Sentinel: Trouble Sevenfold ®

“All units in the area of Robberson and Daniel respond. The alarm has been tripped at the Citizen’s Bank.” The police scanner cries out on a busy summer night. “Repeat, the Citizen’s bank alarm at Robberson and Daniel has been tripped.” The almost still night air in the city carries the sound of vehicles moving and people walking on the otherwise normal Chicago night.

“I’m gonna make these scumbags wish they’d chose another night.” A shadowy figure leaps from a rooftop into an alleyway. “Just gotta be the first one there.” The man dashes down the dark corridor, throws aside some metal garbage cans that clang loudly in the narrow space, and jumps onto a street bike that was hidden behind them. He starts the motorcycle and takes off in seconds. The city streets will be too busy on a weekend night, so he takes to the alleyways to speed up his travel. As he blazes through the dark back streets and between buildings, he burns with anticipation. Will there be twenty, thirty robbers? Will they be armed? Did they use an armored vehicle to bust into the bank? All of these thoughts race through his head as he darts around cars and people between alleys. His focus on his task is so great that he barely notices as people jump when he flies past. Hardly a glimpse is caught of him as he drives like a robot programmed to perform a specific operation. Skillfully he weaves through the people and cars.

As he arrives at the bank, he steps off of his bike and into the glow given by a streetlight. His suit is made of gray Kevlar and covers his entire body. The Kevlar is separated to reveal blue netting underneath in strategic places to allow movement. He wears a gray Kevlar helmet with a black visor across the eyes, three small slits on each cheek for breathing, and a thin red bandanna tied above the visor. His black utility belt is equipped with all types of gadgets along with the black circular instruments on top and bottom of his forearms. The slight breeze blows the long ends of the bandanna tied around his head as he looks on at an otherwise untouched bank. As he notices a light on in the back room, his police scanner goes off again, “All units be advised, the alarm at the Citizen’s Bank was set off by an employee. Repeat, false alarm at Citizen’s Bank.” The vigilante stands in front of the bank; his helmet hides the look of disgust on his face. He abruptly leans back against his bike resting on its kickstand. The motorcycle shines in the dim street light. It’s a bright blue sportster with black wheels and the dash has a touchscreen with several gauges and readily available gadgets.

“This dispatcher really needs to learn how to dispatch.” He says sharply, “She acts like the world’s coming to an end before she even knows what’s going on. I got my hopes up thinking I might get some action tonight.”

“I wouldn’t rule that out just yet Archer.” A voice comes through the headset in the hero’s helmet. “Take a look behind you.” He spins around to see a woman surrounded by angry looking men across the street. Without a word he dashes across the street toward the altercation.

“Thank you Wyatt.” A man sitting in a remote building behind a computer says mockingly through his headset. “You’re welcome Archer.” He is watching three computer screens and assisting the vigilante with a live video feed from cameras placed on the front and back of the hero’s helmet. The screen to the left shows the camera in the front of the helmet, the screen to the right shows the camera view from the back of the helmet, and the middle is showing old reruns of cartoons. Wyatt’s desk has an open bag of potato chips and a two liter bottle of soda. He has a heavy set physique, short brown hair, and his goatee is blended into his unshaven cheeks. He wears a shirt from a sci-fi movie, orange basketball shorts, and thin framed glasses.

Meanwhile, back on the street, the vigilante is nearing the dispute. As he approaches, he hears one of the thugs taunting the young lady. “Ha ha ha, look at her guys! She’s sad we smashed her phone! Not so tough without your phone or your keychain mace now are ya?” Soon after he finishes the sentence there is a loud pop and the sound of electricity. The punk squeals, tenses up, and falls to the ground smacking his face on the sidewalk. Behind him stands the armored hero. His fist is extended and wires are coming from the gadget on top of his arm.

“You tazed him bro!” One of the men exclaims as he looks at his fallen comrade in horror. The vigilante pushes a button on the gadget and the cartridge with the wires disengages. The leather from his belt shuffles as he grabs another cartridge from a pouch on his belt and inserts it into the hole where the old cartridge was. He points his arm back at the group of men, readying to use the arm-mounted tazer again.

“Leave her alone.” He warns. The once-incapacitated man stands back up with a hearty laugh.

“And who’re you s’posed to be? Superbug?” He laughs as he taunts. The hero stands motionless with his arm pointed at him.

“My name is Sentinel. Leave her alone.” His voice is getting sterner as if he is giving his last warning. There is silence for a moment as the thug contemplates his next move.

“Sentinel huh?” He chuckles and spits some blood from his mouth, “I don’t guess you plan on taking all seven of us on do you? We’re going to,” his words are cut short as he is shot again by the probes from Sentinel’s tazer. As the bruiser hits the ground, Sentinel unloads his empty cartridge and begins loading another. The group of vagrants charge while he is reloading, thinking they will have the upper hand. Just before they get to Sentinel, his cartridge clicks in place and he leaps over the first thugs head.

He mounts the thug’s shoulders and pushes off into a drop kick in the next man’s face. As Sentinel falls to the ground, he pulls a palm-sized cylinder from a loop on the side of his utility belt, and leaps forward. He plants his fist into another bruiser’s face and spins around him. There is a slide and a click as he spins the cylinder with a twist of his wrist to extend both sides into a staff. The next opponent is on the ground before he knows it as Sentinel kneels down and swipes his legs with his staff. Sentinel jumps from his knelt position, spins in the air, and lands his foot into once-mounted thug’s face.

“Ugh!” The man’s cry echoes down the alleyways as he spins and falls to the pavement. There is almost no sound as Sentinel lands on his toes in a crouching position. He jumps forward and presses one of the two standing criminals against a nearby wall with his staff.

“Gotta gun behind you.” His remotely-watching friend, Wyatt, says as he looks at the monitor of the rear-view camera. In one motion Sentinel spins, pushes a button at the bottom of his glove, and throws a cable with a grappling claw at the end toward the gunman with his open hand. Before the man can aim his shot, the claw grasps the firearm and Sentinel yanks it from the attacker. He whips his arm back, then forth and smacks the gunman in the face with his own gun. Sentinel releases the button in his glove and retracts the gun into his hand. By now the man Sentinel has pinned up against the wall is no longer dazed and is trying to get loose. While he struggles, Sentinel kicks the magazine out of the gun, releases his staff long enough slide the top of the gun back to kick out the last shell in the chamber, and smacks the thug with the gun.

As the thug slides down the wall, Sentinel turns to looks over six unconscious men victorious. He looks back over his shoulder to see that the victim has left as he had hoped. One thug squirms to his feet as he tries to get away. Sentinel throws his cable making it wrap around the fleeing man’s legs and pulls his feet out from under him. The man falls to his face on the concrete sidewalk and looks over his shoulder at the approaching Sentinel.

“I’m pressin’ charges.” He frantically exclaims, “You assaulted me!” Sentinel kneels down over the frightened man and points to the camera on his forehead.

“That’s what this is for. I have video of you assaulting that woman. I was just defending her.” Sentinel puts his foot on the back of the downed perpetrator’s head and cuffs him to a nearby pole. As he ties the rest of them up with zip ties, he piles them next to one of the buildings. He rests his foot on the pile of baddies and radios Wyatt. “Put a call in to nine one one. I’m sure someone else already has, but tell them they have a package waiting for them at Robberson and Daniel.”

“Copy.” Wyatt says through his headset. Sentinel walks over and gets on his bike. He looks back over at his achievement, takes a sigh of relief, and takes off.

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