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Beautiful, Broken Berk (1.9 k)

This is Berk. A beautiful city, once famous for its view. It used to be a stunning tourist spot despite the strange weather. Now, well, you'd have to be either crazy, stupid, a moron, or all three to go for a 'visit'.

Here on Berk it rains nine months of the year and hails the other three. There's fishing, boat races, beautiful hills, and a charming view of the sunset. Berk truly is a beautiful city.

The only problem is the crime. While most cities have a few crimes here or there, or once a day, Berk is completely run by villains. Most people would leave. Now Berkians. We act like Vikings. We have…stubbornness issues.

My name's Hiccup. No it's not a nickname, or a name given to me by my bully, Snotlout (who also happens to be my cousin). It's my real name. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. Yeah. It's pretty bad, but, believe me, it's not the worst. For example, Snotlout had the word snot in his name. Then there are the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, almost identical in their actions and looks, minus the fact that Ruff was a bit smarter…sometimes…and their gender difference. There was also Fishlegs, who got one of the worst names, and finally…

Astrid Hofferson. My long-time crush. Blonde hair, always in a braid, gorgeous blue eyes, beautiful body, badass…she was the perfect package, unfortunately many guys at their school thought the same, including Snotlout. And, on top of that, she constantly turned them down. She didn't want, or like the attention. I could see that much. She hated it. And that's the only reason I probably still liked her. Because I felt sorry for her, not that I'd ever admit that out loud, because I'd get clobbered.

But considering the city we lived in, getting Astrid to like me was the least of my worries.

When I was a mere 4 months old, my mother was taken from me. Killed, most likely, by a 'Dragon'. Dragons were the 'pets' of the gang leaders. They came in different shapes and sizes. Some have managed to escape the clutches of the gang leaders, going against their own kind. Dragons who have run from their captors (we call them 'free runners') usually don't last long. If they were lucky they lasted about a week or two before they were hunted down and killed. That was one thing I didn't understand. Why not just let the animal go free? It's not like they can tell anybody secret plans. Plus, no one on Berk was crazy enough to try and stop the gangs that literally ruled the city. The police force wouldn't do anything about it because the majority of the cops were 'dirty cops', siding with the gangs. There were a few good cops, however. One of them is named Stoick 'The Vast' Haddock, a.k.a. my father.

Stoick was a large man, respected by the people of Berk. He was strong, so strong, in fact, that people say that when he was a baby, he popped an animal's head clean off its shoulders. Do I believe it?

Yes, yes I do.

In every way I was not my father's son. He was strong and proud, I was weak and a coward. He spoke in public with such a strong, loud, voice, that people listened to him, usually without an argument. I didn't speak in public, I preferred making myself unnoticed so Snotlout couldn't come to beat me up. People were afraid of Stoick. I was afraid of people. People admired Stoick. People looked at me like I was trash, an embarrassment, not worthy of being the son of the great 'Stoick the Vast'.

That was one thing I think may be true. I could never live up to his…well, everything.

I was a scrawny boy with brown hair and bright green eyes. I was smart, but when your dad is my dad, that doesn't matter unless it makes a big impact, in a good way.

I seemed pretty good at the bad way.

There was one thing, however, that I was super interested in.

The mutation gene.

One of the gang leaders by the name of Viggo Grimborn had created more than one hundred different new genetically modified species. They were the new species of 'dragons', modeled after, well, dragons. They weren't exactly dragons, but they were deadly, fierce, each looking rough and breathing a fire or acid of some sort. There were signs saying that volunteers were wanted to be the first to go through the "harmless" procedure of being test subjects for the genetic mutation gene they had created.

That was not something I liked the sound of.

At all.

…

Every day I wake up, grab my lunch and a quick breakfast, and dash out the door. I was the kind of person who was always tardy, so I made the habit of eating once I was on the school bus.

Every day I get on the bus, and take the walk of shame down the aisle until I find my solitary seat at the very back.

Every day I would get off the bus, walk into school and try to hide from Snotlout and his 'friends'.

Every day I fail (ok, almost every day).

Every day I'm slammed into the lockers. Every day I get punched. Every day I just sigh as Snotlout uses the same, unoriginal taunts as the day before. Every day I feel stupid because I think of how ashamed my father would be if he saw my reaction.

Every day I am more and more fed up with it, yet I never do anything.

Why? I told you. I'm a coward.

Also because I'd rather not have to get in some sort of a fight. That would end in my father getting a call and me having to explain why I'm in the nurse's office and why I got in a fight with my cousin.

That's why I'm sitting in Science class doodling on my finished worksheet, ignoring the persistent throbbing of pain in my shoulder. Grade twelve is going to be one hell of a pain. Literally.

I turn my attention back to the teacher, Mr. Sven as I hear the words "field trip".

"We will be going to the Berk Institute of Biological Genetic Mutations. If you are coming, you must remember to never tough anything. For your own safety, I suggest you follow that rule." He said, looking directly at Snotlout, who, of course, wasn't even paying attention. Mr. Sven sighed, and began handing out forms. "Here are the forms, be sure to get them signed tonight because the trip is on Wednesday. Anyone who doesn't have their form is not allowed to attend. No exceptions."

The bell trilled signaling the end of last period and students began filling out of the class, rushing to go home. I followed, not wanting to miss the early bus, when Mr. Sven called my name.

"Hiccup! Wait! I'd like to speak with you."

I turned. "A-am I in trouble?"

"No! No, not at all. I just want to make sure you will be coming tomorrow. I know this is something you will enjoy, and you have a habit of not coming on excursions." It was true. I didn't go on trips, I just stayed home and worked one of my newest

"I'll try."

"You better. There will be a quiz on what you learn here, so you had better come and take notes."

"Y-yes sir. I have to go the bus is-"

"Oh. Yes. My apologies. Run along now." He made a shooing motion and pushed me outside, shutting the door in my face. I blinked and looked at my watch.

3:10. I groaned. Guess I'd be walking home.

I made my way to my locker, occasionally getting bumped in the shoulder by someone rushing by. It was amazing, how invisible I was. It was like the entire world was a blur, lost around me. I moved slowly, not in any rush whatsoever. Maybe I'd go see Gobber at the forge.

Gobber was a large man with a long mustache, interchangeable hands, a wooden peg leg and, to top it all off, a mean attitude. In other words, it's his fault I get beat up due to my sarcasm, he gave me that trait, and it gets me into a lot of trouble. Gobber worked at the forge. I've been his apprentice ever since I was little.

Working at the forge distracted me from the disaster that had become Berk, school, Astrid…everything really.

It was my mini-vacation. And I wouldn't give it up for anything. I think.

…

"Yer not focused 'iccup! Get yer head outta 'te clouds, ye near chopped off meh good arm!" I cringed as the blade clattered onto the ground, bending as it cooled. I cursed and sighed, re-melting the metal and starting over again. Gobber sighed, giving me a concerned look. "Yer sure yer okey? Ye don't look 'ta me like yer okay." I continued to wearily hammer the hot metal into the desired shape.

"Just tired Gobber. Dad kept me up all night with his snoring." It was the truth. My dad's snoring could sake the house through the seams.

"Yer right there, laddie. That man sounds like a volcano when 'e snores. But ya don't need ta work yerself to 'te grave. Go home. Ye need 'te rest. 'an I ain't jokin'. Get yerself outa 'ere. 'al see ya t'morrer." Gobber ignored my protests as he took away my tools and apron, shoving my bag to my chest and pushing me out the door. With it being a Monday, meaning my dad was at work later, I had no drive. That leaves walking, I thought, yay.

Five minutes later, and it began to rain, and not your casual sprinkle. No, that didn't happen on Berk. Here we only have three levels. Pouring, hard, and psychotic rain. Lucky me, I got psychotic.

"Great." I muttered, and continued walking. Running in the rain? Ha! You've got to be crazy. It's a very simple scientific explanation:

When you run, more of your body's surface area is exposed. When you walk, you'll get wet mostly on your head and shoulders, whereas when you run, your legs and arms are vulnerable as well, meaning you get drenched.

So voilà. There's your explanation.

…

I woke up the next morning, actually surprised to find my dad had noticed the form, signed it, and left a cheque. Wonderful.

I was also surprised to find that I had slept past my alarm, past the honk of the bus, and past the three missed calls on my cell phone.

The time on my cellphone read 11:26.

Meaning, I'd missed Math and Physics. Also Meaning I couldn't miss Art and Biology, or my dad will kill me. I groaned as I groggily sat up in my bed, swinging my legs over the side and onto the floor. I made my way to the bathroom, not even bothering to look at my reflection. I already knew what I'd see. I'd see a Hiccup. I'd see a disappointment.

And one thing I hated was being a disappointment.

So it was safer not to look.

That way, I could still hope and pretend.