During the night, it was mostly quiet except for the sounds of a few sleeptalkers and snores. This is why it was easy to detect when someone was coming toward the cell. An officer went up to the bars and tapped on them with some handcuffs.

"Grimborn," he said, getting the man's attention.

Ryker got up from the bed and went to the bars. Dagur glanced down at him. He had seen the guard around from time to time, but he did not know his name. The CO unlocked the cell and handcuffed the dark-haired inmate. He then locked the bars again and began heading past the cells. Dagur watched for as long as he could, but this soon was not a possibility. When the two got to a secluded area, the guard opened a door and Ryker entered. Inside already was Alvin. He removed the restraints on the inmate and scowled at him.

"What are you waiting for? It was supposed to be done by now."

Ryker rubbed his wrists and glared. "I know what we said, but there's no point."

"There's a point as long as I tell you to do something."

"Let's not forget who lets this operation of yours continue."

For a moment, the two stared each other down.

"Why didn't you kill Dagur?" Alvin asked. "You had the opportunity, the weapon, and the man power, but nothing happened. All I hear is that he choked you out. Is it true?"

Ryker snarled. "You gave me false information. You said he was a psycho on the mend."

"That's what the shrink keeps trying to spread like wildfire. He still mutilated Ansson and took out most of my men, so if you didn't know he was a danger, that's not my fault."

"I didn't think he still was."

"That's not my fault either." Alvin poked his chest angrily. "If you won't or can't kill him, I'll find someone who can."

"Are you scared to get your hands dirty? That doesn't sound like you."

The officer scoffed. "Never, but I also don't need to tempt fate. There are too many eyes on me right now. If there weren't, I'd bring him to the yard and lodge two bullets in his heart. Since there are, that's where you come in."

Ryker just crossed his arms. "And what if there's more use we can get out of him by keeping him alive? He seemed interested in the operation. Inmates still know he's dangerous. With his reputation, he'll be able to scare any of them into using and then we'll have their money when they're addicted."

With a groan, the officer said, "You Grimborns would do anything for more money. It's not worth it. Just kill him."

"If he's not attacking, he's no threat. He's insane. He's a buffoon too. Spends all day in the cell quietly or working out. His head is as empty as they come."

"You're underestimating him."

The Grimborn was not so sure of that. "Maybe you're overestimating him. Just because he's not scared of you doesn't mean he's a real threat. You don't think he'll really be able to outsmart any of us, do you?"

Alvin hesitated a moment before shaking his head. "No, he's an idiot. He's just an unpredictable idiot and that's what I don't like."

"Then, leave him to me. I'll be able to reign him in well enough and when we've run out of use for him, we can kill him then. With him being associated with the drugs, we can cause him to have an overdose and it won't even trace back to either of us."

Alvin thought over the idea. "That's not terrible. Make it happen, but if it doesn't work and he causes trouble, then I want him dead."

"If he causes trouble, I'll kill him myself."

The officer reattached the restraints and left the room with Ryker. They went until they got back to the cell. Dagur was not asleep, but he pretended to be when he saw the other inmate. For the rest of the night, he kept thinking about the decision he had made in the yard. He had just done it once. The man could get away with not doing it again and it would probably just be considered a strange action committed by a stranger person. But still, Dagur could not stop. Or maybe it was that he would not. Either way, though he was not sure if his decision was helpful or foolish, it had been made.

The next day went well for the most part, but Dagur's mind was staying on what he would do in the yard. When that time came, he made his move. Ryker was talking with one of the bigger inmates. It looked like they were having issues. Dagur had seen the other man before. In fact, he was part of Ryker's usual crew, but apparently that meant nothing.

"That should count for something," Dagur heard him say.

The Grimborn was too quiet for him to hear, but he could see from the other man's face that he said nothing friendly. Other members of the crew began to notice the tension and move in. This split them. Some people seemed to feel that Ryker was being harsh whereas others agreed that no preferential treatment was deserved. Dagur began going over to the group, shoving some out of the way.

"All this fun and no party invite for me?" he asked, feigning hurt.

The other inmates seemed unsure how to respond to him, so he looked at them, taking in who all he saw. He turned to the one man and lifted an eyebrow.

"It sounded like you didn't want to fulfill your part of a deal you had with my friend, Rykie, here."

"I'm not paying for something I help sell."

Dagur's brow lowered until he was scowling. Abruptly, he started to laugh, grabbing the shoulder of the buyer.

"Sometimes it's all about changing the way you think about things," he said between cackles. "In your case, instead of drugs, think about it as paying for your life."

As he said this, his laughter ended and a cold look appeared in his eyes. Despite that look, a smile began spreading over his face. It was unsettling and reached his eyes as a deranged twinkle sparkled in them. The other inmate could see the instability. Gradually, his determination to stand his ground faded. He was still not ready to relinquish his control so quickly, though.

"Since when do you join in on this?" he asked hesitantly.

Dagur shrugged. "Since I got bored. I do fun things when I get bored. Want a demonstration?"

The inmate glared and began grumbling. "It's not worth all this."

He dug into his pocket and handed over some money to Ryker. The other inmate counted it and gave a nod of his head, gesturing for the rest of his people to move back. This let the buyer leave, more than a little upset but still not enough to do anything about his anger. Dagur turned to Ryker and gestured with his head to a quiet area. They went over there, then he began to speak.

"I decided," he said. "I want in, so I want a cut of the money too."

Ryker wanted to scowl, but he had expected as much. "Fine. I get the bigger cut because I've been doing this for longer and have the connections to get the drugs in here."

"I guess that makes sense." After they agreed upon the amounts, Dagur extended his hand. "I want some of my cut now." When he noticed the taller man's hesitation, he rolled his eyes. "Come on, you didn't think I'd give you two freebies. I kept your hands clean twice now. You're welcome."

"I didn't need you either time. Might not need you in the future either."

"You could've gotten charged with killing that first guy and if today went sideways, you could have gotten killed. Unexpected things happen here. A little bit of certainty can be nice and there's certainty in me being able to get people to fork over cash. They don't want to know what happens when they get on my bad side, so it's a choice between handing over some money or getting deboned like a fish. It's not that hard of a choice for many."

"And if they make a different choice? What'll you do then?"

Dagur smirked. "Ask your predecessor."

The other inmate's eyes narrowed, then he nodded. "Fine. You're in. When I'm going to get money from someone, I'll do this," he said, stroking his goatee.

Giving him a thumb's up, the redhead had an intrigued look in his eyes. "Gotcha. Anyone else today or is that it?"

"That's it for today. There'll be more tomorrow, though."

Dagur nodded and started heading back over to his spying spot. This was working already. He just hoped things continued to do just that. As the day melted into evening, Heather finished at the veterinary clinic. She had plans for this time. Part of her wanted to call Astrid, Fishlegs, or Hiccup. She could have used the emotional support, but she also knew her friends and how they would ask her a lot of questions she did not want to answer. So, she went on her voyage alone. Mostly anyway. The young woman had to bring Windshear with her. Leaving her simply would have felt wrong.

Heather drove to Dagur's old home. When she got there, she and Windshear got out of the car. The vet barely knew why she was there. She needed to go a mile south if she wanted to find anything, but she still was there at that house. She wanted to see it, if only for that one time. For so long, she had wondered where she might have grown up had things been different. It was not as she had imagined, and yet it was. In her childhood fantasies, she dreamt up a large mansion with a swing set, fence for her family's pets, and multiple levels to accommodate all the relatives. Above all, it would feel like home when she got there, having an undeniably inviting warmth. After hearing about the murder, she imagined Dagur living in somewhat of an institute. What she saw was a combination of the two. The place was no doubt a mansion, but it had no fence or swing set. It looked like it had a second level, but the thing which disappointed her was that it seemed so cold. The building was a house only, not a home. It sent a chill down her spine as she was there. It felt like love had not been there in far too many years.

Not wanting to be there any longer, Heather and Windshear got back in the car and began driving south. When they had gone about a mile, they got out and began walking around. Heather let Windshear lead since she could see better and would be more observant to noises. Minutes slowly became hours, but Heather's determination did not fade. She was going to find something or someone. She would not stop before she had.

Chirping crickets and the sounds of Heather and Windshear walking on the soft grass echoed in her mind. They were so loud all of a sudden. How she would have preferred the sound of a voice–preferably Oswald's. Just as she was forced to take out a flashlight, something came into view. It was a small cabin. The lights were out and Heather could feel her heartbeat racing. She and the dog hurried over and knocked. There was no answer, so she tried to peer into the window, but it was too dark in there to see anything. With a targeted kick, she opened the door. As she did, an odor hit her senses and caused her to step back, nausea settling in for two reasons.

"No," she quietly said, eyes widening.

In a chair across from the room was a body with the head leaned back. Some of the skin had begun rotting away and vermin had already made pieces of it their meal. Heather left the cabin, head throbbing and went to her phone. It felt like it was ringing forever.

"Astrid," she said, fighting back a sob.

"Heather, what's wrong? Do you need me to get you?"

The other woman felt a tear stream down her face. "I found Oswald."