"Good Afternoon," Alvin greeted Drago, then promptly snapped the neck of his victim. "Time to negotiate surrender. But first... boys, take him."

Alvin's men moved with practiced efficiency, securing Drago before he could reach for the weapon Henry knew was hidden in his desk drawer. The casino owner's scarred face betrayed no emotion as he was forced to his knees, hands zip-tied behind his back.

"I must say," Alvin continued, circling Drago with the casual air of a predator who knows its prey is trapped, "your operation was impressive. Shame about the leadership."

Henry remained by the door, watching. This was Alvin's moment, his victory, and protocol dictated he wait for instructions. But when Alvin gestured him forward, he stepped into the office.

"I thought you'd want to be here for this," Alvin said, tone almost conversational. "Given recent events."

Drago's dark eyes locked onto Henry's, recognition and understanding dawning simultaneously. "The faithful student," he said, voice rumbling despite his position. "Should have known. Grimmel always said you were cleverer than most."

"Speaking of Grimmel," Alvin interjected, "he sends his regards. Said something about repaying old debts."

A muscle twitched in Drago's jaw—the only indication that the mention of his former ally affected him. "If you're going to kill me, get on with it."

"That's not my decision." Alvin stepped back, retrieving a pistol from his jacket and offering it grip-first to Henry. "Captain Haddock has earned this privilege."

The weight of the weapon felt familiar in Henry's hand. He checked it automatically—full magazine, round chambered, safety off. Ready.

"My father," Henry said quietly, addressing Drago directly. "The explosion at my house. That was your order."

It wasn't a question, but Drago answered anyway. "War has casualties, boy. Stoick was... collateral damage."

"Collateral." Henry tasted the word, finding it bitter. "Is that what you told yourself? That a man's life was just... incidental?"

"We all tell ourselves stories to sleep at night." Drago's lips curved in a smile that never reached his eyes. "What story will you tell yourself after this?"

Henry stepped closer, the barrel of the gun now inches from Drago's forehead. "That Drago Bludvist could have lived to see old age, had he not killed the pride of Berk."

"The pride of Berk," Drago scoffed. "A middle-aged man is the best this town has to represent it. At least with Grimmel you became something. Tell me, why did you leave the SAS?"

"You wouldn't get it," Henry replied and squeezed the trigger.

The shot echoed in the confined space of the office, the sound dampened by the casino's ambient noise below. Drago slumped forward, a neat hole centered in his forehead, eyes still open but seeing nothing.

Henry lowered the weapon, feeling strangely hollow. He had expected satisfaction, perhaps even a sense of completion. Instead, there was only the acknowledgment that one more threat had been eliminated; there would always be more.

"Clean," Alvin commented, taking the gun back and passing it to one of his men. "Quick. Professional."

"It's done," Henry replied flatly. "That's all that matters."

Alvin studied him for a moment, then nodded to his men. They moved efficiently, wrapping Drago's body in plastic sheeting produced from duffel bags they'd brought.

"Not quite all that matters," Alvin said, moving to the casino owner's computer. "Drago kept records. Names, locations, bank accounts. The kind of information that builds empires—or destroys them."

Henry watched as Alvin connected a drive to the computer, copying files. "What happens now?"

"Now?" Alvin glanced up, expression calculatingly neutral. "Now we finish what we started."

As they were leaving the casino, Henry looked at Alvin. "I highly recommend that Khan shouldn't be killed. He can be convinced to join us and become my replacement. At least, I hope so. Want me to call him?"

"Only if you're sure you can get results. Otherwise, he dies."

"Fair enough Alvin. I'll fetch Emma and go deal with Ragnar now."

"Hello?"

"Is this Mr Ragnar Goreson?

"Yes, Ragar speaking. Who is this?"

"My name is Emma and I have some bad news sir."

"Bad news?"

"Sorry to tell you this sir, but your wife. She just arrived at hospital - Berk General Hospital - in critical condition from a car crash. You should hurry, sir."

And hurry he did, wasting no time in climbing into his car and flooring it.

But unbeknownst to Ragnar, his wife was fine, and his speeding vehicle was being tracked. Its speed, of course, was not enough to avoid any shot from an expert marksman, and Henry had been trained in that very discipline, among numerous others.

However, Henry's phone started ringing in his pocket. Confused, he shared a look with Emma, who was lying prone beside him, watching the scene via binoculars.

"Answer it," she replied, not bothering to look at him. "Whatever it is could be important. But make it snappy."

Way ahead of you, thought Henry, already bringing the phone to his ear.

"Whoever this is, I'm in the middle of something."

"Stop the 'something' before you get yourself in serious trouble."

The voice was Mrs Hofferson, which made him pause; the timing was quite coincidental, and her wording indicated she knew exactly what he was about to do to Ragnar.

"Mrs. Hofferson?" Henry's finger froze above the trigger, his focus split between the call and Ragnar's approaching vehicle. "This isn't a good time."

"On the contrary, Captain Haddock, this is precisely the right time." Her voice carried an authority he'd never heard from Astrid's mother before. "Lower your weapon and step away from the position."

Henry glanced at Emma, who had abandoned her binoculars and was now watching him intently, sensing something was wrong.

"I don't know what you think is happening, but—"

"What's happening," Helga cut him off, "is that you're positioned on the roof of the abandoned Hagen Building with a modified L115A3 sniper rifle, preparing to assassinate Ragnar Goreson as he speeds toward what he believes is his injured wife at Berk General."

The precision of her information stunned him into silence.

"You've already eliminated Drago Bludvist and assisted in the disposal of Krogan's body at the industrial compactor," she continued, her tone dispassionate. "And now you believe removing Ragnar will complete your dismantling of their operation."

Emma mouthed, "who is it?" but Henry could only shake his head, mind racing. Through his scope, he could see Ragnar's car approaching the intersection that would give him his clean shot—a shot he was suddenly unable to take.

"You have approximately sixty seconds to convince me why I shouldn't add five more years to a very long prison sentence for this latest attempt," Helga finished.

"Prison sentence?" Henry finally managed, abandoning his shooting position to focus on the call.

"MI5 has been building a case against Drago's organization for fourteen months, Captain. A case you've been systematically compromising with each unsanctioned elimination."

MI5. The pieces clicked into place – the suspiciously convenient timing of certain events, the way Drago's people had sometimes seemed unprepared.

"You've been watching me," he said flatly. "For how long?"

"Since Grimmel resurfaced." A pause. "Now, I need your assurance that you're standing down. Ragnar is about to pass your kill zone."

Through the scope, Henry could see the car speeding through the intersection—the perfect shot slipping away. He felt a complicated mix of frustration and confusion.

"Fine. I'm standing down." He stepped back from the rifle. "But I want answers."

"And you'll get them. Black sedan, north entrance to the building, five minutes." The line went dead.

Henry lowered the phone, finding Emma staring at him expectantly.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded. "You just let him go!"

"We've got a problem." Henry began disassembling the rifle with practiced efficiency. "That was Astrid's mother."

"Your future mother-in-law just happened to call during an operation?" Emma's skepticism was palpable. "That's one hell of a coincidence."

"It wasn't a coincidence." Henry secured the rifle components in their case. "She knew exactly what we were doing. Described the weapon, the position, everything."

Emma's expression shifted from confusion to alarm. "How is that possible?"

"She's MI5." Henry checked his watch. "And she'll be here in about four minutes. You need to go."

"I'm not leaving you to face this alone."

"Yes, you are." Henry's tone offered no room for argument. "If they know about me, they likely know about Alvin's operation. Get back and warn him."

Emma hesitated, clearly torn between loyalty and self-preservation.

"Go," Henry insisted. "I'll handle this."

After another moment's hesitation, she nodded and headed for the roof access door. "If you're not back in two hours, we're coming for you."

"Fair enough." Henry finished packing up, his mind still processing the implications of what had just happened.

Five minutes later, he stood at the north entrance, watching a sleek black sedan with government plates pull up to the curb. The back door opened, revealing not just Helga Hofferson but also a face he hadn't expected to see.

"You've got to be kidding me," Henry muttered as his cousin Snotlout emerged from the driver's seat, now dressed in tactical gear rather than his usual casual clothes.

"Hello, Henry," Snotlout said, his typical mocking tone replaced by something more professional. "We need to talk."

"Apparently." Henry's gaze shifted between them, noting how comfortable Snotlout seemed in this new role. "Though I'm having trouble deciding what's more surprising – that Astrid's mother is MI5, or that you're competent enough to work for her."

Snotlout's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "And here I thought you military types were observant."

Helga gestured to the open car door. "This discussion is better continued elsewhere, Captain Haddock."

Henry stood his ground. "Before I go anywhere, I want to know something. Does Astrid know what you do?"

"No," Helga replied without hesitation. "And it would be best for everyone if it stayed that way."

The implied threat wasn't subtle. Get in the car, play by our rules, or Astrid gets pulled into this mess.

Henry's jaw tightened as he evaluated his options. They were limited, and he knew it.

"After you," he finally said, nodding toward the sedan.

As he slid into the back seat beside Helga, his phone buzzed with a text from Emma:

I got out safely. What's happening?

He didn't respond, instead watching as Snotlout closed the door and returned to the driver's seat. The sedan pulled away from the curb, taking him toward a confrontation he hadn't anticipated and a family connection he'd never suspected.

In the side mirror, he caught a glimpse of Ragnar's car making a U-turn several blocks away, the driver clearly confused about why his wife wasn't at the hospital after all.

One problem avoided, Henry thought grimly. A dozen new ones just beginning.

The privacy screen rose silently between the front and back seats as the sedan merged into traffic. Snotlout was barely visible through the darkened partition, focused on driving with a professionalism Henry had never associated with his cousin.

"I assume you have questions," Helga said, breaking the silence.

"A few." Henry kept his tone neutral, though his mind was racing. "Starting with how long MI5 has been watching me."

"Officially, since Grimmel's first appearance at the Premier Inn." Helga removed a tablet from her briefcase, unlocking it with her thumbprint. "Unofficially, you've been on our radar since your discharge from the SAS."

"My discharge was nothing special; I left of my own accord."

Helga's expression made it clear she knew better. "Your service record contains several... creative omissions, Captain. Particularly regarding your final operations under Grimmel's command."

The implication hung in the air between them. Those operations – the ones that had pushed Henry to leave, to seek an escape from what he was becoming – were supposedly buried under layers of classification.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked finally.

"Context." Helga turned the tablet toward him, showing surveillance photos of his recent activities – meeting with Alvin, the operation at Snotlout's house, even the exchange that had freed Cami. "You've been quite busy dismantling Drago's organization. Almost methodical."

"They killed my father." Henry's voice hardened. "Blew up my house. Tried to kill me and Astrid multiple times."

"I'm aware." Helga's tone softened marginally. "And I'm not unsympathetic. But your personal vendetta has interfered with a larger operation."

"To what end?" Henry challenged. "Drago has been in Berk for a few years without MI5 making a move. What have you been you waiting for?"

A flicker of something – annoyance, perhaps – crossed Helga's features. "Drago was a symptom, not the disease. His organization connected to more significant threats – political corruption, international arms dealing, security breaches within government agencies."

"And you let those connections continue while building your case." The realization tasted bitter. "How many people died while you collected evidence?"

"Fewer than if we had moved prematurely and allowed the larger network to regroup," Helga countered. "This is the difference between tactical thinking and strategic planning, Captain. Something I believe you were once familiar with."

Henry rolled his eyes at the jab, not willing to acknowledge that Helga was right; he had been operating on instinct and emotion since his father's death, focused on immediate threats rather than the broader picture.

"So now what?" he asked. "You've stopped me from eliminating Ragnar. You've revealed your operation. What's your play?"

Helga set aside the tablet. "We need to neutralize Ragnar. And Khan, if he's still alive."

"Khan was offered employment by Alvin," Henry provided, calculating that sharing some information might yield more in return.

"We know." Of course, they did. "What you don't know is that Khan has been playing both sides, maintaining contact with Ragnar while negotiating with Alvin."

That was unexpected. Henry frowned, reassessing his understanding of the situation. "So he's planning to betray Alvin?"

"Perhaps." Helga's expression gave nothing away. "Or perhaps he's gathering intelligence for someone else entirely."

The car turned onto a less traveled road, heading away from the city center.

"Where are we going?" Henry asked, newly alert to the change in direction.

"Somewhere secure to continue this conversation." Helga checked her watch. "Unless you'd prefer to return to your hotel, where Astrid has been waiting for you since yesterday evening, growing increasingly concerned about your absence?"

The mention of Astrid twisted something in Henry's chest. "You're using your own daughter as leverage?"

"I'm pointing out realities," Helga corrected. "There are personal consequences to the choices you've made, Captain. Professional ones as well."

Henry studied her, seeing Astrid's features hardened by decades of whatever had led her to MI5. "What do you want from me?"

"Cooperation." Helga held his gaze. "Your skills, your connections, your insight into Drago's remaining operations. In exchange for immunity from prosecution for your... extracurricular activities."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I have a very difficult conversation with my daughter about why her fiancé is being arrested for multiple homicides." Helga's voice remained even. "And you lose any chance of finishing what you started."

Henry looked out the window, buying time to consider his options. They were passing the outskirts of Berk now, headed toward what appeared to be a government facility in the distance.

"You haven't asked about Snotlout," Helga observed.

"I don't particularly care about my cousin. If I did, he'd be on my hit list. But I'll humour you anyway," Henry turned back to her. "How long has he been working for you?"

"Six years." A hint of pride crept into Helga's voice. "Recruited straight from university. His cover as your obnoxious, underachieving cousin has been remarkably effective."

"Obnoxious? Try sadistic. Camicazi has some obnoxious tendencies that I'm sure you're familiar with. Snotlout there? He, with the help of the Thorston twins, once dragged me to Thor's Peak and acted like he was going to throw me off, into the forest below the cliff."

Helga said nothing to this, but her eyes trailed from him to Snotlout beside her, who visibly winced.

The car slowed, approaching a checkpoint. Henry could see Snotlout showing identification to armed guards through the privacy glass.

"Before we arrive," Helga said, "I need your decision. Are you with us, or against us?"

Henry thought of Astrid, of his father, of the promise he'd made to bring down those responsible. Working with MI5 might get him what he wanted, but at what cost?

"I need more information before I decide," he said finally. "Including exactly what happened at Snotlout's house that night."

"Fair enough." Helga nodded as the car passed through the gate. "That particular operation deserves explanation."

The sedan pulled to a stop in front of a nondescript building. Snotlout opened Henry's door, standing with a posture that belonged to a professional agent, not the cousin Henry had known his entire life.

"Welcome to The Sanctuary," Snotlout said, using the formal tone Henry had heard earlier. "We've got a few surprises inside that might interest you."

Henry stepped out of the car, stretching his legs. "If you're going to tell me Grimmel isn't actually dead, save your breath."

Snotlout froze, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he could mask it. Helga, emerging from the other side of the car, went equally still.

"You know about Grimmel?" Snotlout asked carefully.

A cold smile touched Henry's lips. "Of course I do. He's working for Alvin on Drago's behalf. I've known his whereabouts for days - I helped bring him to Alvin." The momentary confusion on both their faces gave him a small satisfaction. "Perhaps your intel isn't as comprehensive as you thought."

Helga and Snotlout exchanged a look that Henry couldn't quite interpret – concern, maybe, or recalculation.

"Interesting," Helga finally said. "It seems we have more to discuss than I anticipated."

"Apparently." Henry gestured toward the building. "After you."

As they walked toward the entrance, Henry smiled at knowing he had a card to play. MI5 might have the means to control him, but he wasn't helpless against them. It wasn't over. Not yet.

In this particular game, information was the only currency that mattered.

The interior of "The Sanctuary" reminded Henry of the SAS tactical operations center he'd worked in years ago—a sterile, efficient space filled with technology and purpose. The main room was dominated by multiple display screens, each showing different surveillance feeds, data analyses, and operational maps of Berk.

"Welcome to our Scottish Operations Division," Helga said, leading him past workstations where analysts tracked movements across digital maps of the city. "Not quite what you'd expect from the civil service, I imagine."

Henry said nothing, cataloging exits, personnel, and security measures as they walked. Force of habit. Twenty-three staff members were visible. Four armed security officers stood among them with biometric access panels on all secure doors.

They entered a glass-walled conference room that overlooked the operations floor. On the table sat a thick file folder with his name on it. Snotlout took position by the door as Helga gestured for Henry to sit.

"Your file," she explained, sliding it toward him. "Fourteen months of surveillance, intelligence gathering, and operational analysis."

Henry opened it to find photos of himself: arriving at the car scrapyard late at night, entering Drago's casino and most recently, the operation at Snotlout's house. Each photo was timestamped and annotated with operational details that could only have come from high-level surveillance.

"You've been thorough," he acknowledged, keeping his voice neutral despite the violation he felt seeing his movements so meticulously documented. He made a mental note to observe his surroundings more closely in the future.

"We had to be." Helga tapped a remote, activating the wall display. A network diagram appeared, showing Drago at the center of an intricate web of connections. "Drago Bludvist wasn't just a criminal. He was a node in a larger network that extends across Europe."

Henry studied the diagram, recognizing some names but noting many more he didn't. "And now that node has been removed."

"Creating both opportunities and vulnerabilities." Helga expanded one section of the diagram. "These connections—political figures, security officials, corporate entities—they're now in flux, looking for new alliances."

A second diagram appeared alongside the first, this one showing Henry at the center, connected to Alvin, Emma, and other figures he'd worked with. The precision of their intelligence was unsettling.

"So this isn't just about Ragnar and Khan," Henry concluded, connecting the dots. "You want me to help you map and dismantle the entire network."

"Precisely." Helga's expression remained professional, but there was a hint of approval in her tone. "Your... aggressive approach has destabilized a system we've been monitoring for years. Now we need to control the collapse."

The door opened, and a young analyst entered, handing Helga a tablet before departing. She studied it briefly, then turned it toward Henry.

"This is happening right now."

The screen showed real-time footage of Khan entering a private club downtown—one Henry recognized as a front for money laundering operations.

"He's meeting with Ragnar in ten minutes," Helga continued. "Discussing how to respond to Drago's disappearance, we believe."

Henry's eyes narrowed. "So you've had eyes on both of them all along."

"Of course." Her tone suggested this should have been obvious. "But watching and acting are different matters. We needed actionable evidence, viable prosecutions."

"While people died." The bitterness in his voice surprised even him.

"A regrettable necessity in the larger—"

"Strategic picture. Yes, you mentioned that." Henry closed the file, having seen enough. "What exactly are you offering me?"

Snotlout stepped forward, placing a thin, metal briefcase on the table. Inside was a phone, a watch, and what appeared to be standard identification documents.

"Conditional immunity," Helga answered, "for all actions taken against Drago's organization to date. Official consultant status with MI5's Special Operations Division. Protection for yourself and... those you care about."

The implication regarding Astrid was clear.

"And in exchange?"

"You work with us to dismantle the remainder of Drago's network. Starting with the meeting happening in—" she checked her watch, "—eight minutes."

Henry stared at the surveillance feed of Khan. Then, at the dossier of his own activities. Finally, at the credentials being offered. The walls were closing in, but perhaps there was still room to maneuver.

"I'll need assurances," he said finally. "In writing."

"Of course." Helga slid a document across the table. "We anticipated as much."

As Henry scanned the legal text, a new feed appeared on the monitor—Emma, entering Alvin's headquarters. He kept his expression neutral, but his mind was racing. MI5 wasn't just watching him; they were watching everyone connected to him.

There was no walking away from this. Not anymore.

"Your consultant credentials," Snotlout said, sliding the MI5 identification across the table. "Temporary clearance until the paperwork is finalized."

Henry didn't touch it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, weighing options that seemed to narrow with each passing minute. The conference room felt smaller now, the glass walls less transparent and more like a display case.

"You still haven't explained what happened at your house," he said, addressing his cousin directly.

Snotlout exchanged a glance with Helga, who nodded her permission.

"It was a controlled operation," Snotlout explained, dropping the formal tone slightly. "Griselda's team was under surveillance from the moment they left the casino. We knew they were coming."

"And you let them breach your door anyway?"

"We needed to establish their intent." Snotlout shrugged as if discussing weekend plans rather than an almost house invasion. "What we didn't anticipate was your intervention."

"Which resulted in four bodies," Helga added.

"Four bodies that would have been there regardless," Henry countered. "The only difference is who pulled the trigger."

"Perhaps." Helga's tone made it clear she wasn't convinced. "Regardless, your actions have accelerated our timeline. Now we need to adapt."

Henry studied the monitors showing Khan's arrival at the club, debating his options in his head. If he refused to cooperate, MI5 had enough evidence to put him away for decades. If he agreed, he'd be operating under their rules, their oversight. Neither option appealed to him.

But there was a third path—one that required careful navigation.

"I'll need operational autonomy," he said finally. "No direct oversight during missions."

"Out of the question," Helga replied immediately.

"Then this won't work." Henry gestured toward the surveillance feeds. "Your people move like bureaucrats. I need flexibility, the ability to adapt in the field."

"You want carte blanche to continue operating as you have been," Helga translated.

"I want to be effective," Henry corrected. "And that means not having to clear every decision through a committee."

A tense silence followed. On the monitor, Khan was shown entering a private room at the club. The clock was ticking.

"Limited operational autonomy," Helga offered finally. "Subject to mission parameters established beforehand. And you'll work with a handler."

"Snotlout?" Henry guessed.

"Snotlout," Helga confirmed with a nod. "He knows you," She pointed out. "And despite your... history, he has a vested interest in your success."

Oh gee, thanks, Snotlout. I feel so very content that you're looking out for me.

Working with Snotlout was far from ideal, but it was better than being directly under Helga's thumb. And having a family member as his handler created potential leverage—assuming family still meant anything to Snotlout.

It was a calculated risk, but one that might give him room to maneuver.

"Fine," he agreed, reaching for the credentials. "But I maintain contact with my existing network. Alvin, Emma—they remain assets."

"With appropriate oversight," Helga stipulated.

"As long as it doesn't compromise their safety."

Henry could see Helga weighing the request, analyzing the potential benefits against the risks. "Agreed," she said finally. "But all information flows through official channels from now on."

"What about Astrid?" The question had been weighing on him since he'd entered the building.

"What about her?" Helga's tone cooled perceptibly.

"She deserves to know." Henry held her gaze. "About you. About this."

"That's not operationally relevant."

"It is to me." Henry's voice hardened. "I'm done lying to her."

Helga's expression remained impassive, but something flickered behind her eyes—a calculation being made, perhaps, or a boundary being tested.

"We can discuss that after your first operation," she said finally. "For now, Khan and Ragnar are meeting, and we need to know what they're planning."

It wasn't the answer Henry wanted, but it was the best he was likely to get. He'd made his tactical decision—engage with MI5 on terms he could navigate, maintain connections to his own resources, and find a way to be honest with Astrid.

Whether it was the right decision remained to be seen.

"Brief me on the operation," he said, pocketing the credentials. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Helga's slight smile suggested she knew she'd won this round. "It's quite simple, Captain Haddock. We want you to meet with Khan. Alone."

The pub—not Gobber's—was nearly empty at this hour, which suited him just fine. Henry had fifteen minutes before he needed to be at The Black Wolf, and MI5 would be tracking his movements. He'd removed the watch's battery on the drive over, but that would only buy him so much time before MI5 noticed the device had gone offline.

Agnut Thorston sat in the back corner, nursing a pint and looking exactly like what she was—a completely forgettable courier driver who went unnoticed everywhere she went. The perfect informant. Unlike her cousins Ruff and Tuff, Agnut had never drawn attention to herself.

Henry slid into the seat across from her, accepting the pint Agnut had already ordered.

"You look like shit," Agnut observed, no preamble.

"Been a long day," Henry replied. "And it's not over yet."

"New friends keeping you busy?" Agnut's eyes flicked briefly to Henry's wrist, where the MI5 watch was concealed under his sleeve.

So Agnut had already figured that out. Not surprising. The woman missed nothing, which was why Henry had recruited her for information gathering two years ago.

"Something like that," Henry confirmed. "What about Cami?"

Agnut took a sip before answering. "Vanished. Two days now. Her mother's keeping it quiet, but I deliver to city hall. The mayor hasn't left her office in 36 hours, and there are Unified Command meetings happening that aren't on any official calendar."

Unified Command meant police, intelligence services, and likely MI5. The fact that Bertha was keeping Cami's disappearance from the public was interesting.

"Any leads?" Henry asked.

"Nothing solid." Agnut lowered her voice. "But there's talk about the Bog family yacht. It's missing from its mooring. Has been since the night she disappeared."

"The yacht disappearing at the same time she did... that can't be a coincidence," Henry murmured, half to himself. The timing suggested she either left voluntarily or someone wanted it to look that way.

"There's more," Agnut continued. "Package came for you yesterday. To your old drop point."

She slid a small envelope across the table. Henry pocketed it without looking at it, not wanting to examine unknown contents in a semi-public place.

"From Cami?"

"Can't say. Was left with old man Mildew at the docks. You know how he is—half blind and fully irritating."

Henry nodded, his mind racing. If Cami had disappeared, the timing alongside Drago's death couldn't be coincidental.

"Keep your ear to the ground," Henry instructed. "And watch Bertha. If anyone knows where Cami is, it'll be her mother."

"Already on it." Agnut finished her drink. "There's talk about you too, you know. People are saying Drago's organization is collapsing because of internal power struggles. Your name's come up."

"Let them talk." Henry checked his watch. Time was running short. "Anything else?"

"Just one thing. I've been noticing a cargo vessel that docks in Berk harbor every third Tuesday with no cargo manifest. Never seems to load or unload anything significant. It's due tomorrow."

Another piece of the puzzle he hadn't had time to investigate. With Drago gone, perhaps these loose ends would start connecting.

"Good to know." Henry stood. "Same time next week?"

"If you're still around," Agnut replied. There was no judgment in her tone, just a pragmatic assessment of Henry's increasingly complicated situation.

As Henry left the pub, he felt the weight of the envelope in his pocket. If it was related to Cami's disappearance, it could contain information that might explain where she'd gone—or who had taken her.

He replaced the battery for his watch next. Let MI5 wonder where he'd been for the past twelve minutes. Some things still needed to remain his alone.

For now, he had a meeting with Khan to attend.

The Black Wolf was exactly the kind of establishment Henry would have expected for a meeting between Drago's lieutenants—exclusive enough to ensure privacy, but not so upscale that violence would be entirely unexpected. As he approached the private entrance, he adjusted the watch MI5 had provided him. Not just a timepiece but a recording device and tracker.

"Audio feed is clear," Snotlout's voice came through the nearly invisible earpiece. "Satellite has thermal confirmation that both targets are still inside."

"Acknowledge the transmission," Helga instructed from the operations center.

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Understood," he muttered, knowing the subtle throat microphone would pick it up.

The bouncer at the door—ex-military by his stance—recognized Henry immediately. "Captain Haddock," he said with a nod of respect. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I need a word with Khan," Henry replied simply.

"He's occupied at the moment."

"He'll want to see me. It's about Alvin."

The mention of Alvin's name was enough. The bouncer stepped aside, letting Henry enter the dimly lit interior. The club was designed for discretion—private booths with high partitions, ambient music loud enough to mask conversation but not so loud as to prevent it.

"Approaching the targets now," Henry subvocalized. "Going silent."

He switched off the transmitter with a subtle gesture toward his watch. MI5 would still receive audio, but they couldn't communicate with him. A small rebellion, but one he needed.

Khan and Ragnar were seated in the most private booth at the back, heads close together in conversation. Two bodyguards flanked the entrance, tensing as Henry approached.

"Gentlemen," Henry greeted them. "I believe your employer is expecting me."

The guards looked to Khan, who nodded once. As Henry slid into the booth across from them, he noted the half-empty glasses, the tension in Ragnar's posture, and the calculating stillness in Khan's eyes.

"Bold of you to come here," Ragnar said, a dangerous edge to his voice. "After this morning's... diversion."

So he'd realized the call about his wife had been a setup. Henry had expected as much.

"Yes, you should be happy I sneezed when you drove across that intersection or you would be in the morgue. Anyway, I'm not here about that," Henry replied, keeping his gaze on Khan. "I'm here about Drago."

"What about Drago?" Khan asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"He's dead." Henry made the statement matter-of-fact, watching for their reactions. Ragnar's hand tightened around his glass. Khan remained impassive. "Alvin has taken control of the casino and all associated operations."

"And you're what? His messenger boy?" Ragnar sneered.

Henry ignored him, focusing on Khan. "Alvin believes you could be an asset in the new arrangement. He sent me to discuss terms."

"Did he now?" Khan's expression revealed nothing. "Interesting, considering I received a similar offer from another party just this morning."

MI5, Henry realized. They'd already made contact. This meeting wasn't just a test of his loyalty—it was a verification of Khan's.

"I'm aware," Henry acknowledged. "But their offer comes with strings. Alvin's is more... straightforward."

"Protection in exchange for service," Khan summarized. "And what of my colleague here?" He gestured toward Ragnar, who was watching the exchange with growing suspicion.

Henry met Ragnar's eyes. "That depends on his usefulness. As well as his temperament or any semblance of restraint."

"You son of a—" Ragnar started, half-rising before Khan's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Consider carefully," Khan advised his fellow lieutenant. "The landscape is changing. Adaptation is survival."

The calculation in Khan's voice confirmed what MI5 had suspected—he'd been hedging his bets all along, positioning himself to land on the winning side regardless of who emerged victorious.

"I don't bend the knee to Alvin," Ragnar spat. "Or to anyone."

"That's your choice," Henry replied evenly. "But Drago is gone. Alvin is in charge now. The old arrangements died when Drago did."

Ragnar stood abruptly. "I need air." He strode away, shouldering past his own bodyguard in his anger.

Once he was out of earshot, Khan leaned forward. "He won't accept the new reality. He's already planning countermeasures."

"Against Alvin?"

"Against anyone he perceives as a threat." Khan's gaze was pointed. "Including you."

Henry absorbed this, understanding the implicit warning. "And where do you stand in all this?"

"Where I always stand," Khan replied smoothly. "With the winners."

"And that's Alvin?"

"For now." Khan sipped his drink. "Though I suspect there are other players in this game. Players with more resources than a local crime boss."

Henry realized he knew. Khan had deduced MI5's involvement, possibly even Henry's new arrangement. The man's intelligence had always been his most dangerous quality.

"Hypothetically," Henry said carefully, "if such players existed, what would you offer them?"

"The same thing I offer Alvin." Khan's smile was thin. "Information. Access. Efficiency."

"And loyalty?"

"To a point." The honesty was refreshing, if calculated. "I survive, Captain Haddock. That's what I do best- same as you."

Henry nodded slowly, making his decision. Khan was a potential asset—to MI5, to Alvin, and potentially to Henry himself. A man without true loyalty but with perfect self-interest could be predictable in his own way.

"Tomorrow. Noon. The café across from the maritime museum," Henry instructed. "Come alone. We'll discuss specifics."

Khan inclined his head in acceptance. "And Ragnar?"

Henry glanced toward the exit where Ragnar had disappeared. "That's his choice to make."

As Henry left the club, he reactivated his comms. "Mission complete. Khan is receptive. Ragnar is volatile."

"Excellent work, Captain," Helga's voice came through. "Return to base for debriefing."

But Henry was already moving in another direction, toward the parking area where he'd glimpsed Ragnar heading. This part wasn't in the MI5 playbook.

"Haddock, where are you going?" Snotlout's voice held a note of alarm.

"Tying up loose ends," Henry replied, knowing they couldn't stop him in time.

He found Ragnar by his car, phone pressed to his ear, speaking rapidly in a hushed voice. When he saw Henry approaching, he ended the call abruptly.

"Come to ensure my loyalty too?" Ragnar sneered.

"No." Henry's voice was calm. "I came to give you a choice."

"I don't need your choices."

"Yes, you do." Henry stepped closer. "Because right now, you have exactly three options. Work with Alvin. Disappear completely. Or end up like Drago."

Ragnar's hand moved toward his jacket, but Henry was faster, gripping his wrist with punishing force.

"Don't," Henry advised quietly. "It won't end well for you. If I can handle Krogan, Griselda and Drago, I can handle you too."

For a moment, they stood frozen in that position—a tableau of shifting power. Then Henry released him, stepping back.

"Twenty-four hours," Henry said. "Make the right decision."

As he walked away, leaving Ragnar standing by his car, Henry knew he'd just acted outside MI5's parameters. He'd issued an ultimatum of his own design, taken initiative when he was supposed to be following orders.

And it had felt right. Natural. The kind of decisive action Grimmel had trained him for.

In his ear, Helga was demanding an explanation. But all Henry could think about was how easily he'd slipped back into the role of operator rather than asset. How comfortable the familiar weight of command decisions felt.

This was who he was. Who he'd always been, underneath the attempts at being just another citizen of Berk.

And it was time Astrid knew it.

Three soft taps on the door heralded Henry's arrival to Astrid, giving a pre-warning before the door was opened by his key card.

He entered and closed the door, leaning against it.

"Henry?" Astrid prompted, after several moments went by with him staring into the middle distance.

He blinked. "Astrid, you said you wanted me to leave and not come back. Is that still what you want?"

"No. I-I was angry. I'm sorry for saying that."

"Don't apologise for that quite yet, because I'm going to tell you some things that may or may not make you want me gone."

"Like what?"

"Well first of all, there is a man named Alvin. He's a buisnessman who runs the major multi-storey carparks in Berk. He's also the most established crime boss in the city and I have worked for him for quite a few years - almost from the moment I left high school. I was his head of security for external threats while someone else I know would provide personal security and a third someone would sometimes join me on jobs. I'll tell you their names later, assuming you don't tell me to leave."

"Okay..." Astrid stamped down her internal conflict. She had to hear him out. She owed him that much after how their previous interaction went. She had wanted to know what was going on, after all.

"After our... fight... I was tasked with killing some external threats - three people - who worked for the man who killed my dad."

"Your dad is dead?! When? When did that happen?"

"Before our argument."

"And you didn't tell me? Why?"

"Can I continue? I'll answer that at the end."

Astrid didn't look happy at the request, but still, she nodded. "Okay."

"So I've killed a total of five people in recent memory, including Drago Bludvist, the man who killed my parents. He owned that new casino by the way. It should be safe enough for you to come back to Berk, but you should know that there are more people I need to kill. Drago had a lot of people working for him who are out of a job. So much so that a third party hired me to deal with them all, and they're offering protection for you."

"Who? More criminals?"

"No, but some people I did some work for, around the time I lost my leg. MI5. I was hired by MI5."

Astrid blinked. "Okay, that's... surprising. But at least it gives you a reason to keep secrets from me in the future... Great. Just awesome."

"I won't be able to outright tell you MI5 secrets, but nothing says I can't 'nudge' you in the right direction and let you figure things out. If they find out, I'll just say I didn't spill the beans, and it would be the truth since you'd be putting in the legwork."

Astrid snorted. "More 'legwork' than you can do, anyhow. Pun intended."

"I was being serious."

"I know. I wasn't though."

"Clearly. Anyway, on the topic of nudging you, there's someone we both know, me more than you, who is involved with my new secret employer. As a result, I have to act differently around this person. See if you can figure out who it is."

"Duly noted. I like a challenge."

"Astrid, all of Berk knows that. You say that like it's some hidden knowledge."

"And Berk should never forget. So, are we good?"

"That's my line. You wanted me to leave and not come back, remember?"

"Yes, we're good. More than good. Can we get married, soon? Today perhaps? I don't want anything else to happen between us."

"Let's go for a walk. Maybe we can find someone to officiate in this town somewhere."

Astrid got off the bed where she had been sitting till now with a speed that displayed her eagerness. "Sounds like a plan."