The Lost Sentinel

non-hunman lead
special ability
alien contact

Imagine thinking all your life that you are human - there is nothing special about you, only that you don't have any family and you have to survive by all means necessary. But then you found out that you're a warrior - reincarnated in a homeless kid who survives by stealing priceless artefacts...crazy right...Yeah...

My name is Tan. I am nineteen years old...and I'm apparently The Lost Sentinel, a warrior who has to protect the world from aliens...but I don't have time to remember who I was or become strong to fight...because they're already here.

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1 The lost Sentinel
Tan P.O.V “Hurry up!” Laz rasped in my ears. His irritation clear as day. I tune him out and hop over another square tile like a rabbit. My boots make a thudding sound, that echoes throughout the cavernous space of the cellar. I cringe looking around me to make sure that no one heard that. The owner of the house was sleeping upstairs, some rich South Africa business man who collected very valuable things and kept them in a secret underground safe that is more like another house than a safe. The underground safe is accessible from the kitchen cellar, far away from the upstairs rooms.  And I’m on a mission to take advantage of that. I turn to Mak, as he sedately walks behind me as if he owns the place. “You like taunting him,” he says with a laugh. “You’d swear this is my first time the way he stresses himself out,” I say walking properly around the cellar hallway. I look around me trying to find the access door. The cellar is lined up by floor to ceiling wine racks, stocked full of wine bottles. There doesn’t seem to be any door in here. But I know it’s there, I just have to find it…and I will. My name is Tan. I am nineteen years old. I make a living stealing precious artefacts from museums, galleries and super rich homes. There is nothing I wouldn’t steal. If its valuable and someone is willing to pay for it… I’m game. It’s nothing to be proud of, but it’s the only thing I seem to be good at.  Growing up in the foster care system has taught me that anything you have that is precious, someone else wants it more. And I am there to provide you with it if you have the money. Yeah, I grew up in the foster system – lived in five foster homes to be exact, until I decided that I was better off alone, because I could never find a family that could fit me or me fit them. I was always somehow lacking in something that made them not want me. And I stopped trying to want any family to accept me. So I moved out of my last foster house at the age of fifteen to live in the streets of Johannesburg, where I realized that human beings throw away their own more than they do garbage. That’s where I met Mak. And we’ve been together ever since. He’s my best friend. Somehow he and I clicked. We were skinny little things back then and could fit into any space – room or window we wanted to get into. And with that as a talent we made a name for ourselves in the streets. Laz found us, and he put us on important jobs that pay big money. I grin as think about the money that we’re going to get on this job. “Find that door and quit wasting time,” Laz says, as I turn around in the room.  Trying to find it. What the hell does he think I’m trying to do now, I shake my head running my fingers over the rack. “Make it quick Tan, we don’t have all night,” he says with an irritated huff. “God relax, jeez,” I say stepping back to look at the cellar properly. I move to the other side of the wall where there were more bottles of the precious wine. The wine rack seemed to be choked full of the bottles. I pick one up and stared at it. “Empty,” I notice, picking up another one. “I think this is it,” I say to Mak. He comes closer and rans his hand at the back of the rack. “Yeah, there is a draft of air coming through here,” he says already pushing the rack to the side, revealing a steel safe door, with a keypad and a turning wheel. “You’re up, Mak,” I say slapping him on the back with my gloved right hand. The glove slips from the long sleeve of my shirt revealing the dark strips of colour that circle my wrist and flares down my hand to rope around my fingers. It’s a birthmark. But as a kid I’ve been teased for it. The kids who teased me called it zebra skin or tiger claw. I hated it, until I decided to wear a glove to hide it. I move my hand away from Mak. And pull down my sleeve to cover it. Most of the time I pretend it’s not there. But it’s another reminder why I couldn’t fit anywhere.  Mak doesn’t seem to mind it though. I give him some room to work on the safe. Mak is a genius with numbers. He can figure out any code, safe key or password as long as its number based. He’s gotten us in the most secure places that I can’t help but admire his skill. Sometimes I think he’s a wizard or something. “Done,” he says with a smug tone. “Finally, now can you get the damn egg, and get the hell out of there? Some of us have things to do later,” Laz complains. I shake my head because he doesn’t have to lift a finger on these missions, but he complains like he was doing most of the work. All he has to do is make sure that the alarm is off, that’s it. I ignore him, and help Mak to push the door open. Cold air washes over us. Lights come on outlining a pathway that leads down the large space. Mak walks in looking from side to side. I follow him, and see what had caught his attention. Glass walls line up both sides of the pathways, and cases there are artefacts – ranging from ancient swords, jewels and unidentifiable objects. I walk down the pathway looking for the egg. Mak turns a corner and I follow him into another hallway – it has another row of glass walls on both sides with artefacts in them. I stop dead as there is suddenly a chill in the air that hadn’t been there. I turn around looking around, because the underground safe suddenly feels weird – like there is an opening somewhere that’s letting in cold air. “Mak?” I whisper shout his name. He doesn’t answer. “Mak?” I call him again raising my voice a little. He disappeared around this corner and now I don’t see him. Where did he go? I ask walking down the hallway suddenly alert, because something feels off about this.  I don’t know what it is. But I feel like something is coming. Whatever it is I don’t want to be down here when it hits. I continue walking down the hallway, until I reach a dead end. I turn back and find a left turn. I look the way I came from and the dead – the left turn hadn’t been there before. I look side to side again, this is so strange. “Mak?” I call as I gingerly turn left. It’s another hallway – with glass walls on both sides full of artefacts. How big is this place? I ask myself walking down the hallway. This one opens into a large oval room that has a glass case sitting on a stand in the middle of the room. There is small box. It glows giving off a golden colour that draws me in. I walk to it as if entranced by something. It’s so beautiful. I stop in front of it, and reach for the case. My right hand tingles as I lift it to the glass. I stare at it as it suddenly itches – making me feel like there are things moving under the glove. Grossed out, I hiss pulling the glove off. I stare at my birthmark – the dark marks that cascade from my wrist to my fingers. They look fine – same as always. What was that itch about? I shake my hand disgusted. It felt like something was crawling up and down my hand. “Ugh…” I pull my glove back on, and turn around as I hear a noise behind me. “Found it,” Mak shouts as he rushes in into the circular room brandishing the egg. It gleams in the light. It looks precious and delicate, but it doesn’t hold my attention as the box in the glass does. I turn to it, the urge to touch it overwhelming. I give in reaching for it with my left hand. I lift the glass box with my right and close my fingers around the box. “What’s that?” Mak asks coming closer. His eyes narrow on the box, as he reaches for it. I pull my hand back, shifting the box to my right hand. And then I feel it again. The tingling in my hand. What the…? I look down at my hand as the sensation intensifies as if I’m burning. I watch in horror as the box dissolves right there on my hand, as well as my glove. The black strips of my birth mark turn gold as if the light from the box is being absorbed into my skin. “Hooo…” Mak exclaims beside me though he sounds like he’s miles away. “Tan…Tan…throw it away…throw it away.” He screams. But I can’t, the gold colour is filling over every black strip of my birth mark. The skin glows. I hiss as a surge of power fills me up, and I feel stronger than I ever thought I could feel. It feels amazing. I turn to tell Mak how it feels. But he gasps and steps away from me in horror. “Your eyes,” he says clutching the egg to his chest. I blink not understanding his behaviour. And for the first time I see the look I’ve seen in those other kids that bullied me and laughed at me – calling me tiger claw and Zebra skin. He was horrified by me. My heart breaks. He’s my best friend. “Mak,” I say going to him. But he shakes his head stepping back from me right into the wall still looking horrified. I stare at him for a second, before the wall explodes and leaves a gaping hole where he stood. “Mak!!!!!” I shout rushing towards the rubble. Smokes and flames fills the space preventing me from going to him. I cough trying to see around the dark cloud of smoke bellowing around me. “Laz!…Laz! Can you hear me?” I say, but all I hear is a static sound that intensifies the more I listen. I pull my ear comms off clutching my head. My eyes go blurry, but I can definitely see two strange looking figures step through the holes, and over the flames as if it is nothing. Their heavy boots make a crushing sound as they walk over the rubble. They’re dressed in a blue one-piece suit that looks more like skin. But it doesn’t melt as they walk through the fire. Their faces are covered by a facial mask. I can only see their eyes. They have a weird colour as they focus on me – they look like the flaming colour of the sun. I can barely look at them. Huh…what are they? I ask myself as one of them raises his hand to point a finger at me. “Duck!” someone shouts at me. I look over my shoulder to see who had spoken, only to feel a suffocating sensation in my chest. It feels like someone us trying to pull out my heart. I gasp for breath, turning towards the creatures. The one who pointed a finger at me, has a strange light radiating from the finger, and it was shooting right at me, through my chest. Or is it from me to the finger…I don’t know. I bring up my hand trying to touch the light. I think I’m dying…the pain is too much. “No! Don’t touch it!” something hits me in the back of the head and I fall over hitting the ground. I groan in pain, touching my chest. Oh God, I think I’m dying…     

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