Hiccup sat beside Fishlegs as they rode across the dusty landscape in their Humvee. In the passenger seat sat Eret, and the driver's seat filled by a silent, brown-skinned, moustached man with a rifle in his lap.
"How long do we still have to be here for?" asked the large blond. It wasn't the first time he had done so.
"A week, Fishlegs, but you already know this."
"Sorry, but I miss Meatlug."
"We all have something to miss, Fishlegs. Asking how long we have to stay here won't help us get back home sooner. Get used to it," interjected Eret.
Fishlegs narrowed his eyes at him. "Forgive me for not wanting to be here."
The car started to slow immediately after those words were uttered. "That's enough, you two," said Hiccup.
"Another checkpoint. Great. Prepare to be patted down again guys," added Eret with an eye roll. Then he leaned forward suddenly. "Wait, what's that?"
"What's what?" Hiccup and Fishlegs asked in unison, as a car passed by on the left.
"I think I can see a dead dog on the ground up ahead; not far from us. Looks like it's a great dane."
Fishlegs paled after hearing those words. "That's not nice," he said with a shudder.
"Yeah, but at least we'll not have to think about it for long," muttered Eret, gazing ahead at the waiting checkpoint.
They drove pastthe carcass of the large dog, clearing it by no more than five meters before the pile of gradually rotting flesh was vaporised, caught in an explosion caused by an IED and forcing the Humvee off balance; knocking the vehicle onto its right side before the driver could hope to regain control.
Eret hit his head on the dashboard in front of him, at the same time as the driver hit his head on the steering wheel, going unconscious while the sound of the vehicle's horn filled the air.
Meanwhile, Fishlegs and Hiccup were simultaneously thrown forward in their seats, with the former coming into contact with something cold, wet and twitching slightly.
Suddenly, he wasn't in a Humvee in the middle of Afghanistan, instead finding himself sitting upright in his bed, in his apartment in Berk with his face pressed against the face of his pet British bulldog; Meatlug. In particular the nose of the dog.
"Morning, Meatlug! How are you girl?" asked Fishlegs after pulling back and resting his head against the headboard of his bed, receiving a joy-filled bark from the bulldog in response.
The dog then jumped down from the bed and scampered away, hind legs pumping quickly to propel herself across the carpeted floor, heading towards the door of her favourite human's room.
Reaching the closed door, the dog stopped, turned and barked back at her owner, making her desire for breakfast known.
"Okay, I'll go get you some food, girl," Fishlegs announced with a chuckle.
Throwing back the covers and getting out of bed, he plucked his phone from the nearby nightstand and moved to oblige his needy pet, checking the device for the time and any text messages as he walked.
There was one, from fifteen minutes prior.
6:30 am, Hiccup: Thinking about bringing Heather along when we talk to Finn today. Yay or nay?
P.S. You're quite late today. Hurry up.
P.P.S Heard from Gobber that the Jægerkorpset could be on their way here later today to take Finn and our other guests off our hands.
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The Gentle Sniper
FanfictionAfter losing his partner on a mission, Hiccup resolves to put General Finn Hofferson, secret traitor to Berk, behind bars or send him to Valhalla. Then a romantic rendezvous with his target's niece throws a wrench into his plan. Things aren't helped...
