That night, Farid had researched more about the Grimborns. His surprise was unparalleled when he saw a recent report of the younger brother. Matters were getting extreme. In the session room the next morning, Farid was in such a rush to disclose what he learned that he almost did not exchange the usual greetings.
"Doc," Dagur said, sitting down, "the way I see it, you either tell me what news you found out or you pop. As cool as that would be to see, I hear it's not great for your health."
"It's about Viggo. Last night, his car exploded with him in it."
Dagur ran a hand through his hair. "We're down two Grimborns now? Gotta say, I'm even less upset about this one." He paused, seeing the thoughtful expression on Farid's face. "Or…maybe we're not down two."
"I'm honestly not sure. Viggo's body hasn't been found. It's possible that he survived. It's also possible that he got out of the car and died somewhere else. All I know is that his body wasn't in the vehicle by the time the authorities got there."
"Do you know how bad the explosion was?"
"It was bad enough to completely destroy the car. The leather melted, the pedals were ruined, and it's hardly recognizable as a car now. I couldn't even tell you the make and model. The only reason we know he was in it is that some areas had skin on them."
Dagur made a face. "He's shedding burned skin like snake scales? Gross. Well, if he isn't dead, he's hurt for sure. That's what he gets. He finally pissed off the wrong person. Wonder who, though." The redhead tapped his chin. "When Mala was here, she mentioned a 'Drago Bludvist.' Between him maybe existing and Mr. Krogan of the Flyers definitely existing, I'd bet that at least one of them is responsible for Viggo's little incident."
"Drago Bludvist. I don't think I've heard of him."
"He sounded like one of those myth people who either isn't real and just is used as a way to label the whole operation or somebody who really needs to be defeated." Another thought occurred to Dagur. "For Viggo, if he's out there, what do you think he'd do? I mean, Drago or no Drago, someone tried to kill him…unless you think he set it up himself. That would be a pretty insane ploy if he wanted to start fresh."
"It didn't seem like something someone would willingly go through, but I also don't know Viggo. It's possible. That said, I would sooner believe it happened to him than because of him. Thinking along those lines, he'd have to go into hiding. He'd also need emergency medical care. If he knows someone who can provide that, that's probably where he still is."
Dagur shook his head. "And that's why I didn't want to be on the lam. Everywhere he goes, he'll have to watch his step. He won't be able to go get food or really anywhere else for that matter. He might not even be able to stay somewhere since they'll try to find him. Since he wasn't found, they most likely are thinking the same as we are with him still being out there. They won't stop until he's dead and they can confirm it. That's a terrible way to live."
"I agree, which might mean that Viggo has considered that too."
Tilting his head curiously, Dagur asked, "Think he'd turn traitor like his brother?"
"Would he have a reason not to?"
The client let out a laugh. "I really do love the way your brain works, Doc. I'd say they might have pushed big bad Viggo a little too far. Even I know you don't blow up your friends."
"Perhaps, they'll learn one day."
"Maybe. Seems like it just might be as late as when Viggo learned his lesson." He paused, thinking of something. "Whoever this attacker is, I'm guessing that underestimating people isn't a personal flaw. I might not be able to play dumb this time, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea to show what I'm capable of either."
"I'm not sure about that answer," Farid admitted. "With this, I would suggest going off instinct. Krogan–or whoever else is behind this–might be arrogant and prefer you to seem nonthreatening. It's also possible that trust would have to be earned through a relative amount of transparency." The doctor stopped, frowning a little. "I wish I could give you advice, but this isn't usually the type of conversation I have with people."
Dagur chuckled. "I guess I probably did get you a bit out of your element with setting up drug gangs. If this works out, I plan to sit on the couch like a normal client and just talk about troubling thoughts. No dangerous crime bosses. Promise."
He crossed his heart with a grin, easing some of the guilt felt by Farid. They kept talking and that afternoon, Heather headed to the twins' house. She did not have many clients coming in that day. She was not really sure why she agreed to meet there of all places. They should have met at her home or Hiccup's. If the others were not at work, their homes also could have been options. Unfortunately, she had somehow been convinced to go to the Thorston residence. The young woman sent home a hamster with a splint on its paw and was able to leave. She pulled up to their driveway, seeing Hiccup's car. It looked like he was waiting on her, but the vet knew that he was stalling. The trainer waved at her before getting out of the car.
"Hey," he greeted. "Ready for…the inevitable?"
"As ready as I ever am."
They went up to the door and knocked.
"Come in!" the twins called, sounding muffled.
Cringing in preparation, Hiccup opened the door. Barf and Belch ran past them to go outside. When the visitors looked away from the goat, they saw the homeowners. The twins' voices had been muffled because they were wearing astronaut helmets. Heather was only disturbed by the fact that she was not overly shocked by this.
"Um, nice outfits," she complimented.
"I know right! They're stylish and helpful," Ruffnut said, grinning.
"I don't doubt that, but…why are you wearing them?" Hiccup asked.
"They're part of our idea," Tuff explained. "Dagur can become an astronaut when he gets out. It's perfect! He won't have to worry about Berk hating him. He'll just have to worry about Martians, but they're probably nicer than everyone says."
Hiccup put a hand to his forehead. "Has he ever expressed any interest in going to outer space?"
"No, but he's never expressed an interest in breathing either and he still enjoys it."
The taller man sighed at the blond.
"Being an astronaut takes a lot of schooling," Heather explained. "He'd have to enter a STEM program and everything."
"Maybe a petal one will be easier," Tuffnut offered.
"Yeah! That would probably be really easy to graduate from," Ruffnut agreed.
"No, you're not getting what I'm saying." Heather stopped herself, releasing a breath. "He might be able to get some odd jobs in the beginning until people can learn to trust him. Maybe he could work as a handyman."
"Why would he do that when he can be an astronaut?" Tuffnut questioned, eyebrow lifting.
Heather could feel herself getting increasingly more frustrated.
"Let's just steer away from careers for now," Hiccup suggested. "We can circle back to that. Besides, it'll be a bit easier when we can actually talk to him to get his ideas too. There are other things we need to figure out. He needs somewhere to live."
"He can stay here," Tuff offered.
Hiccup and Heather glanced at him, then around at the place. It made a pig sty look tidy. Dirty clothes, dust, and stains were everywhere; most of the furniture was half-eaten, courtesy of Barf and Belch; and it smelled like the goat had never been bathed, which was probably true.
"I don't think he's going to want to do that," Heather said slowly, unsure how to answer the question she knew was coming.
"Why not? He and I were cellmates, so roommates is an improvement."
Hiccup could see that Heather was struggling and wanted to help. "He probably wouldn't feel right staying here with both of you."
Ruffnut shrugged. "I wouldn't mind. I'm used to guys being around."
"But Tuffnut's different. You're free to ask him. I'm just pretty sure he's going to say no."
Heather nodded. "I was going to offer that he stay with me anyway."
Ruffnut's eyes lit up. "We'll be matching pairs of brothers and sisters!"
"This wouldn't be permanent. It's just until he gets on his feet."
"That's what they all say in the beginning," Ruff said, shaking her head. "Tuff was supposed to get on his feet years ago, but it just never happened and I decided I didn't mind."
Her brother frowned at her. "What do you mean I was supposed to get on my feet? This was my house first."
"No, it was mine."
"No, it was–"
"You two, this isn't really productive," Hiccup interjected. "For at least a little after Dagur's out, both homes will have siblings living there."
Heather's face was pensive as she nodded. "I just realized that I didn't think about clothes. He's probably outgrown everything he had from before prison. I'll go shopping for him to get a few things. I'm not really sure what he'd like, but it'll be better than the jumpsuits."
"Not better than the space suits," Tuffnut mumbled, earning a frown from the veterinarian.
"I can handle the clothes," Hiccup offered. "I sort of remember the types of things he'd wear. I'm sure his taste has changed, but I might get closer than the rest of you."
"So, if you're taking care of clothes and Heather's taking care of housing…" Tuff trailed off, grinning.
"Fine, you can think of jobs," the trainer conceded. "Just think of something besides only being an astronaut. At least then you'll give him plenty of options to consider."
"Already on it!" Ruffnut declared.
"That we are! What do you say to professional skydiver?"
The twins began listing off new possibilities as Heather turned to Hiccup.
"I'm starting to wonder if we're doing more harm than good."
Getting pulled into the conversation again, the duo contributed some suggestions that they had for professions. While they did, time ticked away and gave more opportunities for Gobber to feel like something was strange. He could not explain what was the matter, but he felt like something was wrong. The men were in the yard and he glanced at Savage, then the other guards. They were acting innocent like always. When the blond looked towards the inmates again, he did not see Dagur. He also did not see Savage anymore. The two of them were talking in a corner that the officer knew was out of sight for most of the COs.
"Someone's coming to meet you," Savage said in a quiet voice.
"Do you know who?"
"He's with the Flyers. You're going to want to impress him and he's hard to impress."
"Any suggestions?"
Savage shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he hates me, so I'm not sure if I can help. Just don't seem like a problem, I guess. He's pretty paranoid."
"Great," Dagur thought sarcastically. "Just have to convince a paranoid person that he should trust me as I try to sabotage him. Can't think of anything easier in the world." "Thanks for the tip," he told the officer.
The man nodded and headed off. He knew that the visitor was able to move quickly and stay in the shadows. It was entirely possible that he was already there. If he was, then Savage did not want to be seen talking with the inmate. He needed to appear impartial. If it was decided that Dagur had to die, he had no intentions of joining him in the afterlife. The redhead started to go back when he spotted Gobber. Momentarily, they locked eyes. Dagur could tell that Gobber knew something was wrong as well. Both people wished they could have spoken, but it would have been far too risky. For the time being, they would just have to communicate nonverbally.
That evening, Savage came to Dagur's cell with the same grim look on his face that he had been wearing since their last conversation. He attached the restraints and led the inmate to the visiting area. When he was there, Dagur looked through the glass and saw the visitor. The redhead did not have to be told that he was Krogan. It was obvious that he was in charge of some type of operation. He had the air of a leader and the harsh glare to fit what would be necessary for someone in his line of business. The man picked up the phone, then Dagur did the same.
"You're Dagur?"
"Yeah, and you are…?"
"You don't need to know that. Just know that I'm here to talk with you." His glare somehow became even more deadly. "People are getting arrested a lot. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"I know Alvin got locked up."
"Which was unexpected. He'd been doing well for years."
"Maybe it got to him."
"Maybe someone got to him."
"He made everyone nervous. I don't really know who'd be willing to do that."
"You'd be surprised. Sometimes, the people everyone thinks are invincible still get killed."
Dagur stopped talking for a moment. "I guess it's just a dangerous world."
"Certain people make it more dangerous than it needs to be. I heard Viggo Grimborn came here to speak with you. Twice in fact. Odd that a businessman of such prestige would waste his time with a low life."
The inmate frowned at him. "What's life without surprises?"
"Viggo seemed to be a magnet for surprises then, considering his accident. You've heard of that, haven't you?"
"An accident? What happened?"
"He exploded."
Dagur's eyes widened and Krogan's narrowed. He glared at the younger man, determined to find his proof.
"I guess that's why you said what you said then?" the redhead asked. "About people getting killed and everything."
"That might have played a part. It's true. No one's safe."
"Do you know who will take care of Viggo's business for him?"
"All assets will transfer to his partners. So will the liabilities." Krogan leaned towards the glass, hissing, "I'm not like Viggo. I don't look people in the eye and see mindlessness. I see threats. Are you one?"
"No, I'm an asset."
"That's what everyone says."
"I can prove it. I do good work and am still new at this. Give me more time and I'll just get better." He paused, seeing the doubt on Krogan's face. "I'll be honest, life is a lot of time to be spent doing nothing. I like what I've been up to. I don't want to stop. If there's something I'm doing wrong, let me know. I'll fix it."
The Flyer leader continued to scowl at him. "That's the thing, there isn't much to tell you to do differently. Apart from including more people, you've supposedly been doing everything perfectly. That makes it more difficult."
"Isn't that a good thing? If I'm doing a good job, everybody benefits."
"If it seems like you're doing a good job, it's only because I can't prove the opposite." A vicious look was in the man's eyes. "Viggo thought you were an idiot. I think you're smarter than he believed you were."
"Thanks."
"This is not a compliment."
Dagur shrugged. "I've never thought I was stupid, but I've noticed that most people feel that way. I didn't tell Viggo to."
Krogan quietly stared him down. The inmate lifted his free hand in exasperation.
"I don't know what to tell you. I am what I am. I'm a good worker and you say that's a bad thing. Then, you say I'm not stupid and how that's a bad thing too."
"I don't like you."
"I had a sneaking suspicion you felt that way."
Krogan considered something for a moment before speaking. "I won't let you ruin my work."
Hanging up the phone, the man rose to leave. Dagur stayed where he was, heartbeat racing. Savage came to bring him back to his cell.
"How'd it go?" he whispered.
"Depends on your definition of horrible."
The officer grimaced slightly as they neared the cell. "In that case, watch your back. I hear he targets those the most."
Dagur gave a solemn nod of his head, then Savage left. Taking a breath, the inmate started working out again. He was curious how this all would go. Dagur exercised into the night and Mala worked into the night. Arrests and more arrests. It had been a busy time, but it was equally helpful. She would have had it no other way. Taking down the Hunters and Flyers was something she had wanted to do for years. Actually being able to work towards that goal was nothing short of a dream come true. When it seemed like the captain would be leaving for the day, the telephone rang. It was so late that she had even sent home her lieutenant, so she answered.
"This is the Berk Police Department. What is the reason for your call?"
"My life," a strained voice answered. Despite the pain the man was audibly in, he let out a scornful chuckle. "In spite of my better judgment, I am deciding to entrust it to you."
"How can I be of assistance?" Mala asked, taking a notepad and pen.
"You can arrest my associates, the Flyers," the man responded, "but first, you will put me in protective custody."
