How to Train Your Avatar

Welcome to Science Geek Hell

"Geez, does everyone wear a lab coat around here?" Hiccup remarked as he walked alongside Tuffnut and Fishlegs. "It's like I've fallen into Science Geek Hell."

"Yep, that pretty much sums the place up," Tuffnut said. "I've been trying to convince the boss to allow us to wear more casual clothing, but--"

"So, just a quick overview of what we've been doing here before you meet the boss," Fishlegs said, interrupting Tuffnut before he could jump onto another rant about Heather's strict rules. "Each driver is genetically matched to his own avatar so all the nervous systems are in tune. Since you and Jack are genetically identical--"

"I can drive his avatar," Hiccup finished with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, I already received the run-down from the government shits who gave me this job."

"I like this guy!" Tuff clapped Hiccup on the shoulder, unintentionally causing the corresponding crutch to slip on the metal floor. Hiccup dug his booted prosthetic into the ground to keep himself upright. Tuff didn't even notice. "Anybody who bashes the government is a friend of mine!"

"Might not want to say that to the people who pay you," a woman around their age said as she walked over to them. "They might decide to stop the flow of cash, and then where would you be?"

Tuff rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Heather."

Hiccup remembered Jack talking about the woman who ran the Avatar Program, Heather De'range. She was just as Jack had described: thick black hair tied into a braid that sat on her left shoulder, ever-present lab coat, pale skin, grassy green eyes that pierced through to your soul, as if she could stare into the thing itself.

Heather turned to Hiccup, looking him up and down. "You're handicapped."

"Yeah." Hiccup fought back the urge to bite back with an explicit retort. "So?"

"They didn't say you were handicapped."

"It's just a physical handicap," Fishlegs said, stepping in between Hiccup and Heather. "It shouldn't affect his performance in driving the avatar."

Heather rolled her eyes then looked at Fishlegs. "You must be his training partner. Ingerman, right?"

Fishlegs nodded. "That's me. You can call me Fishlegs, though."

"I'll stick to the last names, thanks. Less likely to mix up you idiots." She shot Hiccup another look. "How much lab time have you had?" she asked him.

"Zip," Hiccup answered.

"How's your Na'vi?"

Hiccup shrugged, as well as he could with crutches under his arms. "Basic stuff. Preschool, kindergarten level."

Heather's expression softened. "Well, at least he's not a complete loss. I expect you back here tomorrow at 0800. Try to at least act like you know what you're doing. I don't need idiots like you fucking things up in my department." With that, she walked away.

That was when Hiccup decided to snark. "Nice lady. Great people skills. Is she always that polite?"

Tuffnut burst out laughing. "Man, you just keep getting better! Is there no end to your awesomeness?"

Fishlegs rolled his eyes. "Come on, you bunk with us."

"Well there goes the neighborhood."

If dying of laughter was possible, Tuffnut would have keeled over on the spot.

Hiccup was the first one awake the following morning. His alarm went off at four in the morning, giving him plenty of time to shower, change, and eat before his first run with the avatar. He slipped into the bathroom, careful not to wake his snoring roommates with the tapping of his crutches on the hard floor.

While the water heated up, Hiccup stared at his shirtless form in the full-length mirror that covered the entirety of the door to the bedroom. Tattoos covered his torso, leftovers from a teenage rebellious phase that Hiccup had gone through in his senior year of high school. Most of them were dragons--a Chinese one curled on his upper left arm, the head by his shoulder; another swirled on his chest over his heart; another on his right elbow with its wings spread. Twin pistols were tattooed by his hips, one on each side with their barrels pointing downward, the ends disappearing into his pants, giving the impression of guns holstered in his pants. The most recent, a snowflake, sat on the left side of his neck, as a memento of his brother. Hiccup's hand slowly traveled up to the snowflake, where he rubbed it tenderly. The tingling of the new tattoo had long since stopped, but the pain of losing his brother did not. 

In the shower, Hiccup sat on the small bench, the steam of the hot water leaking out over and around the shower curtain. His prosthetic and brace off, Hiccup felt more vulnerable than ever. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, he'd never be accepted here, among all these science majors. He was a soldier, hardened by battle but softened by the ostracism of his childhood and early teens. He would never fit anywhere, not on the battlefield, not on Pandora, not even in his own home, where his mother never existed and his father was a drunk. The fall of the water helped to hide his quiet sobs, merging with the tears already spilling out of his eyes. In over six months, he hadn't allowed himself to cry over Jack, but here, alone, with the pressure of a dozen people expecting him to be good at something he knew next to nothing about, broke his emotions until he just couldn't take it anymore.

Hiccup decided he wasn't just in Science Geek Hell. He was in the equivalent of Hell itself, with no friends, no parents, and no brother to offer him support.

A/N: Sorry about the angst at the end. I just couldn't resist. Despite how hard he tries, Hiccup's not made of stone. He's going to feel something about all this. His brother was murdered, he has no other family. Poor boy's gotta hurt somewhere. Anyway, angstiness over, for now. Next chapter: Hiccup in his avatar body!