Hiccup was fully dressed when he stepped into the living room some ten minutes later; as ordered by the patriarch of the house. He was dressed as if ready to leave; his outfit included shoes and coat and black gloves, over a suit and tie that matched the colour of said gloves. "I've decided to spare you all any trouble and leave of my own accord."

"Sit down, Haddock. We're not done here," Preben hissed.

He no longer had his shotgun ready for use, having been denied it by his wife prior to Hiccup entering the living room.

"We're done when I say we're done, sir. It's been nice to meet you, Mrs. Bekker. I enjoyed your cooking last night. Bekker, I hope you enjoy your stay here. This is goodbye."

Her face went red. "Who the fuck are you to decide that, for me?"

"Language!"

"Not the time, mum!" Bekker snapped, then looked back at Hiccup, to find him disappearing around the door. So, she had to run to catch up with him in the hallway.

There, she grabbed one of his wrists. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Haddock."

He gazed at her, unimpressed. Had his left wrist not been ensnared already, he would have crossed his arms.

"I'm a wanted man. You aren't. It's doubtful I will ever work again, anywhere. You're staying here because it's not up to me."

"You think Johann can't do the same to me that he's done to you? We're in this together. Besides, what will the team think when they ask where I am?"

Hiccup's expression didn't change one iota. "Let go of my arm, please."

"Agree to take me with you, and I will."

"Fine, I'll take you with me."

"Good." She let go of his wrist.

A moment passed and he headbutted her, following up with a full-strength punch to the gut.

But Bekker, despite being dazed by the headbutt, was not disoriented to such a degree that she couldn't stop the fist from connecting. Grabbing his hands tightly, she shoved him back, up against the door.

"If you think I can't take care of myself, you now have proof to the contrary."

"The cast says you're a liability. You can't run at the moment; you know that matters as much as being able to fight."

"Well, that's too bad."

"On that, we agree."

Abruptly striking out by hooking a leg around her cast, he tugged and she stumbled, giving Hiccup the chance to headbutt her again.

Now thoroughly disoriented, she let go of one hand; her big mistake, as he immediately used to tug his other hand free of her grasp before ending the scuffle by grabbing her shoulders and swiftly bringing her forehead down on his knee, knocking her out.

Catching her limp body before she slumped to the floor, he returned to the living room and set her down on a couch.

"I'm sorry things had to end this way," he said, addressing Bekker's parents. Her mother darted across the room to Sofie and checked for a pulse while he spoke and Preben stared his way, understandably far from pleased.

Hiccup continued when he noticed Vivi was watching him as well, sitting beside her unconscious daughter with a hand carting through her red hair. "Now I warn you both: neither of you come after me. As far as you're concerned, I was never here."

When he left, he made sure the front door was locked behind him by slamming it shut, so that nobody in that family could immediately pursue.

Goodbye, Bekker, Hiccup thought as he drove away. It's been fun. Don't come after me.

…

Lieutenant Colonel Ulf walked into his office and shut the door.

Slipping into the seat behind his desk, he addressed the man who was facing him with his hands in his lap. "If you want to know where your friends are, I don't know."

"I do. Where's Kai? I'd like to speak with her."

"She's on a mission with Olaf Magnussen. Remember him? The quiet one. They're dating now. Made a whole proclamation of it."

"I remember him vaguely. Pass on my congratulations to them both when they get back. Now, about the elephant in the room: Johann."

"I thought you'd ask about that sooner. We brought him here, put him in a holding cell, and then, a few days later; halfway through last week, some other DDIS agent requested he be released, in exchange for some of their people for me to train and add to the roster, permanently."

"Are these agents any good?"

"Good with firearms, terrible with discipline. They are used to being allowed to act independently. Picked some fights with the rest already, though at least they can work together as one group. They'll never fit in if they don't change."

"I see. Good luck."

Ulf sighed. "I'll need it. And judging by the news, so will you."

Hiccup waved a hand disinterestedly. "No warrants out yet. I don't need luck. I just need to be seen but not noticed after this."

"How modest of you. What would Anja say?"

"Nothing. She died. Bullet to the face."

"Were you there?"

"I had to bury her in the snow on a mountain slope."

Ulf's eyes closed for a good while and he sighed before opening them again. "So you were there. Gotcha. What about Marc?"

"He works in Copenhagen now, as an instructor. He started smoking shortly after Anja disappeared."

"Hmm," Ulf nodded. "Please leave now."

Nodding in turn, Hiccup stood, but paused by the door and looked back. "Give Bekker a call. She's in Odense. I hear she's looking for a job."

"She get bored of you?"

Hiccup smiled wistfully. "No. She went to visit some people I wish I still could."

When the bell rang with the motion of the door opening, drawing the attention of the Maitre'D, her face suddenly seemed brighter at the sight of who had just arrived. "Good to see you again, Henry. It's been a while."

Hiccup smiled. "Hello again, Stephanie. How're things here?"

Stephanie sighed. "Not the same without you. People have gotten sloppier. Speaking of which, are you on business again?"

"Not this time, no, and possibly not ever. Have you seen the news from Berk?"

"Didn't want to believe it. So it's true?"

"Yep."

"Knew they were sloppy, but not that much."

"Not the Jaeger Corps. DDIS. My bosses' boss, specifically."

"Ah. Right, well there's a table this way. Follow me, sir. I'll call the manager shortly."

…

Not long later, a woman in a black business suit emerged, drawing everyone's attention by tapping a fork against an empty glass.

"Everyone who has received food, finish it. Those of you who haven't, you'll have to come back later as we're closing early today. Give your name to the Maitre'D and we'll give you all a discount the next time you visit."

The restaurant gradually emptied of patrons, and when everyone besides Hiccup and the staff were gone, the manager reappeared.

Cold metal was pressed to Hiccup's forehead. "This isn't how I expected you to visit," she spat.

Hiccup had taken a seat at a table within sight of the restaurant's bar before the prior announcement.

Mindful of the gun, he slowly looked up at the person; a woman in her mid-sixties, who was every bit the spitting image of her late daughter Anja, albeit an older version. "Didn't think you expected me to visit at all."

"Jægers always do, sooner or later."

"Ah, but I'm not a Jæger anymore."

"That's not how the world sees you."

"Their loss. Speaking of appearance-"

The manager immediately shook her head. "No. My special services are not open to you. I would like you to leave now."

"Don't you want to know why Anja is dead?"

"Things got personal between you."

"Correct. She made contact, pretended to be on my side, and killed my parents."

"I don't care. I'm not going to help you."

"You know the rule, never perform a kill once compromised, and never be sloppy. If Anja hadn't gotten in touch, she may still be alive today. But she saw fit to tell me it was her who did it."

"And yet, you killed her. I consider the matter dealt with."

Hiccup sighed, crossing his arms. "Now I'm out of patience. I feel compelled to tell local law enforcement what it is you really do. I'm sure the Jæger Corps would be knocking on your door if that got out. They might even call me to take care of business."

"Alternatively, I could lock you away and call your boss's boss."

"Did Stephanie tell you that?"

"No. There's a mic by the door as a precaution in case certain people get too curious. You understand."

"Right. Well, we both know I can ruin you before the DDIS get here, so in the spirit of being nice, can I do you a favour in exchange for you know what? Then we can go our separate ways and our paths need never cross again."

"Whether we meet again is not up to either of us. Or have your beliefs changed? You did always claim that the gods hate you."

"Touché. But I'm not hearing a no. What would you have me do?"

Hiccup later returned to the restaurant, laden with shopping bags. "Here's everything you asked for. Now can you work your magic?"

The manager nodded and at last withdrew the gun aimed at Hiccup's head. "After this, don't show your face here again, or I will kill you on the spot, instead of letting you talk. This way…"

…

"Since the lass called for a private meeting here in the Great Hall, ah trust she has a position to make clear?"

Sigrid looked to Astrid, whose face was set with determination. She nodded. "Yes, Gobber. I want to make it known that I stand by Hiccup, regardless of what the news has said about him. Adding to that, if a warrant is ever issued for his arrest, whoever you send will have to go through me. We clear on that, Mala?"

Mala, sitting between Gobber and her husband, Throk, leaned forward. "If I am to assume that is a threat, I would reconsider that if I were you."

"So you would arrest a man who was as far as we were concerned but a week ago, entirely peaceful? A man who committed the killings in question several years prior?"

"Are you suggesting he is not dangerous?"

"He is a soldier - a man who only kills when ordered. Surely you understand that, Mala. Astrid sure seems to," Bjorn Hofferson cut in.

"And if the soldier decides to go rogue? It happens often enough that there is a term for it - AWOL."

"And if you arrest him, he might feel compelled to do so," Astrid continued in place of her father. "As will putting him under house arrest or any similar precautionary measure. Allow me to talk to him first before you do anything."

"Seems the decision has now been made," Mala conceded with a nod. "Proceed."

"I'll let you know what he thinks of this as soon as he responds."

With the meeting effectively over, the six individuals present dispersed.

…

A knock on the door of Johann's home drew the attention of the bodyguard assigned to keep an eye on things.

The sky was cast a pale pink and the man was bored.

As part of a team of bodyguards, he had little to do and no supervision, meaning that he had effectively spent hours watching TV.

So it was safe to say he wasn't at his best when he got to the door, opened it, and saw a man with long ginger hair standing on the doorstep with a pizza box in hand.

"Free pizza, laddie?" Asked the man.

The bodyguard paused to look him up and down but didn't see anything suspicious about the man before him. "For me?"

He completely failed to recognize how odd it was for a pizza delivery man to be wearing black gloves. He simply passed that and the coat he was wearing off as a desire to stay warm in the Berkian climate.

Nor did he notice how the ginger had hair that was red at the roots, though in fairness, the man was wearing a hat to disguise that very fact.

The pizza box was exchanged for money and the bodyguard turned around, shutting the door.

Or so he intended, but the pizza man had stuck his foot in the way and grabbed the door to ensure it stopped moving with as little noise as possible.

Finally, he reached for the USP9 concealed in the large coat he had on, aimed, and fired.

…

Johann was on his way home, in the back seat, with a bodyguard sitting next to him and two others in front.

The driver, William, had arrived from Skagen earlier in the day, and he was the leader of the group, with a close friend in the passenger's seat.

All were quiet, with no conversation likely to take place.

Johann was thinking about Hiccup. More specifically, when he would make a move.

It could be during this car journey, it could be the next day, it could even be at home. As Johann watched the other vehicles pass by, he smiled just a little, envisioning Hiccup succeeding to gain access to his house and kill all but one of the security personnel within, before lowering his guard enough to ensure his death, thanks to a false sense of security.

A stab to the heart by Johann using one of the knives he always kept on his person would likely do the trick.

A hand landed on his shoulder and his head snapped round to look at the bodyguard sitting to his left. "Sir, we're here."

"Good news then. William, tell your colleague to unlock the door for us."

So a call was made, but it went to voicemail. A second attempt garnered the same result. "He's not picking up. Yannik, stay with the boss, we'll go find out what's happening."

The driver and the passenger got out of the car. They approached the door, opened it, then stepped inside, slamming it shut behind them again.

A second passed by.

The door was blown off its hinges by the explosion. It tore free of the doorframe, landing in the middle of the street, a mass of splintered wood while the rest of the building; rubble really, flickered orange as fire waged war against brick and wooden beams.

Johann's last remaining bodyguard hurried out of the car, his role forgotten, stumbling onto the pavement.

He was cut down by a bullet where he fell.

Then, Johann threw himself to the floor of the vehicle as the back window cracked and broke apart under gunfire.

But then the shots stopped just as abruptly as they had started. This was not good news for Johann as he soon found the pause in the assault was due to the assailant preparing a grenade.

Said grenade was thrown in through the back window, on a three second fuse. Had Johann known this, he may have accepted his fate. As it was, he wrestled with his seatbelt release, stood, scrambled for the open door and got no further before the grenade detonated and he was killed; cut to almost literal shreds by it, in the fairly confined space.

And so Johann Trader became the late Johann Trader.

…

For the receptionist working the desk at the DSIS, her shift was coming to an end.

She yawned, eyes flicking to the time displayed at the corner of the computer monitor in front of her.

But then the automatic doors slid open and she stifled a groan, fixing a mask of politeness as someone entered the lobby and approached her.

She looked up to see a ginger haired man and called out. "Who are you?"

"Just a guy hoping to jump ship, so to speak. Can you get in touch with Cami?"

She stared at him, bewildered, then shook her head after a long moment as she finally recognised his voice. "Mr Haddock, what's with the hair and the hat?"

"It's a disguise."

"For what?"

"Call Cami and tell her that I and a few friends want to join her team. Only when she is my boss will I spill the beans."

Sighing, the receptionist threw her hands up, then pointed to a bench nearby.

"Take a seat, Mr Haddock."