A/N: In this one, Astrid is the main character.
The wipers squeaked against the windshield, fighting a losing battle against the November rain. Astrid Hofferson gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white against the black leather. Old habit from years of hand wrapping, that white-knuckle grip. Even five years after her last amateur fight, some things never changed.
The prison loomed ahead, a gray smudge against an equally gray sky.
"You want me to what?" Astrid stood in Gobber's office, staring at the case file he'd just slid across his desk. The morning sun streamed through the windows, catching the dust motes dancing in the air.
"Sit down, lass." Gobber gestured to the chair across from him. "This isn't a request you can answer standing up."
A sign flashed past: BERK CORRECTIONAL FACILITY - 2 MILES. Astrid flicked on her turn signal, muscle memory taking over as her mind drifted back. The rain hammered harder as she thought about Simon. She'd seen him just yesterday, accepting another commendation. He'd smiled for the cameras, talked about justice and duty. But there had been something in his eyes when someone mentioned Hiccup's case. Just a flicker, there and gone. The kind of tell that fighters learned to spot, the moment before an opponent's mask slipped.
"Undercover at Thor's Hammer Gym," Gobber said, tapping the file with his prosthetic hand. "Your fighting background makes you perfect for this."
"That was a lifetime ago," Astrid replied, finally sinking into the chair. Her hand unconsciously touched the small scar above her eyebrow, souvenir from her last title defense.
"Three state championships isn't a lifetime ago," Gobber countered. "And word is Drago's crew runs their operations through that gym. We need someone who can sell being there."
"Simon's department already investigated the gym," Astrid said carefully. "His report said it was clean."
Gobber's expression darkened. "Aye, just like every other case that gets too close to Drago. Have you noticed how many investigations Simon's closed lately? Merit promotion after merit promotion, and still nothing sticks to Drago."
"You think Simon's compromised?"
"I think," Gobber chose his words carefully, "that some people's ambition blinds them to which side of the law they're on." He tapped the file again. "And that's why I want you talking to Hiccup Haddock."
"The same Hiccup Haddock that Simon-"
"The same Hiccup Haddock who was investigating Drago when everything went wrong."
The prison parking lot was half-empty. Astrid pulled into a spot near the entrance, killing the engine. The rain continued to drum a steady but noisy beat on the roof.
"And you want me to talk to Hiccup Haddock?" Astrid flipped through the file. "The same Hiccup Haddock that Simon—"
"The same Hiccup Haddock who was investigating Drago when everything went wrong." Gobber's voice had an edge to it. "You remember that day, don't you? You were teaching at the academy."
She did remember. She'd been demonstrating takedown techniques when the news spread through the department like wildfire. Commissioner Haddock dead. His son arrested. Simon Jorgenson's face plastered with bruises.
Astrid checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. The scar was barely visible now, unless you knew where to look. Like so many things in this case.
"Simon and Hiccup were partners," Astrid said slowly. "Best in their class."
"Until they weren't." Gobber stood, walking to the window. "Did you know Simon had been pressing to lead the Drago investigation? Said Hiccup was too close, too obsessed. Then suddenly, on the same day Stoick dies, Simon's sporting bruises and Hiccup's facing charges."
"You think Simon set him up?"
"I think," Gobber turned back, "that you know what it's like to lose everything in one day. Remember that tournament in Vegas?"
Astrid's jaw tightened. The injury that ended her fighting career. "That was different."
"Was it? Or did you just handle it better?"
The visitor's entrance loomed before her. Astrid squared her shoulders, badge ready.
"Your cover story's already half-true," Gobber said. "Ex-fighter looking for work. The gym's always recruiting. Get close to Drago's crew, find what Hiccup couldn't prove." He paused. "But first..."
"First I need Hiccup's help," Astrid finished for him.
"Just remember, lass – he's not the same person who left the force. Prison changes people." Gobber's expression softened. "Like injuries change fighters."
"Detective Hofferson," Astrid showed her badge to the guard. "I'm here to see Hiccup Haddock."
As she followed the guard through security, she thought about change. About how one day could turn a promising detective into a convict. How one wrong move could turn a champion into a teacher. How sometimes the only way forward was to use the changes life threw at you, not to fight them.
The cell block door buzzed open. Somewhere ahead, Hiccup Haddock was waiting.
And Astrid still wasn't sure if this was the best idea Gobber had ever had, or the worst.
Across town, Simon stood at his office window, watching the rain trace patterns on the glass. His commendation from yesterday sat on the desk, the brass still gleaming. Third one this year. The envelope in his drawer felt heavier, weighted with more than just money.
His reflection stared back at him, and for a moment he saw himself in his academy days, standing shoulder to shoulder with Hiccup, both of them full of ideals and ambition. Before the promotions passed him by. Before the whispers of "Stoick's son" started to burn. Before Drago showed him how easy it was to turn frustration into opportunity.
He opened the drawer, fingers brushing the envelope. Remembered Hiccup's face that last day, the betrayal in his eyes. Remembered how simple it had seemed then, to take Drago's offer. To twist his friend's obsession into proof of instability.
The gym's file sat on his desk, marked "Investigation Closed." Just like all the others that got too close to Drago. Each closure another step up the ladder, another commendation to his name.
His phone buzzed. A message from the gym about this month's payment schedule. Legitimate business, all above board. That's what his reports said. That's what everyone believed.
Simon's fingers drummed on the desk. Gobber had been asking questions lately. Looking at old cases. The kind of attention that made people nervous.
He pulled out his phone and began to type a warning. Then stopped. Deleted it. Some moves couldn't be taken back. He'd learned that lesson three years ago, in a gym just like the one he was protecting now.
He closed the drawer on the envelope and turned back to the rain-streaked window. In the distance, storm clouds gathered over Berk Correctional Facility.