Chapter 20: Blood Stains
A dark blue rug, with golden yellow markings. Awkwardly placed just inside the door of a one room apartment, in a rundown apartment complex. Over a dark brown blood stain on the off white carpet. Well, the carpet was closer to brown. But ten or fifteen years ago, when it had first been installed, it had probably been whitish.
Whitish. Was that a word? Never mind that most people didn't seem to care what words or real, and which just worked for the moment.
English was such an annoying language. So many gaps. So many things that couldn't be described. That should have been given names, but hadn't. Even when they existed in other languages.
Only one word for snow.
Eskimos had 20. Or 50. Or something like that. Different words for snow on the ground, falling snow, drifting snow.
Jack had learned them. Years ago. In the manor. He couldn't remember them, though.
That was annoying.
He had known them.
Hadn't he?
...he was pretty sure he had.
No. He hadn't.
He had tried to.
Sitting on his bed in Pitchiner Manor. He'd had his laptop on. Bored, because he was on restriction. Again. So he had decided to look up the Eskimo words for snow. Before he could do more than skim the first few Google results, Emily Jane had come in and demanded... something. She was always demanding things. A trait she had gotten from her father.
Demanding he go somewhere with her. Demanding he help her with something. Jack had learned to go with it. Especially since she had a really annoying habit of pulling his ear when he didn't.
Now she was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar, international cosmetics company. To the surprise of… absolutely no one.
Emily Jane Pitchiner.
Sera-Whatever-She-Called-Herself-Now.
That was why the carpet had been stained in the first place.
Pitchiner had always been abusive emotionally, and mentally. But that abuse hadn't always been physical. Not until his carefully constructed empire had started falling apart.
Not until Jack had started failing because of a few children running around in costumes.
"They do have a dragon" had just gotten him another blow to his jaw. So hard his lip had split, and his neck had hurt for days afterward.
Sera Jane—
…No.
Emily Jane.
Emily Jane had been the one to help treat his cuts and bruises. Her father never touched her, of course. She was his precious daughter, no matter what she did. (And she did plenty.)
But she had decided to leave.
If he was honest, he couldn't blame her. Not really.
"Whatever my father is trying to turn himself into, I'm not staying here to find out what it is," she had said one night, while spreading ointment over the bruises on his left forearm. Bruises in the shape of a long fingered hand. "You should do the same."
"And go where?"
Emily Jane hadn't even had her own plan at that time, so she hadn't had an answer for him. Her lips, painted bright red, had pursed as she finished tending the bruise. She had left his room a few minutes later without saying another word.
Once the door closed behind her, Jack had flexed his hand. Testing the range of motion. What movements hurt. Which didn't. (Not many.)
He had hoped that would be the last time she talked about leaving. Not because he blamed her for wanting to leave. But because she was all he had at that point. She could be annoying - almost cruel at times - but she was still the closest thing he had to a friend. (Pathetic. That was pathetic.)
He had collapsed inside the door, because she left. Because...
No. He was skipping something. Missing something. The connection between Emily and Eret.
Talk about a culture shock.
It seemed impossible for there to be any connection, since they were so different.
But she had left. Demanded Jack's help, the same day he had helped Eret.
The same day Drago had attacked the city.
Or, one of the times.
One of many times.
The man didn't give up.
What was that saying about the definition of insanity? Drago seemed to have missed the memo. But the man obviously had a few screws loose.
As dragons had swarmed through the city, Pitchiner had sent him out. Given him a list of things to do. Take advantage of the chaos to achieve Pitchiner's ends. Nothing new.
"At least I have insurance on the tower," he had muttered, tossing back a glass of red wine as he watched the news footage. (Later, Jack was sent to wreck the almost untouched Obsidian Tower, to be sure said insurance had to shell out a small fortune.)
But before he could leave, on his way to change into the stupid black skintights, Emily Jane had grabbed his wrist, and demanded he help her leave.
"Now? Emily, he's already furious about this attack! It messes up his schedule for months!"
"But he's distracted. If I leave now, he won't notice I'm gone for hours. Maybe even days. It will give me time to get away."
"What makes you think I can get you out?" It had been stupid. But no one had ever accused him of being especially smart.
The look she gave him made it clear she knew he was hedging. "Don't act like you haven't been sneaking out for years."
Emily Jane Pitchiner always got what she wanted.
He had told her how to get out of the mansion, and off the property, before running to follow his orders.
He was supposed to keep moving. To make sure he got everything done. Kozmotis Pitchiner already had a list of reasons to be livid for the next few days. Jack had no intention of making it worse. So he kept moving. Ignored the golden glow that called to him in a way he couldn't for thr life of him begin to understand, let alone explain. Ignored the sounds of the dragon's plasma blasts. Avoided the Big 4 as best he could. They all had enough to do. A fight with him would just make all their lives worse.
Night Fury had seen him at one point. The dragon had hovered in the air, while the rider had looked at Jack, who stood on the edge of one of the skyscrapers. Even with his face hidden, Jack knew he was calculating. Trying to decide if going after him would be worth it, or if he should get back to the larger fight.
He had chosen the greater threat. Though the dragon had growled, giving Jack one last glare as they flew away.
But Jack had watched from the shadows as one of Drago's men saved the red head. Hadn't let Drago's men kill her. Had shoved her out of the way, shielding her with his broad shoulders, and getting a few more scars out of the deal. Though he seemed as confused as everyone else in the alleyway. (Jack had been debating if he should do it, when he heard Drago scream "kill her!" This saved him getting in trouble with Pitchiner, in case the news cameras caught it.)
Braveheart/Merida had high tailed herself out as soon as she saw an opening. (The only time Jack would ever see her acknowledge that she couldn't handle a fight on her own. Or at least, he thought that was why she left so fast. But it was so out of character for her... maybe there had been more to it. Not that it really mattered.)
She had left. Not seeming to realize that the men who had been about to kill her now turned on the one who had saved her. Again, on Drago's orders.
Jack had stepped in without thinking. Even though he knew it was a risk. Knew Pitchiner would be furious if he found out. But the street was frosted over, Drago's men either running, or unconscious on the ground, before Jack could even try to stop himself.
Eret (he would learn later that the man's name was Eret) had stared at him. "Why-"
"Just go!"
On the same night, he had gotten Emily Jane away from her father, and Eret away from Drago. Not a bad night of hero work, especially considering he had still technically been a villain at the time.
And he had still gone back to Pitchiner Manor.
How stupid could he get?
He stumbled on Eret again by accident, a few months later.
Rather, he'd seen Braveheart outside Gobber's shop. (Seriously, how was it possible half Burgess University hadn't figured it out just from the hair?) He hadn't known it was her, obviously. But the hair had caught his attention, and he had slipped into the shadows in case it was her.
Sure enough.
That was how he overheard Eret asking the redhead how long she would insist on hanging around as if she were his probation officer. When she would accept that he wasn't going to betray them.
"I'm just trying to live my life. I'm done being involved with dragons and vigilantes." (Well, something had definitely changed since then.)
Merida had glowered at him, before storming off. With muttered threats Jack hadn't been able to catch.
Jack couldn't explain why he had thought it would be a good idea to reveal himself to Eret. Maybe he had just been desperate for a friend. Maybe it was fate. He didn't know.
But he had.
Eret was reluctant, since Merida would think their friendship was him betraying the Big 4. Merida's opinion he might have been ambivalent to at the time, but he had respect for Hiccup. But they had still become friends. (Sometimes Jack wondered if the two would be together already if it hadn't been for the few weeks when Merida refused to speak to Eret. But he still couldn't figure out what the heck their relationship was now, so he have no clue.)
It was the first time Jack had had a friend. Someone to just hang out with on the few days Pitchiner granted him free time. It was probably the only reason he had survived those last few months. Once Pitchiner turned himself to Pitch Black. And the Nightmare King name had become literal. And Jack had learned what it felt like to have Nightmares crawling around in his head. Forced to relive his worst memories. To live out his worst fears.
Living in Pitchiner Manor had never been a walk in the park for him. But living with Pitch Black had been… well, a nightmare.
That last fight against the Big 4. That last night working for Pitchiner.
Bleeding, barely conscious, barely able to breathe from all the ribs that had cracked under Pitch's fists, he had found himself at the door of Eret's apartment.
He'd had nowhere else to go.
So he had knocked on the door. Stumbled through when Eret opened it. But only made it a few feet in before falling. Coughing blood onto the off whitish carpet.
He managed to catch himself when he hit his knees, all he had been able to see was the blood on the carpet. All he had been able to feel was the pain in his chest and throat. Had barely heard whatever Eret was saying. He heard his name. But everything was blurry and out of focus.
All he had been able to think was: This is it. I'm finally going to die.
As his arms had given out, he had fallen straight into the old dream. The old nightmare.
The old memory.
Lying in the snow. Cold seeping into his body. The world fading further and further away as he grew numb to the pain.
Sirens wailing, a world away. But flashing so bright they stabbed through his closed eyelids.
He had thought so much about that night – dreamt it, mentally relived it – so many times, he could barely remember what was real, and what his brain had invented to fill in the gaps.
Couldn't remember if he had felt the change.
If he had felt the exact moment the cold had triggered his dormant DNA. Felt his entire body start to mutate.
He should have died that night.
Why couldn't he have died that night?
He asked himself again, for the seven hundredth time, as he hit the floor, and pain exploded through his body. As his blood sank into, and stained, the carpet beneath him. Vaguely aware of Eret reacting admirably. Pressing a towel to the wound. Cutting away his hoodie and tshirt. Making the call that had saved his life.
Why couldn't he have died when he lost his parents? When his whole world had died.
Why could he never seem to just die?
All things considered, he shouldn't have survived this long.
He woke up to warm gold surging through his veins.
#
Astrid pressed the cloths against the entry and exit wounds on Jack's side, applying pressure the way Eret had shown her. But it didn't seem to be making much of a difference. She wasn't sure which was worse: feeling his blood was hot against her fingers, or when it was gone cold. Both were disconcerting in their own way.
When it lost its heat, it felt like a dark promise of failure. That they wouldn't be able to succeed.
It wasn't that blood bothered her. Large amounts of the stuff weren't exactly new to her. Living in the woods, it seemed inevitable that her father was a hunter. And she couldn't even remember how young she had been when he taught her how to help him skin a deer. A blood, messy job. And one she had handled just as well as her brothers.
This, though… This was completely different.
It wasn't about draining the blood of an animal that was already dead. Whose death didn't mean anything to her except that she would end up eating it.
Now, she was trying to stop her friend from bleeding out.
At some point Jack's hair had turned back to brown, though his skin remained deathly pale.
"How much longer can he hold out?" she asked, as Eret came up beside her.
He didn't answer. And when she glanced over, she saw his mouth pressed together in a thin line, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
That didn't strike her as especially reassuring.
Working around her hands, which continued to apply pressure to the wounds, he cut away the fabric of Jack's jacket. Tossing the pieces to the floor. "I'll take over."
Astrid stumbled backwards. Gasping for breath, she hadn't even realized she had held almost the whole time.
Eret started to clean the blood off Jack's skin, wiping it away with a cloth he had soaked in hot water. But it couldn't change the fact red was still everywhere. Still coming out of that hole in his pale skin.
"Come on, Overland," Eret whispered. "We've been through too much."
"You seem like you know what you're doing," she said, watching him work steadily, with an efficiency that could only come from practice.
Lots of practice.
"I was a dragon trapper before Jack saved my life," Eret said, not looking up. "It wasn't exactly a safe job."
She suddenly remembered the X-shaped scar on the right side of his neck. And the vivid pink one she had once caught sight of on his upper arm. After their first few meetings, she hadn't thought much of them. She had just accepted what Gobber had said: that Eret had had a rough time, and a friend had asked him to help the young man get his feet back under him.
Considering Toothless and Stormfly's claws, she didn't doubt that dragon trapping was a dangerous business.
She wanted to ask about the whole "worked for Drago" thing… but now really didn't seem like the best time.
"Being friends with superheroes isn't much better," he added, his tone grim, as if he hated saying the words out loud.
Uselessness hit her in the stomach like a ton of bricks as she stood in the middle of the room. Trying to figure out what to do with her hands. What to do with herself. And realizing there wasn't anything she could do.
Nothing useful, anyway.
All she could do was watch Eret work.
And she hated that.
Hated feeling useless.
She was not a spectator! She wasn't capable of doing nothing when something needed to be done. Just watching someone else do it left a bitter taste in her mouth, because her action-orientated brain screamed at her to do something.
"There's a bathroom through there," Eret said suddenly, jerking his head towards one of the two doorways on the far wall. Without taking his eyes off his hands as they continued to wrap the bandage. Tightening it. "You should wash up."
She looked down at her hands. Covered in sticky red blood that was steadily drying on her hands.
Human blood.
Jack's blood.
Her body started to tremble as it hit her again. As her eyes took in smears of blood on her sleeves, and the front of her jacket.
"Astrid!"
Tearing her eyes away from the red, she looked over at Eret. Though his hands continued to press against Jack's wound, now he was looking at her. His brown eyes were determined.
"Go wash up. It's on your back, too." His voice was steady. Practical. Commanding.
And in her shaken state, she couldn't disobey. It gave her something to focus on, other than the fact Jack was still bleeding. It was something to do. Something that had to be done. Even if it wouldn't made any difference for Jack's situation. The blood sticking to her, that she was about to wash down the drain, was already lost.
Astrid took a deep breath, and gave a jerky nod. Though Eret had already focused his eyes back on his task.
"On the right," Eret said. Just as she started to wonder which of the two doors it was.
Opening the door on the right, she looked inside at the bathroom. It was understandably small, considering they were in the back of what was essentially a shed, with just a toilet in one corner, and a sink in another. But it was clean. And the soap that sat on the back of the sink was a fruit scented thing that could only have been placed there by Rapunzel. The same went for the light green towel hung neatly over the bar.
Another breath. This one a little steadier. Inhale. Gather her thoughts. Remind herself what she was here to do. Exhale. Steadier still.
She turned the nobs of the sink, adding some cold to the hot to keep it from burning her skin. But not enough to dull the edge.
As she waited for it to heat, she shed her jacket and saw that Eret had been right. (Not that she had doubted him.) The back was smeared from the where Jack had leaned against her on the motorcycle.
She frowned as she looked it over. Hopefully it would come out. She doubted Hiccup had the time to make her another one, and she had already thrown out the old one.
For now, she dropped it on the floor and pumped a generous amount of the purple soap onto her palm. She rubbed her hands together, working to soap into a lather and started scrubbing at her hands and forearms. The red streaks had worked their way up several inches above her wrists. Some on the sleeves of her blue shirt, which she would probably have to throw out later.
The water ran off her skin sudsy, tinted red with blood as it swirled around the sink, before vanishing down the drain.
She wasn't a doctor by any stretch of the imagination. But she knew Jack had lost a lot of blood. How much, she couldn't begin to guess. She wasn't even sure exactly how much was too much. Just that he was dangerously close. He was so pale…
She scraped away the line of red under her nails with more force than necessary. Calling all the nerves there to attention as she tried not to think about how much time they had. How long it would take Rapunzel to get there.
When the blood was off her skin, she picked up her jacket from the floor and held it under the steaming water that poured from the faucet. It came off the smooth leather with little persuasion. Washed away, down the drain.
As the red in her vision shrank to nothing, she breathed a little easier. The fear in her gut started to loosen. Even if just a little.
After a third look over, she accepted that her jacket was free of blood. She had even run her nails under the decorative seams to make sure there was no red caught underneath.
She exhaled as she turned off the water, rubbing a still damp hand through her hair.
A few more breaths. Deep inhale. Deep exhale.
Glancing through the open doorway, she saw that Eret had stepped back from the cot, rubbing his forehead with the back of his wrist.
"Is he…"
"Still alive," he said. "Barely." When he turned back to her, she saw that his wrist had left a streak of red across his temple. There was another on his jaw. Another five or so on his grey tshirt. Including one in the shape of a large handprint rubbed over his waist.
Astrid left the bathroom, going back into the main area so Eret could wash up. She draped her jacket over the back of one of the chairs at the desk before sinking into the seat.
Jack lay on his back now, still pale. The rise and fall of his chest so shallow, she almost couldn't see it.
She left her seat to pick up the bloody rags, and the pieces of his jacket that had been dropped to the floor, and throw them into the garbage can. It was something to do.
"You got there just in time."
"What?" She looked over to see Eret drying his hands in the bathroom door.
He came over and sat down in one of the other chairs, shoulders sagging as he ran the hand towel over his face, which dripped with the water he had used to clean away the blood streaks.
"If he'd held onto Isolfr any longer, he wouldn't have made it."
"Isolfr?"
"The wolf," he said. "The ice wolf he controls."
She frowned, thinking back to when she had gotten in the harbor steps. All her attention had been focused on getting to Jack. But when she thought about it, she remembered seeing the wolf at the corner of her vision, though she hadn't been able to process what she was seeing.
"It's usually his last resort," Eret explained. "But it takes a lot out of him."
"I just left as soon as I saw he'd been stabbed," she admitted.
"It's a good thing you did."
They were silent for a couple minutes, both watching Jack. Maybe they were both hoping for some sign that he was going to pull through. Some sign that she really had made it to him in time.
"Does this happen a lot?" she asked, looking over at Eret.
"Often enough," he said, his voice once more grim.
Astrid wondered for a moment what caused the weight behind his words as she said it. But then she remembered the way he had looked at Merida when she had come into the shop the day before.
"Rapunzel is usually close enough that there's not much risk, even when it's this bad," he went on. "But this place gets enough use to warrant the investment."
Astrid looked around the room again, taking in the cot Jack lay on; the desk strewn with papers in a way that she was coming to think of as Hiccup's signature, and a closed laptop pushed to the back; a chest of drawers that looked like it had probably been picked up from a yard sale, if it hadn't been left on the curb for free; the cabinet Eret had pulled the medical supplies from. Two folding chairs leaned against the wall, while she and Eret sat in the two office chairs. It wasn't very high tech, but it obviously served a purpose.
"How many of these places do they have across the city?"
"Just this one. Though the Guardians would probably let them use Lunanoff Tower."
"They're connected to the Guardians?"
"Jack is," he said, looking over. "I thought they filled you in."
Astrid frowned as she slouched back in the chair. "I guess they left out quite a bit."
"Well, they have been at this for five years," Eret said. "They've probably started to take some things for granted."
"Like Rapunzel's healing powers?"
"Like that." He shook his head. "She doesn't really help. She hates seeing people in pain, so she heals every injury, even if it's not serious. It's made Jack and Merida both reckless, because they think she'll always be there to heal them."
"It's probably a good thing she didn't go into nursing," Astrid said, remembering what Hiccup had said in the art lab the second time they met.
"It's why Hiccup didn't let her go into nursing," Eret sighed, rubbing his face again. "He said it took him and Valka weeks to talk her down. She wouldn't have been able to resist healing every patient she met."
That certainly fit what Astrid knew of Rapunzel.
Jack stirred, groaning softly.
"Bad dreams," Eret murmured.
He stood up to check on Jack, but the sound of a car coming up they alley caused them both to look towards the door. Before the crunch of gravel had come to a stop, the door was thrown open by Rapunzel. She didn't seem to notice them in the garage, going straight for the cot in the corner.
"Oh, Jack," she whispered, her hand hovering over his pale shoulder as she perched on the edge of the bed. Astrid saw her fingers tremble as they brushed Jack's hair off his temple. Rapunzel bit her lip, her eyes shining as she blinked.
Was it because it was Jack? Or just because she really couldn't bear for anyone to be in pain?
Her hand slid through the air, less than an inch from Jack's skin, until it came to rest over the bandage. The place where white had started to be taken over with red.
This was the first time she had seen Rapunzel's healing powers, Astrid realized. And she watched in awe as the hand pressed over Jack's injury began to glow. Golden, and warm in a way that made Astrid feel warm just looking at it. Strands of light like solar flares grew and swirled around her hand, spreading until their glow filled the dimly lit room.
Movement from the corner of her eye caught Astrid's attention, and she reluctantly tore her eyes away from the display to look. Hiccup stood in the doorway, his eyes on Jack and Rapunzel.
Jack gasped and coughed, and Astrid whipped her head back to watch.
With her free hand, Rapunzel wiped blood off Jack's chin, and didn't seem to give a second though to wiping it off on her jeans.
The glow was already beginning to fade, and Jack had visibly relaxed.
Even once the light was gone, silence hung over the room, all of them watched without saying a word. Though Astrid realized she was holding her breath again. Waiting to see what happened. Dreading that Rapunzel was going to say they hadn't made it in time.
But Rapunzel's hand made its way back up to Jack's face. Her fingers gently traced his brow, the subtle rise of his cheekbones, and down to his jaw. When she pushed another strand of hair off his temple, Jack's eyes fluttered open.
"Punz?" he asked, his voice groggy, and his eyes out of focus.
Rapunzel's smile was almost bright enough to put the light show to shame. "You're okay."
"I figured." He reached up and caught her hand. Even in his human form, his skin was pale against hers as he wrapped his fingers around hers. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." She interlaced her fingers with his.
The two seemed completely oblivious to the fact they weren't alone in the room. And it was starting to make Astrid feel awkward. The way they were looking at each other, she half expected one of them to say something sickeningly romantic, if Rapunzel didn't just lean down to kiss him. Which she seemed very, very close to doing.
Astrid looked over at Hiccup again, and was grateful to see his jaw working, as if he were trying to think of something to say that would remind the lovebird they had an audience.
Before he could, or before any of them could make a move, a motorcycle roaring into the alleyway. In less than two seconds it reached the shed. The rider turned off the engine, then their steps could be heard running across the gravel.
It was enough that Jack and Rapunzel both looked over, and she finally sat back from leaning over him. (Her cheeks appropriately pink as she looked around at all of them.)
Hiccup stepped inside, and out of the way, just before Merida came barreling in. So fast she probably wouldn't have been able to stop herself from knocking him over if he hadn't gotten out of the way. She looked around the room, taking all of them in, before he eyes finally settled on Jack. Relief flashed in her expression.
Before she quickly covered it up.
"You're still alive, then?"
Jack nodded. "You're stuck with me a little longer, Red."
#
"Since when does Elsa attack you?" Merida asked, tossing Jack the bottle of Coca-Cola she had just gotten him from the vending machine in the shop.
Jack caught it easily from where he now sat on the edge of the cot. Rapunzel had yet to leave his side, and now sat with her legs tucked beneath her. She obviously hadn't fully approved of Jack's request for a coke, though Merida had already been out the door before she could finish voicing her protest.
"I had a near death experience," Jack had told her. "I earned a soda."
Rapunzel hadn't been able to argue with that logic.
"It's not the first time," Hiccup said, sitting on one of the folding chairs that had been in the corner. "You guys have fought before."
"But she's never attacked him," Merida said, twisting off the top of the ginger ale she had gotten for herself. She perched herself on the desk, next to the office chair Eret still sat in. When she had taken a long drink, she tapped the bottle against Eret's arm. He accepted it without even looking over.
Jack nodded, wiping soda from the corner of his mouth with the back of his wrist. "She lashes out sometimes, and I run defense. But this was different. It was deliberate."
"Like I said: since when?" Merida asked, taking her soda back after Eret had taken a drink.
"There was a Nightmare in the penthouse," Jack said, with a scowl.
That got everyone's attention. And certainly explained his scowl
"Are you sure?" Hiccup asked.
Jack shot him a "do you remember who you're talking to?" look as he took another drink.
"Good point," Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But what was it doing there?"
The silence that fell over the room was heavy. Astrid looked around at the others, who were all looking anywhere but at each other. All fidgeting.
"You think Pitch got to her," Eret said, finally.
Just the name caused Astrid's gut to clench.
It bothered her that she was so scared of someone she hadn't even met. Until she remembered the sensation of looking at the Nightmare in the college parking lot. Like darkness was creeping into her soul. Searching for weaknesses it could use to suffocate her.
The others looked all the more uncomfortable now that the words were out in the open. Though their expressions suggested it was the theory they had all reached.
"Great." Hiccup sank back into his chair. "As if Pitch isn't bad enough on his own, he's building an army."
"Out of everyone that hates us," Merida muttered.
Hiccup looked over at her, one arm sweeping in a "not now" gesture.
"It's true."
"Elsa doesn't hate us," Hiccup said.
"I wish she did," Jack said, standing up from the cot and pacing a few steps. "Hate I know what to do with. I can fight against someone who hates me."
"I told you not to ignore her infatuation with you," Hiccup said, his tone every inch the team leader. Almost parental.
Jack looked away. Obviously not wanting to admit that Hiccup was right. It didn't seem to work, though. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Somethin' other than what you did," Merida said.
"Don't," Jack said, pointing at her. "Don't even start."
She shrugged as she took another swig from her soda. The unspoken accusation seeming to roll right off her back.
"The point," Hiccup said, raising his voice just enough to draw everyone's attention back to him, "is that we still have no idea where Pitch is. Or what he's planning."
"I've pulled every string I can," Jack said. "No one's heard from him. No one I'm in contact with."
"Emily Jane?"
Jack shook his head. "I'll text Anna. Maybe Elsa told her something."
"I don't think they're on speaking terms," Rapunzel said quietly.
"It's worth a shot," Hiccup said. Though he looked doubtful. "And it's not like we have many options."
#
Pitch Black leaned back in his office chair as he watched the news footage replay. It would be a while before he got tired of watching it.
It had gone better than he could have hoped, really.
He had known Elsa would perform beautifully, of course. He had put years into feeding her fears. Preparing her. Even when he hadn't had a definite plan, he had known she would be a useful tool. The fact her powers paralleled Jack's, possibly even exceeded his in some ways, meant she would be ideal to stop him if the need arose.
Well, not ideal. She would never match Jack's fighting prowess. Even if she had the training, Jack was a natural at an art that would always be foreign to someone like Elsa. Though her weak will was what had made her so easy to control. To guide.
Her crush with Jack had worried him a little.
Oh, the irony.
Jack's infatuation with Rapunzel was exactly what had caused him to fail Pitch so badly. Had eventually cost him all he had invested into the boy's training, and education. But he was also so obvious, it had been child's play to manipulate the pain it caused Elsa.
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched the ice spike stab through Jack's side. He did so love Jack's scream of pain.
This had been a test run. Just to see how far Elsa would be able to go in a fight against Jack.
And this…
Oh, this was more than he had ever expected.
His smile faltered a little as Jack's ice wolf darted across the screen. Sleek, fast, and deadly. A skill he hadn't known about when Jack had been in his employ. Though he had seen the wolf a few times since Jack's betrayal, it was always so disappointing to be reminded that someone had held out on him.
Jack would be fine, of course. Rapunzel would see to that.
For now.
But his plans for Rapunzel were already in place. As was the backup plan. (Considering how annoyingly resilient the Big 4 could be, he was sure he would need it.)
His smile faltered further when the motorcycle roared onto the screen.
He had thought at first, when he saw the blonde braid, that it was Rapunzel. But no. The movements were all wrong. Too blunt and forceful.
This was a wildcard he hadn't expected. One that might interfere with his plans if left unchecked.
Might.
He would just need time to assess the threat. It was just a matter of getting his Nightmares close enough to find her weakness.
His smile returned as he relaxed again.
Well, he supposed it was only fair. He had a few wildcards of his own.
And never let it be said he was one to shy away from a challenge.