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Chapter Text

Detective Constable Hiccup Haddock had only been seated for three minutes when he felt a wave of anxiety wash over him, starting from his lower back before travelling up his spine. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through his teeth, trying to soothe himself. Despite the attempt to remain calm, he was still tempted to flee back home.

He tugged at the sleeves of the expensive suit. It was not something he liked to wear and he feared it showed. With shaky hands, he loosened the ostentatious bow tie that had been suffocating him ever since he donned it. He was glad that the night was still young and the place was practically empty; the wealthiest patrons' VIP tables around the stage stood empty.

He glanced at the amber-colored whiskey in front of him and he was tempted to taste it; a quick shot of liquid courage could have done wonders for an insecure guy like him. But he was on duty and the alcohol on the table cost two days' salary. It was not his money, but the taxpayers', yet he'd feel guilty if he downed it in one gulp. He thought about his father, who would have enjoyed the classy beverage, yet he tried to avoid thinking about him as he was currently at a strip club for the first time in his life and it just didn't seem right.

At this moment, nothing felt quite right. It was his first undercover mission and he was the worst liar in the entire police force. He pleaded with Chief Gobber to recruit someone else – surely there were dozens of officers who'd happily take on a night at Berk's notorious strip club. But the Chief ignored his pleas. Instead, he handed him a heavy case file and a wad of cash and demanded that he go to the club and investigate without raising any eyebrows.

The young constable was aware he had a sharper eye for detail and more wisdom and rational thought than his co-workers, yet felt it was insufficient to qualify him for an undercover mission. Nevertheless, Detective Chief Inspector Gobber saw a potential in him that no one else did.

He was awkward and easily flustered, but the Chief had a soft spot for his young protégé. He saw him as a future super cop with limitless potential, someone who could live up to Chief Superintendent Haddock's legacy. The only problem was that he wasn't his dad. No matter how desperately Gobber wanted the lad to be like his former partner, they were two very different people.

Chief Gobber was the encouraging uncle figure that he never had by blood. He wanted to be a beacon of guidance and push the younger Haddock closer to success, but it would quickly became clear that this faith was misplaced. Hiccup should have stuck to what he knew best; sitting behind a desk in the office.

But the young detective had no chance against his boss, so he took the money, read through the documents, jotted down some notes, rented a fancy suit, and tried to convince himself that he was capable of doing the job.

The Chief also ordered him to speak with Constable Ruffnut Thorston for further details, but he chose not to approach her. He avoided the slim, harsh colleague like the plague, and he had a very good reason to do so. He figured that if her information wasn't in the files, then it must not have been all that important.

That's how he ended up in Berk's high-end strip club, where a wealthy Icelandic businessman had spent his last hours before he vanished three weeks prior.

The young man ran his hand nervously through the tangled strands of his russet-colored hair and attempted to make sense of all he had seen in the files. The shadowy, dimly lit area was named Drago's Dragon Den and it was owned and operated by a certain Mr. Drago Bludvist. Little was known about him other than that he had arrived on Berk a few years earlier and opened this spot, which quickly became crowded due to Lady Leather, otherwise known as Miss Heather Dérangé.

He shook his head trying to get rid of the awkward feelings. He didn't like this place, it dishonored women and it degraded men. It repelled him, he was intimidated by it, he was a thousand miles away from his comfort zone.

He tried to gulp down some air to get rid of the lump in his throat, but it only seemed to feed the knot that restricted his breathing. But he had to sit through three performances, preferably looking enthusiastic about them, before watching Miss Dérangé's final act.

She was one of the last persons to see Mr. Alvin Enevoldsen alive and kicking, and a police informant, who went by the name "Dr. Dagur", claimed that Mr. Enevoldsen had offered a huge amount of money for her "company".

It suggested organized prostitution, which was illegal in Berk, but Dr. Dagur said that the key to such privileges were his very own name and the "Champagne Room". It sounded lame, so young Constable Haddock feared he would get kicked in the butt or worse if he tried to gain access to the special room, in hope of finding some clue about the vanished man.

Out of the blue, a sound caught his ear and he swiveled around in alarm. He saw the burly guy with the distinctive chin tattoo that had delivered his expensive, untouched drink now fiddling with a microphone.

He cleared his throat before announcing the first dancer on the stage, but Constable Haddock couldn't quite make out the ridiculous fantasy name. Stormbug, maybe? It didn't strike him as a legitimate stripper moniker, but he wasn't sure what was in vogue these days, besides, it didn't matter to him.

He didn't turn his head to the stage, he was more interested in the bulky tattooed guy, who went back behind the counter to whip up a fancy cocktail to an elderly man. The lights faded out, and the music started to play and much to his surprise, it was something he liked - Be Mine, from Ofenbach. Absent-mindedly, he started to tap the beat on his table’s top.

All eyes turned to the stage, and he heard low murmurs coming from every dark and creepy corner of the place, even the tattooed guy stopped with the shaker in his hand and stared at this Stormbeetle or whoever she was.

The shy russet-haired constable didn't want to look, he didn’t want to join the pack of drooling, hungry wolves, but it would have been weird to stay turned away from the stage when the show was on, so he moved his head, envisioning fake boobs and orange tanned skin, but…

...his jaw dropped. The girl on the stage... She was the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on. Her skin was pale and flawless, her deep blue eyes like two cut gems. She had no fake tan or padded chest, and she didn't wear any makeup - not that she needed to with such natural beauty.

She was classy, which was an out-of-place observation since she barely had any clothes on, but her moves were elegant, she had grace and she moved like a panther while her thick braid of blonde hair floated around her like a golden rope.

He was enraptured by her form, her curves, and the way she moved with such suppleness. She had the most stunning golden locks he’d ever seen - blonde hair had always caught his eye. Her pleasant expression had an honesty that could not be faked; it was a genuine smile that leant her face beauty. She looked to be thoroughly enjoying herself while entertaining those captivated by her performance.

His feelings hit him like avalanches. Suddenly he wanted to know her. He wanted to learn her real name, not that bugshit she was called on stage. He wanted to hear her voice, her laughter, he wanted to see her in decent clothes and a raw, well-hidden part of him also wanted to see her without them... Well, he guessed, his last wish would be granted soon enough...

But the song ended abruptly, she bowed her head cheekily and left the stage followed by a chorus of frustrated moans and hisses.

Constable Haddock felt a tinge of disappointment, but was thankful that the questionable customers didn't get to leer at her. No woman deserved that kind of attention, and he was glad she was spared from it.

Once again, the tattooed man picked up the mic to introduce the next performer, but the undercover cop didn't pay any attention. He fixed the bar and he wondered whether the glorious woman would show up for a drink. No, he thought, she would probably head home instead. If he were her, he would much rather be anywhere else than a crowded bar full of rowdy men. But Dr. Dagur had made it quite clear that some of the girls who worked here were more than willing to extend their work hours and gladly had some one-on-one time with the most generous bidders. She might need the money…

He decided to spit at his image the next time he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror because of his despicable thoughts but deep down, he knew that he never would use someone for his own carnal gain - especially someone in a dire situation. Still, he wanted to get into that Champagne Room, he had a hunch that there was something, something which was more important than watching ladies wiggle and writhe on stage.

His eyes stayed glued to the bar as his hand slid into the pocket of his suit jacket. There was the strap of money, a stack of fifty-pound notes that Gobber had given him to flash when necessary. For a mere second, he wondered where his boss got the cash from and hoped it wasn't next month's salaries; after all, most of his colleagues carried weapons.

He felt his heart skip a beat when he spotted the enigmatic woman in the faint light. She walked to the bar and procured a small bottle of sparkling water from the bartender. She had acquired a crimson robe, nothing fancy, but it fit her well —even if she had been wearing a potato sack, she still would have looked jaw-droppingly beautiful.

The tattooed man had an arrogant smirk on his lips as he passed the girl her drink, and his obvious attraction to her was quite evident. Constable Haddock felt a new lump forming in his throat again; it was absurd! He couldn't be jealous — he didn't even know her.

Constable Haddock realized he had to act quickly if he wanted a chance to speak with the blonde before the bartender stole her away. He grabbed his drink and gulped it down, coughing as it went down his throat. Luckily, no one paid him any mind as the bartender was busy chatting up the blonde and all other eyes were on the stage, distracted by the prospect of the upcoming performance.

Hiccup rose from his seat and sauntered over to the other end of the counter. He paused for a moment before clearing his throat to get the attention of the man behind the counter. The tattooed man looked up reluctantly and surveyed Hiccup's youthful appearance before shuffling over to him.

"What can I do for you, sir?" His voice was deep and courteous. Hiccup could finally make out the words on the man's velvet-clad vest: 'Eret.' The name sounded foreign to him; he guessed it wasn't the one given to him by his mother.

He paused to collect himself, his voice timid. "Erm, yeah... Hi, Eret, I..." he began. "I was wondering if it'd be possible to get to know the lady in the crimson robe a little better? If that's okay."

The words he had uttered made more sense in his head than out loud, but they weren't a complete disaster. It could have been so much worse, given that he was merely repeating something this Dagur person had disclosed to the police. Eret - or whoever it was - fixed him with a curious glare for quite some time.

“This your first time here?” The bartender's question was calm and unassuming, yet it made Hiccup feel even more uneasy.

"Yes," he said. "A friend of mine, Dr. Dagur recommended this place." He hoped that would open the door to the secret room. The bartender stared at him with a penetrating gaze, which was starting to make him feel very uncomfortable. But then he unexpectedly burst into laughter, which seemed almost more intimidating than his stare or his silence.

“Any friend of Doctor Dagur is a friend of ours,” the man said happily, and it was the first time in a long while that the young undercover cop felt a bit of relief. “But… I don’t know if Miss Stormfly would be willing... Excuse me, what did you say your name was?"

"Yes, sorry about that. It's Nigel - Nigel Fury," he said with embarrassment - his undercover identity sounded silly. But considering he was surrounded by Erets and Stormflies, it should pass for average. Plus, he didn't think the bartender really cared about his true name.

"Very well then, Mr. Fury. Let me just take a moment."

Eret came out from behind the counter and walked to Hiccup. The young cop felt nervous; he knew this could go so wrong, it would risk the whole mission as well as his safety, but he had to try it for Chief Gobber's sake.

The bartender stepped even closer and placed a hand on his shoulder in what almost seemed like a gesture of friendship.

"Mr. Fury, Miss Stormfly here doesn't seem interested in our guests".

"Oh," was all Hiccup could muster up to reply. That made sense now. She didn't do the Champagne Room.

"I mean... look at her," Eret continued, turning Hiccup's chin with an index finger to observe the young woman at the counter who was calmly sipping water and reading a book, completely oblivious of her surroundings.

Eret turned his head back and then let go of his chin. “She looks mind-blowing, she could be the star of this magnificent hellhole, but... she won't drop her clothes off on stage and that's not the best way to make it in this industry.”

Hiccup released a disappointed sigh. Eret's strong hand clutched at Hiccup's shoulder almost painfully. "Listen to me, Mr. Fury, just us two talking, okay? I've been trying to get that robe off of her for two weeks now and..."

"And?" Hiccup was only able to utter one shaky syllable.

A few moments later, the bartender spoke again. "But you know what? I kinda like you Mr. Fury. You seem smarter and more pleasant than most people that come here... I better not even ask this, but do you have the money?"

Chapter Text

The door looked like an ordinary closet from the outside, but it opened to a dimly lit hallway. Eret glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching before shutting it behind them. Constable Haddock advanced forward cautiously. There were no branches or intersections in the passageway; just an extended and faintly illuminated walkway. He counted sixty steps before sighting a large mahogany door with an even larger figure in front of it. The tattooed bartender put a hand on Hiccup's shoulder and guided him toward the giant.

Chapter Text

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

The two burly men ignored the chilly end-of-March breezes and made their way to the patio. Both were excited to be grilling in spite of the cold gusts, and they relished the smoky flavor of the half-cooked sausages. To make things even more pleasurable, Chief Gobber took out a flask and poured hot grog into two metal cups and Crown Prosecutor Stoick Haddock happily grabbed one. They each raised their cup in a toast of 'cheers' before rejoicing with a hearty sip of the warm beverage.

Stoick absentmindedly stroked his beard and coughed to clear his throat.

"So, how's everything going?"

"At work? Ye mean the Enevoldsen case?" Gobber replied as he refilled their drinks.

Stoick gave a short 'Aye' before flipping the sausages with tongs.

"I still have my doubts... I think something happened to him at that strip club."

"But he was seen in CCTV footage at the Berk Four Seasons multiple times," Stoick countered, reaching for a roll of tinfoil to wrap potatoes in. The raw hamburger patties were already on a plate, seasoned only with salt and pepper, biding their time until they hit the flames.

Gobber chugged down the grog and scrunched his face. "Ye can't make out his face in the footage because of that outrageous purple hat," he told Stoick. "I'd never think of Liberace when I heard the word 'businessman.'"

Stoick snickered, then inhaled deeply as the aroma of sausages hit his nose.

"He likes to show off, nothing wrong with that," he stated. "Plus it makes him easier to spot."

But Gobber isn't convinced.

"The Uber driver hadn't encountered him before, so he could not vouch for his identity. The waitress who served him the brandy was familiar with him, however she said it was too dark and she was fatigued to give a confident identification of the individual. She thought he resembled Mr. Enevoldsen, but couldn't be positive. Upon reflecting, she noticed that there had been something odd about his face, yet couldn't put her finger on what it was. After consuming the nightcap, he made his way up to his room, concealing the CCTV camera on the hallway with a black scarf before disappearing altogether."

Stoick carefully removed the sausages from the grill, his mind lost in thought. Gobber's happy grunt caught his attention as the latter opened a pack of Warburton's Old English White sliced bread, and they silently enjoyed their meal. It was just one of many things they had in common, terrible eating habits.

Gobber considered pouring another round of warm shots as he reached for the flask.

"People don't just disappear," he asserted as he placed his hand on the flask. "Sure, it happens sometimes, but this man had everything going for him. He was well-off and ready to invest in that new strip joint. We've checked his finances, and there were no issues there. Everything he owned - except for what he wore, his wallet, and his phone - was left behind in his room."

Stoick grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth. His beard was still glistening with grease from the sausage, but it didn't bother him.

"What did the club owner say?" he asked.

Gobber shrugged. "Drago Bludvist? Not much. Enevoldsen left after that Heather-Leather dancer girl refused his advances, they called him the Uber. Bludvist appeared to be unconcerned and factual, almost cold. They were hoping to finalize the business deal in the near future, so why would he risk getting rid of a would-be investor before receiving their money?"

Stoick put the potatoes and burgers on the grill, as the charcoals sizzled from the hot fat dripping off of the patty. The wind had completely died down, but it was still cold outside.

"So?" Stoick asked with an inquisitive expression.

"So what?"

Stoick couldn't help but chuckle softly, he knew his former partner / best friend too well. "Come on, Gobber, I know you're planning something."

"I am," he gave an immediate response without any hesitation, "I think a good old-fashioned undercover mission would be helpful."

Stoick paused for a few seconds before flipping over the burgers and potatoes that had been wrapped in foil. "So, who is the lucky winner?"

Gobber turned around and took two steps to his leather file bag he'd carelessly slung on an unused deckchairs.

"As it turns out,” he said slowly while he opened up the bag and pulled out a file, “there are two lucky winners. One of them is a recruit."

He handed Stoick the file containing an application form with a small picture of a blonde girl in the top right corner. The burly man scanned her personal data - birth place, parents' names - and raised an eyebrow. "Is this who I think she is?"

"That's her," Gobber confirmed excitedly, "I think she wants to go back to her roots."

Stoick flipped through the pages and noticed that she was already a sergeant; nothing but impressed by her credentials he handed back the file and stated. "She seems like an excellent catch."

"So, what's the plan?" Stoick asked while beginning to transfer the burgers from the grill. "She going to be a bartender at that salacious spot?"

"Nah. A dancer."

The tong stopped in Stoick's hand and he almost dropped one precious patty between the grill his plate. Gobber reached out and helped him finish the move.

"Don't fret, my sentimental friend," he comforted, "she's only doing some warm-up dancing; she won't be taking her clothes off. Well, not all of them."

"But still..." Stoick objected, "it sounds risky. I mean... she looks so fragile."

Gobber plopped the plate on the desk and snagged the bottom half of a bun. After adding a generous dollop of tangy mustard, he grabbed for the ketchup.

"It was her idea. She's done some MMA fighting and I'm sure she can handle a gun. I'm not worried about her at all. She already got the job and apparently she can dance too! Plus, she speaks Icelandic which might be helpful. And no one here knows her anymore."

Stoick snorted and pondered for a moment.

"And who is the other 'lucky winner'?"

Gobber froze mid-bite as he put his hamburger down. "Well, funny ye should ask...

NOW

"Sergeant Hofferson is more appropriate," she stated, her tone a bit stiff. It was an unintentional reminder of who outranked whom - Hiccup was still just a constable with a pounding headache, and in his current state, he did not appreciate being reminded that his new partner had seniority over him.

"C-constable Haddock," he stuttered as he took the delicate hand she held out for him. Her grip was firm, as he expected. He thought it must be an unprecedented situation in history - faking a screw before being formally introduced.

A sharp pain in his temple made him grip her hand too tightly, causing a displeased squeak to escape her lips. Little frustrated, she pulled her right hand away and began to massage it with her left. This was probably not the beginning of a beautiful partnership, he thought, and found it sad that even his internal monologue had a sarcastic edge.

"I'm sorry, I… my head is killing me," he admitted and poked his temple with his index finger. Probably, he should have poked his eyes too. It seemed far too surreal that the beautiful dancer he had seen, adored and fake fucked last night was now standing before him.

It would have been nice if someone had warned him about her... Oh, right... He realized he had forgotten to talk to Ruffnut, who stood a few feet away with a smirk the size of Greater London. She let out a sly chuckle in response to his evil eye.

He knew he had to speak with Sergeant Hofferson in a more intimate setting, so that he could get clarity on what was going on and why he felt like he was out of the loop. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to find privacy when there were so many people around. Luckily, Chief Gobber turned out to be a mind reader and saved his day. At least a tiny part of it.

"Listen, ye can go talk in my office. I'd be happy if ye could collate yer reports, ye don't need to hand me two separate papers. The less Papa has to read, the happier he is."

They both nodded. "After you, Constable Haddock," she gestured quickly with a hand. Splendid. A few unsure steps later, he looked back at her over his shoulder. She was right behind him, fixing him with those giant sapphire eyes, but her expression was unreadable.

He slowly made his way over to the tall desk of his superior and spun around when she closed the door. His hands trembled, so he grabbed hold of the table behind him for support. She stood two feet from him, arms crossed in front of her chest as if expecting something from him. He felt helpless and exposed.

"So... You're not Miss Stormfly," he said, attempting to sound confident despite feeling anything but.

She offered him a subtle smile and shook her head. "No, it's just an act, my cover," she explained as she took a step toward him and withdrew her phone from the side of her stylish blue pants. "This is Stormfly."

Her iPhone background picture featured her embracing the loveliest husky Hiccup had ever seen. Studying it carefully, he was comforted, even delighted that there was no other person in the photo. Sadly, that didn't prove she had no special someone in her life - she should have, she was the platonic ideal of a woman, after all. But seeing just her with the dog made him smile.

"Your eyes," he said with a tiny grin, "They share the same color." It was an endearing coincidence.

"You know what they say. At some point, the dogs and their owners start to look alike..."

He nervously ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to appear more confident, and her eyes followed the motion of his fingers for a moment.

"I don't know about that..."

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and pulled out a worn Polaroid photo. "Yeah, I'm kind of weird, having an actual print with me," he said as he handed it to her.

There was a brief touch of their knuckles before the picture changed hands.

"This is Toothless. And yeah, I know it's terrible that I made him wear a red bandana with a skull on it, but hey, 2023 is the new eighties."

A grin spread across her face as she beheld the image, revealing her love for dogs. "Is he a border collie?"

"Uh, a mongrel, but he surely has some border collie in him. And a lot of other things. Fire-spitting dragon, water buffalo, chimpanzee..."

Her laugh made him smile, and he couldn’t help thinking how cute she was. But he reminded himself that allowing his mind to wander wasn’t an option; they were partners now. Though it was a new concept for him, he was aware of the importance of maintaining their professional relationship. He knew that it had to stay this way, no matter how hard it seemed in that moment.

In some ways, it made him happy that they were finally on equal footing; he never really liked the whole customer/stripper dynamic in the first place, despite it being every little boy's wet dream. And they were both dog persons. They were equal dog persons and it made him feel less vulnerable. As she returned his photo to him, their fingers brushed against each other once again. He knew he shouldn't have noticed it, yet he could not help himself.

"Why Toothless?" she asked him curiously while looking into his eyes. Her gaze now felt less intimidating than before, and he found himself making progress in getting over her charm. Clearing his throat, he answered as casually as possible.

"Well, he was very little when I found him, thrown away in a ditch with a broken tailbone. He started to suck on my thumb and I thought he had no teeth. Then he bit me."

She smiled again and he was captivated by her pearly whites, wishing he could be bitten by those perfect teeth… Eh, not again... Maybe. In another galaxy. Someday. But only after this world had come to an ended. He attempted to focus on their discussion rather than his chaotic musings.

"I'm guessing you had no idea who I am," she plainly stated.

He nodded and felt his cheeks flush with heat. The headache had started to subside a bit, at least.

“Gobber asked me to talk to Ruffnut about something, but I don't really like her so I ended up avoiding it,” he explained.

He wanted to steer the conversation in another direction.

“What brings you here? Berk isn’t exactly a city filled with opportunity,” he asked quickly.

She scoffed. “You think I'm some ruthless career-minded person?”

“I mean...”

"Yeah, I know, being young and already a sergeant is probably strange. But I solved a difficult case, kept the government from wasting money, and got promoted. Nothing big, really."

She moved toward him and her nearness was alarming. It suddenly reminded him of all the things they had done the day before on that squeaky bed... Yes, they had just been just playing, he knew that, but some parts of it still felt strangely real.

"And you dance in a strip club."

"Anybody can dance."

"I can't."

"Right. But you can stare at dancers."

Alright, here we go. So she had clearly noticed that he wasn't treating her with indifference.

"Guilty as charged, but my job was to stare..."

Her eyes went wide. "No! I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I'm just confused about last night. You didn't know who I was..." He nodded his head in affirmation because it was true. "...yet you paid a helluva lot of money to..."

He cut her off before she could make it awkward. "I desperately wanted to get into the Champagne Room."

She nodded in response. “I know, me too.”

“How did you know I wouldn't…? Did you know who I was?”

She let out a long breath. “Yes, I did. I saw your record and a couple of pictures when I met Gobber.”

"Still, you didn't know me… What if I jumped on you or something? Not that I would ever actually do that..." He felt embarrassed for having asked the question and he couldn't understand why he'd even been compelled to say it.

Her sudden heartfelt laugh hurt his pride.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I did MMA for years, plus Ruffnut has told me."

He quirked an eyebrow and a dreadful feeling started to overcome him. "Told you what?"

"That you were gay. And I have to admit I'm pleased to be matched up with someone who won't try to make a move on me."

She became enthusiastic and hugged him. She smelled sweet and felt soft between his arms, and even though he was truly shocked and possibly bright red, he returned her hug. But then quickly let go of her. An unfamiliar rage was growing in his guts and all he wanted to do was give a piece of his mind to Ruffnut.

That was so not cool. He didn't care about the faces she made at him, or the slanderous words she occasionally spat at him under her breath, but he cared a great deal about what Sergeant Hofferson thought of him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay, he just didn't want to turn into some gay best partner, when he... He didn't know what he wanted, but not that.

"Would you excuse me for a second?"

He didn't wait for her approval before dashing to the door and bursting it open. Ruffnut was easy to spot; she was by the water fountain, engaged in a heated conversation with someone on her cellphone. He marched up to her and yanked the device out of her hand, dropping it on the ground.

"Hey, what are you do..."

He shoved her against the wall. "Thorston, I've had enough of this. I don't care about your Operation Revenge-Haddock-For-Refusing-Me but I'm warning you: if you try spreading lies about me because I hurt your pride, then this is war."

At first, the sudden and unlikely ambush left her flabbergasted and mute - probably for the first time in her life. But her attacker was just that little runt, the privileged son of Crown Prosecutor Haddock, who had dared to ignore her when she had offered him the best remedy to his miserable life: herself. She snickered at him and hissed with clenched teeth.

"Listen, Haddock... I sat on your lap at that fricking party, grinding my fine ass on your shlong, and it didn't even move. In my book, it means that you are a snake swallower, a sausage lover, a pole..."

He had to press his palm on her lips to stop her filthy mouth.

“I strongly advise you to get a new book, because you are very wrong.”

Ruffnut debated biting him, but the constant white noise-like buzzing of the office suddenly stopped around them, and she was sure that all eyes were already keenly watching their performance.

"Have you considered that I'm simply not interested in you?" he whispered with rage fueling his words.

Ruffnut paused for a beat before shaking her head. Hiccup groaned, she was impossible. He removed his hand from her mouth, praying that she wouldn't start to scream and attract more attention - as if it was even possible at this point.

"Ruffnut," he tried a gentle tone this time, "there's nothing wrong with either of us. I just don't like you in that way, that's all. Please understand."

"Got it," she muttered.

Hiccup stepped away from her and started to stride back towards the office, blushing fiercely from his head to his toes as the whole office watched him with interest.

"What is your type then?" Asked Ruffnut finally, half-loudly with a shady tone. "Is it tall, blonde, and sergeant?"

He heard suppressed laughs coming from all corners, but he didn’t give a fuck about them, he just firmly shut the door behind him.

"I'm sorry about that," he said back at the desk. He nervously met Astrid's intense blue eyes and hoped that she hadn't been able to make out all of their conversation.

"I don't usually let Ruffnut get to me like that," he explained, trying to justify his outburst. "It was just a bad headache..."

"So you aren't gay then?"

He shook his head. "No... I'm sorry."

"Good," Astrid replied too quickly for her own comfort. "I mean, it doesn't matter," she corrected herself.

"I won't hit on you, if that's what you're worried about," he added shyly, "since we're partners."

"Right," Astrid agreed. "We are."

There was a bit of awkward silence between them again, but she pushed past it. "Erm, where were we? Oh, right. So, did you find anything suspicious in the Champagne Room?"

"The room had obviously been cleaned recently - it faintly smelled of bleach - but the person who did it didn't do a very good job. There were shattered pieces of glass all over the fireplace and under the bed."

"Good catch, Constable Haddock," she complemented and his cheeks flushed again. He continued talking.

"On one side of the room and on the floor, there were these faint smudges and darker spots that looked like someone had tried to wipe up a fair amount of blood."

"Something happened in there..."

The air was thick with tension as they exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing. She was the one who spoke first.

"We need to go back."

"Isn't that too dangerous? These kinds of establishments have strict rules against customers getting attached," he said, looking concerned for her safety. "It's supposed to protect you - the dancers, I mean - not undercover police officers."

She gave him a sly smile, her teeth gleaming in the dim light of their hideout. "Two visits shouldn't cause a stir, and I can talk to Eret. Maybe tell him I need some financial help or something. You were such a generous patron."

"Do you trust him?"

She gave a mischievous laugh.

"Do I trust the bartender-slash-bouncer of the strip club? Not exactly. But bribery in the form of money or an eyeful of skin can work wonders."

As she spoke, she tugged at the hem of her blouse, revealing two inches of smooth skin. Hiccup blushed as he caught a glimpse of her bare flesh, before quickly averting his eyes again.

"Erm...I don't think we need to go that far…"

"Trust me, I've done worse."

Hiccup chuckled. He didn't want to know what she meant by "worse", but he also really wanted to know... He decided that for the sake of his sanity, he would not ask about it. He cleared his throat before changing the subject.

"Ahem. The problem is that I'm not allowed to take anything inside apart from my wallet. They took away my phone and I'm sure they would ask some rude questions if I had my detective kit with me."

She giggled at this."Detective kit? What are you, five?"

"Alright then, Portable Forensic Evidence Kit... satisfied, Sergeant Perfect?"

"Oh, I could get used to that name!" She exclaimed with joy, but her enthusiasm dampened a touch as she continued, "The problem is that they search the dancers, too, and they take away our phones. Brrr, imagine a dressing room full of phoneless women..."

"Ugh, I can't," he replied.

"It's reality there. Every night. It's awful," she said, her expression turning serious. She moved closer to him, teasingly grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him closer to her. "They talk. Constantly."

They both giggled but he noticed that she held onto him for just a tick longer than necessary before letting go.

"But I would like to live up to my reputation, you know, to the good old Sergeant Perfect one, not the Miss Flexible one."

It was a relief when she stepped away to grab her bag which she had placed on Gobber's desk when she first arrived. Hiccup's cheeks were flushed for probably the twelfth time that day, and it wasn't even ten yet. He knew from first-hand experience how flexible she was. She turned back and searched the bag then triumphantly presented a smaller bag to Hiccup. He opened it. It was a make-up kit, full of all those unfamiliar, weird products that girls used to make things longer, shinier and thinner. He peeked inside and noticed several packs of condoms. His heart sunk; it was sad to see that she did have a personal life. Hoping it would make him feel better, he let out a sigh, but it didn't work. He handed the bag back to her.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant Hofferson, I don't get it. Why would we need a make-up bag?"

"Oh, it's not a make-up bag, Constable Haddock, this is my Portable Forensic Evidence Kit."

He raised his brow as he watched her unpack the items from the bag. "Tweezers, evidence bags, and rubber gloves - disguised as condoms."

"Nice!" He couldn't help but smile in relief... She added a body spray to the pile before looking up at him.

"In case you get sweaty during evidence collection?" he suggested.

"Nah, I don't mind getting sweaty. There's Luminol in it, to show blood. Aaaand my little mascara torch!"

It was heartwarming to witness the beam of joy that crossed her face every time she unveiled a new gadget; her dedication to the job and her ingenuity were nothing but enviable.

"Here’s what we need right now," she said, handing him a cool silver cylinder.

He examined it closely. "A lipstick?"

"No. A voice recorder."

He was perplexed. What would they record in an empty room? But then he got it.

"Ah, so are we recording notes for our reports?"

She shook her head. "No, making a sex tape."

Chapter Text

They had agreed to go to her house, so it made sense to take her car. He wordlessly followed her from the office to the parking lot. She unlocked the door of her silver Toyota Prius with a beep and he obediently got in. Hiccup found the car surprisingly neat and empty; there were no old CDs, boxes of tissues, bags, or plastic bottles neither on the back seat or on the floorboard.

It was strangely unfamiliar for him given that he probably had more things in his car than in the downtown apartment he owned. But at least the faint smell of wet dog made this immaculate vehicle feel a little less foreign.

She was mute while she drove out of the dim parking lot, but as soon as they were on the bustling streets of Berk, she leaned towards him to take a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment. Her knuckles lightly grazed his knee in the process and when she put them on, she moved her head to look at him and offer a reassuring smile.

"Make yourself comfortable, it's going to be a good twenty minutes," she remarked casually, "I live in the suburbs. You know… it's easier with the dog."

"Eh, don't tell me about it, I have to run a 5K in the park every day as a punishment for only having a 15' by 15' garden," he commented leaning back on the seat. Dogs. It was a good, neutral topic, a common interest, something harmless, something he could hold a conversation about.

"Well, we could join in someday if your dog doesn't hate the female company," she offered casually. For a split second, the image of her wearing a pair of tight runner shorts crept into his manmind, but he quickly erased it. 

“Nah, Toothless isn’t a sexist. He takes after his human companion," he stammered nervously. No response came from her side, making the moment even more awkward.

"So... why Berk? It's not the most thrilling place on Earth, is it?” He nervously tried to break the tension.

"Erm... I was born here, although I wasn't raised here."

"Did you and your family move?"

Astrid nervously bit her lip, feeling the sting of a painful memory from two decades ago that would never fade away.

"Just me. My..." She took a deep sigh before finishing the sentence. "My parents died in a car crash."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that," he said and he truly meant it. She was grateful that she was wearing sunglasses, as she could feel her eyes welling up.

"Don't be... It was 20 years ago. I hardly remember them."

The two of them fell silent once more, both attempting to concentrate on the road in front of them instead of old wounds from the past.

"My mother abandoned us when I was six," he eventually spoke up to break the silence."I know it's nothing compared to your situation, but she was absent most of my life."

"Where did she go?"

"Well, she moved to Romania to open a dog shelter. She still lives there."

"Why didn't she..." Astrid started, but she suddenly had to slam on the breaks when a reckless a-hole cut in front of her. Loud honks filled the air, and it muffled the curse words uttered under her breath.

"Why didn't she take me?"  Hiccup finished when everything calmed down. She nodded. "Well, it’s a remote area, still with not many resources. There's no running water or electricity, the winters are harsh, and the people are hopeless. There's nothing but... well, nothing."

They both sat silently for a moment after that.

"Wow, I know this area," Hiccup said suddenly with enthusiasm. "There's a park with a lake in the middle. My mom and I used to come here together to feed the ducks and the geese. We lived close by when I was small."

"Aaand we're about half a mile away from where I lived as a kid," Astrid added with a fondly. "I moved back here not that long ago."

When they arrived at the last house on the street, she halted the car. Hiccup wondered if this spacious residence was occupied by someone else besides her... As they got out of the vehicle, he stared in admiration at the two-storey brick house, enveloped by ivy from threshold to roof.

"I know it's too big for one person," she explained as if she could read his mind, "It's actually for two generations; there's a small apartment downstairs where my granny lived. But it's nice to be here while I decide what to do with it." Hiccup only picked up on the "one person" part of her speech and was happy that there wasn't a good-looking bloke waiting for them inside.

The keys jingled in her hands as she pulled them out of her bag, and a delighted yapping began loudly from within.

He looked at her with a wide smile. "That sound is very familiar," he admitted as they walked to the door.

"I should tell you that Stormfly can be quite territorial, so she won't be the most welcoming of hosts... but I'm sure she'll warm up to you sooner or later."

They stepped in and Astrid's beautiful husky was ecstatic, her tail wagging like crazy, trying to lick Astrid's hand and leap around simultaneously. Astrid laughed and patted the pup on the head.

The husky then clocked Hiccup. She scrutinized him with narrow eyes, unsure if he was good or bad news. Hiccup stared back, hunkering down slowly; Astrid watched in silence as Stormfly came and stood before him. The dog waited for a hard moment then rested her head against his warm palm.

"There, there," he murmured softly as he scratched behind her ear. The dog let out a contented sound of pleasure.

Astrid's eyes grew big in awe, "Wow, what a dog whisperer you are..."

"That's probably an overstatement," he said with a lopsided grin while he stood up and wiped his palms on his jeans, "but I learned some tricks from my mother."

She smiled back at him. "Okay, I think I should let this little rascal out because I don't think we need dog barks in the background."

She flung the door open and Hiccup immediately understood why the husky was called Stormfly - she darted out without looking back and a split second later she was nowhere to be seen. 

"Let's go upstairs to my bedroom," she suggested, "if we are going to make a sex tape, that's the best place to do it..."

Hiccup felt his skin go pale as a sheet, but fortunately, she had already turned away from him and marched towards the steps at the far end of the living room.

"Ever seen her dance?" She asked, still moving forward, trying to keep her voice even, though a hint of uncertainty was seeping through.

"Erm... no, I did not. I was with you in the Champagne Room when she was on stage..."

She shook her head. "No, I meant before. All our male colleagues seemed to be familiar with her... art."

"Well, last night was my first time at a strip club," he answered honestly as they approached to the top of the stairs.

"Oh," she replied, taken aback. "I figured all men were into that kind of thing. But then again… you did wear a bowtie…"

He chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I like that tie… but truthfully, I'm not very comfortable with the whole idea."

She stopped just before the second closed door and looked back at him.

"I get it. I'm not fond of it either," she said sincerely, her face set in seriousness. It finally dawned on Hiccup that she couldn't have liked being up there on the dimly lit stage surrounded by a group of gaping, hungry vultures.

"I'm sorry that you..." he began, but she shook her head. 

"No, it's okay Hiccup, I knew what I was getting. And I'm certain that we will solve this case soon enough."

"Amen to that, Astrid," he replied gently, eliciting a small smile from her.

"All right, let's get to work," she said, opening the door to her bedroom.

She had a king-sized bed and a brief glimmer of envy swept through him as he imagined who (or how many) she’d shared it with. He quickly discarded the thought, though; it was none of his business. Besides, since she had only just moved back in, it wasn't like the number would be that high in Berk anyway. He couldn’t make sense of her: on stage, she seemed like a lustful succubus, yet in person she had a restrained, almost chaste vibe.

"Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?" She inquired interrupting his musings.

"Not at all."

She vanished into a walking wardrobe for a few minutes, then reappeared wearing black yoga pants and a sleeveless cobalt shirt. She sat on the bed and his gaze shifted to her feet; they were bare and beautiful with long, slender toes. What stood out to him was the thin silver bracelet that graced her ankle, something he found oddly attractive. He quickly diverted his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Take off your jacket and your shoes then sit here," she commanded and patted the mattress by her side.

He awkwardly removed his jacket, dropping it onto an armchair. He assumed this must have been Astrid's reading spot since a lamp and book cabinet were nearby, but he couldn't make out their titles. Taking off his shoes, he paused for a second before asking,  "Erm, Astrid... do you mind if I take my socks off too? It's kinda an OCD thing, but I can't be in bed with socks on."

“Yeah,” he responded. “But I had no clue what we were doing.”

She blushed, her attempt to hide her nervousness failed. Hiccup couldn't help but be curious; she had been so confident up until this moment. She coughed and tried to steady her voice, "So, some banter first, then a little foreplay followed by the main event... with occasional moans, grunts, and maybe I should scream at some point?"

"Do you think we should pull the curtains shut?" He inquired, as the dim light felt more intimate than the bright sunshine that filled the room.

“Alrighty then... All you gotta do is press record and...go with me," he said with a touch of confidence. He had a plan and hoped it would work. She reached for the recorder, switched it on, and placed it back on the bedside table. 

He inhaled deeply before he began, trying to make it seem like he knew what he was doing. All they had to do was act.

“I'm glad we could arrange another meeting, Miss Stormfly," he said.

She paused before replying, then smiled. "My pleasure, Mr. Fury."

"I hope your pleasure will be our mutual pleasure."  He was being cheeky, but he felt that Mr. Fury, whoever the hell he was, could get away with it.

She smiled and let out a small laugh. “You seem more sure of yourself than yesterday…” she joked.

“You'll see my confidence soon enough, milady…”

His reply made her blush slightly and she replied coyly, “Milady? I like that...”

He felt the intense gaze of those blue eyes boring into him. He was starting to feel a bit unnerved, but he knew he had to get this job done right.

"How about we lie down?" His confident alter ego proposed, still holding the pillow in front of him like a shield. They both got on their sides, facing each other.

"Last night, it felt a bit hasty... don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every second of it, but I want to take my time today..." He gazed at her and for the first time, she noticed the bright emerald colour of his eyes. It was strange how close they were now, but she did not feel scared or anxious - rather, a strange calmness was overcoming her. After all, she wasn't Astrid Hofferson right then, she was Miss Stormfly…

"I don't mind dialing it back," she agreed, but she wasn't entirely sure what he meant.

"Um... I don't want to break any rules, milady, but I wish I could kiss you."

She giggled in response. "Rules? The only person who makes my rules is me. You can kiss me if you want," she said mischievously.

As he leaned in closer, her body trembled with anticipation. He was not actually kissing her, or was he?

He gently placed his hand over her mouth and she could smell sandalwood soap on him. After a brief moment of hesitation she understood what he wanted from her. She kissed his palm, and it sounded strangely similar to kissing his lips. She closed her eyes, not wanting to be distracted by looking at him. Two minutes later, he pulled away his hand and his eyes stayed fixed on her lips for a moment.

“Strip,” he ordered her and gestured for her to pretend like she was taking off her clothes. She moved her arms and legs around to make rustling noises with her attire.

“What about you, Mr. Fury? Aren’t you going to take your clothes off as well?”

A devious smile curved up his lips. “No, I won’t.”

“All right then… here is what I have for you tonight…”

Fortunately, his mind stayed away from the indecent and he was grateful; it kept him on course. He took a pillow and gently pressed it against her bosom. She got it...

"Oh, you want some tongue exercises with my party hats, Mr. Fury? Mmmm...I'm not saying no".

She glanced at him, biting her lip and taking a deep breath. She imagined this should have felt good, so she let out a subdued moan and then another one. It was strangely entertaining. Her face broke into a small smile, and his mirrored hers before settling back into seriousness. He looked solemn again, producing a few squishing sounds with his mouth. Part of her wanted to laugh while the other part found it curiously arousing...

He then slid the pillow away, silently indicating that it was time to put an end to the moaning.

"I have to say… you have quite a talent with your tongue," she said in a sultry tone, pleased that it hadn't sounded ridiculous.

He slowly started to slide down the pillow on her body while making kiss sounds with his lips.

"Just – kiss – wait – kiss – until – kiss – I – kiss – get – kiss – a – kiss – bit – kiss – lower – kiss…"

The pillow left her belly (which she instinctively sucked in, for no reason that she could think of…), and came to rest at her hips... She was sure her cheeks were as red as a beetroot, but luckily he was preoccupied with the positioning of the pillow and the room was dark anyway. Alright, this wasn't going to be easy, but… She took a deep breath and steeled herself. It was possible. She had to make it possible...

"Oh, my...," she sighed and grasped the pillow. Carefully, she wedged it between her legs.

He made those squelching noises again… and the room felt like it had suddenly become 20 degrees hotter. She bits her lips. She can do it, she must do it…

She gritted her teeth. She could do it, she must do it… And she did. Her voice rose from a whisper to a moan, as soft "oh my"-s and several "God bless you, Mr. Fury"-s flew out of her mouth. It should have been embarrassing, but somehow, with her eyes closed and concentrating on her performance, it wasn't. Finally, at the climax (or at least what felt like the climax), even a few little shrieks escaped her lips as her legs clenched around the pillow.

When she let go of the pillow and he removed it, only then did she feel brave enough to open her eyes. He lay on his back, a smirk on his face - as if he had done something really nice for her... She scrunched her nose at his smugness while lying down next to him. She made sure to pant a little.

"Okay, Mr. Fury, I can't be mad at you for that," she said.

He chuckled. "Yeah, it seemed like you were enjoying yourself..."

Unable to resist, she propped up on one elbow and punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he exclaimed.

"I hate arrogant men," she replied before leaning in close and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"And what did I get that for?"

She shrugged playfully. "I have to reward you for your skills - positive reinforcement."

“Now I feel like Pavlov's dog,” he stated, and his emerald green eyes locked onto hers.

“No surprise with all that drooling,” she replied in a pleased tone.

“Touche...” He had to admire her sharp wit.

“Mr. Fury, I think it is time for you to get what you desire. How can I help?” She waited expectantly as he shifted around before finally sitting up.

“Well, since you brought up Pavlov's dogs, it would only be fair if you were on your hands and knees…”

His words stunned him and he thought her face had frozen in shock for a moment. He may have gone too far. When she laughed, he was relieved.

“Mr. Fury, you are a bad, bad boy...”

He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “We all have our own little harmless kinks.

He pressed the pillow against her backside and let out a moan of pleasure. She melted into the sensation and closed her eyes, letting him move at whatever pace he wanted. Everything around them felt unreal, and the sounds she made seemed to come from another realm. No matter how strange or unfamiliar they sounded, she just kept making them.

He had no idea how he made it through without getting an erection; it was most likely because he focused on his motions and sounds instead of his natural urges. He was relieved to have faked his orgasm with no qualms or shame, since his fantasies couldn't replace true experience.

He took a deep breath and decided not to be anxious. He put the pillow down and put his hands back on her waist without asking for her forgiveness. After taking a few moments to rest, he collapsed onto the bed next to her.

"Thank you, milady," he whispered.

"No need to thank me," she replied in a hushed tone as they gazed into each other's eyes in silence for a few minutes, feeling an intense connection. Eventually, she shook her head, shifted over to the bedside table, grabbed the recorder and pressed stop. She was beaming when she turned back and looked at him.

"We did it partner!" she cheered, holding out her hand for a high five.

He smiled and slapped her palm; he couldn't help feel proud.

Chapter Text

He couldn't deny it; he was jealous of Mr. Fury. Miss Stormfly had a face as beautiful as an angel and a body like a Greek goddess, yet she was not shallow - other than the fact that she earned her money by selling herself, which seemed out of character. Eret had no more time to mope about eroding ideals or rising vanity, so he placed the glass down and focused on the young lad who was eyeing his shiny watch, likely counting down until the person of his dreams would appear.

“Ah, Mr. Fury!” he said with a forced joviality, hoping his apprehension was well veiled. “It is so nice to see you again! Can I get you something to drink? I believe whiskey is your poison, is it not?”

"Yes," he replied instantly. "Surprise me with something - I know I can trust your taste."

Yes, Mr. Fury sounded more composed today, almost self-assured, and Eret wondered if he had lost out in their cock-measuring contest or if he simply had a pleasant evening of sleep. The massive Mr. Savage didn't utter a single word about the Champagne Room when they closed the club in the wee hours of the morning. He rarely spoke up at all, not even to initiate any sort of conversation, so Eret didn't want to come across as interested. He had to be careful not to draw attention or cause any suspicions. He did his best to stay out of sight, particularly in regards to his boss and Lady Leather. They were both odd and daunting, even for someone like Eret who had experienced many things in life. Nevertheless, he was still obliged to keep his job - for now at least.

After deliberating for a moment, he poured a glass of Talisker for Mr. Fury, who shook his head when he offered him ice.

"Good choice, Eret, I like the taste of Skye on my tongue. Have you ever been there? It's not that far."

"No, unfortunately not. They say it's beautiful."

Mr. Fury tasted the dark golden liquor. "Well, they are not exaggerating..."

Eret frowned and bit his lower lip before he gave a piece of his mind to this new, puffed-up version of his auburn-haired companion. He had to remind himself that he was the customer.

"Speaking of beautiful things, are you planning on...?" Eret started, but he knew there was no need to finish the sentence.

"Yes. If it's okay with her."

"I can ask Miss Stormfly after her performance, but I must warn you, we don't encourage regular pairings here. For the safety of our ladies."

"Don't worry Eret, I mean no harm," stated the young lad and Eret had no other choice, but to believe him.

"They say Mala the Merciless is fun company too," he tried one last time and the ridiculous stripper name curved Mr. Fury's mouth into a smile.

"I bet she is, but I'd rather keep exploring the great unknown with Miss Stormfly. And as for your concerns regarding her safety, I'm only here to seal a business deal. In a few days, I'll be as good as gone, moving on. "

The plan went without a hitch. Sergeant Hofferson danced gracefully - and she might have given a faint smile to the wide-eyed admirer watching her every step. A little later, Constable Haddock asked for her, Eret negotiated for his commission fee, then escorted him through the guarded passageway and into the club's private room, where the door closed behind him once again. She was already there, standing by the dressing table with her "make-up bag" resting on its top.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Fury," she said brightly then stood up and raised her arms for a hug. Hiccup quickly walked up to her and pulled her to his chest. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear.

"I think we have a few minutes to look around before I start the tape," she whispered and she pushed him a little with the heel of her hands when he forgot to let go of her.

He stifled a whisper of agreement and pushed away the memory of her body against his. He glanced to the right, at the wall covered in floral wallpaper that had caught his eye the previous night. Bright red roses of different shapes and hues stretched up its length, but he paid no attention to them this time; instead, his gaze fell on the dark smudges on the floor beneath it. It was time to investigate.

Sergeant Hofferson set the lipstick-recorder down on the grand nightstand beside the bed. She tried to get his attention before activating it, but he seemed deep in thought, hunched over by the wall and inspecting the wooden floor board in front of him. Holding his left index finger an inch above the marks, he started following the outline. He peered closer at the footprints, noticing something odd about their direction. It looked as if someone had walked through the wall... He moved even closer and squinted his eyes until he spotted a thin line hidden among the floral pattern. His finger traced the line until he stood upright again.

Astrid cleared her throat to get his attention. When he looked back, she pointed to the recorder and he nodded in agreement. She pushed play and their voices filled the room. Despite how awkward it would’ve been to hear himself speaking, Constable Haddock was encapsulated by his findings, so he returned his gaze to the wall and continued tracing the line with his finger. Sergeant Hofferson took slow steps to get behind him, not comprehending why he found the loud wallpaper intriguing. His hand extended almost a foot above his head when he stopped.

"Open Sesame..." he whispered and he pressed a spot on the wall with two fingers. The hidden door opened with a small click and Astrid had to put her hand on her mouth to suppress a startled sigh. Hiccup reached up and lightly touched the small magnet that held the door shut, then turned to her with a proud grin on his face.

"Nice..." She whispered back and with a few hasty strides, she was at the dressing table, reaching for her fake make-up bag. She unzipped then walked back to him and gave him a pair of rubber gloves in condom wrappers. She tore hers with her teeth, which made his eyes blink and almost triggered a swallow.

"Quick, put them on," she rushed him, slipping on the gloves, "we don't have much time."

While he fiddled with the wrapper, she took out a torch, also disguised as lipstick, and opened the door wider. A silhouette of a semidark passage unraveled in front of their eyes.

"May I?" Without waiting for his permission, she entered. Finally, he managed to glove up and was ready to embark on the journey to the unknown.

The unknown turned out to be a corridor, with damp walls and faint smell of mold. It was roughly 30 yards long and at the end of it, the outlines of another door were visible. Sergeant Hofferson took a few steps and then something on the floor grabbed her attention. She handed the torch back to Hiccup, who took it from her and directed its light to the floor. She took out a Q-tip from her bag, bent her knees, leaned down, and swabbed the dark wet stain. She straightened herself and the light of the torch revealed a conspicuous red substance on the cotton bud.

"Blood?" he asked uncertainly.

"Could be. The lab guys will tell us," she shrugged and carefully placed the swab into a plastic container that looked like a tampon holder.

"Shall we check the door, Sergeant?"

She nodded in agreement and continued her way. There were quite a few stains on the floor, but they didn't have time for them now.

As they got closer, the outlines became sharper. Now they both saw that the door's top panel was made of glass and there was some source of light behind it.

A defeated "Oh, fuck" escaped her lips when she saw the padlock on the door. It wasn't particularly large nor sturdy, but a tug at it proved that it was too much to handle in that moment. For now, it seemed like the end of their journey.

She became distressed and lightly tapped her forehead against the door, causing the padlock to tinkle. He tenderly rested his hand on her shoulder in an effort to soothe her.

"Let's take a look inside while we are here," he whispered and directed the flashlight to the window pane.

The place appeared to be a storage room, with tall shelves filled with random items no one probably ever used, and the floor littered in what seemed like garbage. A dim light shone from a barred window slightly open near the roof which was about fifteen feet above them, so they were below the ground level.

Astrid felt discouraged as she heaved a sigh. "Fantastic - now we can prepare a report to Gobber about our successful mission of locating the rubbish pit of the club."

Hiccup let out some incomprehensible words as his mind wandered, like when he'd found the hidden entrance. Astrid's gaze shifted to his face, which was only a few inches away from hers, but instead of looking at her, he was intently studying the trashy room in front of him, as if he was hunting for something. The sergeant was about to tell him time was ticking away when Hiccup suddenly raised his finger and pointed at something inside.

“There!” Hiccup said in a soft voice, full of enthusiasm. Astrid turned to the window and squinted her eyes; Hiccup was pointing to an old bathtub located in the far left corner of the room. She couldn't understand why he was intrigued by it - it looked like any other worn-out tub, probably way older than she was.

"Hiccup, that's just an old bathtub, we really should..." Astrid tried but was quickly cut off.

"Just take a look at it," he urged her, "can you see the bottles next to it?"

"What are those?" She asked, looking at the throwaway bottles.

"Drain cleaners," he replied with a triumphant smile. She still didn't understand why these were of any importance. "These drain cleaners have high concentrations of sulfuric acid," he explained, "it can dissolve hair, fat and bones in a matter of days."

Their eyes met as he held the torch up.

"John Haigh..." she muttered, understanding what he meant. She had to admit he was smarter than she had initially given him credit for.

"Yep, the 'acid bath killer.' He used that same technique to dispose of his victims."

She gazed at him with admiration. "You are a genius..."

He was about to give her a timid response when she suddenly kissed his cheek. He was grateful that it was dimly lit, as he was sure his face had turned red.

"Um..." he began, unable to form an appropriate response.

Thankfully, before he could say anything else, she cut in. "Hiccup, we have to get inside. I'm sure that whatever is in the tub has all the proof we need for our case."

"Most likely," he agreed. "But we must hurry back; there is no time to waste."

She bit her lower lip, wanting to savor this unexpected twist in events, but her partner was right: they couldn't afford to rush into anything or make any careless errors.

"Alright, let's go back," she said, giving him a gentle nudge forward.

The next day was theirs to take off from their office duties, after the overtime they had been doing in the previous days. Both of them required some recovery time, especially with all that had gone on during the night-time; however, they agreed to meet up in a downtown park as early as lunchtime to figure out what their next move should be.

Hiccup had arrived before Astrid and brought Toothless, who was more than delighted to play fetch. As Astrid strolled down the path toward them, she spotted them in the open field against a backdrop of pink-blooming magnolia trees. She paused for a few moments to admire the scene: Hiccup tenderly scratching the mongrel's head each time he got back with the ball in his mouth. Adorable. As they shifted directions, Hiccup beheld Astrid; he waved at her with a wide arm, displaying an alluring grin, which she reciprocated before she walked towards them. She couldn't explain why, but simply being near him always made her feel warm.

"Toothless, sit," Hiccup ordered when they got to her and the dog complied, dropping the ball and sitting. "Thanks, bud, now you can meet her: this is Astrid, a friend of mine."

The black pup stood and slowly walked over to her. He sniffed the hand she was offering and finding her inviting smile pleasant, he allowed her to pet him.

"Hello there, Toothless. You look like a well-mannered doggy," said Astrid.

"That's only because he hasn't chewed your favorite footwear or eaten the book you were about to finish reading," Hiccup said with cheer in his voice, "I hope it's okay that I brought him along."

"It's absolutely fine; he's gorgeous," she replied sincerely.

“Shall we take a seat?” He motioned to a bench that was tucked away from the path and partially shaded by an old chestnut tree. Toothless took up a spot on the mossy ground near the bench, happily gnawing on his tennis ball as he kept watch over them.

“I looked at the window," he said without preamble, "it opens up to an alley at the back of the building but you can’t see anything from there even with the window open. We can’t get down because of the bars, they seem quite sturdy.”

"But the padlock... That won't be too hard to disable." She chewed her lip in thought. "I'm not really good with this kind of stuff, but maybe if we could find someone who knows how to alternate an electric nail drill kit, I could smuggle it in."

He beamed and laughed heartily.

"What's so funny?" She asked, feeling a little awkward.

"It's just that it seems like there is a girl gadget for everything," he said.

"But we're enjoying the perks, you dork." She playfully punched him on the shoulder to ease her discomfort.

"Well, I'm good at tinkering things together. My dad used to get mad at me for all my 'inventions', but guess who had the first smart home in Berk, complete with a robotic dog feeder? Until my dad's mastiff ate through the cover and finished his entire ration of food for the week."

"That's not the most inspiring endorsement," she shrugged with a smile, "but I'm sure you can handle it."

"Thanks, milady," he replied, his face lighting up into a crooked grin. The term of endearment caused Sergeant Hofferson to blush slightly, she remembered when he said it before.

"In any case, if we manage to get inside, how do we take a sample from the tub?" She asked, trying to hide her anticipation.

"If our assumptions are correct, the tub is filled with sludge - for lack of a better word."

"How should we go about collecting samples?"

"It's safe to use glass pipettes and containers. Glass will not react with sulfuric acid."

"Funny enough, serum bottles come with glass pipettes and containers. We ladies were born for detective work!" She declared joyously, making him giggle in response.

“We should stir the sludge for fragments of bone. We can use tweezers to pick them,” he said, a slight smirk on his face. “Yes, even I know about eyebrow grooming,” he joked.

"When shall we go to the gates of Hell? I'm free today and tomorrow. Since I'm not that popular, I don't have to work on weekends, which is great - there are fewer weirdos at gigs during the weekdays."

"I'm aware..." he said with more seriousness in his voice, still unsettled by the idea of her performing in front of all those people. "How about Monday? I heard the club is closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays."

"Monday works - I'm the second act."

"I have a hunch that Eret is a bit suspicious," he added with concern.

“Or just jealous," she replied, getting an inquisitive gaze from Hiccup. "He flirted with me and I refused him, telling him I was not that type of girl. But then came the tall, mysterious man with money in his hands..."

"Sorry if I bruised his ego.”

"You know what they say. Make a woman jealous by finding a younger and a man by finding a richer. He'll get over it," she stated confidently.

"I hope you're right and he's just feeling envious. He reminded me about the 'no regular pairings' rule."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was only here on business and leaving in a few days."

"Good. Then I'll let him know we agreed on one last Monday session - that doesn't sound too dubious, but..."

Right then her phone went off. "Oh, it's my 'work' phone," she said and pulled it out of her back pocket.

"Speaking of the devil..." she mumbled with a frown. "A text from Eret. Drago wants to see me in his office as soon as possible."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would he...?"

"I have no idea... we've never spoken before. When I was hired, Lady Leather talked to me while he just sat in the shadows of the corner, intensely examining me."

She seemed perturbed, which made him nervous. 'What does he look like?'

"Big. Very big."

"Mr. Savage big?"

"Even bigger - it's hard to fathom. Plus, there must be something wrong with his right arm; he didn't use it when signing my documents."

"Well, I'm left-handed..."

"Yes, I noticed that but it was different. It felt like he couldn't even use it; his coat was too big for me to tell if it was broken or something."

"I don't know Astrid... I have an eerie feeling about this. Don't you think you should skip the meeting?"

"And risk everything we have worked so hard for? Hiccup... we're close, just one more chance to get the evidence and we will be sorted out. Maybe it's just some small stuff such as organizing my working hours or sorting out payments."

"There's nothing I can say that will make you change your mind?" He tried, but he knew she was persistent.

"No, it’s too important. I'd never forgive myself if I gave up now," she said, making a valid point.

"I don't like the idea of you going alone into that place. It has a bad vibe."

"True," came her reply, "but..."

Hiccup cut her interruption off with a word. "You are so stubborn."

"Guilty as charged," she said, obviously not ashamed of this quality, "But it's not always a bad thing."

"I know, I'm just... I'm worried about you," he said softly. 

"That's nice of you," she thanked him and put her hand gently on his arm.

"That's what partners do," he mused while taking a good look at her hand on his arm.

"I'll give you a ring when I'm done," she promised. "All right." Rising from the bench, she added "I have to go now."

"Please call me," he emphasized.

"I will. But I can take care of myself. See you soon, Constable Haddock."

He stared off after her until he felt the comforting warmth from Toothless's tongue lapping at his hand.

He was anxious until after three interminable hours he received a text from her.

"Can you come to my place?" it read.

"On my way." He jumped into the car and drove off as fast as he could.

When he arrived at her place, the sun had already started to set. She was waiting outside when his car pulled up and Stormfly vanished into the shadows before she could stop her. She didn't seem to mind.

"Thanks for coming," she murmured, ushering him inside. His apprehension was palpable, but he followed along behind her obediently as she made her way to the living room and stopped in front of the couch.

"So... I need help with something," she said emotionlessly and her flat delivery chilled him.

“Ask me anything,” he offered and meant it. He wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it took for her. Taking an extra step toward her, he reached for her hands, they felt cold.

“They want me...” she began, but then hesitated when her voice trembled. “They want me to take off my bra… I've tried to buy some time, but they gave me an ultimatum: either dance half-naked next time or there won't be a next time.”

Rage bubbled within him as he replied, “I hope you just quit.”

She pulled away from him and averted her gaze.

“I couldn't quit," she confessed. "We're so close. We have to give our theory a chance. I just got the news from the lab about the positive blood test sample..”

He inhaled deeply before trying to reason with her. “But no one expects you to do it. I'm sure Gobber wouldn't let you…”

"I don't want him to know about it - not yet anyway."

“So you have already made up your mind to do it?” he repeated.

"Yes," she replied confidently, gazing into his eyes.

"What can I do for you?" He asked reluctantly a long moment later.

"I know this is awkward," she began, "but... the thing is, I've never undressed before strangers and I'm not completely sure I can do it... I realize we're not really strangers, but... in a manner of speaking, we are."

He didn't say anything; he was too stunned to respond, so she continued. "Will you watch me go through my act? It will only take a few minutes, but I need to be totally certain that I am able to perform it."

He took an extended breath before posing his question. "You mean... now?"

Chapter Text

He wasn't in charge of the situation, he was just a confused spectator as he stood, curiously watching as the slender blonde whirlwind rearranged the living room around him. Without waiting for him to offer help, she grunted when she pushed the couch back, then took out a small coffee table and two ottomans, replacing them with a chair from the dining table. Panting from excitement and haste, she led him by the hand to the newly-positioned chair and gently nudged his shoulder to make him sit down.

She dashed out once more, and he could hear the commotion of her rummaging through drawers. Hiccup remained seated on his designed place, with a straight back and a nervous stomach, patiently waiting to be assigned a role in the ensuing chaos. She returned triumphantly, holding up two devices - one of them turned out to be a speaker, which she placed on a bookshelf, while she put the other down on the floor before going over to the windows and drawing the curtains closed. The room was half-dark now, and she went back to the object she left on the floor, crouched down, and pushed a button on its top. It turned out to be a night light, which painted the walls and the furniture around them with bright groups of stars, faintly reminding Hiccup of long and fearsome nights from his childhood.

A hint of a smile softened her face. "I just wanted to set the atmosphere, I'll be back in a second."

She was out again, she strode swiftly up the stairs towards her bedroom, clearly on a mission, not caring about the bewildered young man sitting on a chair in a dim room overflown with imprecise galaxies.

Astrid entered the room with a pair of high heels and a shimmery bikini, prompting Hiccup to gulp audibly. She tossed a black shirt on the floor, then walked to the curtained windows, turning away from him, showing her impossibly long legs and curvy bum. She fumbled with her phone, before leaning down, and sliding it towards the corner of the room.

Strong beats filled the room when an unfamiliar song started to play. She moved her right foot to the rhythm, and her hips swayed in synchronization with the tune, captivating the attention of the young man watching her intently.

Day one, told you I had a past.
You fell in love, you fell in love.
Boy, you fell so fast...

Sang the powerful female voice, as Astrid spun around, her body twisting and turning, her chest thrusting forward to show her cleavage. She slid her thumbs under the straps of her bra, playing with them cheekily. He was never more intimidated by anything in his life, and it felt ridiculous, and he feared how he might react to what she was about to do. He stubbornly kept looking into her eyes, and her eyes only, the one place that felt safe for his gaze. She moved closer with each hip sway, but since he was still holding her gaze, he was barely aware of her quick motion as she removed her bikini top, laying her palms on her chest afterwards.

Don't dance with the devil, if you can't take the heat.

Continued the singer and he was sure that he couldn't take any more heat, as he grasped the edges of his chair with damp fingers while she moved towards him again, beaming a radiant and encouraging smile at him.

"Hey... my boobs are down here..."

He felt woozy. The pictures that unfolded in front of his eyes mesmerized him. Astrid in mid-dance, Astrid half-naked, Astrid kneeling in front of his chair, resting her warm hands on his almost shivering thighs, proudly and exhaustedly panting after putting on a jaw-dropping show. At that moment all he could think about was leaning forward and kissing her beckoning lips that were so close yet still beyond reach. He wished he could be the kind of man who could take such action, but he wasn't, and she didn't move any closer to encourage him to be the one, so he remained glued to his chair.

The intimate moment they shared was ruined by the chime of her phone, lying forgotten in the far corner of the room. She nonchalantly raised herself, went to grab the shirt, and pulled it over her head, concealing her nakedness much to his disappointment. All he could think about was how beauty had just proven to be a lot more than a mere incomprehensible idea, it was a real thing, and it was called Sergeant Astrid Hofferson.

"Eret," she announced hesitantly, chewing on her lips, "he wants to know if I'm expecting my beau tonight."

She pecked out a reply on the keyboard, before changing her mind and typing a curt answer. “I just wrote 'IDK' - I think that's what an ambivalent dancer would say to a prying bartender."

He took a deep breath and rose to his feet, and massaged his eyes with his fingers, concern in growing him as he realized what she was about to say.

He spoke softly, "You want me to stay away from the club tonight." His tone gave away his true feelings. She could sense that her unsaid proposition had bothered him deeply.

She responded with a quiet nod. He moved closer to her and lifted her chin with a feather-light finger, making her blues meet his greens.

"Don't worry, I won't risk our mission that you worked so hard for," he said, gently removing his finger, "Besides, my guts tell me that something is there."

"Mine too," she agreed.

"And we will find it. Just not tonight."

"Thursday," she whispered hopefully.

"Thursday," he reiterated with a reassuring smile, "just promise me one thing..."

She reached up and embraced him, pressing her slender body to his. "I'll call you as soon as I can," she murmured.

He melted into her.

Returning home, Toothless greeted him with fervent enthusiasm. His tail wagged back and forth, and he let out a few determined barks to signal that it was time to feed him. Hiccup was glad to have a task at hand, as he knew the next four or five hours would be excruciatingly long. She was due on stage at ten o'clock, so an eleven o'clock call time seemed somewhat comforting to him; even midnight was tolerable. Anything beyond that was too distressing for him to contemplate right now.

He opened the fridge to collect some leftover rice and placed it in the microwave to warm while he scavenged a can of chicken and cod from a cupboard. He spooned them into the dog bowl and Toothless was as ecstatic as always, greedily gorging himself on his dinner as if he had never had a bite of food in his life.

It was still early, only nine when the pup finished his meal and Hiccup wanted to keep himself occupied, so he went for the box he kept the portable nail drill turned saw. It was working perfectly, but having nothing better to do, he started to cut through the padlocks he had bought for practice.

Hiccup thought of Eret. Astrid was right; there was something very unsettling about him, and it wasn't that Hiccup was jealous of him. Maybe on the first night, for very a short time, but it soon became crystal clear that Astrid had her reservations about him and she was trying to keep a distance. Eret was... his appearance was spot-on. The peculiar chin tattoos, the muscular stature, and the polite yet cold way he spoke to Hiccup every time they met ticked all the boxes on the shady nightclub bartenders' list. Yet there was something about him that made him more than he was supposed to be. Something was off about him, but Hiccup couldn't put his finger on it.

He quickly checked his phone—it was close to ten, which meant she was about to go on stage. He tried not to think about the company. He tried his hardest not to imagine the people surrounding her; the creeps that were looking at her now, probably fondling themselves under the tables, demanding more flesh and less modesty with their filthy mouths. It was nauseating. He ruined the last padlock he had, the drill still worked perfectly, so he carefully put it back in its designated box. He slouched back in the chair and anxiously started to tap his fingers on the table. Toothless observed him with intrigue. It was maddening how slow the minutes were passing. He spotted his sweatpants slung over the back of another chair. Running could work. It was late, but he hadn't been out with Toothless, and the nearby park with the well-lit running trail was inviting. He knew it took him roughly 35 minutes to run the track on average, 31 at his damnedest, so it sounded like a plan. Without hesitation, he changed into his running clothes and shoes before heading out. A scent of rain lingered in the air outside; nevertheless, this didn’t stop him or Toothless who happily trotted along beside him.

Before leaving, he made sure his phone was charged and on maximum volume. After the first couple hundred yards, he felt better - at least the fog in his brain seemed to clear up a bit while he gulped in the fresh air. Toothless followed him as a dark shadow, not needing to perform his best to keep up with his owner. In the final minutes of their workout, huge drops of rain started to fall on them. It was refreshing, but Hiccup worried it might turn into hail or worse, so he shifted into a slightly higher gear worrying about his phone. The drops quickened when he turned the corner leading to his townhouse, and there, on the steps leading to his door, he saw a frail figure sitting in a polka-dotted raincoat, with a hunched back, head hanging between knees.

“Astrid?” he heaved, not having enough time to calm the erratic breathing caused by his late-night exercise.

The polka-dotted figure emerged slowly and approached him with uncertain footsteps. When she stopped in front of him, a large drop of rain ran down her small nose. She rose on her toes and brought her head close to his ear. “I couldn’t do it...” she whispered in defeat, and he enveloped her in strong and secure arms as he felt her shaking from unshed tears of disappointment.

She was on his couch, wearing his loaned sweatpants and T-shirt and clutching a mug of hot chocolate he'd insisted she have. The tumbler dryer hummed in the background as it dried their wet clothes. He had made her take a hot shower before anything else-he had to put his foot down about that. She was uncharacteristically quiet, tightly gripping the steamy drink in one hand and petting Toothless's head that laid itself in her lap with the other. He walked to his bedroom and grabbed a blanket for her as she still looked chilled. He needed to remind himself again that he must tell her she hadn't failed – not him, not their mission.

"You don't need to baby me," she grunted when he returned with the blanket draped over his arm.

'I'm not babying anyone." He shooed the pooch away and sat down next to her. "I'm just being practical. We were drenched and I don't know about you, but I despise the taste of medicine."

"Even the kind that tastes like fake bananas?" she asked with a faint giggle.

He rolled his eyes then removed the mug from her hands and placed it on the coffee table. She tried to protest, but he covered her with the blanket and then handed back the mug.

"Drink this before it gets cold," he ordered sternly.

"Yes sir..." she said mockingly, while taking a sip of the liquid. To her surprise, it did help.

"So, again... not dancing half-naked in front of a bunch of weirdos isn't considered 'failing'. In fact, I'm glad you didn't do it - nobody should have to."

She took a moment to respond. "I get it, I do... this just feels like losing a war."

"Not a war, just a battle. Not even a battle, it was a stupidly risky plan, and I can't believe I let you..."

She cut him with a sharp look.

"Okay, I know you don't need my permission, but still..."

Exhaling loudly, she finally softened. "Thank you for caring, Hiccup," she said kindly as their eyes met. Before he could react, she leaned closer and planted the slightest kiss on his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth behind her lips.

"No problem," he muttered.

“But,” she went on as if nothing had happened, “we still need to find a way inside.“

"Right."

"I mean... I had a plan B."

“You did, didn't you?” He chuckled, and it seemed her nerve was returning.

“I thought it would be useful to know the code Eret uses for the door. So I distracted him at the entrance a couple of days back..."

He couldn’t help but laugh at her confidence that had returned. “Please don't tell me you you flashed your chest at him too!”

She smacked his arm and he winced. “Ouch - alright, you got me,” he said as he rubbed his arm where her knuckles had made an impression.

"All I did was pinch his butt and then I saw him enter the code: 167887. I hope he hasn't changed it since then. He didn't seem to notice me watching over his shoulder - he looked kind of embarrassed.”

“No kidding,” he agreed.

Her gaze was intense as she tried to think of a response, but the effort ended in a muffled yawn.

"Guess it's getting late," he said looking towards the clock on the wall, he said. "You can sleep in my bed - I'm fine with the couch. Getting up to an overly excited pup panting in my face," he added with a laugh.

She sighed and shook her head. "No, I should get home to my own drooly pet. I'll take an Uber."

He watched from the door as she left in a black Vauxhall still wearing his clothes. After returning inside, he settled into the couch and grabbed the blanket that had been draped over Astrid. It still radiated with her warmth.

Hiccup arrived at the meeting corner with ten minutes to spare before midnight, dressed in all black attire – cargo pants, a turtleneck, a jacket and workboots. A gym bag filled with gadgets for their mission hung from his shoulder. He felt absurd, his attire and the time of night on the misty street were indicative of a break-in. And that is exactly what they were about to do. When Astrid showed up a few minutes later, she wore similar clothing – almost the same as Hiccup's – and had her hair tied tightly on top of her head. She whispered a faint hello and they silently crept through the darkness to the dark side-door of the strip club, arriving 15 minutes later. Astrid looked nervously at the keypad lock on the door.

She whispered a prayer and began pressing the numbers with her gloved hand, hoping they could hear the familiar click of the lock opening. They had debated obtaining a search warrant earlier, but it would have taken too long or could have been rejected. Drago Bludvist was notorious for his connections and his ability to cover up any evidence of his illicit dealings. If they had waited for a warrant, he would have surely destroyed anything incriminating in the locked room. No, they had to act now if they wanted to succeed in their mission.

With a click, the door opened. The two of them relaxed as they stepped through. Sergeant Hofferson slowly shut the entrance behind them, while Constable Haddock pulled a flashlight from one of his pant pockets.

Chapter Text

Constable Haddock let go of the gymbag and straightened himself immediately when he heard the strong, unfamiliar voice. The doorway was filled with the biggest man he had ever seen in his life, in the barely lit room, he felt like a shadow of death, coming for them at an ungodly hour. Suddenly, the Moon appeared at the window above them and it gave the trash room a silver colour, and now it was easier for the young officer to  examine the unknown person in front of him. He had long thick hair in dreadlocks, his equally thick beard was braided and fashioned with gold rings, and he wore a coat covering his right side completely. In his left hand, he held something, and Hiccup recognized a bullhook, but it was much larger and thicker, then Hiccup had ever seen, too big for a bull or even for an elephant.

When the monstrous figure advanced, Hiccup instinctively leapt in front of Astrid like a lion protecting its cub. His hands quivered with rage as he heard the man's thundering voice echo around them.

"I said, who the fuck you are," bellowed the man, and Hiccup saw Eret standing behind him. For an instant their gazes locked and Hiccup noticed a flicker of fear and warning in Eret's expression before he quickly looked away. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins as his body prepared for impending danger.

Astrid didn't move, so Hiccup stayed still, too. They both looked at the giant, who seemed to be angrier by the second. The beam of the Moon reflected on the sharp and pointy blade of the bullhook when he raised it and slammed it to the ground with alarming force. The sound of the slam echoed through the room and the passage leading up to the room, hurting Hiccup's ear.

"I strongly advice you to take your masks off first," he then said in a somewhat quieter manner, but still sounding irritated. Hiccup stayed still, but turned his face back to Astrid. Her eyes were wide, either with fear or rather with the embarrassment of getting caught. A hard moment later, she stepped out from behind him, and took off her mask, dropping it on the floor. He quickly did the same, turning back to the intimidating man whose brow was pushed down into a single line across his forehead.

"Miss Stormfly? Or I assume, it was just a cover. Very clever, indeed, it's been a while since someone managed to fool me," he stated coldly, then he stepped closer to her and she needed to take a wobbly step back. "Now, it's time to tell me who you really are."

Hiccup glanced at Astrid, debating whether he should step in or remain silent. She stood tall in the face of the large man's scrutiny and said nothing. Eventually, the man gave up and turned his attention to Hiccup.

"Maybe you can help me out, son..." he began, but Hiccup was just as determined as Astrid to keep his cool.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as if he'd reached a breaking point. Hiccup felt its heat and it made the hairs on his arms stand up. He moved away from them, slowly stepping back to where Eret stood. Then, turning around, he gazed upon the paralysed couple.

"Eret?" he finally muttered without looking in his direction.

"Yes, Mr. Bludvist?" the tattooed bartender replied with a hint of trepidation.

"Do you recognize this man?" The hefty brute pointed at Hiccup with the sharp tip of the bullhook and he felt a drop of sweat trickle down his spine making him feel both ticklish and uneasy.

"He is a patron of the bar. Introduced himself as Mr. Nigel Fury," Eret relayed with hesitation. He considered elaborating further but decided against it. "He went to the Champagne Room with Miss Stormfly. Twice."

Bludvist curiously turned to Eret now. 

"Is that so? What do you think they were up to?" he asked with a suspicious lilt.

"Savage heard them being... affectionate," he stated, "I assumed it was just regular business going on..."

"Foolish assumptions robbed me of half my life," he bellowed, his body quaking with fury.

A grim silence set in the room, but just then, the sound of footsteps could be heard and a slender brunette approached from the darkness, wearing a tight black leather jumpsuit and heavy makeup. 

Constable Haddock had no difficulty in identifying the mysterious woman, although he had never seen her before. She was alluring in her fitted clothing and long brown hair cascading down her back, yet a sense of fearfulness seemed to surround her much like it did Drago.

"Do we actually care who they are?" she asked innocently, glancing up at the brute with a gentle yet inquisitive look. Her expression spoke of love, of understanding and connection. Hiccup found all this quite disconcerting; they were such an unlikely, ungodly match.

Drago paused before he answered her, and Hiccup tried to decipher Astrid's face, looking for any hidden plan or agenda. Unfortunately, all he could read in her eyes was fear and concern - which indicated that the odds were heavily stacked against them. 

"Listen, sweetheart," the brute said to Heather in a softer voice, "I thought we had put an end to the past; we've completed the chapter, closed the book, and thrown it away completely. I'm not pleased that I have to deal with this irritating pair of driftwood."

"Hey!" Astrid exclaimed sharply, not liking being called driftwood, and all eyes turned to her.

"Something you would like to say?" thundered Bludvist, all gentleness disappearing from his tone, but Astid obstinately shook her head without uttering another sound.

Heather dug into the back pocket of her jumpsuit and pulled out a box of matches, which created an ear-splitting rattle in the stillness of the room when she shook it. Hiccup was confused by this odd behaviour, yet when Heather returned the box to her pocket, he noticed Eret's jaw clench while Drago seemed deep in contemplation.

"Heather, my dear," he resumed speaking shortly after, "You are correct. I'm finished with this game. It's time for me to establish some new regulations, I'm afraid..."

He edged nearer to Sergeant Hofferson and Hiccup was again overcome with the urge to protect Astrid. He moved in front of her, blocking her from Drago. Knowing that she wouldn't be impressed by his gallant attempt at being heroic, he nevertheless found himself unable to control this primal instinct inside of him to guard what he held dear.

The brute gave a loud, sinister laugh. "What a gentleman you are, son," he said, speaking directly into Hiccup's face. "And people say chivalry is dead these days - well, let it die today."

He dropped the bullhook on the floor, and then, in an instant, seized Hiccup’s jacket and violently tugged him away from Astrid, before swiftly shoving her chest. Her surprised groan and the clattering of the trash behind them told Hiccup that she had stumbled and tumbled onto the ground. He stood bent over, hands on his knees, panting as fear engulfed him. He swivelled to check if she was alright. She appeared to be fine, sitting among a pile of cardboard boxes and empty containers, flinging and kicking away the junk while muttering what sounded like angry expletives under her breath. Relieved to see that she wasn't hurt, he almost had time to send her a reassuring wink while he straightened himself, but before he could, Drago displayed impressive skill as he kicked the bullhook up from the ground, catching it easily in his hand.

In an instant, the monster stepped forward and struck the young man. He hit him hard in the lower part of his left leg resulting in a loud crack. Hiccup dropped to the floor with a strangled cry as Astrid screamed in distress. Unmoved, the giant raised his bullhook and landed another blow in almost the same spot, causing Hiccup’s tibia to break into pieces. The pain was so excruciating that he couldn't even scream; it felt like his throat had closed up. Through blurry vision, he saw Astrid crawl over to protect him, just like he had done for her earlier. His head hit the ground as he faded away, barely registering her angry shouts at Drago or his cruel laughter in response.

Drago sneered at Astrid, "Quit yapping, you ugly little dumpling. Now I've got zero interest in who you are—or rather, who you were."

Hiccup was relieved that the hulking creature seemed to have no intention of causing Astrid harm, as he could no longer guard her. He lay still on the cold floor, feeling only a faint comfort from its chill as his body burned up with the lingering pain. He attempted to keep his eyes open, but it was getting harder and harder by each passing second. 

"I'll be damned if someone takes away what's dearest to me again!" Drago shouted. 

Hiccup was almost amused. Drago was likely about to kill them, yet still decided to declare his love for someone in the room. For a moment, he felt the pain not in his leg, but in his heart. He wanted so badly to tell Astrid how much she meant to him before it was too late. He opened his mouth and tried to speak from behind her, but all that came out was a quiet mumbling that nobody could hear.

"Follow me, my dear," Drago thundered now, and casually walked up to Heather, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. Heather locked gazes with him, lifted her hand and affectionately touched the big man's revolting face, before turning away from him. 

The brunette paused, glancing at the scared pair a few yards away from her. Then, she reached into her back pocket again and this time she produced a small metallic container. Astrid tensely edged closer to Hiccup, who felt her shaking hand on his waist; she was desperately trying to comfort him (or herself) by softly stroking his side.

Heather flipped the small container and emptied a pungent liquid over the cardboards and old newspapers. Astrid didn't need long to piece together her plan, she was on her feet on a blink of an eye, trying to stop the brunette, but Drago had anticipated this, so before she could do anything, he lunged forward and seized her by her clothes. He carried her a few steps into the rear of the room then tossed her away. Hiccup heard the clanging noises, followed by Astrid’s cries of pain, likely from having been flung into a metal shelf.

Astrid's moans were cut off by the metallic clang of the container coming to rest on the ground. Heather produced the box of matches from her back pocket again, and struck one on the side, allowing it ignite before dropping it onto the floor. Hiccup watched as flames leapt into existence, accompanied by Drago and Heather's hasty retreat. For reasons unknown, Eret remained, terror written plainly across his face in the glow of the fire.

Astrid's hand grabbed him, trying to move him away from the heat of the fire to the back of the room in a heroic effort. She kept murmuring, "I'm sorry," in an attempt to ease whatever pain she must have caused to him. But, strangely enough, he didn't feel much at all - as if his body was already in a state of becoming a ghost - not yet dead, but soon to be.

Eret made frantic movements with his hands behind the fire, and he repeatedly invoked Astrid's name. "Why does he know her name?" Hiccup thought and annoyance welled up inside him, because the words that the bartender said didn't make any sense to him - he wondered if this might have something to do with the strange dizziness that was coursing through his brain... What was plain and clear to him was that Eret intended to save Astrid from certain death, and her safety was the only thing that mattered to Hiccup. So he hoped and preyed she'd listen to Eret.

Astrid hand seemed to freeze on him, and Hiccup could have sworn he heard her mutter something like "What the fuck?", before she started shouting some incomprehensible gibberish to Eret.

"Nei, ég fer ekki frá honum," she told the bartender loudly in a strange voice the young constable had never heard before. The thought of ghost Hiccup not being able to understand living Astrid saddened him for a moment. He opened his mouth to encourage her to go, but instead of a simple "I want you to leave..." all he could manage was a stammering "I want you... I want you...".

Eret's hurried paces echoed in his ears, but Astrid stayed by his side. He wasn't happy about it.

He felt her carefully crawl to his front, then quick hands gently explored his chest, searching for his heart, he hoped. He desperately wanted to express what he was feeling before they could no longer understand each other, but again, all that came out of his mouth were broken pieces of sentences, "I... you... I... you…," while the word 'love' sat on the tip of his tongue, and refused to be born.

She cooed softly in an effort to soothe him, then pulled something out from his pocket - not his heart, but something much more common: his phone. He felt a warm hand envelop his cold one and she held it tightly as she guided his index finger to unlock the screen. He was certain that she couldn't find anyone who could rescue them from the scorching inferno, unless she had an exclusive line to the King of Heaven. But sadly, he was sure she didn't.

Somewhere in the background faint beeping could be heard, growing increasingly loud before eventually fading away. He understood that she had attempted to send a distress signal to Berk Police using an app on his phone, but it failed due to their depth belowground and lack of reception. She furiously shook the phone, as if her angry response might make a difference, but the beeps quieted down once more.

A single gunshot followed by a second rang out in the distance and he heard her curse. He desperately wanted to shout for her to save herself and flee, it seemed very urgent now. To his relief, he felt her standing up, leaving him alone surrounded by flames and bullets; despite the agony that kept him immobile, he was grateful she was willing to escape. There were the quick stomps of her feet and then the noise of metal clanging together. As she scrambled up the tall steel shelves, racing towards the window, he felt a wave of relief. 

The metallic noises grew louder and he could hear her low grunts as she tried to lift herself up to the window. He remembered it was barred, but hoped somehow she had been able to climb out. He felt lonely and empty without her, but it seemed selfish, so he tried to focus on the sounds of the crackling fire in front of him. It reminded him of cold nights when he fell asleep in front of the fireplace listening to his father talking with Gobber about old adventures in the background. As he drifted further away from reality, everything around him became blackness and time and place suddenly ceased existing.

Then who knows when and where, there was a huge rumble and he felt the earth was shaking underneath him, ready to swallow him up.

Finally, everything stopped and the world around him came to a halt.