Three bullet wounds — two in chest and one in head
Cardiac — Negative
Respiration — Negative
Neural Response — Minimal
Jarvis’ eyes darted from left to right as he requested additional information
Sub Neural Response — Frontal — Negative
Sub Neural Response — Autonomic — Nominal
“You must stabilize his neural functions first. Allow me to guide you. Can you access my biometrics while we are in contact with each other?”
Nurisha cocked her head, “Yes, I see the damage. I will channel myself to repair the brain tissue now.”
Jarvis could feel a massive wave of energy gather. He increased his grip on Nurisha’s hand and said, “Stop!” She looked at him as he continued, “If you channel that much energy into Kellan it will be seen and I calculate a better than 98% chance his antagonists will fire additional bullets into his cranium. I do not think we will be able to repair any more damage. You must be more subtle.”
“We do not have time,” replied Nurisha with a mixture of both frustration and fear.
“There is yet time. I am connected to every aspect of Kellan’s biology. We have several minutes yet and I suspect both of us capable of taking substantive actions in those minutes.”
Nurisha nodded and began pulsing with slow, steady, rhythmic waves of Ordered power. She looked to Jarvis, “Is it working. I cannot tell. His mind is not there for me to touch.”
“Frontal lobe repair at 65%,” said Jarvis, then added, “and rising. 70%. 80%. 95%. Frontal lobe repair complete. Congratulations.” Jarvis felt Nurisha’s eyes on his. “You do not seem pleased. That was tremendously delicate work you accomplished.”
“I do not see him. If his mind is repaired, where is he?”
“He is unconscious, and by most measures, dead.”
Nurisha glared at the AI. “He’s been dead before. Dead is not nearly as bad as this. His mind is gone. I need his mind.”
“Please note that I am setting aside a number of questions to focus on your current challenge. This is very difficult for me as I have accumulated a large number of them at this point.” The world around them dimmed again and Jarvis continued. “Yes, well, they do not seem all that crucial at the moment. Please provide some kind of neural stimulation.”
Nurisha shook her head, not understanding. Jarvis concentrated on specifically what was needed and Nurisha nodded just as another wave of energy burst outward from her.
“That should do it,” said Jarvis smiling.
“Oh, thank God,” cried Nurisha as she launched herself past Jarvis and knocked him aside. She pulled up as Kellan continued to fade into view. When he seemed entirely solid, she embraced him tightly and stared into his eyes.
“Hey, Nurisha,” began Kellan, “what’s with the green energy tears?" He smirked at her. "Did you miss me while you were galavanting around the cosmos? You know, it’s been entirely too long since we’ve spent any time together and—“ The young Sentinel broke off as he spied Jarvis, “Jarvis? What are you doing here? How are you here?” Kellan paused again becoming suspicious, “Hey, what’s going on?”
“You are dead, Sentinel-Kellan,” said Jarvis smiling as he closed the distance between them and extended his hand. “Still, even in these unfortunate circumstances, I am very pleased to actually be able to shake your hand.”
Kellan accepted the offered hand which Jarvis pumped enthusiastically and the Sentinel looked back to Nurisha. “Dead? Again? How dead am I, and how did I even become dead, this time?”
“You are very seriously wounded Kellan. So wounded that were it not for the AI construct, I suspect both you and I would be gone forever.”
Kellan turned to Jarvis, “Well, good on you, mate. Thanks for—“
“Do not thank him, Kellan!” Nurisha yelled, “He’s the one that got you killed in the first place.”
“He did?” Asked Kellan.
“I did not,” replied Jarvis.
“You did!” Growled Nurisha.
“I don’t remember any of this?” Said Kellan slowly.
“You were shot in the head, Kellan, among other places” began Jarvis, “Perhaps some of your most recent memories are damaged. I will endeavor to repair them with Nurisha’s help. It is Nurisha isn’t it. We were never properly introduced. I am Jarvis.”
“I do not care what you are called. But, yes, you may help me repair his memories.”
“Splendid. Stand by Kellan. This shouldn’t take but a few moments. Nurisha, please take my hand.” She scowled at Jarvis. “It is necessary,” he began in response to her unspoken question. “While not actually being physical, contact between us here, should create a sympathetic link between our minds and allow us access to each other’s abilities.” Nurisha lifted her hand slightly and Jarvis accepted it in his own, then continued, “The human mind uses an impressively complex relational storage mechanism, but data retrieval and repair is surprisingly simple if one has the right tools—there.”
Kellan blinked a couple times then glared at the AI. “Holy shit, Jarvis,” yelled Kellan as he rounded on him, “You got me fucking shot. Three times.”
“Now, Kellan,” said Jarvis, “I do not think that is, in any way, fair.”
"Really?" growled Kellan as he closed the distance between the two. “Which of us said, ‘Hey, this place looks kinda sketchy?’”
“You did,” said Jarvis.
Kellan nodded, “And which of us wrapped himself in a nice, safe, bulletproof shield.”
“Bullet resistant.“
“Jarvis!” Yelled Kellan. “Not the point, but fine, a bullet resistant shield. Who wrapped himself in that?”
“Why, you did, Kellan.”
“Yes, I did. Now, which of us said,” Kellan did is best to affect Jarvis’ clipped British accent, “‘Sentinel-Kellan, I do not believe it is wise to embrace your power amidst these miscreants as they attempt to manifest the Mantel of Revenge.’”
Jarvis smiled. “Kellan, that is a perfect recitation. Aren’t you impressed with my repair of your recent memories?”
“Who!” Yelled Kellan again.
Jarvis sighed. “I did, Kellan.”
“Yes. Yes, you did. And what idiot listened to that advice.”
“You did,” said Jarvis.
“Yes,” said Kellan pointing. “Yes, I did and what happened next?”
“You were shot,” responded Jarvis amiably.
“Three times,” offered Nurisha causing Kellan to turn slightly, snap his fingers and point to her.
“Yes, shot. Not once. Not twice. Three times, Jarvis. Three. I’ve never been shot three times before.” Kellan broke off and tilted his head, thinking, then said more to himself than the others, “I bet being shot three times will hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.”
“Do you remember what it felt like when Meghan inflated your lung?” asked Nurisha.
“Yeah?” Said Kellan hesitantly.
“Well,” she said, “picture that times three with a splitting headache to boot.”
Kellan ground his teeth and turned slowly back to Jarvis, “Well, that’s just great. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Perhaps,” began Jarvis brightening, “we should concentrate on resuscitating you before those assembled succeed in manifesting Váli.”
“Váli?” Said Kellan and Nurisha in unison and smiled at each other.
“Yes, that is the name they are using to invoke the Mantel. He is the norse incarnation of revenge. I just heard them mention his name.”
“Heard them? How did you hear them? I didn’t hear them.”
“You are dead Kellan. Your conscious self can’t hear anything. But interestingly, hearing is the last sense to degrade in death so my biometrics can still hear what is transpiring.”
“Fascinating,” said Kellan dryly. “How about you two focus on un-deadifying me. You realize it is exactly one week before Christmas and I love Christmas. I don’t want to sp
end Christmas, being dead. Now fix me!”
"Just a moment," said Nurisha. "I would like to ensure your full faculties are restored before you regain consciousness. As you know, Kellan, time flows slowly here. Let me make sure."
Kellan ground his teeth but nodded as Nurisha closed the distance between them and placed her hands on either side of his head. Her eyes flashed and power surged into him.
Kellan cracked one eye open as he did his best not to scream in pain. His chest and head burned like fire and his shirt was drenched from lying in a pool of his own blood. The young Sentinel tried to control his breathing as he felt Nurisha’s deft touch on the Ordered energies that continued to flow in and around him. He closed his eyes and saw her standing on the bank of his river of power. Her arms were raised about hip level and she held her palms upturned. Nurisha’s eyes were closed and a look of fierce determination shadowed her face.
Hmmm, she looks a bit like a high-elf, thought Kellan. A beautiful, green, glowing high elf. Nurisha opened her eyes, focused on his, and quirked a smile. A beautiful, green, glowing high elf—that can hear my thoughts—forgot about that. Kellan looked inward with surprise and wonder as Nurisha slowly raised her arms causing three vast columns of liquid energy to be pulled from the river. He could see her straining with the effort and Kellan knew he could not hope to channel this much power while maintaining any semblance of control. But, the young Sentinel reminded himself, she was the power incarnate, brought to self-awareness during his first day as the new Sentinel of Order.
Kellan felt the power reach a crescendo and Nurisha whipped out her hands toward him. The columns of liquid power poured into his head and chest where each bullet had entered. Nurisha collapsed, and curled into tight ball as Kellan’s inner world faded from his mind.
He opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself almost entirely free of pain. “How many,” Kellan whispered so softly that no one could hear.
“Six,” Jarvis replied, “I detect six heat signatures, but only five heartbeats. They are all located in the next room. The heat signature from which I detected no heartbeat seems to be decreasing. I believe that person may be dead, Kellan. Wait, one of the heartbeats is heading this way.”
Game on thought Kellan as he scooped up a handful of his own blood and leaped up while reaching for his power. He noted that the river was all but depleted, perhaps only a third of its normal height. He knew it would replenish quickly, but didn’t like entering any sort of conflict this low on resources.
As he stood, a young man wearing torn jeans, a work shirt and hoodie turned the corner and came into view. He stared at Kellan in shock and, a moment later, horror. The young Sentinel showed his teeth, well aware of what he must look like covered in blood. He glanced at the name embroidered on the man’s shirt and growled, “You have one chance assh—“
He broke off as the man pulled a pistol from the waist of his jeans and raised it toward Kellan, who abruptly vanished from sight.
“Bad decision, Zed” said Kellan and the man whipped toward the sound. He squeezed off a round, then wiped sweat from his face. “Feeling a bit warm, Zed?” Two more shots fired.
Kellan heard Jarvis’ voice through his biometric connection. Kellan, one of the other heartbeats has started moving this way. It is being hesitant. I estimate its arrival in less than two minutes.
“That’s a nice pistol you have there, Zed. An M&P Bodyguard 380 if I’m not mistaken. Glad you didn’t shoot me with a .45. That could have been bad. Thing is, that 380 has a six round clip and you just fired number six.”
Kellan became visible about four feet in front of the man with three frozen blood red daggers rotating above his left hand. “Bloodcicles, Zed. You don’t want to be killed by bloodcicles do you? Now one of your friends will be running in here any minute and you need to calm their shit down or someone’s gonna die and I’ve died enough for one day so it isn’t going to be me.”
“Wha…What are you,” cried Zed as he continued to hold the gun on Kellan.
Excuse me Kellan, said Jarvis.
“Not now,” answered the Sentinel under his breath.
But it is both urgent and relevant
“No!”
The AI ignored his command and continued, The capacity of the M&P Bodyguard is, indeed, six rounds but that presupposes this individual did not have one, as they say, in the pipe.
Kellan eye’s widened in alarm and he lashed out his right hand just as Zed pulled the trigger. Kellan bent time but the bullet had already traversed half the distance and he knew he would not be able to dodge out of the way. Straining with effort he erected a small, but incredibly dense, shield and placed the glowing green disk between himself and the bullet. It stuck the shield dead center and Kellan watched as the bullet deformed then hung suspended for the barest of moments as the shield vanished. He reached out and the small piece of metal fell into his outstretched palm.
“What am I, Zed? I am the Sentinel of Order, but after this display of awesomeness, you can call me Neo. Now—No, don’t do it!”
Zed had take several steps back and Kellan heard the clatter of the discarded clip as it struck the cement floor even as the man slid its replacement into place.
“Outta chances, Zed!” Yelled Kellan and thrust out his left hand with clear intent. The jagged pieces of blood ice flew into Zed’s chest and head pitching him backward where he shuddered violently for a moment, then became still, unseeing eyes staring toward the exposed pipes of the ceiling.
Kellan’s stomach twisted as he walked toward the corpse. He’d never taken a mortal life and he bent over, resting hands on thighs feeling sick.
Ten-seconds, said Jarvis.
Kellan looked up just as a heavy set man in his early fifties turned the corner and spied both Kellan and Zed. He started to reach for something but Kellan brought his hands together, palms touching and heaved outward. A violent burst of wind caught the man, lifted him up and slammed him against the far wall. He lay suspended for a moment, then slid down in a heap. The Sentinel walked over and placed a finger along the man’s throat. He sighed at the slow, steady pulse, then concentrated on the man’s still form. Green mist formed and coalesced into a barely visible sphere that slowly constricted until it draped around the man like a second skin.
Kellan took a deep, calming breath, and turned grim faced toward the sound of voices in the next room. He paused at the battered steel door. It definitely showed the wear of years, yet still appeared quite solid despite the bands of rust running along its joints. Kellan eyed the hinges, frowned and thought, Invisibility isn’t going to help get in there unnoticed. Those hinges are gonna scream if I —“
Kellan broke off his mental musings and leaned an ear to the door to catch the voices within. “We should go check on Dad and Zed,” said a female voice.
“No!” came an immediate and insistent male voice. “No, Dad said to wait here and to use the blood as soon as it was done.”
“Jarvis,” Kellan whispered, “What is the police response time to this location?”
“Adair Park represents a severely blighted portion of the city, Kellan. Unemployment is currently—“
“Jarrrvissss!” Kellan growled.
“Ten to twelve minutes, Sentinel,” said the AI and Kellan detected the nuanced change in voice as Jarvis shifted into his professional tone.
“Call them. Now!” There was a pause and Kellan furrowed his brow. “Jarvis?”
“I don’t know what to tell the police Kellan. I sense the same gathered energies you do, and suspect these people seek to summon,” Jarvis paused the for barest of seconds, “summon something about which I have no knowledge.”
“Make. Something. Up. Now!”
“Caleb,” began the female. “It’s full. Should we use it, or wait for Dad?”
“Fuck that,” came the response. “I’m not waiting.”
Kellan heard a soft scraping sound and felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as an uncontrollable shiver ra
n through him.
“Kellan?” began Jarvis.
“Yeah, I know,” responded Kellan. “I feel it. Shit. Shit. Shit. We’re going in Jarvis.”
Kellan reached inward and pulled forth a full quarter of his available power, noting that it had replenished itself halfway up the banks. He channeled, snapping a shield around himself, willing power into his muscles, and bending time, as he shifted his weight. Kellan leaned back onto his left foot and kicked out with his right. The heavy metal door shrieked as it burst inward shearing off one of the three hinges in the process.
In a split second of frozen time, the young Sentinel took in the gruesome scene. Two bodies, one male and one female, were bound and laid out supine on what looked like Autopsy tables. Both were young, perhaps in their late teens or early twenties and completely naked. The male had the ornate hilt of a dagger protruding from his chest. His head was turned toward Kellan, eyes sightless. He was dead. One of his arms lay on the table while the other stretched downward, a long gash cut in the wrist and a few drops of blood on the floor beneath it.
Kellan swept his gaze leftward and his eyes met those of the frantic woman who struggled against her bonds. He could see her try to scream but the ball gag prevented anything but a soft moan from escaping. The Sentinel felt rage fill him and the air began to crackle as tiny green sparks leaped between the enochian runes that ran down his arms.
“Cheryl, stop him!” shouted Caleb and Kellan blanched as she grabbed for the pistol that rested on the small steel table beside her.
How can they be moving, thought Kellan, I have time bent to a crawl? Then he noticed the strange amber distortion that surrounded the four of them and had, as it’s center, an iron brazier covered with Nordic glyphs. Kellan dismissed his ineffective time bubble and bent down to one kneed while lifting up both hands toward the woman just as she started to train the weapon on him.
A tight spiral of pressurized air shot from the Sentinel’s cupped hand and threw her backward. The air rang with the sound of her pistol firing harmlessly into the ceiling even as it was whipped from her hand and went clattering into a far corner of the room. The young woman shook her head, stunned, and tried to rise, but Kellan encased her in the same gravity enhancing bubble as he had her father.
Sentinels of Creation Page 2