Hey! Thank you for the reviews I got, they're very much appreciated. :)
And i'm sorry for throwing everyone out there aha, that first chapter serves only as a prologue without much context. I'm not really sure whether putting loads of context into the authors notes is necessary but I will say this; they are in a bunker under Berk.
I've planned where I am going with this and how it will end but i'm open to suggestions and criticisms so feel free to comment. I've noticed that the spellchecker on my word processor and the spellchecker on the document editor do not seem to get along (i.e. British English vs American English) and grammar is a bugbear so i'll be especially happy if you find any mistakes there so I can sort them. I feel as though the characters, especially Hiccup, are a bit out of character, although to be honest they are being put through a wringer of sorts. I also may find myself upping the rating because well...it might get graphic. Perhaps.
Aha, oh well.
June 29th 2018. 180 days after attack.
Hiccup Haddock awoke from his reverie, his mind taking a few moments to adjust to his surroundings. He sighed in relief of the familiarity of the whitewash walls and tiled ceiling that was mere inches from his head, before feeling the overwhelming state of exhaustion that haunted him at the time he should be feeling refreshed and lively. Pulling the sheets away, he peered over the stump that was once his ankle, and reached across the end of the bed to fix his prosthetic. Hiccup thought back to when he had first lost his foot, and how attaching this plastic, fake, empty limb was a tedious and difficult task, tiring him out before the day had begun. Over the past few months, however, he had gotten used to the bother it had given him and had become quite adept with it, even making a few metallic adjustments of his own with the metal he often stole from the blacksmiths supplies.
Hiccup's few possessions sat in a duffel bag next to where the prosthetic once was, and as he opened it to gather his uniform, his hand brushed against a soft, haphazard toy dragon that lay at the bottom, a single reminder that he had a life and a family once. He sighed and shook his head, allowing the memories to get to him and then escape like water running through cupped fingers. There was no time to contemplate what-ifs and what-haves. He pulled on the battered combat trousers and oversized t-shirt that exaggerated his emancipated frame and jumped from the top bunk where he slept, stuttering a little as his prosthetic threatened to give way. His room-mate, Alex Ingerman, known as Fishlegs for his clumsiness, was still snoring away, and Hiccup wondered whether it was the right time to be awake at all.
He took a glance at the clock across the cramped room; 6.14. Breakfast was in less than 15 minutes but hunger was not something that was occupying Hiccup's mind right now. He realized that they were now into the end of June and this year, he wouldn't be able to sit out in the sun like he'd done before. There was something disconcerting about living in darkness, the only light being artificial and impure. Fishlegs stirred, almost purring happily, something that annoyed Hiccup somewhat. He missed being happy. He missed being cared for.
"Hey Fish, it's nearly half-six", and Fishlegs stirred awake as if on cue. Hiccup didn't even attempt to disguise the annoyance in his voice, although he knew it wasn't fair to take it out on Fishlegs. He was always that kid at school who got the stick for being an overweight dork, and Hiccup found him infuriating right up until he actually got to know him. It had been Fishlegs who had sat by his bedside, holding a damp cloth to his head as he shook in fever from radiation sickness and the infection in his leg, inches from death. Hiccup's survival had been a miracle, and yet he couldn't quite understand whether he wanted to survive at all.
Fishlegs understood the implications of half-six. He shot up from his bed and gave his friend a smile, which Hiccup returned weakly.
"Hey Hiccup, are you coming to the mess hall tonight? Sindri's throwing a party", Fishlegs asked eagerly as he fumbled to get changed, giving his friend a look to suggest that he could do with the companionship. Hiccup, however, wasn't really a party person.
"I don't know. Uh, maybe", Hiccup replied, kneeling down to tie up his heavy, steel-capped boots. Fishlegs gave a exhalation of disappointment and looked away from his friend, focused on combing his blond hair away from his eyes.
"You know Hiccup, being cooped up in here every night can't be much fun", Fishlegs muttered almost inaudibly, as he also tied up his shoes. Hiccup decided that he was right; being left to his own thoughts in a tiny, cramped, subterranean bedroom wasn't a recipe for success. But then again, he didn't really feel up for a party with the jaunty community of Berk, or what was left of it. He didn't trust Sindri; Hiccup knew that there was only a matter of time before resources were going to run out and they'd have to go out onto the wasteland that remained above them in search of more. He knew such an action would be suicide. Of course Sindri was maintaining hope and peace amongst the people, but Hiccup knew also that he wasn't being truthful either.
The two boys grabbed their jackets and left their room, hurriedly stepping out onto the long, dimly lit corridor. The were nothing but doors decorating the two walls, murky white with damp creeping through the dripping ceiling, and it made Hiccup feel little more than a number in a prison block. There was the familiar smell of mold and metal, and the familiar breeze of the vents several feet above them that prevented them from suffocating. Hiccup and Fishlegs could hear the hum of voices, the buzzing of electricity and water coming into close contact through the piping and wiring interchanging above them and the drip-drip-drip and clank-clank-clank of their own movements synchronized with the perpetual leak. The further they walked, the closer the voices got, and they could make out the laughs and chatter of people they knew; quite distinguishable was the Scottish drawl of Gobber, Hiccup's mentor. Due to his disability, Hiccup couldn't enlist in the heavy-duty physical work that most young men were given, shoveling rubble and extending the bunkers many tunnels and pathways, nor was he fit enough psychologically to join the nursing corps or the army that was being assembled in case of another attack, so he was confined to the medical unit for two long months, seen as a defect with no contribution. Gobber, by chance, spotted Hiccup's keen eye for detail in the drawings he made and took him on as an apprentice engineer. It was tough slog, and Gobber didn't go easy on him, but he found some comfort in the older man; he reminded him of his late mother, almost, optimistic and always with a kind word that was earned by hard work.
Hiccup and Fishlegs pushed opened the heavy-duty fire door that separated the corridor from the large mess hall, which was bustling with a life that Hiccup felt disconnected to. They went to queue at the canteen behind a young girl, who must have been no older than ten, with two auburn braids sticking up like horns on her head, her dress looking tattered and her boots losing the fur. Hiccup wondered if she had any family left and if somebody was looking after her; maybe she was part of the orphanage that had been set up next to the medical centre. Fishlegs worked alongside the carers there but he knew they were severely understaffed and the children ran about and caused havoc, and they were often left unclean and scruffy. The situation wasn't improved when it came to education. Although Sindri had devoted two large second-floor spaces as classrooms, they only had two qualified teachers, one of which was an English teacher from Berk High School and the other one being Mrs Antoinette Robbins, Hiccup's favourite teacher from primary school. It meant that education stopped at 13, and students were then thrown into the real world as apprentices in the services that were needed.
As the queue shortened the two friends spotted Snotface Snotlout, a nickname he had been given at school for his constant runny nose and bullying, aggressive nature. He didn't look particularity intimidating as a caterer, his brunette hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes cast downwards, miles away from his usually extroverted self. He acknowledged Hiccup and Fishlegs with a curt nod as he threw minuscule portions of watery porridge, tinned peaches, stale wheat biscuits and weak black coffee onto the tray, and the two went to sit with the twins that Hiccup had once got into trouble with before the bombing.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, or to their mother, Roseanne and Timothy, were fraternal twins who had gone off the rails after their grandparents and father had been killed in a car accident. Hiccup found a great deal of solace and comfort in them, even if they were very different people. Where Hiccup usually kept to himself and got into trouble with his snark and quick wit, Ruff and Tuff were loud and boisterous. Hiccup could also see, however, that the twins also had a great deal of intelligence and love in them; Ruffnut was especially engaged in taking care of animals she had found on the road and in their trips to the forest. He almost had a bit of a schoolboy crush on her at one point, allowing himself to play with her masses of blonde hair and hold onto her scrawny frame as they watched the stars together. They never talked about Hiccup's mother or Ruffnut's father; Hiccup had tried to ask but he had noticed the lights go from his friends eyes the minute the words escaped and he appreciated that it was too early.
The twins were participating in a frantic food-fight, keeping the up excitable façade. Hiccup was hardly surprised given the quality of what they had been given; he decided to guzzle the coffee instead, slyly pushing the tray to the twins direction with the intent of throwing a bowl of porridge at some sad-sack on the next table. Fishlegs shook his head as Tuffnut targeted the bowl towards a loud, obese lady who worked as a dressmaker, and the four stifled giggles as it hit its target, her clothes and hair covered in sticky gunk. Furiously, she turned to face the wayward teenagers who frantically attempted and failed to keep a low profile.
"Was that you, Timothy Thorston?" she grunted, shooting dirty looks at the blond who was given his best impersonation of innocence.
"Oh no ma'am, it wasn't us!", he pleaded, a cheesy grin plastering his face. The lady's face became redder and her teeth became somewhat clenched as she sighed in disbelief. Without warning, she picked up a glass on her table and threw it into the plastic table the teens were sat on, shielding their faces with their arms as the shards found themselves sticking into skin and hair. The lady stormed out of the door, slamming it behind her, and Hiccup and the others slowly and carefully shook off the glass and got up from their sets. Violence was frequent in Berk, with people being beaten up and assaulted for stealing food and resources. Hiccup knew that the people were reacting because they were scared, and he felt an urge to scold the twins for encouraging such a reaction, as amusing as it may have been for that short moment.
Hiccup said a hasty goodbye to the others and headed off towards the north wing, taking the three flights of stairs at the end of the slipshod corridor. He wanted to get down the smithy first; there was a large fire pit and a massive vent several metres high above it, and it was quite easily the most dangerous place in the bunker, if only for the contact of radiation from the skies above. Hiccup loved it because he could see the daylight, even though the cackles of firewood and thick smoke affected his ability to focus.
He got to work setting fire to the pit, waiting for Gobber to arrive, and began to sketch out some designs for some new accommodation on the second-floor. The task at hand was a grand suite for Sindri and his family, complete with a glamorously decorated bedroom, three bedrooms and a living space complete with central heating. Hiccup scowled at the demand. Sindri's family were well off before the bomb and apparently despite everything, it was destined to remain the case. Hiccup knew they had a daughter his age, Astrid, who with her shimmering blonde hair and athletic figure was very beautiful, but he had never had the chance to meet her, nevermind engage in conversation.
It became somewhat surprising in that moment, as Hiccup's mind passed over to the mysterious Astrid, that said girl came into the room with an axe.
"Hey, I wonder if you can help me?" she said politely, smiling. Hiccup noticed the fading freckles on her face and the gappy teeth, a reminder of pre-puberty and innocence.
"Sure. What's the problem?" he replied fondly, trying his best to disguise any hint of nervousness. She laid the heavy axe down onto the workbench, fingers prised to the chapped wood and eyes gesturing towards the chipped steel.
"It's my mothers. I managed to save it for her before the blast, but seeing as dad's throwing her birthday party later i'd like to have it serviced. I know it's a long-shot and you're busy but..."
Hiccup gave a small smile to the girl as she frantically said her piece and interrupted her.
"I'll do what I can. Come back at five." Astrid beamed and without warning gave Hiccup a quick hug. The boy stepped back slightly, surprised at the reaction.
"It's fine. You're Astrid, Astrid Hofferson, right?" he questioned cautiously. The girl nodded.
"Yeah, and i'm sorry for asking but who are you?" Hiccup tried to disguise his scowl and tell himself that there was no reason as to why the girl would know him. Instead he tried a weary smile.
"My name is Wyatt Haddock, but everybody calls me Hiccup. Strange name, I know. It's a long story." and the boy could feel his cheeks burning, praying that the girl wouldn't notice. She gave a curt nod before turning to leave the forge, but not before crossing her arms and giving a sceptical look at her new friend.
"Well I think it's kinda cute. I'll see you around Hiccup, and thanks again."
Left in the smoky forge alone with the heavy battleaxe in his hand, the boy became excited about the prospect of doing something interesting. He wasn't just making nails and roof timbers today; he was servicing a weapon; he knew Gobber loved stuff like this. But perhaps more dominantly, he was concerned about the need to impress. He wanted Astrid to love it. For she had left something of an impression on him.