The Protector

152Chapter 1: Seven years later

I.

Christmas 1957, Washington D.C...

He stared at walls for that was all he could do and that was all he chose to do for the most part. The man had been in detention in grade school, so this was nothing new.

"You could have a better life then this, Mr. Mansley." A heavily-accented voice accosted him from the barred window. The forty-year-old man did not acknowledge him, he only continued to stare bitterly forward. "You have knowledge that is essential to us. "

Still, he stared forward.

"I know of the robotic entity you encountered a couple of months ago."

Kent glanced over at the man behind the barred door.

"That accent," he muttered, suspicious. "Could you be a communist?"

"You are so quick to assume, I happen to be many things."

"What do you want?"

"Firstly, let me introduce myself. I am Sergey Dimelo."

II.

April 28th 1964, Rockwell Maine...

A gentle golden light settled over the ocean view all the way into the harbor of the relatively unsung historic fishing town. People went about their lives normally, contently, it had been seven years since the 'unknown invader' had given his life for their existence.

It was a debt that could not be re-paid except for moving forward with life. The new rays of the beginning sun stretched down to a craggy ledge, and intertwined with the dew-glistened grass to reveal a rust free yet burnt screw that lay against a large rock.

The screw just stayed there undisturbed for the last six spring times. It laid there with no hint of significance as it peered out patiently from behind a tuft of summer tall grass.
Suddenly, it gave a small jolt – then another and another. The screw then beeped.

…

Late day...

A small girl with a long, black braid and blue eyes made her way along after her father from the local town grocery store. She looked up toward a tall cliff aligned with trees before turning to her father.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?" the man with dark hair and casual work-wear vaguely answered her as he placed his brown bags in a compartment, he then picked up the crutch-aided little girl to place her near him as he drove.

"Ever think anything weird is going to happen?"

The man moved his tinted glasses onto his head and smiled down at her, a small spark of imagination flashed in his eyes. "Anything's possible, Julianne," he answered before starting the engine, the man then said musingly to himself, "anything at all."

She kept her eyes to the forest high above as they pulled away in entrancement.

III.

1964, Iceland...

A large vessel approached from behind a small isle of ice, it came coming near the triangular shape of a whale's fin arching above an iceberg. The men aboard worked to steer the ship around and prep a huge harpoon.

"Ready it, now!" Someone called loudly.

The frigid waters moved against them as they attempted circling in the direction of the fin, they managed to get a good position so that the barbed head would aim directly for the fin's mid-dorsal.