Riders of B E R K

Part 67: BERK's Most Wanted

Sixty-Seven: BERK's Most Wanted.

Time slowed-which I know is a mental construct not a real thing-but I could see every detail as if it was happening in super slow-mo. As soon as Bludvist reached for his pocket, Hiccup snatched his computer and used it to slap me backwards, throwing me out of the line of fire as the gun was snatched and raised by his right hand. Drago Bludvist was a huge, menacing man, his hooked nose casting shadows over his sallow, scarred face, the skin having an unhealthy sheen. Stoick was already shoving Director Handler out of the line of fire and General Zakhysnyk dived behind the desk as the reports of the shots echoed round the office. The Council were shocked and split between haranguing the man and contacting security but in that moment, Drago shot Hiccup four times in the chest.

I was rolling as I hit the ground, my hand snaking into the computer bag and snatching the Trank gun we had brought which had been cleared by security. As I rolled, I shot Drago three times-but he backed up laughing, the darts unable to penetrate his suit...which I realised, with horror, was made from dragon skin. Growling, I snatched the chair and swung it round, hitting Drago full in the face.

That got his attention and as he was stunned, the door swung open. Without hesitation, Drago shot them and rushed forward, a cloak-who wears a cloak nowadays?-swinging behind him as he slammed two heavy duty glass vials onto the ground-and green smoke billowed out. Another guard burst in and raised his gun.

"DON'T SHOOT!" I yelled, realising we were surrounded by a cloud of Zippleback gas. "It's explos..."

Drago's cloak whipped up as the hapless guard fired, completely ignoring me-and the idiot was propelled across the room by the resulting blast. We had all dived for the floor and I curled over Hiccup, my hands over my ears. Throwing more vials ahead of him, he gave us one last sneer of contempt.

"Then see how well you do without me!" he taunted us and rushed away. The smoke billowed in the outer office and the staccato sounds of gunfire suggested that Drago had travelled with friends. While the obvious question-how did they get weapons in here?-rolled around my head, I was more concerned about my fiancé and I peered down into his face as his eyes snapped open and he groaned, a hand rising to press against his chest.

"And you wanted to hand our dragons over to him?" he asked pointedly, slowly sitting up. The Generals and Director Handler stared at him in shock as I rested a cautious hand on his shoulder.

"Babe?" I asked and he grimaced, slowly unfastening his uniform coat and shirt-to reveal his flight suit underneath.

"Even though these are pretty bulletproof, it still feels like you've been kicked by a mule when a round hits at point blank range," he complained, grimacing. "Are you alright, Astrid?" I nodded.

"Son-are you...?" Stoick asked, his voice unmistakably concerned. Looking up with a small smile, Hiccup shook his head ruefully.

"Just a bit bruised, Dad...sir..." he reassured him. The Director popped up from behind the desk and stared at us as I righted the chair and helped Hiccup to sit in it.

"But how...?" he asked, his voice puzzled.

"I've seen him," he admitted. "And boy, does he not like to lose. He really hates being crossed and responds violently..." He paused and my hand rested briefly on his shoulder. He cast me a grateful look. "But the more pertinent question is-how was he allowed to bring weapons into BERK? In fact, why was he allowed here at all? Even the most cursory of looks on the internet shows that his connections are very suspect, his actions-even those he admits to-are ruthless and probably criminal and he is certainly the last person who should be allowed anywhere near a top secret multinational organisation!" The Director sat down.