(The Super-Fantastical Saga of a) Modern Day Viking in Detroit

Modern Day Viking in Detroit by Ryan Burnette, aka Jay, aka Darky, aka Aka.

Chapter 1
Ah, Tuesdays… Everybody hates Mondays, yeah, but Tuesdays… Katarina sighed as she got on the bus. Tossing her stuff against the window-side of her seat, she sat down on the aisle-side, securing her stronghold from the invading Mongolian armies, which are otherwise called her fellow students. You see, going to East Mercury High School was pretty much an invitation to others; hey, I’m a cool victim for your various nefarious acts of infamy! And how; the school was split up into stereotypical cliques, the most noteworthy being the jocks and the popular kids. AND EVERYBODY WANTED TO BE LIKE THEM. Well, almost everybody. Katarina Nexus would not be assimilated! Her mind was far too powerful, plus she could out-rap any of them, or all of them simultaneously. Well, if she rapped, she could.

As for Katarina, she was a pretty average looking girl for one on a quest to define normality and disobey it. Brown hair to her mid-torso, she often kept these strands in two pigtails, and fairly often wore some form of headwear over it. Most often was a white fedora, complemented by a raven’s feather, but she ALSO, on occasion, wore a Norse helm. As infatuated with Viking legend as she was, she often wore a black Manowar t-shirt, normally accompanied by either a black skirt, or black jeans. No, she wasn’t goth. Black was just a very intimidating color! AND SHE LOVED TO INTIMIDATE PEOPLE. ESPECIALLY SMALL CHILDREN AND THE ELDERLY! So she wore her black clothes, and they suited her well. Also fairly often, over deep-set hazel eyes, she tended to wear 1986 aviators, a pair ONCE OWNED by John Lennon. They had cost her a small fortune, but she’d obtained the money for the auction, mainly through means of begging for cash from rich people, claiming to be a charity spokesperson. Snrk…

Oh right, Tuesdays. Well yeah, Tuesday was a muchly despised day; it was a well-known fact that if something was going to happen, it would be on a Tuesday. Last Tuesday, there was a shoot-out at the school. Nobody died, but two students got knee-capped and one took a bullet to the hand, blew a finger off. Tuesday before that, a bus exploded, putting everybody way behind and costing the school some budget money. Who even KNEW what was going to happen TODAY?

The bus pulled into the parking lot and Katarina found her way off the vehicle, amidst a crowd of babbling people, chatting aimlessly about things nobody cared about. As she, most of all, didn’t care about their stupid problems and random stories, she walked to class. First class of the day was Swedish. Why was she taking a Swedish class? Because everyone else took Spanish and French. So she had scored big, in a class filled with exactly eleven people. The problem? Her nemesis also took the class.

Richard Lance… As one could tell merely BY HIS NAME, he was a total dick. He was that one guy who everybody seemed to love and congregate around all the time. Really popular, and athletic, and he often acted like he didn’t care about anything, and probably sparkled in sunlight. And, in her tradition of breaking tradition, Katarina was NOT hopelessly crushing on him but far too shy to admit it; in fact, she hated his guts, and wished to stab him. A lot. In the face. Probably neuter him and plug his butthole with it. But she was a good, proper, young lady, and proper ladies didn’t kill people and butt-rape them with their own severed penis. No, no, she resigned to merely punch him in the testicles when the occasion arose, and to consistently argue with him.

So she entered the class and BAM. There he was. “Oh… Hey Katherine… I see you finally found a mall that wasn’t the Salvation Army…” GOSH. WHY DID HE TALK LIKE THAT? HE PAUSED BETWEEN WORDS, AND TRIED TO SOUND LIKE A SPARKLING VAMPIRE. Ugh, could she just blow his brains out right now?

“Hey pretty-boy. I see you finally ran out of witty things to sa- oh that’s right. You’re too stupid to have ever had any wit anyways. Screw off, you no-brainer!” Sitting in her usual seat, third seat back on the second row, she awaited the class to start. Puuuurty soon, the teacher entered the classroom, by means of the door. Honestly, she saw no reason for him not using the window; that would have been way cooler! But nay, he did not. Instead, he walked in like a normal human being, boring as normality is, and everyone became seated, in order to learn their words. As it happened, Katarina actually DID like this class, unlike everyone else; IT MADE HER FEEL LIKE A VIKING! And it should; I mean, learning Spanish made people feel like a matador, so why can’t SHE wish for a hammer with which to smite her enemies in the name of Odin? Would have been boss. But nooo, her parents said giant warhammers were a waste of money, and that she wasn’t responsible enough to own one. LAME. She actually might have been able to acquire one, without their knowledge. As it happened, unbeknownst to them, she owned a glorious pair of kukri, a set of silver-alloyed shuriken, and a VERY glorious Colt 45.

“Miss Nexus. Miss Nexus. Katarina…” What? OH. OH CRAP, YEAH.

“Hm? OH. Ja, Mr. Gostov?” Ah, Mr. Gostov... He had a Viking name, as you can see. Not only that, he SOUNDED like a Viking. Unfortunately, despite MUCH pleading and begging, he would not let loose a mighty battle-cry of sheer blood-curdling awesomeness. In fact, he said if she kept asking, he would file a harassment lawsuit, as it is APPARENTLY racist to expect obvious Vikings to actually be Vikings. So she stopped, only because lawyers didn’t want to cooperate and work for free. Stupid lawyers…

“Stay with the class, Ms. Nexus; God forbid you fall asleep and start sleep-walking around the room, waving around an imaginary mace.” Hehe… No, no, she wouldn’t do that again. Next time she’d wave around an imaginary HAMMER! To be fair, she wasn’t asleep that time before, rather, she wanted to show the class how TRULY awesome she was. She heard the one jack-off king to rule them all snicker and elbow-nudge his likewise stupid friend, obviously mocking her, as she turned around to glare at him. Even her eyes said it; my pistol craves the blood of a virgin sacrifice, and you idiots oughta do well enough. Ah well… Hehe… Actually, come to think of it, she’d love to see the shock on a suicide bomber’s face when he discovered an afterlife full of seventy-two of Richard Lance…

Class soon ended, and Katarina drudged on to her next class. That class would be called “History of War”, and it was her favorite class, by far. Screw being a boss Viking, she wanted to be a boss Viking naval tactician! Actually… That was a pretty epic career goal. She’d have to talk to her guidance counselor about it. That being the case, though, she entered the classroom an d took her normal seat, front row, middle seat. LIKE A BOSS. Only real bosses paid attention to the history of war. The teacher came in, blah blah blah, boring history stuff and then SHABAM. Up in her face with a manly Viking MACE. This was the ONLY teacher permitted to bring weapons to school, and it was BOSS. Mr. Crow was ALSO the coolest teacher at school, obviously, and often played Manowar as students studied, which brought Katarina peace of mind. Oddly enough, people tended to think he was crazy, which was just plain silly.

Soon after, she went to boring Calculus, and disheartening Accounting, classes that made her wonder who in the school administration wanted her to die. But of course, as she learned about the boring history of number crunching, she was saved by the bell. The lunch bell, that is. So she set off for lunch! It was a long, dreary quest spanning the great halls of East Mercury, from room 807 to the cafeteria, a journey of many miles, a thousand days, and one that led to the amazing wonder of the world known as rice and gravy Tuesday. Indeed, twas the only GOOD thing about Tuesday! Namely because she quite enjoyed rice and gravy, it was a good, hearty meal. And given her love for Viking lore and medieval weaponry? Who would it surprise that she had a habit of borrowing a few peoples’ lunches along with her own? So she darted through the line, per usual, snatched up a plate, filled all five compartments with rice and gravy and darted away. The cafeteria staff had long ago given up on the process of collecting her lunch money, as it was either not given up anyways, or brutally thrown in someone’s face, usually another student. Casually storming across the lunchroom, she snatched up two or three loaded plates as students conversed and whatnot, particularly enjoying the chorus of “Hey, where’d my food go!?” Haw haw haw… Suckers.

So she sat down, enjoying her lunch, when she heard footsteps behind her. Reacting quickly, she caught them in a headlock, not even bothering to look at her poor victim until they’d been flipped across the table into the seat opposite her. “Right on time!”

Said victim was a horribly unfortunate guy by the name of Jonathon Derringer. At 6 foot four, he was the epitome of lanky, and at seventeen, ASTOUNDED Katarina by sporting a bassist’s shaggy hair and beard, with his facial hair reaching to just below his neck. BOSS.

“Kat, crazy as always. Friggin psychopat-“ As he readjusted himself in his chair, mainly by means of sitting upside right, he was interrupted by Katarina playfully tossing a fork at him. “I love you too, Jonny-boy! So, what’s the scope? Anything cool happen that I’m unaware of?” He sighed, brushing some gravy off his face, from where her fork had smacked him in the head. Painful, but for once, she forgot to break the skin. “Eh, not much, Kat. Basic, boring crap, same as always. I met up with that pansy, Dick or whatever his name is. Who names their kid Richard Lance anyways? Just so the brat can be a double-dick.” Katarina laughed between bites of rice and gravy and grinned at her friend.

“Actually, his middle name is Johnson, so he’s a triple-dick. Haw haw!” Ah, fun times. Fuuuun tiiiimes… Oh, and lo and behold, but at precisely 1:19 PM, Tuesday happened. And in the happening of Tuesday, much fecal matter was thrown into the spinning blades of an object one may refer to as “the fan.” Fun times indeed…

Modern Day Viking in Detroit by Ryan Burnette, aka Jay, aka Darky, aka Aka.

Chapter 2
"Everybody hit the ground! Money, phones, all that crap, on the tables. One of you moves a hair out of line, and I blast some caps, am I clear?"

OH SNAP. Lunch room ROBBERY!? This dude looked legit too. Dressed in a black suit, aviators to DIE for, and a ski mask- wait. Who wears aviators over a ski mask? That's stupid. Though, it looked cool, so Katarina gave this shooter props. OH, RIGHT. HER STUFF. Wait, why should SHE put HER stuff on the table!? BULLETS WERE PUNY AND WEAK. SHE CAUGHT BULLETS WITH HER SKULL. So, in lieu of better judgement, and to a pants-crapping Jonathon's whiny panic, she laughed, and didn't even BOTHER to hit the ground. Meanwhile, with her foot, she slipped off her shoe, and delicately used her toes to quietly unzip her bookbag.

"GET ON THE FLOOR!"

"Screw you!" Almost opened, she was thankful that the chair and her legs were concealing the contents of the bag from the shooter, who should remain in suspense, or better yet, have no idea what was going on at all. This, my friends, is what we in the writing biz call dramatic irony, y'know. Though Katarina, of course, preferred dramatic ironing, as you may or may not discover more in-depth later. But for now, the shooter was slowly coming closer, fire in his eyes, and a bullet with her name on it.

"I'll shoot! I'll kill you right here, right now, I am NOT playing!"

"You think your gun will hurt ME? I am a sexy queen diva pimp killa-slaya viking badass! PUNY BULLETS ARE PUNY. I HAVE A MACE." And of course, as he wondered what this psycho chick was doing, she hit the ground, but at the same time, she had finally gotten a grip on an object hidden in the bookbag in front of her in the seat. Turning then, at the precise moment of good timing, she let fly her mace, which she shouldn't have had in school, and lo and behold, WHAM. Clocked the crook in the jaw! He fired the gun in rapid succession, sending ceiling plaster down, as children screamed. Casually standing up, Katarina walked over to him as he started back on his feet, having lost the gun when he fell, the force of the mace in his face knocking him down.

"HAHA! You fool! I would strike you down right now, except I'm a little busy eating lunch! Call me back Monday, kay babe?" Making a click noise, she threw up a peace sign, snatched up her mace and walked out of the room, much to the bewilderment of everyone around her. "Deuces, killa-pimp. COME JON, MY TRUSTY WALRUS CHUM, LET US MARCH ONWARD! Jon, that means follow me. Let's ditch this popsicle stand." Jonathon, however, was still leaving feces in his underwear, hopefully metaphorically, as the gunman angrily reached for his gun again. Hearing a noise as the barrel clinked on the floor, Katarina turned back around, sufficiently ticked off. "YO! Homeboy! I said DEUCES. That means GOOD-BYE. Not shoot the viking boss!" She then clubbed him over the head with the mace again as he began to turn towards her, again knocking him down, his head now sporting two bloody marks and two large bruises. This time deciding not to let up again, she set her mace in his mouth, as far as it would go, on the floor. "I didn't want to swagjack a movie, but you've forced my hand!" She then kicked his head. Hard. Like, hard hard. Hard enough to break his neck, and of course to shatter his jaw in her homage to Schindler's List. This of course led to some silence, followed by screams, shouts, and the sounds of people passing out. She then took her mace and looked it over.

It was a sexy mace. Gunmetal gray, spikes sharpened nicely, but blunt enough not to stick in people, with a nice handle for a good firm grip. And now it had blood and brain juice on it. Grody... Well, she certainly couldn't leave school with her mace like this. So she took it in both hands and began beating it relentlessly against the wall.

Not too long after these events transpired, police entered the room, saying for everyone to freeze and put hands over heads. MOST complied, except Katarina, still beating the blood out of her mace. An officer approached her slowly. "Ma'am, put the weapon down and put your hands over your head. I'm Officer Rigby of the Detroit Police Department. Put the club down." WHAT!? Oh, the indignity! CLUB!? Why, she, she oughta... OOH, she almost beat him to death with her mace too. "It's a mace, not a club! And I have to get these stains out, or it won't look good on my display case."

"Ma'am, although it appears you did apprehend the shooter-"

"There was a shooter!? OH CRAP. I thought he was just some hobo with a Tec 9!"

"Ma'am, we're going to have to arrest you for possesion of a deadly weapon at school. Not for long, just a night. If you'll please come with us peacefully, this doesn't have to be hard. Just please don't do anymore crazy crap."

"Will there be chicken? I want a chicken. A whole chicken, barbequed and then deep fried, if you would." The poor officer really hadn't prepared for this question, and he looked to his fellow cops. One shrugged and another gave him a very sympathetic look as he sighed. "Will you come peacefully, if we have chicken?"

"Yes."

"Call back to the station, Jones. Have them cook a chicken. Jesus, we're going to have a tough time explaining this to Sheriff Cooper..."


Ick... This chicken tasted like dog crap. And dog crap tasted like... Well, Katarina was crazy, but not a hobo with a Tec-9. So she didn't usually partake in the dining on of canine fecal matter. That's just gross. Well, more gross than this disgusting chicken. Who taught cops how to properly deep fry a whole chicken anyways!? Because whoever did that should be shot in the face with a potato gun, spat on, and kicked between the knees. Ah well. She continued eating the chicken, if only because she had nothing of any other use to do in here. CURSES! Foiled again, by the feds! And the worst part was, her parents had come to the Sheriff's Department, where they confiscated her mace and scolded her from outside her holding cell. Whatever, she could just steal it back later. What? Is she THAT terrible for plotting, from a Sheriff's holding cell no less, to steal her weapon back from the very people who gave life to her? If you answer yes, she couldn't blame you, though SHE would answer no. Not terrible, as they don't need a hulking mace. Imagine her mother, a woman in her early forties, practically ANCIENT, lugging around a steel mace all day! The only mace SHE should have is the eye burning kind, not the eye GORING kind! Alas, woe be Katarina Nexus on this day. A hero, but a hero without her weapon of Smite Lawful...

She was on the verge of rocking back and forth in the fetal position, shouting in tongues, about an hour into her arrest, when school let out, bringing a guardian angel into her room, to shed some glorious light on her. This angel was called Jonathon, and stank of elderberries. "Hey Kat, how you holdin' up?" Jumping to her feet, she darted IMMEDIATELY to his location, stretching a hand outside the bars. "JOOOOOOOOOONAAAAAATHOOOOOOON! Could you pass the gravy? Crap-chicken's a bit dry."

"Are you seriously just chill after that? I mean, c'mon, Kat, if you won't show any panic, or at the least, surprise over the shooter trying to rob everyone, could you at least show some sign of heroism? I mean, you DID kinda crack the dude's skull wide open..." Ah... There really WAS a shooter, then, not just a Tec-9 wielding hobo. Interesting! She knew this, because Jonathon, in all the years she'd known him, had never lied to her, rather, he just pitifully, but loyally, followed her through all the crap she drug him through, without ever showing any form of disloyalty. He was her Chewbacca to her Han Solo, her Pikachu to her Ash, her Mento to her Coke! Truer partners in crime were never found! I mean, Bonnie and Clyde went down together in a blaze of glory, yeah, and Insane Clown Posse was still together, and would be forever, but this combination of bawss (her) and partner (he) was unmistakable in power and intensity! Which was OBVIOUSLY why he was privelaged enough to be judo flipped over tables and slung around like a ball-and-chain when she needed to do so! Plus, he played a mean game of high stakes Go Fish...

"I am as chill as a triple scoop hot fudge sundae, extra freezer-burn, hold the hot fudge. Why, am I supposed to be overdramatically flipping tables? Yeesh, Jonny-boy, some days I think you inspire my violent streak..."

"Not overdramatically table-flipping, no, but the fact you're being so calm kinda freaks people out."

"Does it? Huh... Well, that's preposterous! Why would it freak people out that I laugh in the face of an obvious threat? I tend to get freaked out by bears in comically small thongs. THAT'S freaky, not a viking teenager brutally slaying a gunslinging bum, and seemingly not caring. I CARE. Very deeply, actually."

"You do? Good, at least that's something norma-"

"I mean, what kind of a jerk gets their blood on my glorious mace anyways? He was incredibly rude, don't you agree, Jonathon?"

"..." By his silence, Katarina assumed he agreed, and smiled, just as the cop from earlier came in, gesturing Jonathon to wait outside, as well as a new visitor. A woman, dressed in police uniform, with some nice shades. Not far into her mid-thirties, Sheriff Diana Cooper was considered an attractive woman by most. Long black hair, nice body, pretty face, yark yark yark. All Katarina knew was that she was ABOUT to be lectured.

"Katarina Nexus, eh? Hi, I'm Sheriff Cooper, nice meeting you. So, I heard some crazy things about you today. Care to go into detail for me?" Whoa boy, here it was. ANOTHER LECTURE. GAH. Ah well, no harm in being herself, if she were about to be lectured anyways.

"Aye, the one you speak of is myself, Ms. Cooper. Now, be more specific about what you heard, please. People say much of what I do fits this description."

Ah, and the sheriif laughed. Well, well, well... What next? "Kid, I like you. I heard you stopped a school shooting, for one. Busted a guy open with a mace, right? Now, now, one shouldn't bring weapons to school, under any circumstances," Ah, crap, here it comes. Closing her eyes, she braced for impact, as the sherrif carried on, "But I do commend your quick thinking, your courage, and your ability to face death and spit in his eye. You got guts, Katarina." Ne?

Katarina opened her eyes and blinked, once, maybe even twice, pondering this. GENERALLY, when she hit things with her mace, she got scolded for it. BUT SHE WAS BEING PRAISED FOR IT!? Heck, even Officer Rigby was stunned. HA! Score one, Katarina, score zilch for poor Officer Rigby!

"And furthermore, Ms. Nexus, I think we can let this slide, don't you?" Cooper winked, before opening the holding cell, as Rigby looked at her, confusion and doubt warping his face to a look of total bewilderment. Katarina, on the other hand, grinned a rather dopey grin, glad to be released, but likewise confused. "Thanks, Sheriff! You're pretty cool for a cop, you know?"

"Diana, you can't be serious... You're just letting her run rampant?"

Sheriff Cooper shrugged with a grin. "Why not? I think she earned it. Some rules have to be broken now and again, one must realize."

And to that tune, Katarina dashed out of the Sheriff's Department, catching Jonathon by his beard hairs and dragging him along, as he yelped first in surprise, and then whined consistently of the pain in his chin. AH, HAPPY DAYS!