To understand Burgeshima, you have to understand its history, and to understand its history, you have to understand its heroes.

Before the Anti-Hero Act, Burgeshima was a great town. It actually had achieved one or two 'Best Home in the Ameripan' awards. It was a wonderful place to bring up your kids - safe streets, clean and great schools. It was quite surprising that the property market there didn't perpetually explode.

It was because of the Guardians. While most Golden Age Heroes kept in contact with one another, most chose to work solo. One of the few actual superhero teams to last for a very long time was this bunch of misfits that patrolled the streets of Burgeshima.

In those days, you could look up in the night sky, you would see St. Nicholas' flying reindeers pulling his sleigh through the clouds. If you see a patches of green in the middle of winter, you knew that the Easter Bunny had stopped by. Nothing quite beats watching the Sandman golden tendrils of sand - 'dream sand', reporters have named it - swirling around the lamp posts and chimneys, lighting the dark streets up and scaring nasty characters away. You rarely saw the Tooth Fairy herself, but you'd probably have seen her miniature workers - tiny fairies that served as their mother's eyes and ears for any unscrupulous activity. And they were incredibly cute, by the way.

These guys were no myths. They were flesh and blood heroes that guarded the city.

Oh, there was one more member, but most people didn't know about him. By the time he became a regular on the team, the Anti-Hero Act came into play and it was pretty much moot.

The Guardians took to the Act as well as any hero - which was, well, badly. Both the Easter Bunny and St. Nicholas had to be forced to 'integrate' into other cities, simply because their faces were too well-known in Burgeshima. The Sandman kept breaking the rules and going vigilante, so they had to send him packing too. The Tooth Fairy was the only one who was successfully integrated in the city, even married a normal person and built a little family too. And then got divorced, and went broke, and got evicted - all the normal problems normal people went through.

The last member was just so frustrated with the entire program that he just stamped off in a huff and hadn't been seen since. Some people said that he had flown off to the Artic to build a Fortress of Solitude. Or something like that. The National Supers Agency (NSA) hadn't been too concerned about his disappearance. As long as he wasn't causing any trouble - and by 'trouble' they meant playing heroics - they didn't care.

The point was - when the cat's away, the mice will play. When the cat's been put on permanent vacation, the mice will swarm the town and shred it to pieces.

Within ten days, the Burgeshima's underground emerged from their cesspools, bringing their filth to the surface. Within ten months, the supervillain once known as the Boogey-man, the Guardians' number one enemy, took his place as the criminal kingpin of the city. In the next twenty years, many other criminal syndicates popped up in the city, but there was no doubt the Nightmare Yakuza was top dog. Woe to any who dared challenged them.

It had come to a point of time in Burgeshima where using the name 'Black' was like using a flash-pay credit card. Except no bank in the city would be stupid enough to coerce a 'Black' wielder into paying back the credit. The Nightmares, especially those with 'Black' cards, took whatever they wanted. If they left you alone, that meant that they were pleased enough not slice you up from ear to ear in front of your family.

Which was why the owner of the small department stall stubbornly refused payment.

"Please, M'am, take it as a gift," the large fellow told his customer through his thick brogue. When she didn't reply, his voice heightened in anxiety. "Is there something you are not happy with? The type? The colour?"

"They are fine, Oaken, really," his customer answered, not quite meeting his eyes. She placed the bouquet on the counter, still frowning intently at them. Then she asked once more, "How much do I owe you?"

When he started to repeat himself that it was a gift, she simply ignored him and pulled out her wallet. Fingering through wade of notes, she swiped out three fifty-dollar notes and slid over to him. Interrupting his tirade, she said, "Keep the change."

"No, no, I couldn't," Oaken told her, shaking his head. "My prices in the shop are always fair. Based on supply and demand, the actual price would be-" his voice trailed off when he noted how the guards standing behind her stiffened. Hastily changing his tone, Oaken said, "Thank you very much, m'am."

The woman across the counter, who certainly too young to be called 'M'am', picked up the flowers up. One aide had opened the shop door for her, so after bidding Oaken farewell, she departed, trailed by her two assistants and her two bodyguards. Her car was only a few steps away from the store, but her aides had already laid out a small roll out carpet on the path. This was so that her sapphire studded heels would never need to touch the grime that littered the cobbles. She made an internal sigh at the extravagance, but made no outward objection. If she did, the aides would get in trouble.

The door to the limousine was opened for her when she was exactly twenty feet from it; no more than twenty feet so that there would be buffer space for the door to be opened without hitting her, and no less than twenty-feet so that the Argentinean leather seats wouldn't get cooled by the chilly spring breeze. She slid into her seat in one graceful motion, for she was a very graceful person, and the door was shut gently from outside with only the slightest 'click'. She didn't need to glance out of the window to know that her aides would have gotten into the car behind her own, or that the bodyguards, with their MP7's strapped to their sides, would have climbed onto their motorcycles.

"Where to, Ms. Black?" her chauffeur asked her.

"The church, Kai," she replied, placing the bouquet on the empty seat beside her own. "And please remember what I told you."

"I beg your pardon, Ms. Elsa."

The limousine glided down the road with a soft purr. It was a personalized model that her father had given to her specially for her twentieth birthday. The reason he had done so was because the Yakuza had managed to subsume another gang that day, and one of its members happened to own a factory that produced luxury cars. Her father had ordered a classy indigo, since he knew she liked blue, and he would only have them in darker shades. The glass was also bullet-proofed, of course.

The church was quite some distance away, for the city was quite large. However, perhaps due to the speedy ability of her ride, or perhaps due to commuters had making way for her car, the girl all knew as the Nightmare King's daughter arrived at the steps of the cathedral in less than ten minutes.

The door was only opened after the carpet had been laid over the cobbled steps and Elsa made certain that she had given her aides sufficient praise to appease the head valets watching. After giving instructing them not to follow her, she entered the church.

The cathedral was an old one, and honestly it wasn't all that big. Candles still hung from the lamps on its stone walls, and also lined the alters. Sunlight filtered through the arched windows which once held colorful stain-glass mosaics that could no longer be afforded.

There was no one else inside as far as she could see, and that made her glad. She hated it whenever people either fled or bowed in her presence. The first time she had ever attended service, the entire congregation - a small group who still clung to faith because of, or despite of, the dark times in the city - had wordlessly shuffled their way from the pews to the door. She had thought it was because they hated her, but as she had gotten older, she had come to realize it was because they feared her.

Elsa didn't like it. She knew that her father relished in it, but she didn't. When she saw the terrified faces of people at the seats, or on the streets, or even in the mansion that was her home, she felt as if she indeed was a frighting creature - some kind of, well, monster.

She barely had any friends growing up. Already, she was quiet child, none to keen on human interaction because of her 'condition'. Additionally, no one would dare befriend the daughter of the Nightmare King. Her aides provided her company whenever she desired it, but she knew that before her they spoke haltingly and cautiously, and it hurt. She never mentioned it, of course, choosing to be alone as much as her father would permit, so she could pretend that indeed it was her choice.

She had only ever had one boyfriend. She did like him, and he was nice, but she eventually did found out that he only dated her because one of the Yakuza enforcers ordered him to. She ended it right then and there, because she believed the true relationships required mutual consent and contentment. The next day, the boy's family had to collect his body from the gutter.

Conceal. Don't feel. The next time anyone had asked, she had answered that she wasn't interested in relationships.

Walking down down side aisle instead of through the nave, she headed straight to the apse of the cathedral. In between the altars for San Bacco and Santa Maria, a small booth had been set up. There were cards, flowers and candles lined around framed photographs bearing faces she didn't know. She laid her own bouquet to join the others. On a nearby table, there sat a small wooden box collecting donations for the repairs, and another for general offerings. Both were chained to the wall, but Elsa knew it was little deterrent for the nimble-fingered thieves of Burgeshima. So after cramming as many notes as she could in both boxes, she removed the small stick-it pad she often kept on her person, scribbling two short notes and sticking one on each boxes. Only fools would steal money given by the Nightmare Yakuza.

As much as she hated fear, perhaps it did have its uses.

Returning to the memorial, she picked up a splint from the holder. Holding its over the flame of one of the candle, she proceeded to light the other unlit candles on the rack.

"Praying for your father's soul, or your own?"

She almost dropped the splint in her shock. It puzzled her at first that someone would be so bold as to speak to her this way until she saw the speaker's face. The one person who did not quite fear her. "You startled me."

"You don't look startled," the tall brunette answered, rather amused. He eyed the display with a skeptical eye, then proceeded to use one of the more reflective photo-frames to adjust his hair. "But then, you are pretty good at acting. Nothing on me, though." He flashed a complacent smile at his reflection.

"Nothing on you indeed." There was a sardonic tinge in Elsa's tone. Returning to her task, she said, "To answer your question, I'm praying for those had lost their lives in the San Fransokyo Tragedy." One candle gained a flame. "And for the injured." She shook the splint, extinguishing it. "And for their families."

"That's what they're calling it now? 'The San Fransokyo Tragedy'? You would think they never had any disasters before," he scoffed, folding his arms as he watched her replacing the splint in the holder. "I mean, didn't the city almost get sucked up a wormhole before?"

"But the Big Hero 6 stopped that from happening. That's why it wasn't a disaster." Subconsciously, she began straightening out the gifts on the memorial, carefully to keep her gloved hands away from the flames. "On the other hand, people actually died in this one, and there was no way they could have known this was coming."

"You talk about this as if this is the biggest death count you've ever known."

Her muscles tensed. Spinning away from the marble counter, she gazed at him levelly. "It may not be, but it doesn't change the fact that it's violent and completely unnecessary. No thanks to your -" her words are as bitter as gall " - hero."

The young man in her company straightened himself up, the flippancy eroded in seconds. "You don't know that he's the one responsible."

"Don't you read the papers, Flynn?" Her whisper echoed against in the arched stone ceilings. "He was seen leaving the scene as the building collapsed. There were people dying in there, screaming for help, and he just walked away."

She shook her head, exasperated at his stubborn denial. Yet this was how it always was. Even as children, when Flynn was but a fresh initiate into the Yakuza, he was the impulsive one. It was only due to the mercy of his senpai that he hadn't lost all his fingers - that, and he was a nifty pickpocket. On the flip side, she was always the steady one, guarded with emotions, speech and action. "What kind of hero are you really actually rooting for?"

"The building was the tallest building in San Fransokyo, Elsa. Hundreds of people worked there everyday, and hundreds more crossed the streets under it. Tell me then,-" he narrowed his eyes at her, challenging her in a way that no other person in Burgeshima would dare to, "-why did only thirty people die?"

She merely pursed her lips and folded her covered arms around her waist.

"I'll tell you why," Flynn went on, not waiting for a reply. "Because someone broke the fire alarm ten minutes before the bomb went off. Most people were evacuated safely. He didn't intend for there to be any casualties."

"But he was still seen walking away," Elsa protested.

"Well, he couldn't save them by then," defended Flynn hotly. "What would have him do? Burn his skin for theirs? He's not invincible, you know." The corner of his lip turned downwards. "He might not actually have superpowers. Unlike some people I know."

Elsa chose to ignore that, because she couldn't quite trust herself reply in a neutral manner. Instead, she skillfully changed topic, as she had learned in her years of handling her father's unsavory associates. "Then why do you trust him?"

There was a pause. Then, the reply came in an uncharacteristically small voice. "It just that he can, well, do whatever he wants to do. Go whenever he wants to go."

She couldn't miss the wistful note, so though he made no effort to explain further, she understood. They told them over and over - the Yakuza was home, the Yakuza was family. After so many years in training, fighting, and living in the Yakuza, it seemed that Flynn had never quite outgrown for his need for heroes. And did she detect a little envy in his voice?

So as she gently as she could, she advised, "Just don't let anyone hear you talk like that."

"Yeah, yeah." He shrugged nonchalantly and sure enough, flippant Flynn was back. "See you back around, Elsa-san." Mockingly, or perhaps affectionately, he gave a fanciful bow before disappearing around the corner to the aisle.

A ghost of a smile formed on her lips. '-san' was a term only used amongst equals, for that was how he saw them both. Others like her father, so obsessed with order and sophistication, would frown down at the breach of hierarchical rules, but she didn't. She didn't want to, because she thought Flynn as her often foolish but well-meaning equal. And indeed they had much in common; their mural distaste for how the gangs and syndicates ran the city, the disapproval of violence and ...feelings of entrapment.

It wasn't impossible to leave Burgeshima - for her, at least. Her father suggested several times that she should look over the universities in Ameripan to see if she was interested in completing her education. She qualified for most of them, and even if she didn't, the Yakuza had sufficient connections to get her wherever she wanted to go. But if she left, then who would be left to keep her father accountable? Who would keep him from starting off a full-fledge gang war? Who would protects innocents, the way the Guardians once did?

She wished she could just trust 13 to do that. But unlike Flynn, she couldn't ignore his misdeeds.

As Elsa walked away from the display, she hardly noticed the trail of ice that followed her glittering heels.


Life had many great uncertainties, but there was one thing he was absolutely sure of. He suffered from bad-naming disorder.

If it wasn't a thing yet, he was going to make it one, because in his case, it's absolutely legitimate.

Let's start with his name first: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Forty-third.

It's not a nickname. It's not even some family-imposed title. It's actually on his birth certificate - including the 'Forty-third part.' Just in case his last forty-two 'Hiccup' ancestors get accidentally revived in a purgatorial apocalypse and people couldn't tell them apart. Very practical, obviously. Good thing his driving license card was too small to fit the whole thing, so they chopped off 'the Forty-third' part. Now when people snatched his card, they could just comment about how 'Horrendous' his picture looked, and hey, did his cousins have the last name 'Cod' or 'Tuna'?

The first of his ancestors who had immigrated to Ameripan had been Norwegians actually, so the whole naming system was patronymic and rather confusing to use in English. Being horribly progressive people, they decided to adopt a family name, and an English one too. And being complete and utter buffoons, they named themselves after the slimy, legless creatures that they hauled up from the ocean bed every day.

Someone give theses guys anti-creativity prizes. If that wasn't a thing yet, he was going to make it a thing too.

When his father had told him about this as a child, Hiccup had decided that he hated his ancestors. Because it was obviously their fault that he was now genetically predisposed to suffer from and bestow bad names. That, and bearing the burden of being the Dragon Trainer.

Oh yeah, almost forgot about this part. Apparently, one of his ancestors was actually one of the greatest Viking Kings (so great that you've never heard of him) to ever rule the Barbaric Archipelago. According to legends, he had made peace between humans and dragons after years of bloody war. And here's the plot twist you all saw coming.

Hiccup the Forty-Third, modern geek, was the reincarnation of Hiccup the Third, King of the Wilderwest. Surprise!

Discovering this 'tidbit' was a complicated processed that occurred when Hiccup (the forty-third, that is) was fifteen. It had started when he took in a black stray on a particularly stormy night. The cat was cute, though injured - an amputation of its tail. He had gotten along very well with it, but he had known his dad hated animals of any kind. So after the storm ended, he dropped the cat off at an animal shelter.

But one day on the way to school, he bumped into the cat again. Giving in to the little critter's large emerald eyes, he took him to school, hid him in his backpack and snuck him snacks in class. Then he took the cat and dropped him at the shelter again.

But the cat came back again. And again. And again. And Hiccup ended up visiting the shelter so often that they offered him membership. He declined.

One time, the darned cat reappeared while he was working at Gobber's garage.

Gobber was his father's friend, and he was such a prominent figure in Hiccup's growing years that some automatically assumed he was Hiccup's uncle. Ever since his mother passed away and his father got caught up in police work, Gobber pretty much played babysitter. Being a fairly mercenary fellow though, he chose to extract his pay by making Hiccup work at his mechanics shop. It wasn't all that bad actually, since Hiccup was good with his hands, and he may or may not have had the opportunity to construct him own motorbike. Before it exploded, of course.

Anyway, so after he had reluctantly scooped the black cat and prepared to dump him back at the shelter, Gobber took a look at the cat, took a look at him, gave him an interrogation about the cat's origins and declared they were going on a road trip.

The hook-handed not-uncle had driven him to see this mute old lady called a Gothi - a wise woman. Through a haphazard translation by Gobber, she had asked for Hiccup to give the cat a name.

He had blinked. A name? Hiccup had shared very intently at the cat, and the cat had stared very intently back.

He could have picked any ordinary name like 'Fluffy', or 'old Tom', or 'Creepy-Black-Stalking-Scratching-Disappearing-Cat'. But for some reason, the name that left his mouth was - "Toothless."

He didn't know why he chose it - the cat had a perfect set of teeth. Bad-naming disorder struck again. Or so he thought. Then -

Boom! Crash! Bam!

The cat had inexplicably transformed into a twenty-six feet tall dragon, complete with wings and fire-powers, though missing a tail fin. Oh, and retractable teeth. How's that?

Hiccup remembered having some stinky old herb shoved in his face, because he had passed out.

Long-story short: he discovered that he was supposed to a dragon trainer (stupid name. Why couldn't they call it 'dragon whisperer'?) like his ancestor. Toothless and him had some transcendental bond, which was as why they were both reincarnated at the same time. The Gods, who were the culprits to this crazy stuff, apparently had some great destiny planned out for him, but they weren't in the mood to disclose it at the moment. Oh, and even though he was a reincarnated Viking King, it didn't mean he had any claim on the Norwegian throne.

A real pity on the last one. It could have paid school bills.

He went to sleep that night feeling distinctly weirded-out. Eventually though, he got used to it.

More than that. He decided to wield it.

Gobber didn't tell Stoick about his son's inheritance, because he would certainly think that his hook-handed friend might just need a trip down to psychiatrist. And for Hiccup, well, it was hard enough telling his father that he had a cat and he was going to keep him.

Becoming a hero was, well, mainly because he just wanted to help. He knew that his father, as the commissioner of the Berkazaki Police Department, was overworked with the gangs and syndicates all over the city. So one day, while watching a new report of the Big Hero 6's latest success, it occurred to him that if Hiccup couldn't help him, well, maybe someone else could.

With Gobber's help, he created an full-length black Kelvar suit, plus helmet, designed for flexible flying, falling and, much to his reluctance, fighting. Toothless had a new tail fin constructed for him. Due to the complexities that went with the dragon's physiology, the only way they could work the tail fin at all was to have Hiccup manually control it via a step-peddle mechanism. It took lots and lots test-flights, and premium Icelandic cod, before the flying technique was perfected. The first time he and Toothless soared over the clouds was also the first time he believed that the Gothi wasn't completely pots about his reincarnation. Because man, it felt as if he knew exactly how to do this.

The first couple of heroics were a mixture of failure and embarrassment, but eventually Hiccup got a hang of it and actually managed to save some people from really tight-spots. Folks started calling him 'Hero'. It was cool to be have title that was attributed to the great supers of the Golden Age.

Well, that aside, he would never forgive the press for the stupid names that they gave him - and I mean, never. After saving a bunch of people from a fire, the reporters had managed to corner him for a while and he had decided to humor them, if only to build his image. So when one reporter had asked him Toothless was a dinosaur, he had stiffly replied that dinosaurs couldn't fly and Toothless was a Night Fury. However, he didn't know that another reporter had started asking what he called their little fighting duo team, and had taken that answer to be the answer to her question. So the next day, 'Night Fury beats the Building Fire with Fire' was splashed on the headlines. He went down to the news studio to try to amend it, and then the flood gate of stupid names just rushed open.

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Dragonboy!

Reptile Raiders.

Berserk Berkazakians.

The Dinosaur Duo.

Dragon Dude and Dude Dragon.

The Dynamic Dino-rider and his faithful dinosaur.

Dino-might!

Eragon.

Jurassic Junkies.

Puff the Magic Dragon. (What?)

Flying Barney the Black-Winged Dinosaur. Plus Dinoboy.

The press enjoyed torturing him.

Finally, somebody decided to just call Toothless and him 'Knight and Fury'. It wasn't the best name, but after all the others he had seen, he settled for it.

The press was annoying, but the police were nasty ones. His dad had the one who signed his arrest warrant in those early days. So between school, 'hero-ing', escaping from his dad's forces and hiding his and Toothless' secret identity, he had a pretty crazy life.

But was it good? It depends.

Over the last year of heroics, so much had changed. Crime rate in Berkazaki had been halved. He had discovered other hidden dragons other than Toothless. He had created a fire-sword powered by Toothless' saliva and a shield made from dragon-metal. He had gained a mentor that he didn't even want, and was forced by said-mentor to pick up self-defense classes. He had teamed up with Big Hero 6 twice (it was awesome). His one-time unattainable crush had turned from his foe to his friend to his occasional sidekick in crime fighting.

He also was now responsible for the death of another teenager.

It had been the day that people stopped calling him hero. It had also been the day that his father found his night-time activities. It had also been the day he lost his left leg. Not the whole of it - just below the joint, but still -

He didn't like to talk about it.

His father had tried to ban him from his 'vigilantism' - the last thing he needed was for people to find out that the commissioner's son was a law-breaker, and a 'murderer' too. And in a uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability, Stoick may or may not have revealed that he no longer desired for Knight kill, or be killed, especially now that he was ...crippled.

Did he say that? Yes, he did.

But like he told his father; they were crime-fighters. It was an occupational hazard.

Maybe for the first time in years, the burly commissioner actually listened to his scrawny, fragile son.

He didn't know how other teen heroes had handled it their lives, but it was always infinitely easier to fight crime when you had people doing it with you. He had Toothless always flying and fighting by his side. He had Astrid ready to cover his rear every time he disappeared from school. He had Gobber who helped fix and improve his equipment. He had an annoying but strangely knowledgeable mentor who made sure he improved. He had Fishlegs who brought him intel. He had allies in other cities, and quite importantly, he had his dad's support.

Of course, being a supportive parent didn't meant that his dad wasn't a normal parent-

"Dad, for the last time, I'm not skipping school! It's spring break!"

The passenger sitting across him on the carriage looked slightly alarmed. It was fortunate that they were the only ones in the whole carriage. If not, this would have been a whole lot more embarrassing. Hiccup lowered his voice, mumbling into the mouthpiece, "Yes, yes, I've done my homework. All of it."

Then, a strained yowl emerged from the pet carrier next to him. There was a rule that any pets brought on the bullet train had to go in a carrier, so whether he liked it or not, thathad been the cramped residence of Toothless for the last three hours. Obviously, the furry black mammal insisted on making his discomfort known.

"No, I don't know anymore called Alzahar. What kind of name is that anyway?"

Toothless, seeing that his master was ignoring him, proceeded to yowl a little louder.

"Shush, Toothless," he told the cat, before latching the phone to his ear again. "Sorry, dad, what was that?"

The other passenger had returned to reading his book, though still looking miffed at the teenager on the phone.

"Dad, did you check under the sink? No, for real, did you check under the sink?"

The cat in the cage made a pathetic whimper that earned just a little sympathy from the boy. Hiccup mouthed at the cat, "Two more hours" then said out loud, "Dad, you put it in the washing machine before you put it in the dryer. No, you don't need to put washing liquid in the dryer."

The cat begun to knock his head against the metal bars of the cage, letting out,whines as he did. The other passenger was looking very, very irritated.

"I don't know how to use an Android, dad. Can't you just search it online?"

Toothless started to howl. The other passenger frowned.

"...you don't know how to find the Internet on your phone." Hiccup dragged a palm down his face, sighing. "Right."

Toothless was making noises that sounded vaguely in between screeching and shrieking. The other passenger opened his mouth to complain when -

"NO, DAD! DON'T DO IT!"

The carriage suddenly fell into stunned silence. Hiccup removed the phone from his ear, pressing the mouthpiece to his chest. Turning to the pet in the cage, he said rather shortly, "Really, I'm trying to keep my dad from killing himself. Do you mind, you useless reptile?"

The other passenger appeared gravely concerned.

Fortunately for said passenger, the train had just pulled up at the next station, and the cabin doors slid open. The old fellow hastily rose to his feet and almost ran out of the carriage, leaving behind the strange boy and his hysterical pet.

When Hiccup spoke into the phone again, he managed to convince his father that dumping the entire detergent bottle into the washing machine might just flood their house in foam and not necessarily wash the blood of clothes. It'd be terribly embarrassing if the Berkazaki's formidable commissioner was killed by bubbles.

Finally, after all washing malfunctions were settled, Hiccup was allowed to hang up. With a long sigh, he slumped himself back against the velvet seat. Glancing up the screen near the front of the carriage, he noted that they had stopped at Korobe. That meant one more stop to Burgeshima.

He wasn't in a habit of crossing territories, because it annoyed him every time someone else did that to Berkazaki (cough-cough-Big-Hero-6-cough), but he supposed that it was time he checked up on the mysterious 'hero' of the most notorious crime hole in Ameripan. It was also a sort of favor to Hiro. Both of them were the same age, but while Hiccup spent the last year struggling with literature and taming Toothless, Hiro spent the last year building his own company, appearing on talk-shows and turning into a multimillionaire. Yeah, life wasn't fair.

Of course, that meant it was also tougher for Hiro sneak off during work hours to go on long investigations. The San Fransokyian could have asked any of his other teammates for this mission, but perhaps for something more convert, it was better to ask a guy who dressed in a black on a regular basis. Not that Hiccup wasn't going to do it himself.

Oh, yeah. They did know each other's secret identities. They bumped into each other during a science fair months ago and Toothless just went all crazy over Hiro, because he had recognized the other boy's scent. After the prodigy found out that his own identity had been uncovered, he did some miraculous hacking and dug up everything about Knight and Fury - even down to his shoe size, whatever that was for. There was mutual trust, and mutual potential blackmail, so all was fair and square.

Anyway, the mission wasn't really a mission as much as a reconnaissance; find stuff about 13 to add to Fishleg's current profile of him, discover his powers, if any, and most importantly, any weaknesses.

Then it occurred to Hiccup that his carriage was empty. Really. Completely.

He peered down the aisle, looking from left to right. From where he sat, he could see through the glass connecting doors that the adjacent carriages were also empty.

Because no one in their sane mind would go to Burgeshima willingly.

There were stories about the city - violence, crime, vendettas, chaos - but they were just stories, right?

But thinking back about how strong Helheim's Gate had once been in his own town and the insidious Red Death himself, maybe the stories weren't completely exaggerated. Maybe he was plunging himself into some terrifying hell-hole that had no return.

"But I guess that's why they need us then, huh, bud?" he told the cat in the cage. "Everyone needs a hero."

Toothless had made almost what looked like a shrugging motion, before curling himself up in a ball, mewing sorrowfully about his entrapment.

Hiccup chuckled at the feline's self-pity. Glancing around the cabin once more, he muttered to himself, "Well, it won't hurt if no one knows."

He unlatched the hook of the cage door and that very second the cat sprung out. Dancing excitedly on Hiccup's lap and almost knocking him over, Toothless proceeded to leap from velvet seat to velvet seat, enjoying the smooth sensation beneath his paws. He crooned in approval as he settled himself down on the chair opposite Hiccup's own.

"Well, just no kitty-litter, okay?" The boy instructed, as he hooked the carrier door back up. The cat yawned quite nonchalantly, stretching itself luxuriously almost as if to imply 'no promises'.

Just an automated voice announced that the train doors were closing, someone suddenly dashed into the cabin. Just a second later, the metal door slid shut.

"Ha! Beat that!" The new passenger crowed with triumph, pointing at the door and cackling at the same time.

Now it was Hiccup's turn to look gravely concerned.

The fellow in question was tall, lanky guy. His hair was as white as snow, but there was no doubt he was probably only eighteen - nineteen at most. His clothes seemed rather ragged, if the frays at the ends of his blue hoodie and the patches on his trousers were anything to go by. And the lack of shoes. Riding by bullet wasn't cheap, so Hiccup half-wondered if this might be some hobo who snuck into the station.

And what was with the staff? It looked like a shepherd's crook or something. Was he a farmer? Did they have farmers in Korobe?

'Hobo' seemed like a really good guess for now.

The white-haired fellow decided that pulling faces at the door was no longer as fun as it once was, so he strolled down the aisle and stopped at Hiccup was.

"Hello," he greeted.

"Hello," Hiccup echoed uncertainly. He then noticed the other boy was looking at Toothless. "Oh, um, if you're really worried about him, I can-"

"Nah, it's fine." The boy waved it off, plopping down a seat on the opposite end of the aisle. He rested his staff on the empty seat next to him. "I had a friend who was really afraid of dogs though - Rottweilers, especially." The boy smiled, only for it to quickly fall away.

Hiccup considered inquiring further into it, then decided not. Maybe it was personal or something. Still, this was a good opportunity to test his interrogating skills - see how much he could find out about this guy without getting him angry. He found himself asking, "So, is the staff some kind of crutch?"

The fellow gave him a blank look.

"You know." Hiccup shrugged, trying to act as asking random strangers about their staffs was perfectly normal. "For walking."

"Oh, that." The white-haired guy shook his head. "It's just for-" he began to count off his fingers "-companionship, carrying things, self-defense, hockey-stick, baseball bat, getting laundry, scaling walls, chair and so on."

"Oh, cool." Hiccup lost him at 'hockey-stick'. Yeah, so probably a hobo.

"What are you going to Burgeshima for?" It was the boy's turn to ask. "I don't thinks there're any other stops after that, right?"

"Right. Um-" Hiccup noted that Toothless was staring out of the window, entranced by how the pictures seemed to be changing the train shot forward, "-school report. About the city and stuff."

"Wow, I didn't know people did that kind of thing in school nowadays." The guy sounded rather amazed, as if he hadn't been to school for a long, long time. Maybe he was a dropout or something.

Well, he didn't seem like the threatening stereotype, so Hiccup decided to ask the question back, "What about you? Why are you going to Burgeshima?"

It seemed as if a shadow fell on the boy's face and Hiccup could sense the unwillingness in his answer, "It's - it's my home."

"Oh." Trying to remember all the probing techniques that Astrid had practiced with him, Hiccup questioned in a casual tone, "So, you've been out of town for sometime then?"

The boy nodded, his face brightening a little. "I've been traveling."

'Through flyovers, underpasses or hovels?' a cynical part of him asked. The nicer part of him asked aloud, "Around Ameripan?"

The white-haired fellow laughed at that, throwing his head back. "More like around the world."

It was like the circuits in Hiccup's brain got short-circuited. The word 'Hobo' was on the verge of being cancelled out. Maybe this guy was a -

"Backpacker?"

Puzzlement was all over the other boy's mien.

Hiccup cleared his throat before clarifying, "You're a backpacker?"

"Oh." The boy scrunched up his face, running a hand through his white locks. "Well, kind of. No backpack though. Just me and my staff."

"Very economical, I guess." Conclusion: Globetrotting Hobo. New quest: Motive. "So, why go home now? Got tired for traveling?"

His fellow passenger went silent, and for some reason Hiccup felt as if the cabin got chiller. The white-haired boy scooped his staff back into his hand, holding it out the way warrior did to their swords in movies.

An oddly mature voice came from the young body, "Got tired of running."


S/N:

National Supers Agency (NSA) - this actually exists in the Incredibles.

Yakuza - Japanese mafias. They still exist in Japan today, and they can be very, very powerful. I need to do more research on these guys, though, because I'm not completely sure about the rankings. However, I do know that members in Yakuza's cut off a bit of their pinky (ouch) whenever they fail at a task, which is why Elsa mentioned that Flynn was lucky not to have lost all his fingers. Yep, all his fingers.

In this story though, the Nightmare Yakuza in Burgeshima would take some inspiration from both Japanese Yakuzas and American-Italian Mafias, because I'm still doing the Jap-American fusion. That's why Elsa's a Roman Catholic. Who uses Japanese terms. And talks about initiations rituals. It's complicated.

Yes, Burgeshima had heroes. Emphasis on 'had'.

Elsa in this AU is inspired by DC comic's Helena Bertenelli/Huntress, who is also the daughter of a Italian mob boss turned vigilante. Elsa may also be inspired by... Talia Al'Ghul (the villainess in Dark Knight Rises.)

Jack in this AU is inspired by, believe or not, Superman.

Up next: Probably introducing the two other girl heroes left, and maybe we might see the Big Hero 6 and catch up with Team Kristanna. Nah, it won't be romantic yet.


A/N:

This one was written as a gift to the fam man, a faithful and an avid reader of my stories. I'd like to thank you really for all your encouragement and for the fun we share in idea exchanges.

But really, I'm not going to write anymore till December.

So the fan man, your gift is...just a little more frustration. Still, all the best for your mission trip.

So, answers to Guest reviews:

Guest (18 Oct): Thank you very much! I hope you liked this chapter.

Guest (20 Oct): I really love details, and don't worry, it gets 'worse'. Everyone has a very different origin story, so I hope it would be interesting. There are quite a few superhero AUs hanging around, but I just was just inspired to try to combine existing animated hero films with into a universe that ROBTFD can operate in.

Please review! I love reviews! Even if it's a critique! Make a stressed-out student happy!

...Yep, that was stupid. Okay, I'm done embarrassing myself.