The dragon shrieks in fury as it is pulled out of the room and forced back into its cage. Sparks erupt from his skin, but the dragon is quickly doused in water to prevent future casualties. The figure strapped down into the chair twitches and spasms from the shocks that were forced on him. His eyes focus on the dragon until it has left the room, and he closes his eyes to block out the pain in his skull. The Commander pulls the cloth from his mouth and throws it aside. He looks over the figure in the chair, considering him for a moment, but quickly exits the room.

The two guards hurry over to the man on the chair and unstrap him. The man has slowly learned over the years to not fight back. It'll only cause him unnecessary pain. Weeks before, he wouldn't've questioned when he was punished, knowing that he deserved it because he didn't follow his directions or he failed his missions. Now, however, doubts crawl towards the front of his mind. Something changed within him. And for the first time since he can remember, it scares him. Although, he can't tell the commander or the chief. It was forced into him that he must always tell then everything, no matter if it concerns any of his missions. They said if they weren't informed, his issues would affect his performance of his missions. And the more he fails, the worse his punishments turn out to be.

But this time is different. This time his target didn't stay down. He had failed and he was punished for it. That didn't bother him as much as what his target had said to him. He had called him Hiccup. As far as he knew, he had no name. He was never addressed by a name. He was always summoned and was spoken to directly. So being addressed directly by a name, no matter how ridiculous it was, it made him pause for a moment. By then, it was already too late.

The red-haired man had also been rendered familiar to him. He couldn't place why but for whatever reason, something about him made him feel bitter, but also fond.

He isn't stupid. The man knows he didn't grow up on this island. He knows he wasn't living on this island when he was a child. There is only the chief, his commander, the guards and himself that occupy this island. This island was never a town. And he would know. On the days where he didn't have any missions, he would sneak out at night and explore the island in the dark. It had a calming effect on him. He knew this island like the back of his hand, so he was able to put together that this island has been abandoned for a long time until the chief had claimed this spot as his hideout.

The man isn't sure where he came from, but he had a life before this. It may not have been the best, but anything would be better then what his life has now turned into. But his previous target looked as if he had known him. He seemed shocked when his mask had been cut off. And the man can only assume that the name he had spoken had been his own.

The man is pulled from his thoughts as he is thrown back into his room, the door locking as the guards leave him alone on the cold ground. He groans and attempts to pull himself to his hands and knees, and slowly to his feet. His legs wobble beneath him as he slowly puts pressure on his foot and metal prosthetic. He takes a deep breath and takes a shaky step towards his bed. But his left leg gives out from underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Pain erupts in his already pounding head and it spreads to the rest of his body. Blackness slowly takes over his vision until he finally goes limp.

-----00-----

Swords clash and grunts fill the room. The man and a guard are engrossed in their fight, the yet again masked man taking down the guard. He swiped his sword at the guard's feet, and the guard hits the ground, staring up at the man with slight fear in his eyes. The masked man holds his sword to the guard's neck, waiting for what his fate shall be.

The chief stands by the wall, having watched the whole fight. He tilts his head and considers for a moment. He then comes to a decision. "Finish it."

The guard's head swings towards the chief, about to protest when the man's sword is thrust through his chest. He gasps out in pain, hands going up to the sword, his attempts of pulling it from his chest failing. He then goes limp on the ground, defeated, the life slowly fading from his eyes.

The chief nods and walks to the fallen guard, pulling the sword from where it lays in said guard. He looks towards the man who stares at the downed guard. "Good form. You have improved significantly. I expect to see this improve your missions exponentially. Dismissed."

The chief leaves the room, leaving the man to stare at the guard. Behind the mask holds his slightly horrified expression as to what he has done. Normally, this kind of thing wouldn't affect him this much, but his recent mission changed something in him.

For years, he has been used to that empty feeling inside him. But now, he is feeling more and more things. And it scares him more and more about what he has become.