<strong>The Viking Era: The Court of Ragnar Lodbrok</strong><br/><br/>A thirteen year old boy trudged into the hall of Ragnar Lodbrok. All around him were men and women, drinking and feasting. The air was heavy with the smell of roasting meat, and the boy's stomach rumbled with hunger. He had not eaten in days. His face was set with a grim expression, and he hefted a sack over one shoulder. The boy earned curious glances from men halfway to drunkenness or further along. Women bearing beer and other needful things gave him a berth.<br/><br/>Boldly, the boy marched up to where Ragnar himself sat upon his throne. The king noted the boy's advance with sharp, curious eyes. The boy did not know it, but it was only on the king's indulgence that he managed to get so close.<br/><br/>"And what have we here, hmm?" Ragnar asked, shifting in his throne, wearing an amused grin as he regarded the boy. "A little merchant peddling wares?" The king raised a horn to smiling lips and drank. The boy's grim expression only grew grimmer as the king made sport of him and others laughed.<br/><br/>"You are Ragnar Lodbrok. Your fame is great. I wish to sail with you." The boy said solemnly. Ragnar raised an eyebrow.<br/><br/>"Ah. Is that so?" The king leaned forward. "And why, little boy," though the boy was in no respect little in body, "would I allow that?"<br/><br/>The boy shifted the sack and dumped it in front of the king. No strangers to gore, the nine severed hears evoked no terror in the vikings. To the boy's right, a man approached, face red with the effects of drink and anger. "That . . . that's the head of my brother, Refn! He was a Berserker . . . they all . . . were . . ." The man said. Swiftly he drew steel. "You desecrated my brother's body and stole his head, boy?"<br/><br/>The boy did not turn his head or remove his gaze from Ragnar's. "Do you have any coin for weregild, boy?" Ragnar asked. Predictably, the boy shook his head. Ragnar shrugged, sipped his drink, and signaled the viking with naked steel to get on with it. In moments, the viking was screaming as his arm was wrenched from its socket and torn from his body by the boy's left hand. The screaming ended almost as soon as it began as the boy's right hand grasped the viking's throat and choked the life from him.<br/><br/>Ragnar looked around at those gathered nearby. "Well." Ragnar said, bemused at the turn of events. "I guess I have an opening on my ships."<br/><br/><strong>The Modern Era: Four Weeks Ago, Erol's Bar</strong><br/><br/>The Berserker entered the bar. He scanned the interior, eyes flowing over a half dozen different kinds of demons, as many shifters, a gaggle of nymphs, a few witches from the local 'Animal House' coven . . . and then what he sought. A group of valkyries were loudly drinking at a booth, and the Berserker made his way there, stepping around the patrons. A pair of Lykae glanced up at him and bared their fangs for a moment only, before the Instinct had them flatten their ears in the face of a superior male. The Berserker did not stop for them, but continued. He used his large, iron-like body to force his way past a trio of tipsy nymphs, all of whom wanted to be taken by him. Not him, specifically, but any male.<br/><br/>When at last he reached the valkyries, the Berserker waited silently for acknowledgement. He was silent while two encouraged another to chug some demon brew down, delighting when the chugger downed a whole bottle without stopping for breath.<br/><br/>"Oh shiiiit, it's Frowny McScowly!" One of the valkyries taunted the Berserker, taking note of his presence. Another began to hum a few bars from a Cory Hart song, mocking the Berserker for wearing sunglasses at night and in doors.<br/><br/>"I had something for this," the one who'd chugged all of that demon brew muttered to herself, "something something big stick in the mud all the way up his ass . . ."<br/><br/>The Berserker endured their chatter. A different Berserker would be roaring in fury already, tearing the place apart in a blind, reckless rage.<br/><br/>"You called for me, Ever-Knowing." The Berserker said softly, addressing the first of the valkyries. The raven-haired soothsayer had been silent so far, feeding her pet bat complementary peanuts. The proto-valkyrie looked up.<br/><br/>"Oh, did I miss my cue? Cut! Cut! Let's take it from the top again!" Nix said, waving her hands. Then she took a few breaths. "Okay. Enter stage right: Scowling Berserker. Trash Talking Chorus: some truly sick and epic burns!" The other valkyries murmured that they had already delivered their best lines. "Weak. Sauce." Nix said in exasperation. Then she glanced over at a pair of demon males, noting how their horns glinted in the dim lighting of the bar. "Hmm, delish. Most lickable." Her gaze became unfocused for a moment, and then she turned back to the Berserker. "You're still here?" Her brows furrowed and she adopted a serious expression. Then she cleared her throat. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Nix said in an exaggeratedly gruff voice. "Nix commanded it! Nix has work for you."<br/><br/>Then she lapsed into a fit of coughing, unable to do the voice anymore.<br/><br/><strong>The Modern Era: Now, Some One Horse Town In Arizona</strong><br/><br/>While the Winchester brothers engaged in the wacky, shirtless CW-hijinks that kept their show running for more than ten years, the Berserker was outside. He hid out of sight: an impressive feat considering just how enormous he was. For weeks he'd done, protecting the female in the house. On more nights than he cared to admit he considered revealing himself to her, because from the moment Nix had shown the female's picture to him, the Berserker felt the tug of destiny. This female was his: his match, the half to make him whole. It was always worse after he killed: with blood on his hands the pull to take her as his mate was at its strongest. But it was also when he was at his most frightening: covered in gore from the mercenaries that were dispatched with her as their objective. The Berserker did not know if they sought to kidnap her or murder her, but it was moot: his charge was to protect her. Thirteen groups of mercenaries had tried to take Kara. To the last, the Berserker killed them all.<br/><br/>The Berserker exhaled as his cell phone vibrated. "Guess what?" The voice of Nix the Ever-Knowing sounded in the Berserker's ear. "Not even going to try?" She said in light of his silence. "Oh, but I knew that! Anyway," she said in a sing-song way, "I need you to bring Kara to New Orleans. Do I need to do the voice? Because I can do the voice. It doesn't even hurt." Nix said.<br/><br/>"No. It is not required." The Berserker replied quietly.<br/><br/>"Good! Because I lied. And I'm all out of throat lozenges." Nix relayed. "So get her out of there, tonight! I'm hanging up now." Silence punctuated the proto-valkyrie's abrupt silence.<br/><br/>The Berserker replaced his phone in a pocket in his long black trench coat. It was not a garment that was well suited to the desert, but he was immortal and inured to physical hardship. The Berserker moved from his concealed position and went to the front door of Kara's home. He turned the knob and forced his way in - this was the sort of small town where nobody locked their doors. His heavy footfalls carried him to the room that Kara sat in, enjoying her ice cream and Winchesters.<br/><br/>At seven feet and two inches, the Berserker was very tall. His shoulders were incredibly broad, and his frame was packed with muscle on muscle. He more than filled the doorway. He had very fair blond hair, a shade of platinum blond that mortals could only achieve with a bottle. For the male, it was natural. It went to his waist; at the moment it was in a tight braid. He had very pale blue eyes, but for the moment they were hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses with golden reflective lenses. The man's high cheekbones, sinfully full pink lips, and strong jaw were well on display, though. He had a black-shirt on, and the slimming effect of black could do nothing to reduce just how big a man he was. The blue jeans that started at his masculinely narrow hips covered powerful legs and thighs, ending in a pair of black leather boots crafted by hand.<br/><br/>"You need to come with me, Kara-" The Berserker began in a low, deep voice that was like mead. But before he could go any further, a trio of demons traced into the room.<br/><br/>"Sorry fucko, but we've got other plans for the cooze." The lead demon said. The demons were all handsome devils in their own right; the classically handsome fallen angels who would tempt women into sinful wantonness with their looks alone. Their long black hair complemented their fair skin well, and their small-ish black horns were scarcely discernible. "So you'd best back-"<br/><br/>The lead demon did not have time to speak further because the Berserker crossed the room in a blur of movement. He was incredibly fast - faster than something his size should be capable of. One huge hand slapped onto the demon's shoulder, and the other found the demon's neck. With a swift, economical pull the Berserker separated the demon's head from his body. The other demons wasted no time with words, but attacked. Their eyes blazed with hellfire and their black horns grew larger, curling elegantly like ram's horns from their brow. The first died in flight as the Berserker's hand sliced through flesh, propelled by such unending might that the demon's immortal flesh could not withstand it. The second the Berserker caught, and though the demon struck at the Berserker's chest with a strength that could lift and hurl cars, it was not enough as the Berserker brought the demon's back down over his knee. The demon howled in agony, but it was short-lived as the Berserker pinned the demon to the ground on its belly. Using one knee to pin the demon in place, the Berserker grasped the demon's horns and twisted until its head came from from its body.<br/><br/>The Berserker had killed them all in the span of heart beats, and he was not winded. He did not show any sign of being injured despite the powerful blows received. All he did do was reach to right the sunglasses on his face. He turned his gaze to Kara. "Others will come when these do not report in. We may have time for you to pack a night bag, if you do so<em>now</em>, and come with me without argument."