shattered lines across the glass, obscuring half the view. And then he jerked the car round again and fishtailed them into an alley, roaring down the narrow space, slamming bins aside as they went. The SUV followed, sparks scraping from their wings as they squeezed after the lawyer,

"Who are they?" she yelled.

"I could always stop and ask them...or we could get away and find out afterwards," he yelled back, fighting the car. "Which do you prefer?" She glared as he spun round and went the wrong way through a left hand filter, racing through a pedestrian street and demolishing several tables outside street cafes. A variety of hot drinks splashed across the windshield and the wipers smeared latte and cappuccino evenly over his view.

"Are you trying to get us sued?" Heather shouted.

"No-do you want to be?" he replied, frowning as he cut the corner and ran over a cardboard Viking outside 'Erik's Viking Pizza'.

"Watch the road!" she yelled

"But we're on the sidewalk!" Hiccup replied evenly as they erupted into the main Plaza and crashed through a flowerbed before they skidded onto the main road towards the compound. Two new black SUVs moved in to intercept them.

What the Hel? Guys-this wasn't in the plan...but... He frowned at the chatter of a machine gun that stitched their trunk. Odin-these aren't my team...and I didn't come here to be killed stupidly.

Without even hesitating, he spun round and drove straight at them, crashing between the two SUVs, slamming them aside with glancing side-swipes as he swung left and then left again around the compound to the front entrance. Before Heather could even react, they screeched to a halt and he erupted from the car, grabbing her bag and her arm, hauling her out and almost throwing her through the front door-and then walking back out onto the street.

"Stay down..." he growled, his arm swinging up with his gun in hand. Dagur's men at the entrance watched in such shock they forgot to close the door as they saw the SUVs park and men run forward. And then the auburn-haired man started firing, dropping the men who were clutching the machine guns before they could even get off another round. The others realised they were in danger and began to fire at him but though they tried to pin him down behind the car, he only ducked down to reload-and every volley had men dropping until the last man reached within five yards of the car and fell to three shots to the head. Icily, he walked forward, shooting anyone still twitching before turning back to the main compound and walking coolly in through the door.

"Hanson?" Heather gasped, watching him in shock as he gestured.

"Lock the damned door," he growled, still breathing hard. "Whoever these mutton-heads are, they have friends and they don't seem scared of Dagur. And I have no clue how they knew our route or where Heather lives..." The door slammed and he suddenly faced a forest of guns. A man with a cruel scarred face and mean amber eyes walked forward as he dropped his gun.

"You know-I think we need to ask you that," he said.