Helloo! I am back with internet! Which means I have quite a few chapters that only need to be beta'd so I'll update every couple of days till they're caught up. I hope you enjoy!

Shout Outs!:

CHSHiccstrid

Thank you. Little bit of Loki this chapter. I'm glad and I did :)

SmolAvidReader

Oh yeah. Poor Hiccup panicked...He's a definite magnet. Thanks for reading!

Journal 2, Entry 20: "The First Avenger Pt.6"

Hakon smiled vindictively as pieces representing the Hydra facilities started disappearing off the board. Unbeknownst to anyone, before every attack Captain America and the Howling Commandos made on a Hydra facility, a small infiltration team from the Archipelago—usually Hiccup, Nuffink, and Zephyr, but Loki joined when he was around—would sever all communications out and sometimes thin out the Hydra ranks too.

None of the Allies thought to question why Hydra hadn't amped up security and Hakon wasn't about to give them an un-asked-for answer. With his need to get out once in a while satisfied, he happily focused on upgrading his shielding system, easily expanding it to fit a full person and now he was moving away from nodes to a mesh like system that was far harder to crush and could be sown in with their uniforms. Though, any vehicle they used it on still used nodes.

Howard continued to invent and improve the Commando's and Allies weapons; and with Hakon's help, they managed to figure out how to use some of the Tesseract Energy Weapons against Hydra. Hakon was still working on the delivery system since the only reliable form they had thus far were bombs for the tanks.

The war was progressing slowly but steadily. They were gaining ground back.

Schmidt glared at the recordings his men managed to recover from the half dozen smoldering factories that Hakon and Erskine's project managed to take down. His fingers drummed on the large metal and wooden desk as he waited for the tapes to filter through their recordings—half of which was useless static—before replaying it again.

His red rimmed gaze narrowed on one tape and rewound it before playing it again. It looked like nothing but a shadow, gone as quick as one too, but given the factory was attacked no less than ten minutes later... Another screen played through more footage from the beginnings of a long trend of bases being taken or destroyed by the Allies.

His hands clenched, the one holding the arm of his chair bending the metal. This was setting project Valkyrie back exponentially and that was unacceptable. What was even more of an insult, though not unexpected, was the Captain and his team's defensive gear. All were capable of deflecting the weapons he and Zola spent so long perfecting, only for Hakon—for who else could it be—to wipe away that progress with a sweep of his hand.

He glared at the sketches still sitting so infuriatingly innocently in his drawer. That boy, though I suppose he is no longer technically a boy, knew the Tesseract so well that he could design defenses against it without having the need of being there—something not even Zola had fully dared to do until he could properly analyze the amazing power source.

He paused the skipping tape again and rewound it then hit play. In the video, the door to the communications room cracked. Then the camera fritzed, or something else happened. The tape skipped a few seconds and was horribly grainy due to deterioration but the next clear bit showed two people in the room and his men frozen in their chairs—and they had better be dead. Well, they're dead now, anyway.

They were dressed oddly, especially the one not fiddling with his computers. He wore something that looked more like it belonged in London for a stroll in the park, not a war zone. But there were plates of metal that looked like it could be some type of armor. The other figure was almost lost in the dim lighting of the room. Nothing on him reflected any light except for the glass that covered his eyes.

The tape skipped and they were gone but he managed, with a great deal of trouble, to track them through his factory. Had he anything less than the enhanced eyes gifted by the serum, he would not have spotted them. Whoever they were, they moved like silent spirits.

This was the greater issue. It was a problem that the American and the Allies were destroying his bases, terminating his supply chains for the project but those could always be reestablished elsewhere with some difficulty. These… people could move throughout his bases as they pleased and none of his people saw them coming—or if they had, they hadn't lived to tell about it. And they were stealing his technology!

He'd missed it on the first several views but on every tape he'd lose whoever it was—most often the entirely black clad one—once they came to the ground level. They would turn a corner that would surely expose them, but they would disappear. Much later after scouring the tapes for any clue as to who these people, again he was questioning that validity as well. He noticed that in the very corner of the tape, it looked like a piece of technology or weapon moved before disappearing.

He vaguely remembered the man who'd been the caretaker of the Hall he destroyed and his dying threat of a curse. Was it possible? He shook his head as he replayed all the marked up tapes and every shadow they showed.

Always right before the Americans attacked. Always the communications, then some technology. And always disappearing without any other trace than what was on these crumbling cameras—imperceivable to normal eyes.

There was a timid knock on his door and he turned his head. Zola jumped at the seething glare that Schmidt held, though he could tell that it was thankfully not aimed at him. "Yes, doctor?"

Zola tried to still his shaking hands but they still trembled slightly as he walked in and held out the tapes. "We cleaned them up as best we could, but could not restore the picture anymore. However, we did manage to get some sound back on a few."

Schmidt nodded and quickly inserted the tapes, far more advanced than anything the world knew at the moment—as everything should be, with Hydra at the top of scientific achievements. The tape whined as it ran through the computer before the image displayed.

Schmidt sat back while Zola stood behind him, unsure if he should leave or not. He never knew quite what to do around Schmidt, especially in one of his ill moods. The sound was scratchy but it started clearing up as the image cleared a little from the static of unusable tape. Schmidt recognized this tape, as he should, since he'd only seen it about twenty times. It was one from the fourth destroyed factory.

The door cracked and the tape skipped, but it fixed quickly enough to show the black clad one with the mostly white clad one who was easier to see that they were wearing some foreign type of armor. He couldn't even begin to guess where they came from.

One figure spoke and even through the iffy tape, he could tell it was female—younger, it sounded like. But what got his attention and made him straighten was her tongue. It was foreign, but it was familiar and if he listened hard enough, he could almost make out what she was saying. It wasn't for the tape's lack of clarity that he couldn't fully understand her, it was that her words were similar to the language he poured over for years, but it was just a bit too old to have been written down and survived.

It was Hakon's tongue. His frown deepened as he continued to watch, and more importantly, listen. The arm of his chair was little more than a twisted heap by this point. The lady in white giggled and typed into the computer with ease as if she had used one for many years, which was impossible as even these computers were on a level unknown even to the military. So this is his people, phantoms of myths who have clearly been touched by the Tesseract. Suddenly the black clad figure spoke and it was definitely male, young as well.

Zola dropped the other tapes he held and gasped while Schmidt stood so fast from his chair that it was sent rolling. The male figure spoke in the same tongue as the female but that voice—he knew that voice. He cursed it and desired it by his side again. "Hakon," He seethed, seeing the same red as his skin.

He paused and stared at the image of Hakon. He looked a little taller than what his spies had said, though that could easily be from the armor he wore along with his broadened form—not much, but it was certainly more than Schmidt remembered. With the armor, he looked like he had filled out finally.

Schmidt shook in restrained rage. First, he escapes then creates another Super Soldier—not that Schmidt would consider himself a mere soldier. After that, he has the gumption to throw everything he had asked the boy to do—asked if it was even possible—in his face by arming the American and his squad. Now, he has the audacity to infiltrate his factories and steal his weapons and technology!

He calmly turned to face Zola, which made the small man tremendously nervous. Nothing good ever came from a calm Schmidt. It wasn't good if he was screaming his head off at incompetent soldiers either. In both cases—someone was going to die. "Tell the spies that it's time. Actually-"

Zola halted his scurry out. "Yes?" He barely managed to keep his voice from squeaking.

Schmidt's hands unclenched and he ejected all tapes. He knew them all by heart now, and handed them to Zola to be put into a vault. "Inform them that I will be taking charge of this mission. I will not tolerate failure yet another time." He turned to Zola and stared down into his eyes. "Take charge of the remaining factories. Do not let them fall to that inferior American. We've lost too much already."

Zola nodded in terror and rushed away. He wondered how Schmidt was going to… convince Hakon to join them. The boy clearly would not work if he didn't have the motivation to. We need that dog as well. Confound it, that beast should have been put down the first time.

The thought of having the demon back in the base sent shivers up his spine. He hated working with Erskine and Hakon the first time with the beast always watching him, just waiting for one wrong move or for him to turn his back.

He locked up the tapes then went to the long range communications to relay Red Skull's orders. It was going to be a long few days.

Hakon rubbed his eyes as he walked into the mess hall, Tor chipperly trotting beside him and yipping to the soldiers, agents, and scientists they passed. They greeted Tor warmly and tried to greet Hakon, but his tired glare cut off any morning small talk. He jumped when an arm wrapped around his back and gripped his shoulder

He turned and glared at Howard for the startle, but the other scientist only shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, if you'd just go to bed at night the mornings wouldn't be so bad."

"But that's when all the ideas come to me," Hakon weakly defended. And when we have to infiltrate the bases before Steve, he thought, remembering last night's incursion. He sighed as he robotically filled his plate with food and found a table, Howard sitting next to him with a cup of coffee.

Initially, it had only been about six known locations with one more base off the maps but as Captain America and the Howling Commandos stormed more and more factories, they found additional bases, training grounds and factories. It was becoming quite the hassle and Hakon knew he'd only lasted this long—with his schedule of inventing and upgrading, then raiding bases before Steve got to them and cutting their communications—because of Asgardian blood. But even that failed him after months of going near nonstop.

Howard took a sip from his cup and raised an eyebrow at Hakon. "Are you planning on eating that oatmeal or using it as a wet pillow?"

Hakon blinked and looked at the bowl inches from his face before sitting up and scooping a spoonful into his mouth.

Howard chuckled, adjusting his hold on the cup so he didn't spill. "Tell you what, a tape came back with the report of Steve's last couple missions. I'll watch while you nap, then fill you in."

Hakon hummed in agreement, a nap did sound good—so did just flat out going back to bed and not getting back up until the next morning. "Do you think Phillips will be upset if I skip?"

Howard nearly snorted out the sip in his mouth. "Since when have you started caring if something you do will upset Phillips?"

Hakon wanted to chuckle but would take too much energy so he smiled which quickly fell when he looked back at his barely touched breakfast. He set the bowl on the floor and Torbjörg happily dug in while Hakon stood and waved to Howard. "Let me know what happens."

Howard waved back. "Actually sleep, will you? No dreaming up new ideas while you're out."

Hakon smiled back at him from the doorway. "I'll try."

He navigated the hallways from pure memory and missed all sympathetic smiles sent his way—it was a well-known fact in the base by now that if someone found Hakon asleep at his desk, they were to have the common courtesy to move him to the couch in his lab, something just about everyone in the base had to do at one time or another. Torbjörg was notorious for dragging someone to the labs by their sleeves to do the job.

Hakon sighed happily as his door finally came into sight. He tugged the door open and waited another moment so his friend could skid through the door and jump up on his bed. Tor made a quick nest and hunkered down before looking up at Hakon with his tongue hanging out.

Hakon laughed and let the door shut itself and curled up on the bed with Tor, not bothering with the blankets as Tor provided plenty of heat. That, and he'd hogged them all to make his nest. Hakon was asleep before his eyes even closed. Tor rested his head on Hakon's shoulder, nose facing the doorway, before falling to sleep himself.

Hakon snapped awake an unknown amount of time later with a gasp, Tor already on all fours and standing above Hakon with hackles up as an alarm wailed throughout the underground compound.

Hakon rolled over off the bed while Tor jumped off. He reached for the handle when the walls shook and plaster rained from the ceiling. He swore as he heard the blast of a distant, above-ground explosion. Another air-raid, just great. It surprised him that Phillips kept the base here in London—kept him here—after the Nazi's started bombing the city so regularly.

Once the walls stopped shaking, he ripped the door open and almost stumbled back into his room—the alarm was unnecessarily loud and nearly deafened him. He felt bad for Tor. Several people were running around, many shouting orders to others about securing something or to get further into the base. Hakon scrambled through the crowd for the bomb shelter—built in the lowest level—like many others were that didn't have to secure one thing or another before going down.

The base shook violently again and Hakon noted with more ferocity than any bomb had caused in the past. He suppressed a shiver and kept a hand on Tor's shoulder. That meant that the bombs were either dropping closer to the base on this round, or the bombs were getting more powerful. Either one was unfortunately quite likely, but it was frightening to think about what they might be doing above ground if the earth shook this much twenty feet under.

He helped a lady stand after the last quake and they started off again in the same direction. They neared the first stairway down to the bunker when the compound shuddered again. Hakon's arms pin wheeled as fought for balance. Tor ran behind him and braced him. Hakon smiled down at him before the roof started showering plaster and dirt on their hair.

He glanced up and his heart stopped. "Look out!" He shoved the woman with him towards the stairs before an arm snuck around his waist and yanked him back, away from the collapsing ceiling.

Hakon coughed as dust and plaster particles plumed and entered his lungs. He could hear Tor hacking near him. The arm, still around his waist, started pulling him away from the unstable ceiling.

"Get the dog. We need to get out of here before this entire place collapses. " An almost familiar voice said. Hakon presumed it was the man who 'saved' him but he couldn't place where he'd heard it from—his ears and head were still pounding too much from the collapse and disorientation. He would have been fine, he'd already been about to throw up a shield but he wasn't going to tell the soldier doing their job that he was ungrateful for it.

Shadows shifted through the dusty air and Tor growled. He felt Tor's spike of fear.

"Tor," Hakon coughed. "We need to get out of here before we suffocate."

He felt the furry body press against him and he reached out with his free arm, holding onto his fur so Tor wouldn't panic more. His 'savior' started leading them through the hazy hallway, two other men joining them.

Hakon counted doors as they passed them, still coughing from the dust he inhaled and kept his shirt over his mouth and nose as they walked, the dust and explosions had given him a pounding headache. The air was becoming thicker as ceilings shook and cracked. After a minute at a quick pace, Hakon started noticing how quiet it was. The alarm still wailed, but people were no longer shouting or running about, and it was far too soon for them to have gotten everything secured and down to the bunker already.

They turned down a separate corridor, one Hakon knew led to an emergency set of stairs up, not down. "H-hey! There's another staircase to the bunker. We just have to go down the hallway for four more doors."

His 'savior' continued to pull him up the staircase but he started fighting back. Something wasn't right about this, but the man tightened his grip around him. "We're not going to the bunker, Hakon."

Hakon froze on the last step and Tor's head snapped around, growling deeply. The outside door was thrown open and Hakon twisted in his 'savior's' arm.

The air in the staircase was clear, but upon entering the upper world it was filled with even more smoke and dust. The man smiled down at Hakon and while he didn't necessarily recognize the face—he knew that smirk and could now place the voice. How could I have forgotten it? Brain fog from the confusion, dust inhalation and lack of sleep—clearly. His mind spat back sarcastically and unhelpfully.

In Hakon's momentary shock, Schmidt wrapped his free arm around Hakon's—fully pinning Hakon to his chest. Hakon choked as the air was crushed from his lungs, stimulating his mind back into fight or flight.

He threw his head backwards and smashed it into Schmidt's nose. Though there was an odd lack of a crack, there was a loud hiss, which would make sense from what Steve had described of what had happened physically to Schmidt. His action, however, did not prompt Schmidt into letting him go, but increase his hold.

Hakon struggled to get a good breath, damn super soldier serum—what the heck was in the first batch!? He started panicking. He hadn't done that since Grimmel. No one else had really been able to threaten him—the Ancient One aside, she was a friend—but Schmidt was clearly capable of that now, at least on a physical standard.

One of the men who'd accompanied Schmidt screamed in pain while cursing in German. Hakon turned his head and saw the soldier on the ground with a badly clawed and bitten arm and Torbjörg blessedly running to him—I'm not gonna have to use my magic after all.

The ground trembled as another bomb hit, but this didn't trouble Tor as he lept—then a sharp crack rang throughout the already deafening cacophony. Hakon would later remember screaming, though at the present he couldn't say he did anything except watch as his best friend in all the world fell lifeless to the ground.

His magic lashed out in fury, blind to the fact that they could still feel Toothless through the bond. His Æsir flared and threw Schmidt and the two soldiers into the nearest buildings with enough force to crack the brick. Too bad the latter happened to Schmidt, who shook it off after a moment—while his Jötunn pulsed, freezing the ground and making his skin dangerous to touch, though it still remained a healthy pink.

He scrambled over to Torbjörg and held his head, pointlessly fighting back tears as they already gathered in his eyes. Tor looked up at him with half lidded and tired eyes. Warm breath caressed his fingers and he choked back a sob as he crouched over Tor who struggled to get up, but Hakon gently pushed him back down, forgetting about Schmidt and the world exploding around him. He searched for the bullet hole but instead of finding a gaping hole, his fingers grasped a dart lodged in thick muscle and fur.

He started to pull out the object, mind not yet processing what it was—for all he knew, and his traumatized mind went back to, it was a cross bolt. Another crack echoed through the air and he stiffened, fearing they were shooting at Tor again to make sure he was going to die, but pain bloomed in right bicep.

He looked down at his arm and saw a thin vial sticking out while the needle was stuck deep in the little muscle he had. He stared at the dart in horror, memories flashing from the last time a dart had struck him. He ripped the dart out and set to fortifying his mind again, even though it already was well shielded.

He looked over in the direction the dart from his arm indicated and scowled at the personnel truck so innocently sitting there. A light haze started clouding his mind, but he was more than functional enough to tear these people apart. He was done. First they kidnap and threaten him and Erskine and his family, then they killed Erskine, and finally they have the gall to shoot his best friend while trying to kidnap him again. He was disoriented, already exhausted, and his magic was fuming. He was done hiding and called forth Loki's dagger, throwing it with his Asgardian strength at the glint from the truck.

The man grunted then tumbled out. Another crack rang out, but missed him and Tor wildly.

Schmidt watched in shock as Hakon changed, but it quickly melted into anger and a relentless desire to not lose anymore. Hakon was his key to the Allies' downfall. He was not about to lose him again.

Hakon whirled around at the crunch of Schmidt's boots on the rubble, drawing an onyx blade from literally nowhere. One of his spies shifted from his disoriented position and lunged at Hakon, pistol drawn, only to be surprised by the silver and golden being thrust into his stomach with speed that Schmidt knew only he or the American could match.

Tor stood and snarled at the other spy, tail swishing angrily as the man sat up and pointed his gun at Hakon. Schmidt didn't pause in shooting the mutt in the hind leg with another dart, then continued his run on Hakon.

Hakon saw red as Tor yelped in pain and hurled Hela's knife at Schmidt's chest. Schmidt barely managed to dodge the spinning dagger and fired off two quick shots at Hakon who spun away with infuriating ease.

The second spy scrambled to his feet, ignoring his bleeding scalp and glared at the large dog laying almost still on the ground, his legs still twitching sluggishly as he tried to fight off the tranquilizer. He shot the demon dog in the shoulder again, for good measure. The dog, if he could be called that after this, was creeping him out.

Hakon roared in fury as he heard the gunshot yet again then felt Toothless fall silent into sleep, but thankfully not death. The city would have burned then frozen over for that act. He attacked Schmidt with both blades, nicking his gun hand then driving Hela's dagger into his thigh as Schmidt failed to twist away, instead managing to grab Hakon's arm. Fury and desperation both fueled his adrenaline rush, driving back the waves of fatigue—natural and induced—creeping over him.

Schmidt hissed, refusing to yelp in pain, and scowled at Hakon. Clearly there was something major he was missing when it came to Hakon and who he truly was. He renewed his attacks with different tactics, no longer treating Hakon like a civilian or even a trained soldier—whatever he was, was far more lethal.

He shot at Hakon again but he blocked the dart by somehow widening the black blade before he could grapple with the boy. Hakon twisted the silver and gold knife to slice the wrist holding his, but he kicked Hakon's knees, temporarily distracting him so he shot at him again.

A shimmering green shield enveloped him and threw off Schmidt's grip. Hakon stumbled away and shook his head—the haze becoming stronger, but not yet overwhelming—but he did need to get out of there soon. He eyed Tor, then bolted for his friend, ducking under Schmidt's grab while throwing Loki's dagger at his gut.

Schmidt twisted and dodged the attack before dropping to the ground and thrusting his leg out. Hakon yelped as the boot managed to catch him in the shin, not able to react fast enough to jump over it from the drug working its way through his system and slowing him down. Before he could hit the ground, Schmidt reached out and snagged his belt.

He wrapped one arm around Hakon's chest, grabbing both wrists so he couldn't draw either knife and stab at him again, while winding his other around the boy's throat—tightening his muscles to make it harder to breathe.

Hakon stumbled and fought in Schmidt's grasp before reaching for his Jötunn magic and his Æsir to let his human skin drop and fall cold. His concentration was broken by a sharp pain in his thigh before he registered the crack echoing through the exploding air.

He grunted and pulled on his Æsir. He got far enough to change his skin, but another crack echoed in his ears and he screamed in pain as it bloomed from his abdomen. His consciousness quickly started to fail as the poison flooded his veins. He clutched to his and Loki's bond in a last desperate act before everything slipped away.

Schmidt grunted quietly and stumbled as Hakon fell slack, but it was far preferable to him fighting like a crazed man. If he is even that. He stared at the unconscious boy in his arms and removed the darts from his leg and abdomen, placing a little pressure on the latter.

The second sniper from the truck hopped out, still holding his rifle and shifting his aim between the black mass of a dog and the limp boy in Schmidt's arms. Schmidt growled in frustration as the man stopped twenty paces away and ogled at Hakon, though he couldn't fault him entirely—Hakon was a rather startling sight with his glacier blue skin, only made more frightful that he was cold to the touch.

He lifted Hakon and barked at the remaining two men. "Get the mutt in. We need to leave, then inform the men to stop the raid."

They hurried to comply, distributing Torbjörg's weight between them as they lugged him back to the truck and hopped into the back, sitting as far away from Hakon as possible.

Schmidt drove them through the pockmarked street to the fields outside the city where a plane sat waiting. He pounded his fist against the side of the plane once they were boarded and had Hakon and Torbjörg strapped down.

A quarter of the way through the flight to the base in Siberia he began to wonder if he should perhaps relocate Hakon to somewhere more tropical given the ice sheet he left back on the street in London. The entire point of the Siberian base was to prevent prisoners from escaping through the sheer force of brutal nature. He was positive that point was moot now.

He critically examined the vein-like lines on Hakon's hands and the little bits decorating his face. Curiously, he pushed Hakon's sleeve up to reveal more of the intricate lines.

Hakon twitched with the contact and groaned, eyelids scrunching together with the trauma of waking from a tranquilizer induced sleep.

The soldier who'd shot Torbjörg panicked and grabbed his pistol. Schmidt already had an extra dart from the stash that had been left in the plane in his hand and jammed the needle into Hakon's thigh, Hakon grunted quietly before falling still again. The two soldiers stared warily at him, then looked over worriedly at Tor.

Schmidt's masked brow creased as he looked at Hakon again in more wonder. It was surprising enough that it took three darts when two, one and a half in reality, could take down serum enhanceds like him. Not to mention that he needed more a mere two hours in.

His eyes widened as he looked Hakon over again then curiously reached for his silver and gold dagger. The black one lost somewhere along the way—when did it get returned to his belt? It had Loki's crest on it. Alone, it would not have meant much but with all the other signs…He is one of the gods. A Jötunnar most like, but still…Is he Loki? Surely not, but then again…He smiled at Hakon.

*O*

Howard ran through the bunker, searching for Hakon after the doors had been sealed shut. He couldn't find his young friend but he did spy Phillips and Peggy conversing, presumably about the tape that had been sent back since Peggy was blushing. He wanted to laugh. He knew Peggy was still interested in Steve. The poor guy had been so depressed by the incident before him and his team left.

"Hey, colonel!" He shouted to be heard over the din of people.

Phillips turned and nodded to Howard. "Glad you made it down safe."

Howard nodded and waved off the concern. "Yeah, it's great. Have you seen Hakon? I can't find him."

Phillips' already serious countenance zeroed in on Howard. "What? Is he still in his room?"

Howard shrugged, eyes more panicked now that Phillip's confirmed the worst. "How should I know? I'm down here."

"Excuse me?"

A ravenette slipped into their little group. "I ran into Hyse on the way down. We'd just gotten to the stairs when the ceiling collapsed. He shoved me out of the way and I remember hearing some others, I think they pulled him back, but he should have been able to come down another staircase long before the doors were sealed."

Phillips swore while Peggy felt a shiver run down her spine. "Unless something else happened to that stairway."

They waited out the air raid with nerves alight. As soon as the all clear was given, Phillips ordered several men to come with him while everyone else started dispersing to assess and fix the damage—again. Howard and Peggy tagged along with Phillips in the search.

They found the collapsed stairwell and searched the rooms from it to the front entrance but found nothing. Howard turned back to the collapsed stairwell and said, "I saw a staircase leading out. He might have gone above ground so at least the ceiling wouldn't fall on him."

Phillips agreed with the suggestion but had to snort. "The ceiling for the sky, not sure which is worse."

Howard pushed the door open, thankfully no ruble blocked it, and the party looked into the hazy world—the dust still drifting down while the air remained painfully silent.

A guard broke the spell, kneeling by a lump several yards away. "Sir, we have a body! It's one of our own."

Phillips cursed and ran over to his man, crestfallen.

Peggy grabbed Howard's arm and pointed to a similar mass just down the road. Peggy knelt by the second fallen man but her sadness quickly turned to confusion. At the angle he'd fallen, she had a clear view of his chest—and the wound was highly unlikely to have been inflicted by random flying shrapnel.

Howard was by her side, eyes narrowing in the same sight that caught her eyes. "Is that… a knife wound?"

"That's what it would appear to be but who would be mugging someone in this chaos?" She said as she flipped the man over, checking for any kind of identifier but there was none.

Metal clattered against the broken street, rolling next to Howard's foot. Brows knit together, he bent over and picked up the thing that had fallen out of the man's coat pocket. He only had to examine the shape before the shocking horror fell over him.

"Agent Carter…" He breathed, holding up the tranquilizer for her to see then gasp.

Schmidt stood near the examination table Hakon was strapped to, completely baffled.

The scientists and medical officers for this base growled as he tried inserting the needle again to draw some blood and figure out this latest mystery—but no matter how hard he pushed, the needle wouldn't go in. Frustrated, he threw the needle across the room. "I do not know what he is or what concoctions he whipped up in his time away, but his skin is like armor."

Schmidt glared at the doctor. "He is not infallible. He was shot thrice, then I had to keep administering tranquilizers to get him here."

The doctor huffed and grabbed a clean needle, shoving it into Schmidt's hands. "Then you do it. I cannot, despite how much I would love a sample."

Schmidt's unoccupied hand clenched in anger, but he did take the needle and inserted it into what looked like a vein, not the markings on his skin, but true veins further underneath the skin—nearly lost due to the skin's blue pigmentation. Red liquid started flowing from Schmidt's inserted needle and he frowned at the doctor.

The doctor was barely phased, only a little off put by the once again red skull once more on proud display. "Must be your enhanced strength…I would love a skin sample."

"Only a small sample. I brought him here to work, not be tortured." Schmidt removed the needle after a few vials were filled, applying pressure on it with his thumb as he reached for some gauze. By the time he had it in hand and pulled his thumb away, the small prick was already healed. He frowned and examined the area closely. He felt something under Hakon's skin tingle against his own red flesh, but found nothing else.

The doctor stared at the area then at the vials. "It is a pity they have been contaminated."

Schmidt smirked dangerously. "I can let him wake up and let you try and attain an untainted sample."

The doctor held up his hands and backed away. "No! Not necessary, I can work around it."

Schmidt nodded, shoulders tucked back. "Good. Have him transferred when you're done and notify me when he wakes."

He walked out of his office, a far cry from what it was in the main base but it suited his purposes. He turned the dials of the radio before flicking on a separate box and adjusted its dials—patching into Hydra's closed-intra-base communications. "Doctor Zola?"

It was silent for a minute before the radio squealed and the doctor's voice came through. ~I am here. The mission was a success then?~

Schmidt smirked, thinking of Hakon and all the things he is going to learn from his young friend. "Completely. However, I have received word that another base has fallen to the American. You are failing." His voice dipped dangerously.

Zola remained silent on the other side of the radio, which was probably for the best.

Schmidt glared at the receiver in his hand as if Zola could see him. "We are close to an offensive that will shake the planet, yet we are continually delayed because you cannot outwit a simpleton with a shield!"

Zola came back through the small speakers, sounding a little shaken but also a bit annoyed as he defended himself. ~This is hardly my area of expertise. I merely developed the weapons. I cannot fire them.~

Schmidt's lip curled. "A good scientist can do both. Since you are incapable of finishing your mission, doctor, you are to come to this base immediately and oversee Hakon once I secure his… loyalty."

~I will leave on the next train.~

"Good," Schmidt said curtly, and cut the communications.

Loki stood at the outskirts of the Vanir party. A few women tried to flirt with him and drag him into the festivities but he was already on this realm against his will. Despite Thor dragging him here out of the kindness of his heart to cheer up his younger brother, he was not going to humor them or Thor any farther. Not that Thor was paying him much attention anyway, too enthralled by the party.

He watched as Fandral nearly made a fool of himself trying to impress a lady and felt the edges of his lips quirk. He raised a horn to his lips to take another drink when a flood of panic overwhelmed his and Hiccup's bond before falling silent. The drinking horn fell from his hand and before Thor or anyone else could see or try to stop him, he teleported away to Vanaheim's Midgard branch.

Upon arriving, he startled a few elderly dragons but he couldn't bring himself to care too much—he had feared something would go wrong, and it had. He teleported to The Edge and took their branch to New Berk.

Some of the New Berkians, who worked at the branch sight to keep the main connector running smoothly without traffic, yelped with the unannounced presence. An older man and the head of operations turned to chew out the unannounced traveler but quickly stopped himself and stood straight. "Loki! We were not-"

"Has Hiccup tried contacting you?" Loki cut him off, feeling over the bond again but got nothing.

The man shook his head quickly. "I would not be the one to ask. I work with the branches, not communications."

Loki tried not to snarl but he still did so. "He might have been compromised. Is he still stationed in London?"

The man and several others nodded. "The last any of us knew of."

Without another word or glance back, Loki opened the branch and stepped out into a nearly destroyed London. Back on New Berk, the man ordered his people about, sending one to the communications hub where they received reports from the other islands—specifically asking about the Berserker's recent reports on their spy in the SSR compound with Hiccup, while the other man was to find Astrid or one of his children.

He sighed and ran a shaking hand through his graying hair. With their High Chief compromised, would it mean war? In what way might he have been compromised? Loki's eyes haunted him and he knew whoever it was that endangered his Chosen was going to pay dearly. Very few living had memories of similar situations or the times Loki truly looked murderous but the stories persisted and were their history.

Back in London, Loki glanced around the destroyed city then whispered the spell and frowned. The spell was supposed to give him Hiccup's exact location, but it was only giving him a direction. His Chosen had to be moving at an exceedingly fast pace for the spell to function improperly.

He shifted into a hawk and started flying in the direction of the tracer, unable to take a faster form without attracting unwanted attention.

It took far too long for it to finally pinpoint Hiccup's location, and when it did, his stomach tightened. He was at a Hydra base known only to the organization and the New Archipelago, but it was not the location of the base that worried Loki. It was its purpose. Of all the bases Hydra had that the New Archipelago watched, this base was easily the one they watched the closest as it was the one where they tested renditions of serum Hiccup helped create.

He tugged on their bond again and felt Hiccup weakly respond, before it cut out once more. Fury built within his bones and he teleported to the tundra outside of the facility. As much as he wanted to reappear by his Chosen's side, in his uncertain state it might do more harm than good. He needed to see their strengths before he shredded through them.

He was done sitting back and letting Hiccup make a mess and try to clean it up by himself. If they knew even a little bit about Hiccup then they could write Loki off with the same oddity before he wiped this base off the face of Midgard so they could warn no others. Or if a few did survive, ensure that they sounded like blubbering idiots.

With that thought, he teleported into a hallway and grinned. This base was laid out like many others and the communications room was right next to him.

Well...That happened. See you soon!