A/N: Here we go with chapter three.

This time, Astrid was already seated when they brought Hiccup in. A notebook sat on the table between them, blank pages waiting. She'd pulled her hair back tight – a habit from when she was still a fighter that she refused to get rid of it for practical reasons.

"You're favoring your right side more than yesterday," she noted as he sat down.

"Prison yard got slippery in the rain." Hiccup's tone was light, but she caught the slight wince as he settled. "Someone thought they'd test the ex-cop's reflexes."

"And you won?"

"Let's just say three years in here taught me more about fighting than the academy ever did." He nodded at her notebook. "But that's not why you're here."

Astrid uncapped her pen. "Thor's Hammer Gym. Walk me through it."

"Interesting place." Hiccup leaned forward, voice dropping in volume. "Front desk asks every new member about their fighting experience. Say you competed amateur. They'll check, and your record holds up. Then they'll ask—"

"If I want to make extra money sparring," Astrid finished. At his raised eyebrow, she added, "I know the circuit. Some gyms offer underground matches."

"This is different. The sparring's real, but it's a test. They watch how you fight. Not just if you win—"

"But how you handle losing," Astrid realized. "They're recruiting people who can take orders, even when it hurts."

"Exactly." Something like respect flickered in Hiccup's eyes. "Three levels in the gym. Ground floor's legitimate. Second floor's where they test people. Third floor..." He paused.

"That's where I need to get?"

"That's where you'll disappear if they make you." His jaw tightened. "You know what happened to the last undercover officer they caught?"

"There hasn't been—" Astrid paused mid sentence to stare at him. "That's why you pushed so hard on the investigation. Someone went in unofficially."

Hiccup's knuckles whitened. "Her name was Heather Berserker. She wasn't a cop – financial investigator. Worked with us sometimes. She got close, started feeding me information about Drago's accounts. Then one day..." He took a controlled breath. "They never found enough evidence to call it murder."

Astrid wrote the name down, though it wasn't necessary. "She's the woman in your file. The one they said you were obsessed with saving."

"Protecting," he corrected sharply. "I was trying to protect her. But Simon..." His expression darkened. "He said I was compromised. Unstable. Said I was seeing connections that weren't there - Simon was always good at playing office politics," Hiccup added bitterly. "Even back at the academy. Always knew exactly what to say, who to impress. While I was tracking shell companies, he was building relationships with the brass."

"You sound more disappointed than angry," Astrid noted.

"We were friends once. Real friends." Hiccup's voice was suddenly barely above a whisper. "That's what makes betrayal work, isn't it? The trust that comes before."

"Were you? Betrayed I mean."

Hiccup met her gaze. "Check the dates on Heather's last known appearance and the first major deposit in Simon's offshore account."

Astrid's pen stilled. "That's a serious accusation."

"No, that's a breadcrumb. Follow it." He tapped a page in the notebook. "Drago doesn't get his hands dirty with violence anymore. He doesn't need to - it's all financial now. Money laundering through the gym. Tax evasion through shell companies. Every fighter who makes it to the third floor ends up with a job at one of his legitimate businesses."

"Perfect cover for moving money." Astrid made notes. "But how do I get there without ending up like Heather?"

"By using what she didn't have." Hiccup sat back. "A real fighting background. Real contacts. And..." A ghost of his old smile appeared. "Me."

"You're in prison."

"And that's exactly why they won't suspect you're working with me." He leaned forward again. "Listen carefully. When you go in, there's a trainer named Eret. Former military. He runs security, but he has a weakness."

"Which is?"

"Pride. He thinks he can spot a fake fighter instantly. So when you spar, don't win too easily. Let him think he's reading you. Then in the third round..."

"Spring the trap on my terms," Astrid finished, remembering their previous conversation.

"Now you're getting it." Hiccup's expression turned serious. "But Astrid? The third floor... there's something I never got to verify. In Heather's last message, she mentioned a room. Said Drago keeps his real records there, but you need two keys to access it. One physical, one digital."

"Any idea where they are?"

"The physical key? Eret keeps it. Digital... that's what got Heather killed." He rubbed his wrist unconsciously. "Be careful who you trust in there. Even the ones who seem friendly."

Astrid studied him. "Like Simon seemed friendly?"

The silence stretched with him looking her in the eye intently. Finally, Hiccup spoke. "You know why I didn't fight back that day? When Simon threw the first punch?" He didn't wait for her answer. "Because for a second, I thought my best friend was just angry. Thought if I just took it, explained things after..." He shook his head. "Sometimes the worst betrayals look like friendship."

The buzzer sounded, signalling the end of his visitation time.

"When you see Simon," Hiccup said as she gathered her notes, "watch how he talks about the gym. He'll dismiss it as a dead end. Too obvious. He's gotten good at steering investigations away from Drago."

"You sound certain."

"Because that's exactly what he did to me." Hiccup's hands clenched. "Small suggestions. Gentle doubts. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late."

"I'll be careful," Astrid said, standing.

"One more thing." Hiccup's voice stopped her. "When you meet Eret? He'll ask about your last fight. The Vegas qualifier." His eyes met hers again. "Tell him the truth. About not tapping out. Eret respects stubbornness." A pause. "It's also what gets most fighters killed."

As Astrid walked out, she looked down at her notes. Between the lines of information about Drago's operation, she'd written something else: *'Check Simon's accounts vs. Heather's disappearance.'*

She hadn't marked it as a reminder to investigate.

She'd written it as a promise.