Every day it was the same thing. Get up. Go to school. Come home and do your homework. And go to bed. Rinse and repeat at least one hundred and eighty times. For any other kid, it was a boring life. Little to no room left for fun or hanging out with your friends. Enslaved by society to bend and conform to their demands on your future. No here say on what you demanded from life.

To any other teenager, they would have been more than happy to break routine and get away from it all. To have purpose in life that wasn't branded on you at birth. But for Renee Baxter, she was safe in routine. She liked it that way. To her it meant no surprises. Nothing to terrify her. She was... a bit of a fraidy cat. And that's putting it mildly. Because of this she was often the target in school. It didn't help her that she had anxiety. And for her to steer away from a painful anxiety attack, routine was the answer.

Oddly enough, Renee didn't let the bullying get to her. For her it was another part of her routine. As she always did with any dominant figure, she would hang her head low and her body posture would slouch. She knew well enough not to challenge their authority. And by using this body language, she didn't have to endure painful recourse.

She was content in her hell. For it was heaven to her.

And then her world came crashing down around her.

She was pulled from her school. From her life. From routine. She was transported to upstate New York. To live with extended family she had never heard of nor met before. She had spent the flight suffering a painful anxiety attack. Knowing that she wasn't going to be safe in her old routine anymore. The anxiety of meeting new people had taken its toll on her.

The world passed by outside the window as she stared expressionless into the grey world. Rain bands formed on the window pane as raindrops pelted the already soaked earth. Her limousine was now passing through Times Square. A place she had never been. But that day she was not interested in the least. She lay against the door despondent. She was on the cusp of having another panic attack. Her parents had passed away overseas under mysterious circumstances. And for this her routine had been shattered. She no longer had control. She glanced up at the large NBC building as her vehicle passed in front of it. The bright LED screen giving live news feed of nothing in particular. War in the middle east likely. Another terrorist attack, less likely.

Her parents weren't well known millionaires. They stuck to their jobs and kept to themselves. And for that Renee was grateful. She didn't think she could deal with being in the public eye or survive the life of a superstar. It was fun to imagine, but she wouldn't want to experience it. She was happy being a nobody and had at least hoped she would stay that way.

She heaved a sigh as she pulled out her phone and placed her earbuds one after the other into her ears. She didn't think she had the courage to be brave that day. Knowing what lied in wait for her at the end of her road trip. She thumbed through her playlists. Choosing nothing in particular to play. She then huddled up against the spacious seat as she let the popular song of the month in her mind. Anything to drown out reality and calm down her growing anxiety.

Pastures of gold greeted her as they finally left the city. She again looked out to the open fields. The city well enough behind them. She could only hope that her uncle was a farmer. Who would be crazy enough to live in the middle of nowhere away from civilization on purpose?

According to her social worker, her uncle ran some kind of camp. She didn't exactly pay close attention, figuring he was running a summer camp. If she was lucky she could hide from the campers and not have to take part in activities or worse. Forced to take command. She didn't have the guts or the aggression to take command of a bunch of little kids.

A cold shiver went up her spine. The sky had darkened. The limousine had pulled into a willow tree lined road. The willows reached up and blocked out any light, making for an ominous atmosphere. The rain misted through the clustered willows. They travelled the winding dirt road. Primitive statues came into view. Greeting them the further they went.

They came to a stop before a fort. On either side of the iron gate's keep stood a tall brazier. Iron bowls hoisted a burning fire. Greeting its guests. Whether it was friendly was up to the imagination. A horn rocked the air. Breaking silence as the great iron gates began to part. Allowing the limousine access.

Renee had gulped, watching the other side reveal itself to her. Her eyes seemed to grow wide at every new thing she saw.

This was no summer camp. Before her, it looked as though she had stepped back in time. Everyone was wearing fur and leather. They didn't look like they even bathed.

"I'm in hell.." Renee muttered to herself as the vehicle finally pulled through. She pulled her earbuds from her ears and looked around.

As they entered, she felt as though she had made a huge mistake. Tents scattered across the embankment. Cabins dotted the edge of the campsite as smoke billowed from their chimneys. Wild dogs roved in packs across the campsite looking for their next meal. She noticed that some of the men and women carried weapons and round shields. Leaving her to wonder if they were real.

Placed upon the middle of the mound in the center most part of the campsite was the horn she had heard. She looked up, watching as a large man blew again into the long horn. The sound pierced her body once more. The scenery shifted before her as they soon pulled to a stop before a cabin. This one was unlike the others. This one was much larger. It appeared decorated with animal skins and bone. Carved in the door looked to be the silhouette of an Asian lung stretched out in a menacing manner.

Vikings and Asian dragons? Didn't make much sense to her. But then again this whole set up didn't make much sense.

At the moment, all Renee wanted to do was to go back to the way things were. She could tell the driver that she changed her mind. But, she couldn't. Fear prevented her.

The door opened. The man she had seen operating the horn stood aside, waiting for her to exit. She gulped before she bit her lower lip. Grabbing her backpack filled with her meager possessions, she had exited the vehicle.

She kept her body posture low and her head down as she glanced up at the large man. His glare was enough to send her into a panic as she backed off. She held her backpack before her in fear. The atmosphere seemed to grow quiet as it felt like all eyes were on her.

She looked around, seeing the others of the camp looking straight at her with judging stares. The world felt like it was starting to sway as she backed off. Without warning, gravity took a hold of her as she fell over backwards into a mud puddle. Muddy water swashed everywhere. Laughter seemed to fill the air, leaving her embarrassed. Some first impression.

A hand extended out to her. She looked up, seeing a short pudgy woman. Her smile was a warm welcome. Renee stared at the hand, hesitant to take it at first.

"Come now child, don't be shy." The woman's voice was like a sweet autumn breeze. Very gentle and caring. It didn't take much for her to accept the extended hand. The kind woman pulled her up to her feet and wiped mud from her face like the doting mother she never had.

"Let's get you in and washed up. And in proper clothes." The woman spoke, leading her inside. Renee took one final final look around her before they disappeared into the cabin. Wondering if it was too late to change her mind.

Renee had found herself immersed into a bizarre world of serious LARPers. These men and women seemed to take things to the extreme when it came to reenacting the viking way of life. They didn't even believe in indoor plumbing. Something she already knew she was going to miss. At this point in her life's change of events, the thought of being stuck in foster care sounded more civilized. And legal.

She stood before a crude mirror, looking herself over. She found herself in the same rag clothing the others wore. Well, compared to the others, her's were in shambles. She wore buckskin leather pants and shirt that looked like someone had died in them. They were sewn together crudely. Holes pierced the leather. She wore an itchy bear fur tunic and skirt that hung off her body. Leather boots wrapped around her feet were tied off with rope. They hardly qualified as shoes. They felt like mush against her feet. She felt like Cinderella looking herself over as she scratched her shoulder.

She wasn't sure if she was suppose to take this serious as they do. Or if she should play along so as not to find herself in a terrible situation.

She was at least able to be herself within her quarters. A tiny bit of a hovel no larger than a walk in closet back in her old home. She wasn't sure if people could live in such tiny rooms and still be happy with the meager space they had. She opened her closet, or what she assumed was her closet. It was even tinier than the room. She walked over to her small bed. With an exhausted sigh, she collapsed into the bed. Only to sink into the feather down mattress. Renee groaned. Her patience was wearing thin and was on the verge of losing it. Immediately she began to punch at the mattress. She tried to sit upright. The mattress made it difficult to move. She fell to her side. Feathers escaped from the squalid mattress and flitted down around her. A whine of frustration finally escaped her. She lay in discomfort in her bed. It was going to take a miracle for her to get use to her new living arrangements.

"This place sucks…" She whined through the insufferable mattress. She wanted things back the way they once were.

She lay there, discouraged. Her mind wandered as she stared into space. She had met the woman, Agnes Duffey that seemingly took her in under her care. According to Agnes, she wasn't exactly married to her uncle. But she cared for Renee with the same amount of care and love. She had yet to see her uncle. She found herself picturing what kind of man would take to this kind of life. To cast off civilization and live like a wild man. He sounded like a buff Hollywood action hero, the way he was described.

The sounds of the floorboards creaking outside of her door had drawn her attention. Male voices reached her. Gathering the courage, she peeled herself away from the mattress and crept to her door. The voices were further away by now. But that didn't discourage her. She slipped out of her room and crept down the hall, following the voices. Only stopping when they stopped. She may be curious, but her fears held her steadfast. She peered around the corner, facing a closed door. The whispers of the voices were coming from the other side. Swallowing hard, she approached. Careful to avoid creaking floor boards. Inhaling, she held her head up close to the door.

She could hardly pick out what they were saying. But it sounded like they were deep in council between each other.

She found herself flailing to catch herself after a moment or two. She slipped and lost balance on an uneven floor board. Her body threatened to fall over from the awkward stance she held. The floorboards made a sickening loud creak. Announcing her presence.

The door whipped open. She fell back with a start. Before her stood a frightening figure. The man had to be taller than the door frame and as wide. He had to hunch over to look at her with scorn etched in his eyes. He ducked below the frame to stand before her. Renee had scooted back, now able to get a full view of the giant that was her uncle. He was no where near the blonde Vin Diesel she imagined in her mind.

"Take my niece back to her quarters. See to it she stays there." His voice was rough and low. Renee had looked to his side. Someone much smaller than him had exited the room. He was well built with slick black hair shaved short below his forehead.

"Tomorrow you will put her to use. I have no place for hiccups among ranks." He growled. Renee watched in fear. The shorter man yanked her to her feet. And returned to her quarters.

She turned around when the door shut behind her. Immediately she went to grab the handle and struggled to open it. Only to find that her door had locked. She tugged at it several times before she finally slid to the floor in defeat.

It hadn't been no less than four in the morning when a pounding at her door began.

"Let's go. Get up!" The man shouted. Impatient. Renee had picked up her phone, looking at it with bleary eyes. Having no choice in the matter, she rose and made her way to the door.

The man looked down at her once she had finally opened the door. She hunched forward with a stare through half lidded eyes. Her short brunette hair a misshapen mess.

"Come then. We've a lot on our hands today." The man said. He began leading the way. Renee wasn't sure if she could, but she felt a mighty urge to strangle him. Compliant, she to followed him.

The sun hadn't even risen by the time they set foot outside. Darkness still clung to the area as they walked by torchlight. The crisp morning air cold to bare skin.

"Stuck with the hiccup I see, Jet. Upset the chief again?" A camper had called out to the man that lead the way. Laughter in his voice. She looked over to the man. He fed scraps to one of many stray dogs in the camp. Their barking and growling to maintain dominance within the pack could be heard as they fought over the scraps.

There was that name again. She wasn't sure what it meant. But the others seemed to acknowledge her existence using it.

"When I'm through with her, she won't be." Jet promised as they passed.

"Keep promising yourself that! She won't last a day in the field!" The man had returned.

Renee glanced back, not sure what they were talking about. Field was short for battlefield. Were they going to perform a mock viking battle? Is that what her uncle was discussing with Jet last night?

She came to a stop before a ring. Posts marked the edges as a rack supplied with all kinds of viking era weapons displayed within. She watched in fright as Jet picked up a sword and inspected its sharpness.

"I'm pretty sure this is against the law.." Renee had whimpered. She entered, her nerves rattled seeing his threatening glare.

"They didn't have such luxuries in the past, rich girl. They taught on the job." Jet explained. He motioned her to pick up her weapon of choice.

"You're small, clumsy on your feet. If we can get rid of your clumsiness, you'll be quick and agile. Making you an asset." Jet spoke watching Renee pick up a safe looking weapon from the rack. A staff.

"Why?" She had looked at him, dubious. He talked as if they were going to go to war.

"You will know when the time comes. For now," Jet lunged at her, Renee shouted in fear when she pulled the staff up before her as if it too were a sword. The sword slipped off the staff only to land on her side. She waited for pain, only to notice that Jet did not bury the sword in her flesh.

"Were this a real fight, you would be dead. Your problem is how you're holding your weapon." Jet skirted her and took her hands into his, guiding her. Using his feet he put her in the appropriate stance.

"You have a better chance of knocking your enemy off their mount like this." He explained. He guided her with a few practice swings that went high. As if knocking an invisible opponent off their horse before parting.

"We're going to keep at this until you can strike me." Jet ordered. He stood before her once more.

The sun began to rise over the horizon by the time he knocked Renee off her feet again. For what seemed like the hundredth time. She lay on her back in the straw laden ring, staring up at the morning sky as she panted. She wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. This was too hard for her. She was ready to give up.

"Can't we stop for breakfast?" Renee had asked. Jet stood over her. Her stomach growled in defiance. She hadn't eaten a real meal in two days. She had been fasting in mourn.

"Not until you can at least hit me with that stick of yours." Jet promised. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead that threatened to drip into his eye.

That was enough to motivate Renee back onto her feet. She rushed at Jet, trying her hardest to hit him. At least she had managed to pivot her body to avoid a few hits from him. But he made it difficult to land a blow. She held her staff like a baseball bat by now, having forgotten how to hold it. She swung it at him. With each hit she threw, he lifted his sword up to block it. The sight of her putting up a fight had collected a few spectators. They gathered around the ring to watch.

"Better. But you're still holding the staff wrong." Jet announced. He swept his leg beneath her, knocking her off her feet again. Placing the tip of his sword against her throat. She looked up as laughter filled the air. It was then that she saw the crowd that gathered. She could hear them berating her and calling her hiccup. She was starting to hate this word. Gritting her teeth she knocked the sword away from her throat with her staff and got up.

She was going to show these people what she could do. Jet found himself having to put up quite a fight blocking her attacks. She was still clumsy on her feet, but she was putting more effort into it. She let her anger and frustration guide her. He had no time to lift his sword when she finally struck him in the face. It was a light tap, but it was a strike none the less.

"Hah! I finally struck you!" Renee celebrated. She tried to twirl the staff victorious, only to end up hitting herself atop her head in the process. Laughter erupted around her, coarsening the edge of her victory.

"So you did." Jet sat his weapon back on the rack. He hated to admit it, but he was proud for her. It was a tiny victory, but for her it was massive for someone who hardly did anything growing up.

"Right so, you said if I struck you," Renee began, already making an escape from the ring as she looked at Jet hopeful.

"Go. Meet back here this afternoon. We still have a long way to go." He watched as Renee excitedly left the ring. Dropping her staff in haste.

"You don't think she'll be out there with the rest of us.. Do you?" A worried camper had asked.

"Doubtful. She will only get in our way if we bring her along." Jet grudged, walking off.

"What's this?" Renee asked unenthused. She poked at a chunk of meat beside her eggs on the plate presented to her.

"It's mutton, dear. Lamb." Agnes explained with a smile. The child bit into the chunk after having stabbed it with her fork. Finding nothing against the new kind of meat, she began to tear into it. She hadn't eaten since she heard news of her parents deaths. They had offered food the previous night but she was still mourning her loss. Thanks to the fighting lessons that morning, she was once again eating.

"What about school? Do I have to go to a ..Public school?" Renee had asked through a full mouth.

"You will get your schooling here." A familiar voice rang out. Renee had stopped mid chew as she looked up, seeing her uncle as he entered the room. Once again having to duck to enter.

"Jet tells me you're making progress with fighting." It was like he was trying to make a conversation. To show interest. But he also sounded like he didn't care about her or want anything to do with her. She swallowed her mouthful hard. Timidly she nodded her head. She looked up at the man now as he stood in the daylight. She was able to see his full features now. He had piercing blue eyes and dirty blonde short hair that braided back against his skull. The beginning of a beard seen on his well chiseled jaw.

"Good. I have no use for stragglers holding my operations back." Ivar sneered, his friendly demeanor gone.

Renee had watched as he then took his plate before disappearing back to his room. She looked over to Agnes, confused by all this.

"Oper..ations..?" Renee had asked.

"He takes this LARPing thing way too serious. Think nothing of it dear." She offered, patting Renee's arm.

"Why vikings?" Renee then asked. Still curious about the whole situation and why her uncle chose the viking era of all things to reenact.

"He doesn't want anyone to know but. When he was little, they found him wandering the streets in animal skin rags and covered in mud and leaves. He hardly spoke english but they accounted it for his age. They assumed that he was born to a homeless woman and had wandered from camp." Agnes explained as Renee listened.

Renee grew quiet. Taking another bite into her breakfast. Something else began chewing on her mind.

"What do they mean when they call me a ...'hiccup'? I've been hearing it since I got here." Renee had then asked. She watched as the woman grew silent as she sat down before her.

"Hiccup is a cruel name vikings give to those much weaker than themselves. You are not a hiccup, child. There's more to you that they can't see." Her words seemed to sooth her crushed soul.

By the time Renee had made it back to her quarters that evening, she was in pain. She ached in places she didn't know she had. She stood before her bed. Jet had put her through the wringer that afternoon and the rest of the evening. He was hard pressed to see to it that she was useful. Standing before her old nemesis, the feather down mattress, Renee stared off. Fixed on nothing of importance. This place. Her new life. It drained her. Both physically. And emotionally. She'd rather take foster care over this life if she knew what she was facing. Letting gravity take hold, she fell face forward into her mattress. She didn't seem to care that she hung off the side. She closed her eyes. Letting sleep claim her.

Night fell over the encampment. Life stirred as an army of men worked to secure crates in the backs of humvees. One by one they pulled forward, following one another into Queens under the cover of night. Their caravan pulling to a stop in a nearby alley, they filed out like a well tuned army of soldiers. One man broke away from the group as he crossed the quiet street. The sound of a dog barking echoed in the night air from a neighboring scrapyard, stirred by their sudden movement.

He hunkered down against the front of an abandoned Subway stile. Mold and crumbling green lead based paint chipping away from the iron and brick giant. The man waved his hand. Another man joined after. Rushing across the quiet street. Carrying an industrial sized pair of clippers. He went to work clipping away at the chain link gate that blocked the underworld from them.

One by one they filed into the abandoned Subway station once the gate peeled back. These men traveled for some distance before they lined up along the walls of the tunnels. They sat their precious cargo down. One by one the cargo opened with a crowbar to reveal several hundreds of blocks of C-4 explosives. The men worked quietly. They molded the clay like explosive and placed it against the ceilings of the subway tunnels.

Ivar walked the length of his assembly line. A sinister smirk splitting his lips. He watched them place detonators against the explosives.

One of the men had stumbled against a discarded crowbar and fell back. Knocking the crowbar off the platform. It clattered to a stop against abandoned iron rails. Ivar had advanced the man and grabbed him by his shirt front, hoisting him off the ground.

"Quiet fool! Any sort of noise will put everything in jeopardy." Ivar hissed before shoving the man back into ranks.

Ivar had glanced around. No signs of anything stirring but them in the tunnels. He exhaled in relief.

With everything in place, the men left as they had arrived. Ivar took one final glance at the familiar stile before the long journey back to camp. It must go as planned. He can't afford to screw this up. He had only one chance. Lord knowing when another chance will present itself.

Author's Notes: I have nothing much to say about this chapter. It's not changed much except a tiny bit at the end and the opening. The willow lined road is actually inspired by the Oak Alley Plantation drive in Louisiana. Seeing how the willows choked the sky, it appeared as though they were keeping a secret.