The Hurricane
By BlowUpKarzahini
Katrina was just a girl with a Masters in Archeology. She never
suspected the existence of Norse Gods, sentinant rings, or wind
controlling magic. When all of that is dumped into her life, Katrina
moves to New York, where her suddenly chaotic life gets even weirder.
Disclaimer: I don't own "The Avengers: Earths Mightiest Heroes". I only own Katrina, Joe and the plot.
Chapter One
In the first twenty years of my life, I was convinced I couldn't do
anything right. I am the youngest of three, an unplanned creation of
Margaret and Angus Von Rossen. My siblings are heirs to my fathers
love of science and my mothers fiery red hair. I, on the other hand,
would spend time in the natural history museums, buried up to my short
blond hair in dusty artifacts. When I began junior high, I began to
get into fights with my father about me wanting to become an
archeologist. He couldn't understand why the daughter of a future-
loving philanthropist would want to spend her life "Digging thru piles
of rock and sand, looking for things that happened forever ago!" He
didn't understand my fascination with Greek gods, or my large bookcase
filled with history tomes.
My older siblings, on the other hand, were my parents pride and
joy. Marcus, the oldest, became the towns football star and earned a
Doctorate in Bio-engineering. Sophia has a Masters in science-fiction
writing, and has won several prizes with her newest novel. My youth
was filled with why-can't-you-be-like's, and your-siblings-would-never-
do-this's. My siblings were more accepting then my parents, but we
were never that close. They were risk takers, they didn't want to be
brought down by my cautious nature.
Only a family friend, an eccentric elder named Joseph Monson,
accepted my love for the ancient and encouraged me to reach my goals.
"Yer a heck load smarter then yer Dad gives ya credit! Studyin' the
past is a heckuva lot more then diggin' up rocks. It's all 'bout
learnin' where we come from, how we got this far. It's 'bout passing
on the wisdom of our ancestors!" Joe was one of the few friends I ever
had, he was like a crazy grandpa to me. He was the one that took me to
the King Tut exhibit, who read me stories of the heroes of old. When I
turned eighteen, he gave me a job at his antique shop, who suggested
that I take my college classes online. He helped me pick out an
apartment, and he comforted me when, not even two months after I'd
moved out, my parents sold their house and moved to a penthouse in
L.A. They came to my apartment to say goodbye, but I caught my fathers
scornful glances at my poster of the roman gods and my mothers fake
smile.
My parents had been gone for nearly two years when my life got, for
lack of a better term, seriously screwed up. I had just earned my
Doctorate in Archeology, minoring in mythology, and I was debating on
accepting a teaching role at a college in New York. Then my life was
spun around, smashed into pieces, then shoved together like a three-
year-old with an one-million-piece jigsaw puzzle. For awhile, I
thought I was crazy, and for the record, I blame it on the talking ring.
That day started like any other. My alarm woke me at seven in the
morning, I tried to ignore it for a few minutes but ended up dragging
myself out of the comfortable bed to force down a cup of coffee. The
coffee, coupled with the nice, cool shower afterword, perked me up a
bit. I changed from my wrinkled bedclothes to jeans and a T-shirt, and
poured myself a bowl of cereal. Picking up a thick book about ancient
Egypt, I plopped down at the table and flipped through it, shoving
spoonfuls of sugary goodness down my throat. As I was drinking the
milk out of the bowl, my cell phone buzzed on the counter. I stood up
from my seat and snatched it up, flipping it open and putting it to my
ear.
"Hello?" My voice was cracked and rough from disuse, so I coughed
and tried again. "Hello?" I sounded much better.
"Katrina, darlin'!" A rough voice called loudly thru the speaker. I
winced at the volume and cracked a small smile.
"Hey, Joe. What's up?"
"We just gotta shipment about a hour ago. It's a pretty big 'un, so
I'mma 'fraid to say ya might be workin' overtime."
"Oh, that's alright, Joe."
"Just thought I should warn ya. I hate to make ya work over time on
the weekends, ya mightta had plans."
"You know I never go anywhere on the weekends." I took my bowl to
the sink and rinsed it out.
"Ya should get out some time, Katrina. You should be out there
shoppin' at the mall, or lookin' at cute boys, or whatever young women
do." I laughed as I put the bowl into the dish washer.
"C'mon, you know I'm not into that kinda stuff, Joe. I avoid the
mall like it's the plague, and my generation of boys are all
egotistical jerks! I'd rather work at the shop."
"Ya shouldn't spend all your time at the shop, Katrina. You should
go out there and have fun!"
"Working at the shop IS fun!" The old man sighed as I grabbed my
purse from the counter and slipped on a pair of flats. "I'll be there
in a few minutes, Joe. See ya then!"
"Okay, but don't ya think this conversation is over, Ms. Von Rossen!"
"Goodbye, Joe." I replied firmly before ending the call. I stepped
out of the apartment and shut the door behind me. I locked it, then
went down the stairs two at a time. I made my way to the parking lot,
humming some made up tune. My car waited patiently for me in the
middle of the lot, the shade of a tree protecting it from the morning
Arizona sun. Still humming, I unlocked the car and slid into the
vehicle, turning the key in the ignition. Pulling out of the lot, I
began driving to "Dr. Monson's Shop of Antiques". I constantly bugged
Joe about the whole "Doctor" thing, but he told me that it attracted
attention and we needed all the attention we could get in a small
town. I had let the argument drop, but I still didn't like it.
I pulled up to the small shop, still humming that random tune.
Turning the car off and stepping out of its interior, I gazed up at
the neat, white shop. It had only two stories, the first floor was the
shop, the other acted as storage. The white-painted, wooden walls and
the long, railed porch gave of a sort of "Tom Sawyer" vibe. I couldn't
walk by the tall white-washed fence in the back without that book
coming to mind.
As I walked inside, I gave a small smile. The entire shop was
filled with paintings, sculptures, ancient furniture, and lacey
dresses. To the left of the door, was the cash register and display
case. Several knives, an old shot gun, and a bunch of jewelry
glittered up at me thru the glass. As I sat my purse down on the
counter, I noticed a severe lack of Joe. Usually he would be hanging
up pictures, dusting the sculptures, even snoring behind the cash
register, but I couldn't find him.
"Joe?" I called, walking thru the shop. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the back!" I heard him bellow, and I began to make my way
over to the back door. Outside was a pile of boxes, and furniture, and
in the middle of it was a tall man in a cowboy hat. "Look at all the
booty, 'Trina!" He grinned, spreading his arms.
"That's quite the load you got there, Dr. Monson." I commented
placing my hands on my hips. "Where are we going to put all this?" My
employer shrugged.
"The attic, can't put it anywhere else can we?"
"Hopefully you didn't bite off more then you can chew." I leaned
down and picked up a box. Easing it under one arm, I picked up
another. Joe stared at me, a pout on his face.
"You just have to show off that you can lift more then me." I
rolled my eyes and carried the boxes into the shop.
It was noon by the time we got all the boxes into the attic. We
left the furniture in the shop, because Joe's back couldn't handle
lifting them up the stairs. Just as we were setting to work unpacking
them, a bell rang, signifying that someone had entered the shop.
"Drat, can you keep workin' on this?" He asked, dusting off his
pants.
"Sure thing, "Dr. Monson"." He pouted and I laughed. As he jumped
down the stairs, I ripped masking tape off a new box. This one was
filled with various jewelry boxes, some just big enough for a ring,
others bigger then my head. I opened each box one at a time, admiring
the ornaments. I wasn't a girly girl, but I still liked jewelry. I
came across a few cameo broaches and pendants, some very nice pocket
watches, and a pair of abalone inlaid hair pins. As I was admiring the
pins, I noticed a box in the corner of the box*. I reached in and
pulled it out. The case was of fine wood, polished so I could see my
face on it. On the lid was a strange symbol, it looked like a Viking
rune. Intrigued, I turned it around in my hands then flipped it open.
Resting on a soft pad of velvet, was a large, ornate ring with a sky-
blue stone set in the middle. The ring was cylindrical in shape,
seeming to be made of gleaming pewter. My eyes widened as I inspected
the beautiful ring, taking it out of its case to get a better look.
"What a beauty!" I gasped.
*A beauty! Do I look like a woman to you, puny mortal?* An indignant
voice sounded. I immediately jumped to my feet, looking around wildly
for the source. The room was empty. *What on earth is she looking
for? Is she insane as well as puny?*
"Hey, I'm not insane!" I whipped my head around, searching in vain
for the source of the voice. The voice went silent. I searched the
whole attic, but found no one. Confused, I went down stairs. "Hey,
Joe!" I called.
"Yeah, 'Trina?" He replied from his position at the cash register.
"Did you call me or something?"
"No, darlin'. Why?" Joe hadn't called me? Now that I thought about
it, he didn't sound anything like the voice, the voice had a masculine
tone, with a strange accent, which was nothing like Joe's gruff,
country twang. I walked back up the stairs my confusion growing. Maybe
I had imagined it. As I shut the door behind me, the voice came again.
*Can you hear me?* I leaped a foot in the air, whirling around.
"Who's there?" Reaching for the nearest thing, the ornate ring from
earlier, I grabbed it for comfort.
*Answer the question, mortal!* The voice growled. I spun around
again.
"Yes!" I yelped. "Yes, I can hear you!" Realizing that the ring
couldn't help me, I slipped it onto my finger and grabbed a vase,
still whirling around.
*Put that down, you're going to hurt yourself with your infernal
spinning!* Freezing, I scanned the room with my eyes.
"Where are you? What do you want?" I demanded. I heard the voice
groan.
*Why? Of all beings, why a puny mortal?*
"I am not puny!" I defended. "I have a black belt in Martial Arts!"
*Whatever, now listen carefully, mortal. I-*
"Katrina, darlin'!" I whirled, swinging the vase. Joe cursed and
ducked, the vase knocking his hat off. He cursed again and picked it up.
"Gosh, Joe! Don't sneak up on me like that!" My hand went to my
heart as I put down the vase.
"What was that for? I call ya name and almost loose my head!" He
scowled at me, dusting off his precious hat.
"Sorry, Joe. I keep hearing someone up here, but I can't find
anyone." His scowl disappeared, replaced by a look of concern.
"Ya think someone's up 'ere?" I nodded fervently.
"They're talking to me! Calling me "Puny Mortal"! I swear I've torn
this place apart, but there's no one there!"
*Augh, I don't have time for this!* The voice cut in. I glanced
around again, but saw no one.
"There it is again! Did you hear that?" Joe shook his head.
"I didn't hear anything, darlin'." I gaped at him. How could he not
of heard that?
"But it was loud! It was practically shouting!"
*You think I was shouting? You're give me a headache!* I grabbed
the vase from earlier and held it above my head, turning this way and
that.
"There it is!" Suddenly, Joe stepped up and grabbed the vase.
"Calm down, 'Trina, calm down." He soothed and I stopped, chest
heaving in panic. He removed the vase from my grasp and led me down
stairs. "You're hearing things, you're tired. Ya go home early, 'kay?
'Atta girl." I did as my boss said, grabbing my purse and unlocking my
car.
"Yeah, Joe, you're right. I haven't been sleeping well lately. I'm
going to go home and sleep." Joe smiled. That was what happened, I
kept telling myself, as I started up the car and drove away from a
waving Joe. I'm tired, and a little stressed because of that letter,
that's all. I turned on the radio, not noticing that the ring was
still on my pointer finger.
A shout out to my good friend Lianna, who helped me create this story. I love ya, girly!