Creation is a fickle thing. When things first come into being inside of a reality, a semblance of balance must always be maintained. This balance was known as the Otherkind. The Otherkind were a group of beings who didn't follow the same rules as everyone else. In most cases, they made their own. Those who were left untouched, and all followed the same rules were called The Unified, as they all followed the same physical laws and principles.

It was in the late 1800s that the world established the Global Authorities Operative, more commonly known as 'Gao'. Gao was a step in bringing The Unified together to hold power, and negotiate with the Otherkind on what they could and couldn't do. Both sides cooperated, and both lived in peace with each other until 1956 with the release of The Normalcy Policies of Order. One man from America gained a fast following against the "Otherkind threat." His name was Daniel Richards. Most of his followers referred to him as The Everyman.

The Normalcy Policies mandated the creation and distribution of new technologies that could be used to subdue and harm the Otherkind, their abilities completely useless. These were incase any Otherkind became a terrorist. Eventually The Everyman created a bio weapon that would straight up kill Otherkind, and a short civil war broke out when a Unified terrorist group "Natural" killed an Otherkind leader and his family in their very own home. A treaty was made when the Otherkind surrendered in 1963, completely powerless against the advancing anti-Otherkind technology.

Otherkind were restricted to small areas in harsh conditions. They were thrown into various ghettos and slums, forced into poverty. While some didn't require food, oxygen or water, most did, and over sixty percent of the Otherkind were wiped out by starvation, thirst, etc.. Every single Otherkind was left for dead by the new tech. All, but one…

New Bedroom

06/09/2017, 21:47

This… is Berk.

Well not really. 'Berk' is a british word that isn't exactly fitting for such a nice area like SoHo, Manhattan, but I've never been fond of this so called "home." The kids are assholes, the parents are pretentious and the pets are self entitled. Other than that it's a pretty nice place. The buildings are all beautifully designed and planned out, and the streets are as clean as possible in New York.

I'm rambling, aren't I?

Oh right, before I forget. The date is September 6th, 2016. This is my fifth attempt at the first entry for my video journal. I'd call it a video diary, but according to my father "diaries are for wimps and girls, not the son of a Gaoman!" He's rather set in his ways.

I should start with my name, I guess. I'm Henry Horton Haddock III. Laugh it up at the alliteration, I know everyone else does. It's a stupid name, but a family one. Of course my grandfather didn't want his son to be stuck with a name like Henry Horton, so he called him Stanley. Lucky bastard. Of course my dad responded to the break in tradition by pawning the name onto me. I assure you there will be no Henry Horton Haddock IV while I'm still alive.

Call me Hiccup! Everyone does. Well, Godfrey does. I don't know anyone else in a more than passing manner, and he always uses nicknames for people, including himself. I don't know how he came up with Gobber of all things, actually I don't know how he came up with Hiccup either, now that I think of it.

Right. The entry.

Something happened today. Something that terrifies me. I don't know what it is.

We moved into our bright and shiny penthouse just yesterday. I don't even have a bed. We're so goddamn rich I'm sure we could buy literal armies of workers to set up the furniture for us in seconds, but not to Dad. He's a firm believer in getting things done yourself, roughing through everything. It took the entire goddamn day to move all our stuff into the elevator. I lost count of the number of trips we took…

Hiccup stared at the innocent looking scrap of cardboard wrapped around what must have been the densest steel filled rocks in history. Or books. Either or.

Whichever it turned out to be, the box refused to budge from its spot on the floor. Maybe that floor was particularly comfortable or something. Hiccup was beginning to get rather frustrated. He tried kicking it, and that just left him holding his toe in pain. He tried putting his weight behind it, but that just led to his bad foot slipping and he had to hold a sore nose as well as his big toe.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath. "Move already you fucking box-" Hiccup froze as the box slid away from him, leaving him on the floor, staring at his hands in confusion. He slowly paced towards the box that had been giving him so much trouble, and after setting his center of mass, he lifted the box with little effort.

Hiccup couldn't believe what he was seeing. A box that must have been a few hundred pounds and had refused to even budge when he leaned on it felt lighter than his physics book. Huh?

Hiccup heard a hollow thud that he learned to expect from rain hitting cardboard, so he looked down to see if water had somehow come into contact with his box. Instead of a slowly growing wet spot like he expected, he saw a miniature pool of red/

Blood. His own.

Then he tasted it.

He felt the warm liquid run down his upper lip from his nostril, dripping into his open mouth and onto his dark jeans. He leaned back, pinching his nose with one hand and balancing the box with his other. Blood began to rush more, flowing back into his throat. He felt a burning from behind his eyes and a sharp pain in his temples and more blood flowed from his ears and dripped down his face from the eye socket. In his agony, he dropped the box on the floor and fell to his knees, the migraine only worsening.

He couldn't hold it in anymore, he screamed. His crimson eyes rolled back as he passed out on the lobby floor.

… I woke some time later. The headache was gone and the burning from my eyes as similarly absent. My nose had clotted, but the sheer amount of dried blood on my front led me to believe that it kept going for quite a while. My shirt was covered in stains, and I'm sure my face was a fright to look at as well. I ran to the nearest bathroom after gathering my bearing and cleaned my face as much as possible, taking some paper towels back to try and scrub the red from the carpet. I gave up after a half hour and just left the box in the Lobby on my way up to the Penthouse.

After panicking for good hour I finally calmed down and tried to collect my thoughts. An old therapist of mine, Gothi, always suggested keeping a journal to collect thoughts, but I figured, in the twenty first century, no one writes anymore with pen and paper.

I considered calling my dad for a bit, but I don't want him to think I'm panicking over nothing. I could have imagined it all, delirious from exhaustion. Plus he doesn't have the best track record of actually paying attention to my problems. I think I'm going to head to bed after I call and have someone take up the rest of my stuff. What Dad doesn't know won't hurt him.

A/N: Yah I know. I shouldn't post a new story, but I had to. This idea came to me in a dream, and I woke up and wrote it down. I hope you read the beginning, as it was sort of a history lesson/prologue. Please tell me what you think! As always flames are welcome and encouraged. I have no clue what the pairings should be. I tend to see a lot of Merricup and Jackunzel, which I don't always understand. Why Hiccup and Merida? Because they both have Scottish sounding dads? I have read some good ones, though, so I'm open to it.

Thanks for reading!
TheUnHolySmirk