Chapter 1 - The Sentinel and the Kingpin

Explosive heat ripped through stone walls and ceiling, licking the paintings on the walls. The golden plaque that used to read 'Sirilius Stone's office' skittered across the floor, twisted and scorched. Several metres from where it rested, the splintered remains of the thick oak door it used to hang upon came pouring down. Smoke filled the room. Through thick grey air the anguished screams of adults and children could be heard melding into the repetitive trilling of distant gunfire. This was not a good day at the Orphanarium.
Past the remains of the door, a large ornate rug and a carved mahogany desk, the old man, Sirilius Stone sat in his favourite chair. In the misery of the Orphanarium's destruction he waited with what appeared to be complete calm and focus, the screams of the dying resting calmly on his shoulders. His left hand gripped the curved chair frame while his right held a miniature ceramic crossbow lightly under the desk. Despite all this chaos, he had a plan. Sirilius Stone always had a plan.
A silhouette strode into sight with an unblinking blue glow shining from its eyes. A Sentinel. As the smoke began to settle, the signature framework of rods and wires that wove in and out of the Sentinel's skin became clearer. Sirilius tightened his throat, clenched the crossbow and spoke.
"Is it really necessary to kill them all?"
The head on the Sentinel's body swivelled and its ghostly blue gaze rested on Sirilius. A smile began to wrestle its way onto the Sentinel's face. It didn't seem to be an expression that came easily. As his lips trembled into position, his hollow blue eyes changed colour, shifting to red, then green, and yellow before changing back to blue again. Sirilius knew what the Sentinel was doing. He was flicking between his different visions, making sure there were no hidden surprises. The crossbow wouldn't come up on any of them, Sirilius reminded himself. It wasn't electrical, had no dampening field and gave off no heat signals. Sirilius gripped the crossbow more easily under his table and spoke again.
"Not taking any chances, eh?" A pause, then "Is that you, Garrett?"
The Sentinel smiled. "Yes. It is me, Sirilius. How have you been?"
"Busy." Sirilius said with a tone of deep importance.
The blue beam from the Sentinel's eyes scanned the walls once more and refocused on a jar at the back of the room. Although the contents were murky, two objects could be seen floating inside it. His eyes flicked back to yellow. His smile stuttered back into existence.
"So I see. Very kind of you to get them ready for me to collect. I hadn't expected-"
"That isn't them." Sirilius spat. "I wouldn't be that stupid. Where's Danver?"
"Danver?" The eyes were blue again. A frown formed. "Danver's here? But. No... That wasn't him in the hat?" A smirk and a nod from Sirilius confirmed it. The Sentinel's thickening expression showed that he didn't share Sirilius' good humour at the recognition of Danver. "I thought that was just a spectre." Raising his arm, Garrett placed two fingers to his neck. "This is Garrett." He listened. "What happened to the spectre? Where is he?" As he stood there, motionless, Sirilius considered the plan. It was risky. One shot only. Garrett needed to get closer.
The Sentinel looked up. His eyes registered pleasant surprise at the information he received.
"He's dead. Or as good as. Killed four of my enforcers though. Pity he's not here. Getting the old team together would have been...pleasant."
Sirilius raised an eyebrow, as if implying that pleasant was certainly not the word he would use to describe it. He needed to act soon. Get his shot in. It would have to be the neck, he rationalized. If he went for the neck he could take out Garrett's internal breathing apparatus. Sirilius sniffed.
"Let's cut to it. You know I won't tell you where the boy is. You can do what you want with the rest of them."
"Them?"
"The children," Sirilius said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I gather from the screams that most are dead already." He leaned forward. "What I'm saying is that you won't benefit from what you are doing."
"Is that so?" the sentinel purred as he stepped forward. It was working. Sirilius eased his finger into the trigger. The bolt was ready. He had one chance. The Sentinel raised his arm and pointed at Sirilius.
A thudding sound filled the room and Sirilius felt a spasm of intense pain surge from his chest. He looked down in horror to see a huge three pronged spike buried into his ribcage, pinning him where he sat. The crossbow dropped from his grasp and clattered to the ground. The pain was intense. Blood began to trickle onto the floor from the three prongs that had ripped through both him and the back of his chair.
He was trapped, helpless.
"Urgh...What? What?"
"What is it, Sirilius? A good question. This is a device of my own making." The sentinel walked closer. As he opened his mouth the voice that came out wasn't his but was desperately familiar to Sirilius.
"The Sentinels are pathetic attempts at man improving himself. Only able to kill, they can never create; never bring any progress into the world." His voice flicked back. "Your words to the other Kingpins five years ago." He straightened up and his voice chilled. "Looks like you were wrong."
Sirilius gasped in agony as clasps on the spike began to spin and tighten, deepening its grip on his internal organs. Sirilius' eyes were rolling back in his head and spittle was beginning to form at the sides of his mouth. Satisfaction registered on the Sentinel's face.
"What you are going to do is tell me where the boy is. I'm not going to be so absurd as to offer your life in exchange for information. You will tell me what I want to know. Then I will kill you." He stopped walking as he reached Sirilius and leant forward.
"This," he said, lovingly clasping the metal device, "is currently connecting itself into your bloodstream. Into your heart. Whilst this-" he said removing a tinted testube from a strap on his shoulder "is a truth serum and poison. It will pump into your heart and then into your brain to tell you to give me the information I want. It will also kill you within minutes of it being applied. Do you understand?"
Sirilius Stone coughed and choked, his eyes wide with suffering. As the Sentinel moved his head closer, he whispered in Sirilius's ear "Of the three of us, I was certain that you'd be the one to see it through. You always had such a calculating mind." He slammed the test tube into a hollow in the spike that was now firmly clamped around Sirilius' heart. Garrett straightened up.
"So Sirilius, where is the boy?" Pain formed a sheet on the old man's face. Gradually a strained voice rose out of him, as if dragged by the serum that was now rushing into his brain.
"Urgh.. You're too late. We sent him away..."
"Away? Not to the academy?"
"Yes."
The Sentinel's mouth flickered, registering disapproval at this answer "Why Sirilius? Why did you do it?"
"He'll be safest there... At least for a bit. Urgh... The keys will...help him."
"And he has them both?"
"...Yes."
"Is there anyone protecting him?"
Sirilius clenched his teeth and wailed, the spittle at the sides of his mouth had become a red froth, which was dripping onto the floor around him.
"My...son..."
"I didn't realise you had a son. What is his name?"
"Daniel!" Sirilius' eyes looked as though they were about to explode. He shook violently.
The Sentinel noticed a photograph on the desk in front of Sirilius. It was of a boy, about 13 with a huge mess of blackest hair and a scowl on his face. He was standing next to Sirilius, who was smiling. It was surprising to see such a genuine happiness in the old man's eyes. The sentinel looked harder at the boy. His glare was unsettling, but Garrett focused in closer, registering the boy's features. Something didn't seem right.
"The boy looks feeble. Malnourished."
"He is stronger than you think." Sirilius insisted, and the Sentinel frowned. He was speaking the truth. He had to be. Dropping the photo to the ground, the Sentinel raised his finger once again to his neck. "This is Garrett. Sirilius Stone is dead at last." He looked once more at the photograph. "I'm going to the Academy."
He turned and marched out of the room, leaving Sirilius Stone to die in agony in his chair.