A/N: So, I'm sitting, trying to think of what to write for the next chapter of The Worldgate 2, and this idea strikes me out of the blue. I seem to have writer's block on The Worldgate 2 so I'm going to write a couple chapters of this to try to get rid of it.

Legend:
* "English"
* "Mech English" - To designate that, while they speak English, it sounds different since they're machines.
* Thoughts – You know what they are.
* ::Mech Language:: - A system of mechanical noises that work as a private language for Mechs.

Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD. This applies to this entire story.


"Hiccup." Stoick said as his son attempted to sneak into his room.

"Yeah dad?" Hiccup replied, wincing at being caught.

"We need to talk."

"About?" Hiccup asked, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading.

"About your training."

"Dad, I don't want to fight in The War, especially not in a Mech."

"I'm sorry son, but you don't have a choice in the matter. Your aptitude tests are the best anyone has seen in a long time, and you know that everyone is required to fight at least one tour of duty."

"Dad, you're the most famous Mech pilot ever. Can't you get me out of it?"

"No! I will not! You should know better then anyone that The War is our life now, and everyone must do their part. Not fighting a tour is punishable by death. I'm not about to risk that."

"Dad, I'm dead if I go on duty! I can't pilot. I just can't."

"That's why you're in training... Or why you're supposed to be. You skipped again."

"No, I di-"

"Yes you did. The trainer messaged me that you were absent... That you've been absent the last three sessions. Want to tell me where you've been?"

"Around."

"That's not an answer." Stoick sighed. "Fine. I'll let you go to every other session, but I expect you to learn what you miss on your own."

"Okay dad."

/-/

"Stupid, ugly, dumb... brute!" Hiccup raged as he wandered the scrapyard. The yard was one of several, but it was dedicated purely to military scrap. Old Mechs who had been destroyed in battle or simply become outdated. They were all broken down by Salvagers, massive machines that sliced the scrap up, cubed it, and salvaged any reusable parts. Like Hearts. Strange crystal matrices that somehow changed Fuel to energy to power a Mech's systems and acted as the central control point for every system. There were arguments about how intelligent Hearts were. Some argued they were as intelligent as any human, others that they were nothing then a fancy CPU.

There was support for both sides. Mechs and other machines with Hearts would display odd behaviour at times. It often appeared on the battlefield, when a Mech would override the pilot's commands and dodge shots fired by another Mech that the pilot hadn't spotted. Mech's could talk, but when given the standard intelligence test, all of them failed miserably. They usually just stood around, not moving or making a sound without a pilot.

Fuel was another mystery. No one knew where it came from, just that every month, major distribution centers received a shipment of the strange substance. It went straight into large storage tanks and was from there, pumped where it needed to go, from supply depots for machines to home heating units.

Hiccup wasn't paying attention to where he was going, and as a result, wandered into one of the restricted areas of the scrapyard. The area was for anything the military wanted scrapped but didn't want to be seen by the general public.

That's where he found it. The Mech was small, compared to the average, only about 18 feet high. The entire design spoke of grace. The body was smooth and rounded, no sharp edges or obvious weapons. The legs were the typical backwards knee design but were mounted very close to the rear. Hiccup didn't see how the Mech could stand up with the feet where they were, it looked too front heavy. The underside of the body had two grooves that looked like they were meant for the legs to fold up into, which would have made the body perfectly smooth with the exception of the end of each knee, which would have stuck out the back of the body. Hiccup didn't see what the point of this design feature. However, what was most striking about the Mech was its color. Most Mechs were not colored since maintaining a paint job in battle conditions was far to expensive. This Mech was jet black.

Hiccup walked up and gently put a hand on the Mech's leg. It wasn't painted, but rather, the metal itself was black. Using the handholds in the side of the leg, Hiccup hauled himself up to the top. There was two flaps, perhaps communication arrays, near the back which appeared to be articulated. The front had two green headlights, just under the black-tinted canopy. Hiccup was examining the canopy when it popped open.

Hiccup almost fell when the canopy slid open. He looked inside. The cockpit was unlike anything he'd seen before. Most Mechs had a mess of displays, joysticks, and buttons to control the various functions. This Mech had a single, full-body seat with some form of access port where each hand would sit. Written on the side of the cockpit was the Mech's designation.

"Assault Class – Night Fury Design – Prototype 01." Hiccup read. "Prototype... I didn't know we had any prototypes in the works. Unless..." Hiccup suddenly realized what this Mech was. It was an enemy Mech, captured either in battle or in a raid. Before Hiccup could retreat, the canopy slid partially closed, keeping him from leaving. The only way not to be crushed as the canopy closed was to get into the Mech. Hiccup scrambled forward into the seat. He was trapped in the Mech.

Unsure of what it wanted from him, Hiccup sighed and sat properly in the seat. It was the perfect size for him. Suddenly, a metal collar snapped around his neck and everything went dark. He could feel something examining his mind, looking at each memory, each thought, analyzing it.

Oh man, this thing must have a human-machine interface of some kind!

The feeling continued and Hiccup got a growing feeling of approval as the entity examined his thoughts and opinions on The War. Hiccup didn't think it should be happening. The War had started when his military intercepted a transmission about their enemies, who were once allies, planning a preemptive strike. When contacted, the enemy had denied the accusations, claiming they had intercepted similar transmissions. It didn't take long for the fighting to break out. That had been near twenty years ago. Hiccup thought those transmissions were fake, that something had wanted to start The War. He had seen them for himself and found several anomalies in the signal itself that indicated something wasn't right. No one had listened to him. No one had wanted to.

Suddenly, his vision was back. However, it wasn't his. Hiccup watched as various HUD elements appeared, along with huge amounts of info ranging from tactical to system diagnostics. He was seeing through the Mech's senses. He could feel everything. It was like he was the Mech, like there was no difference between the two. Suddenly, an error appeared in the HUD.

Gyro-Module missing, system requires external input. Does it want me to help it balance? Is that why it's here?

That is why you are here.

Who's that?

I am the Mech. Your people took my Gyro-Module and my Linguistic Processor. Without them, I can not move or talk. I have long waited for one who could help me.

Why are you here?

I was captured. Not that it would have made a difference. I was destined for the scrapyard when I was taken.

Why?

I would not fight. Not when my pilot believed in violence as a manner to end conflict.

Then why me?

You think the conflict is wrong. You think that there is another way to end it. However, I also see in you that you will fight if it is to keep yourself and those you care for safe. I see a warrior, but not one who revels in bloodshed like others.

So, you think I can end The War without killing?

I think you will try, and if you cannot end it, that you will fight to your last breath for those you love.

I hate to tell you, but I'm a horrible pilot.

You are a horrible Mech pilot. I am more then a Mech. Right now, I am you and you are me. And you are a incredibly capable person. I think you will find piloting much easier when there are no controls to get in the way.

Maybe. But how will we get out of here? There's no way they're going to let us walk out.

So you think. I was designed for assault, but also for cyber-warfare. With you to help me, there is no system that we cannot access and control.

Okay, I guess you're not going to let me get out of this.

Not a chance.

Hiccup returned his attention to his view. He could feel everything. Hesitantly, he tried to take a step. It was like walking in his own body, even if the motion was different. He could feel the Mech interpreting what he was trying to do and turning them into physical movements. Together, they approached the exit gate. They hid behind a pile of scrap, the Mech's low profile keeping it well hidden.

Hiccup could feel the Mech reach out through its communication array to the access ports on the turrets guarding the exit. He felt the turrets request authorization and felt the Mech try to reach past the request and into the system. The turrets tried to block it, but Hiccup knew how their security system worked and guided the Mech. It wasn't long before the turrets were programmed to accept the Mech's IFF tag as an ally and the pair simply walked right out.

Hiccup knew his life had just gotten way more complicated. He was now in possession of a prototype enemy Mech and had just helped it escape.

Man, my dad is going to have a freak out once he finds this Mech gone.

I don't really think you care all that much.

You're right, I don't. Let him freak out. We'll stop The War. One way or another.


A/N 2: There we go. I'll do a couple of these, then try to do some more Worldgate before switching back. Review please and tell me what you think of my sci-fi twist on HTTYD.