Summary: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock's life is not one to be revered, to say the teeniest, tiniest least. The only things he can do right are his inventions. Not that anyone even dares to realize it. But when he looses his leg to a criminal, Hiccup is out for revenge in the form of an invention. Now, he's not just the screw up; he's something so much more.
The Screw Up
Berk. If you dare to find it, you must fist travel the mighty sea of wherever-you-live, across the desert of where-ever-you-end-up-in-after-you-travel-the-mighty-sea-of-wherever-you-may-live, and climb the mountains of where-ever-you-end-up-in-after-the-desert-from-where-ever-you-end-up-in-after-you-travel-the-mighty-sea. Somehow, you'll end up in the very, very north-south (1) part of Mane. My warning to you is this: you'll never find it so don't even try. Even if you do, it's a lose-lose situation. You'll have to bear the coldest weather you'll feel on the Western Hemisphere, and I'll have to make sure you never. Ever. Ever. Speak about what you will see here.
For Berk has a lovely ocean, a charming view of the sunsets, and there's not a mosquito to be seen, but we have one kind of pests: criminals. I'm going to take the wild guess and say that when you think of "criminal problem", you think of the slums, or something similar. Maybe a guy in a ski mask pulling at some old lady's purse. Am I wrong? Well, in any case, Berk isn't like that. Our criminals are crafty; they wouldn't spend their time trying to steal purses. No, they wouldn't stoop to that level. It's why our police station is so tip-top.
Speaking of police station, I'll introduce you to the top three: We've got Spitelout: he's my uncle and second in command. He does everything the chief of police doesn't.
Then we've got Gobber, he's our weapons specialist. Trust me when I say that-that knowledge is worth more than gold.
Then, finally, we've got the head man, the chief of police. He is Stoick Haddock, the man whose word could even over rule our mayor's (in which is Ms. Fore. She's ancient; even the adults call her "The Elder"). They say he caught his first criminal blind folded. Do I believe it? Yes I do. It's his family tradition to become chief of police... And he's also my father.
I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. Great name, I know. But it's not the worst. Parents try to believe that if they name their children awful names, the criminals will overlook them. Keep on dreaming people, keep on dreaming.
I'm going to be blunt; for the first 16 years of my life, everyone knew I was where that family tradition would end. It would probably go to my cousin, Snotlout, in order to keep some tradition going. I was the screw up. My inventions were the only good things about me, not that anyone other than Gobber cared. I was and am scrawnier than the abused wolf dog I found and was keeping from my father. And brawn is all that matters on Berk; it's how we survive. Or, so it used to be. And that, my people-who-are-probably-asleep, is how my story begins.
.:.:.
The way home from school wasn't unusual. Depressing? Oh, definitely. But I was used to that disappointed scowl my father wore on his face.
"All I did was put in the wrong chemical, honest. I didn't mean for that experiment to blow up in Snotlout's face," I tried to console my dad.
It wasn't entirely true. I really just wanted to see how those two chemicals would react to each other. The explosion in Snotlout's face was just a plus.
"What you 'didn't mean' and what 'didn't happen' are not the same things. Spitelout will be bitter about this for weeks. You singed off his eyebrows, Hiccup."
I slumped back in my seat in defeat. It was entirely true. I wasn't even going to mention how Snotlout would be bitter about it for weeks. And between dealing with Snotlout and The Red Death (our greatest criminal yet), I would take The Red Death any day.
A silence once again overtook the car. I tried to be grateful my dad didn't make me sit in the back, behind the bars in his police car, but, in reality, I would have rather to sitting back there. At least it was more comfortable than that disappointed scowl right next to me. I jumped as my dad's police radio turned on.
"A bombing threat down on the bank in Helmet Square."
The radio gave other details as Dad turned on his sirens and otherwise silently road down to Helmet square, but I was in disbelief. A bombing? That was way too messy for out criminals. In other places in the US it seemed like the scariest thing yet, but this... this was different.
Dad pulled up about a block away from Helmet Square.
"Dad, wait! I think it's a diversion. I think— "
"No. No crazy theories, Hiccup. I need to deal with this. You need to stay here. If it turns out this bomb is larger than estimated, I'll have Gobber come down to get you. Deal?" Dad demanded.
"Dad this could be a mistake."
"Deal?"
"This is feeling very one-sided."
"DEAL?"
I sighed in defeat.
"Deal."
"Good. I'll be back, probably," Dad replied.
"And I'll be here." Dad closed the car door, "Maybe."
I watched as my dad jogged down to the site. Once I knew (100%) that he was out of ear range, I turned back on my dad's police scanner. There wasn't much on. Actually nothing. It was rather suspicious. There was always something going on in Berk whether it was a robbery or vandalism. I decided to take the moment and prep myself. I pulled out dad's gun. It was smaller, but, really, was only in my possession right now just in case. Then I shoved a small knife in the inside of my jacket, in case the "just in case" didn't work out. Then I pulled out a camera, my main "weapon". Quickly, I got what I was waiting for:
"Back up on Helmet Square. A request for back-up on Helmet Square."
I didn't really understand the request for back up; majority of the police were already there. But I knew exactly why they were requesting it. Or mostly, anyways.
I jumped out of the car and ran to the site. When I got there, there were so many policemen you could have confused them for tourists. But I wasn't going to stick around there for long. Oh, no. I was going inside the bank.
Berk is a small town, there's little the residents don't know, and even less that I don't know. Including the underground system. I quickly slipped down the sewer lid and into the abyss.
I then switched on my flashlight, which was always on me, no matter what (and it had nothing to do with my fear of the dark. Wait. I have no fear of the dark. What fear of the dark...) and pulled out crude map I had made of the system. I traced my finger of to the bank. And made my pursuit to the bank.
When I was where I was supposed to be (and I double, triple checked that I was really there), I crept into the back doors of the bank.
A chorus of "Hey, kid! What are you doing?" filled my ears as I made my way inside. Still, I had to dodge multiple policemen, not that it was very hard to do: this was my entire life talking here. Besides, I wasn't after the bomb. I rushed away to the volts, knowing my fate was sealed and Dad would find out any minute. I stumbled my way across the volts until I saw her, the Red Death. I slowly crept over to her, mistakenly without interest in what she was holding. I fumbled for my camera and took a breath. This was it. I snapped the picture...
My flash was on. Perfect, lovely! It was just like me.
The Red Death's head shot over to look at me, and I saw the oddity of her eyes: a light red, almost pink. She was probably an albino, which was why she wore all black and sunglasses. And don't wonder how we found out she was a female: it was pretty obvious. But that was not what I was thinking right now. Nope. Now it was kind of hazy, but I'm pretty sure it was along the lines of "Oh, Gods, I'm gonna die.' Yeah. That sounds about right.
Too late, I realized that she clicked a button. A tic-tic-tic sounded, and I realized there was a bomb. In the room I scrambled to get Dad. I vaguely remember almost getting to him, then an explosion, and then...
Darkness.
.:.:.
The unmistakable beep of monitors informed me I was in the hospital. As I gained consciousness, I heard two voices, recognizably Gobber's and my father's.
"The doctor's say he's going to wake up any time now. So don'cha go mad on the lad; he's had a hefty price to pay for wha' he's done," Gobber said.
"I know," said my dad, "But he should have known better. The he wouldn't have... well, you know what happened."
"Yes, but we also then wouldn't 'ave escaped."
There was a silence in which I took the opportunity to awaken in.
More like I had to. I moaned in pain as I grew aware of everything.
"Hiccup!" Dad cried as he and Gobber rushed to the bedside.
"H-hi," I greeted in a scratchy voice, "How long was I out for."
"Eh, I'd say abou' three days," Gobber said in reply.
I shot up, making the room spin around me.
"Careful there," Dad said.
"Wh-what happened?" Stupid question, but it was the only valid one to come to mind.
"That explosion went off. Ye got the worst of it. I don' believe it was meant to kill anyone, but you came out with a few...casualties." Gobber explained.
I was almost afraid to ask, "L-like what?"
Dad rubbed his face with his giant hand.
"I can't do this, I can't do this," he said as he walked out of the room.
I looked to Gobber, eyes pleading. What? What in the name of Hel happened?
Gobber sighed and slowly pulled away at my sheet. I chocked.
It was my left leg, or, in better words, lack of left leg. From the knee down, there was nothing. Luckily, I was spared from the pain of seeing what it actually looked like, for it was covered in bandages.
"So I'm going from the Fishbone to the One Legged Fishbone," I said bitterly.
"To be fair," Goober consoled, "Fish don't have legs to begin with."
This one did. But only one.
.:.:.
I was discharged from the hospital a few days later. Then I went straight into physical therapy. I didn't mind; if I could get back on my foot then it was fine by me. It took me about three weeks to actually walk again. Dad was hardly there for any of it; mostly it was just Gobber taking care of me. I got the feeling that Dad wouldn't bear the sight of me, his now-crippled son.
Well, one thing was for sure; I was no cripple.
The day I was out of physical therapy was more viewed as the day I was out of public eye. When Gobber dropped me off at home, I made a B-line for the garage.
I wasn't one for revenge, I mostly just used sarcastic comments and wit to fend for myself, but I was at my lowest point. I was the runt, now the one-legged runt. I would do what I did best and create.
I hardly kept track of time, later Gobber would tell me I was in that garage inventing for three days. My mind was set on one thing: a weapon.
A/N: And... cut! So, what did you think? Good, bad, awful? Yes, I'm at it again, and yes I'm insane, and yes, this didn't explain much, but I did enough. Right? Well, if you want more, all you have to do this review!
(1) Just in case you thought that I was insane, I just used north-south to make it sound impossible.
~ Sam