This Is What I'm Good At {Adopted By @CommanderALFA}

A/n: OK, SO I BASICALLY WENT ON A VERY LONG, UNANNOUNCED HIATUS AND I'M SO, SO SORRY FOR THAT!

I've had a very busy life so far, and I'm sorry for making you all wait. Combine that with writer's block, and you've got the recipe for a terrible hiatus.

I'll make this an extra long chapter to (hopefully) make up for it.

Also, please excuse the whole military writing (i.e. guns, codes, etc) because I don't exactly know them.

Disclaimer: I don't own How to Train Your Dragon. Those rights belong to DreamWorks and Cressida Cowell, much as I wish I had evem a few of those rights.

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Hiccup's POV

I woke up. The sun was barely out, and only a few rays of its warm orange-yellow light peered through the blinds and into my room, illuminating my usually white ceiling. Now I saw the color orange above me and the very faint specks of dust that flew through the air.

I got up out of bed and checked the time.

5:30AM.

'Wow, that's earlier than I normally get up for school.'

My clothes, which were pretty much a plain white t-shirt and black jeans, were slightly wrinkled and folded, and I'll be honest, it was slightly uncomfortable. But then, just stretching it pretty much straightens it out just fine.

I went into the bathroom to give my hair a quick brush, and wash my face. I left the bathroom after wiping my face dry, then sat down on my bed to put on my black Converse, packing two more pairs of shoes into the duffel bag. I looked around the room. So many memories in this room. I'd been living here practically my whole life. To just leave...

I shook my head. I'm not backing out now. I've made my choice.

I grabbed my duffel bag and threw it over my shoulder. Grabbing my black cap off the side table and my leather jacket off the hook on my door, I carefully peeked outside.

Empty.

Good.

I looked back at my room again. I looked back at the pictures that hung on my wall, my books that stood on my bookshelves, my movie posters of my all-time favorite movies, my collectibles my dad had gotten me the past few Christmases, my study desk, my bed... I'll be leaving so many things behind.

I sighed and looked down. 'No turning back...' I thought, before leaving the room and closing the door shut. I tiptoed down the stairs - better safe than sorry - and out the door that led to the garage, where my bike was.

I brought the bike outside and put the duffel bag on the back of my bike, securing it with a rope, before putting on my jacket and tucking my cap inside as I wore the helmet and revved up the engine.

I took one last look at the house I'd lived in my entire life. Then, I was off. I didn't look back. Not anymore.

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My first stop was at a gym. If I wanted to find out what I'm good at, I want to at least be in shape for it.

I went in and walked towards the front desk, where I paid for a one-week session at first. I took my things inside, changed into a pair of black jogging pants with green stripes down the side, and a gray sweatshirt, and started my workout: a jog on the treadmill.