Eye of the Striker

A/N: This is probably a long awaited chapter, giving you just a bit more information about what is actually going on, on the other side of this story. This might shed a little more light on the situation, but it also is probably going to leave you with a lot more questions.

Chapter 17: Broken time

Following the final tip he had been given, Stoick headed in to the old abandoned school, his pistol drawn. The flare from his flashlight was the only relief from the darkness, and the dust hung in the air as thick as cobwebs. The charred carpet crackled with every step, the floorboards crunching as he moved his way through. Room to room, he moved, checking every corner, every crevice, not once lowering his weapon. This would end here. It had to.

The slightest creak had him darting into the nearest classroom, but there was nothing to be found except more collapsed rubble. Tables still stood into their rows, but no-one would ever sit behind them again. Glass shards littered the floor, the windows so cracked that barely the thinnest sliver of light could shine through. The whiteboard had survived, but it was torn at its edges, its colour singed to a dull grey.

Eyes narrowing, he shook his head and continued on. This had to be the place. Everything led here. Finger on the trigger, he pushed forward. Every sound echoed through the hollow structure, as he clambered over crumbled pillars. At the end of the hallway, he began his slow ascent up to the second floor. The stairs sunk like sand under his feet, as he climbed them, howling under the pressure, and the wooden bannister crumbled in his palm from the softest grasp.

Stoick continued nonetheless, reaching the top just they succumbed to the weight. With one final groan, they dissolved into a heap of broken wood behind him. Steadying himself for a moment, he took one look back at the void that had appeared, before focusing himself back on the task at hand. That monster was here somewhere, and he had to be the one to put him down for good.

Scouring every inch of this side of the building, there was nothing more to be found. No sign anyone had been here at all. Still, with speed and precision he searched. The flickering bulb running the length of the corridor above him hummed in his ear, shining a light on what this place used to be. Eyes trained to watch the shadows, his head darted jaggedly with every subtle sign of movement, but this place housed nothing but ghosts.

There was one wing left, the final area he hadn't searched. Taking a deep breath, he re-trained his sights and headed straight forward. The buzzing of the flashing light began to fade behind him, as he ventured once again into the darkness. A broken bridge was the last test to reach that last refuge, but even if he had to head to hell itself, he would go, just to make sure no-one would ever be hurt again.

From the start of his crossing, he had to go slow, as to either side, there was a significant drop. The very foundations of the passage were compromised, visible holes in the floor luring him to his doom. The windows should have blocked off the sides, but now they were piercing shards, laying in wait, preying on the slightest misstep. All he had was the cold slap of the evening air to keep him on track.

Carefully, he began his crossing. Each creek, each crunch, each crack beneath his feet bringing him one step closer to an early fall. Torch pointed downwards, he battled his way to the other side. At about halfway, he could feel the structure itself bending downwards, falling in on itself, but he had come too far to go back. He could see the other side clearly now. He would make it.

The bridge was shaking more with every step, but with the end in sight, he rose his light up once more to illuminate where he needed to go. He was almost there, and he was about to take another step, when right at the limit of his torch's range, a figure swept out from the dark. Stoick couldn't see the man's face, but just from the shadow painted behind him, he knew who it was. Knew better than anyone.

Planting his feet, Stoick raised his gun, locking himself in place. His face held still, not a single muscle moving, except for the twitch as his trigger finger ached for the release. The footsteps coming towards him hit the ground like the beat of a drum, as step by step, the shadow came closer and closer to the light. Top half bathed in darkness, Stoick could only see his outline, a demon painted in the black.

The sound of footsteps stopped, and for a moment there was silence, until the man called out, a voice gruff and raw, "Hello, old friend."

Blood boiling, Stoick could do nothing more than growl back the man's name, "Bludvist."

"No need for the formalities, Stoick" the man chuckled. Matching Stoick in height and build, the man sauntered forward with an air of righteousness. "I knew you'd find me eventually, but it's fitting, don't you think? That we meet back up in a place like this." Looking side to side, his heavy dreadlocks swinging with every turn, he wrapped his cloak further around him. "It was a school like this that built us both up to be at the very top of the ladder. Both destined for success. Both with glory guaranteed."

"That was a long time ago, Drago," Stoick grunted, holding his gun firm.

"It was. It was," Drago agreed, "but it still feels like yesterday." Tapping his fingers heavily on the ceiling, he took another stride forward, until he was at the very edge of the bridge. "You got that glory. You lived that dream. AND I GOT THROWN IN THE GUTTER!"

"That is no excuse for what you've done," Stoick snarled, taking a few steps forward of his own.

"It's more than an excuse," Drago growled, glancing down at his arm. "You made me into this monster, when you ruined my life. All those years I wasted away, and where were you, Stoick? Living out a fantasy while everyone forgot about me."

"I never forgot," Stoick conceded bitterly. "I tried to help you."

"HELP!" Drago roared. "You have no idea what they did to me. What they put me through. You left me to die in there."

"It was for your own good."

"FOR YOURS, you mean. So you could lock me away and not have to see my face. So you could go on with your life without that guilt tearing you apart, like you tore me apart."

"It was an accident," Stoick snapped, pressing forward, each step more and more precarious.

"It was YOUR fault. YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" Drago screamed, raising his boot and stopping down hard. The bridge shook, rattling like a cage, but it held, for now. "I will never stop until you are left with nothing, and then, and only then, will the debt be paid. You will lose everything, as I have."

"Then you give me no choice," Stoick declared, raising his weapon towards Drago's head.

"Really? You'd kill me in cold blood?" Drago brushed off, shaking his head. "Look how far you've dropped, Stoick. Where's the honour in killing an unarmed man?"

"Screw my honour. My wife will be avenged. They all will be avenged."

"Then do it. Come on, Stoick, DO IT! DO IT!" Drago sneered, stamping down his boot again.

Stoick didn't hesitate. A trio of rounds flew out of the barrel, spiralling through the air and hitting their target, one after the other. Drago dropped to his knees behind his cloak, it covering him like a cocoon. Perfectly still, there was no movement, no sound. Nothing. Stoick slowly began to approach, sighing heavily as he took the few final strides towards the fallen figure, "It's all over now."

"OR IS IT?" Drago roared, spinning out from under his cloak. The three bullets lodged on its surface popped out of the scaled mesh, bouncing on the floor, before laying still at his feet. Stoick went to raise his weapon again, but the impact of Drago's foot against his chest knocked him backwards through the air. With a heavy thud, his back slammed against the floor, and with one final moan, the bridge finally crumbled.

The foundations snapped, cracks forming as large chunks began to break off and fall to the depths below. Stoick jumped up and ran towards the end, but like a pincer, he was being dragged downwards. Up he climbed, fighting gravity as the slope grew steeper and steeper. And as the main centre of the bridge disappeared completely, he clung on for all he was worth.

Each twisted railing, each loose rock could have been his demise, but he kept going. A falling boulder ripped the gun out of his hand, and he listened and listened, until finally he heard the clatter as it hit the ground far below. With both hands free, he continued clawing his way up, reminding himself who he was doing this for. For his wife, for his brother, for his partner, for his son. For them all, Drago had to be stopped.

Hearing nothing but silence, Drago shook his head as he retreated back from the edge, gritting his teeth. "NOOO. That can't be it. You're meant to die at my hand."

"It. Takes. More. Than. That. To. Kill. Me," Stoick spat out sharply, as with one firm hand, he hauled himself back onto solid ground.

Drago twisted his head round, a sinister smile across his lips, as Stoick stood before him once again. "Good," he grinned, "I want you to live to watch your world burn."

Stoick struck first, meeting Drago's jaw heavily with the centre of his fist. Drago rocked back, letting out a long deep growl, before returning with a strike of his own. Stoick ducked, charging straight forward and tackling Drago by his waist. Both men went down, fists flying as the two rolled. Traded blows began to stack up, each landing successful hits until Stoick managed to gain the slightest edge.

With Drago throwing uncontrolled blows, Stoick timed his attacks. Avoiding wild swings, he forced Drago back, driving him onto the defensive. With a few more hits he would have had him down, but Drago swept his leg out from under him, whipping him onto his back once more. Drago's hands clasped around his throat, and it took all he had left to pry the maniac off, throwing him against the nearest wall.

Stoick climbed back to his feet, and for a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other as Drago cracked his fist in his palm. Stoick glared at him through the one eye he could still see through, as he clutched his stomach with one hand. "What happened to you?" He asked through biting breaths.

Drago was rocking on his feet, his face painted red in blood from his broken nose and busted lip. His cold, dead eyes stared at Stoick, without the slightest hint of light. He opened his mouth to answer, but didn't say a word. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes and charged. Stoick leant into a defensive stance, and braced, ready to take the hit. Drago pushed him back, but Stoick locked him there, holding him in place.

Drago kept pushing, never once relenting. Over his shoulder, Stoick saw the stairs they were heading towards, and dug his feet in the ground. They were at a stalemate, and no matter how hard Drago pushed, he couldn't break through. Eyes narrowing, he stared Stoick in the eye. "You can't stop me," he preached, as he leant forward and sunk his teeth into the other man's arm.

Stoick let out a deep growl, and immediately tried to retract his arm. That slight loosening of the grip was all Drago needed, and with all his might he drove forward, pressing Stoick to the edge. Stoick tried to hold on, to keep going, but one final push was all it took for him to lose his balance. And Drago's face was the last thing he saw, before down he went.

The fall seemed to last for hours, and he felt the pain of every step on the way down. Once hitting the bottom, he couldn't even move. Everything hurt, as if his inside had been shoved in a blender. He didn't even know which was up, but he could feel Drago's presence above him. All he could do was open an eye and wait for the inevitable, and as Drago crouched by his side, he knew he had failed. Failed everyone that had trusted in him.

"Just get it over with," he snapped, raising his head off the ground.

"I don't want to kill you. Not yet" Drago replied, almost tenderly, as he laid a hand on Stoick's shoulder. "I used to admire you, used to think we'd conquer this world together, but you betrayed me. Now I have to finish what I started."

"Just let it end," Stoick ordered. "This is between me and you. No-one else needs to get hurt."

"It has come too far for that," Drago argued, as he climbed back to his feet and walked away. "You tried Stoick, but you can't hide her forever. I'm close to putting this to rest. I will find where she is, and all that she knows, it will die with her..."

oOo

In her own world, she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. So consumed in everything, and nothing, stuck in the past as usual, she didn't even notice the predator heading directly for her. Before she could react, the attacker's weapon had blocked out the light, swinging down at her at full force. The first blow slammed into her ribs, and before she could block, the second crashed against the side of her face.

"You. Are. So. Dead," she growled, plucking her own weapon out from under her head and striking back. Across the room, the duel raged, Heather managing to maintain the fight for a few seconds, but was quickly overwhelmed. Time after time, the pillow whipped against her, until in a fit of giggles, she dropped dramatically to the floor, raising her hands in the air in surrender.

"I give up, I give up," Heather squeaked, only to get a pillow to the face for good measure. "Does everything have to be a competition?"

"It's only fun if you get a scar out of it," came the light-hearted reply, before a knock at the door had both girls shaking their head.

"COME IN," Heather called out loudly.

Opening the door, in headed a tall, broad-framed man, with slicked-back dark brown hair and amber eyes. He sauntered arrogantly into room, eyeing both girls with raised eyebrows as he strutted in. "Heather, Selby," he addressed them, winking at the first, before turning sourly to the latter, "how are you two ladies on this fine Monday evening?"

"We're good, Eret" Heather replied cheerily. She stood proudly, with jet black hair framing her face tied into a braid over her left shoulder, and bright green eyes, just like her brother. "Our last exam is on Wednesday, it's plane sailing once that's over with."

"Well, good luck with that," he nodded, smirking at her.

"Why are you here?" Selby asked bluntly from across the room, as she went back to lounge on her bed of the two-bunk room. Sighing, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared at her. Her long caramel hair draped all the way to her waist, and her adorable button nose and rosy cheeks would be almost cute, if not for the enmity that glared at him through the icy blue of her eyes.

"It's nice to see you too," Eret laughed off, "broke anyone's arm today?"

"I could start with you," she bit back, tilting her head at an angle while she smiled, almost innocently, back at him.

"Chill. I mean no harm," he chuckled, "I just want to talk to Heather, that's all." Selby grumbled under her breath, but simply sighed and sat back against the wall.

Strutting towards Heather, Eret placed a hand on her shoulder and leant forwards, whispering in her ear, "can we go somewhere a little more private?"

"Why? What's wrong with here?"

"No offence, but your roommate is crazy, babe," he told her flatly. "How do you live in the same room as her? Aren't you scared she'll murder you in your sleep?"

Heather listened, nodding and smiling to herself, before she replied. "She's my best friend, so no, she'd never hurt me. You, on the other hand, that's a different story, and I'm sure she'd love to show you just how crazy she is."

"I'll take a pass," he replied cockily, "It's not her I'm interested you, it's you."

"Not this again," she sighed heavily, backing away.

"Come on, Heather, I know you want to," he teased. "You, me, prom. Let's see what'll happen."

"I'm sorry, I'm just not interested," she closed, shaking her head as she headed over to her bed. He stepped forward to follow her, until Selby coughed loudly, stopping him in his tracks.

"You heard her. She said she's not interested. Goodbye," she said, waving her hand at him.

"What is there about me you don't want," he persisted on at Heather. "I can give you everything you need. I can-"

"OUT NOW!" Selby ordered, inching closer to the edge of the bed.

"Just give me a minute. I just want to-" He continued, only to see her stand up out the corner of his eye. Almost a foot his inferior, and yet he still had to swallow the lump in his throat as she slowly made her way across towards him. "I'm going. I'm going," he told her quickly, as he span around. Before she could even cross the room, he was out the door. "My door is just down the hall, Heather. It's always open, if you-"

With a thump, Selby slammed the door closed, "Don't come back."

"You didn't need to do that," Heather told her.

"Yes I did," Selby affirmed. "I had a pest like that back home. You've got to make it clear that no means NO."

"Did it work?"

"No, not really, but it was fun." Selby chuckled, looking across at Heather. "You know, I'll never shy away from beating up Eret for you, if you want me to, but I just want to know, what's wrong with him? Why'd you turn him down?"

"I don't know," Heather sighed, "People always say that when you know, you know… y'know. I just… know he's not right for me."

"I understand."

"It's stupid. It doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Selby sighed.

"It does?" Heather questioned, leaning forward. Selby looked sadly across at her, before laying back on the bed, staring blankly once more at the ceiling.

"You have to trust your instincts. If something doesn't feel right, it probably isn't," she said sombrely. "But when something is right, when it's so right that you forget everything else, that's when you know that it's true. It's pure. You can try and fight, try and persuade yourself you want something else, but you can never go back from it. Never. No matter how hard you try."

She turned over, laying so all she could see was the dull yellow of the wall as she curled in on herself. She didn't even know where it had come from, but she wouldn't let Heather see her cry, not this time. She didn't want to be seen as this broken, but there was nothing that could make it better. She was alive, but this wasn't living. She was just… done. Done with sitting. Done with waiting. Done with this infernal limbo that had no end in sight. Hiding from the fight, instead of running straight towards it. This wasn't her. This had never been her. This couldn't go on any longer.

Pulling out her old phone from the secret compartment underneath her bed, she took a deep breath as she stared at the screen. She clutched it tight to her chest, not saying a word, just holding it there, as she convinced herself to follow through. She knew it wasn't right; knew the danger it could cause, but piece by piece she was cracking inside and this was the only option she had left. She just wanted to hear his voice, just once, that's all, what harm could it do?

She plugged the numbers in, but that was the easy part. Her finger reached out towards the green call symbol, but she stared at it, frozen. It would be one innocuous call. She wouldn't even have to speak. All she had to do was press the button and she could be back with him, as if nothing had ever happened. Just for a few seconds, she could go back to that final day back in Berk. Those final hours where she hadn't yet lost everything.

A tear trickling down her cheek, and barely able to speak, she began to sing that one song she always loved. Her song. The one she would finally be able to live up to. "Like a small boat, on the ocean. Sending big waves, into motion. Like how a single word, can make the heart open. I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion. And all those things I didn't say, wrecking balls inside my brain. I will scream them loud tonight, can you hear my voice this time?"

"This is my fight song. Take back my life song. Prove I'm alright song. My power's turned on. Starting right now I'll be strong. I'll play my fight song. And I don't really care if nobody else believes. 'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me," she sang louder, staring at the screen as everything began to fade away.

"Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep. Everybody's worried about me. In too deep. Say I'm in too deep. And it's been two years, I miss my home. But there's a fire burning in my bones. Still believe. Yeah, I still believe." Holding one hand to her heart, she sat up, closing her eyes. "And all those things I didn't say, wrecking balls inside my brain. I will scream them loud tonight, can you hear my voice this time?"

"This is my fight song. Take back my life song. Prove I'm alright song. My power's turned on. Starting right now I'll be strong. I'll play my fight song. And I don't really care if nobody else believes. 'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me. A lot of fight left in me," she sang strongly, the fire burning back inside her.

"Like a small boat, on the ocean. Sending big waves, into motion. Like how a single word, can make the heart open. I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion," she finished, opening her eyes as she stretched her finger forward.

"What are you doing?" Heather screeched, jumping up from her bed. "Why've you got that old thing out?"

"I have to. I need my home."

"You can't. Don't do this," Heather pleaded. "You're safe here. Don't throw that away."

Selby stared across at her, shaking her head. "I love you like a sister, but I can't live like this. I'm tired, Heather. Always running, always watching over my shoulder, I can't stand it any longer," she told her firmly, as she looked back down.

"Wait. Wait. Think about this."

"I have. I've been thinking about this for 2 years. If that bastard wants to come after me, he can do it on my terms. He will not take any more from me," she declared, then without hesitation, slammed her finger down on ring.

Holding her head in her hands, through the slits between her fingers, Heather could see the flash of a smile as her best friend held her phone up to her ear. Stumbling back to sit on her own bed, Heather stared across, her mouth wide open. This was a disaster. All the failsafes would be useless. All the planning thrown down the drain. Now no-one could protect her. Shaking her head, she looked achingly across, "Astrid, what have you done?"