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Sentinel could only observe from where he was high on his perch. The girl was extremely... odd. She didn't show a minuscule hint of fear as she was cornered in the dark alleyway. And then the pink-haired girl just started to rant about nonsense. Something about crickets and tigers and daffodils. Who was she? Why was she so... freaking weird? The three guys seemed to get a feeling for her oddness, but one was brave enough to step forward. One seemed to run away, screaming. The one who had stepped towards the little girl was suddenly dropped like he was fired with a taser.

Acting quickly, Sentinel stepped off of his perch and into the night air, falling a good thirty feet before slamming on top of the third assailant, knocking him out cold. Without taking heed to the girl, Sentinel checked on the vital signs of the fallen thug by picking up his arm and feeling his wrist. Alive... just unconsious. There was a pulse, but nothing else seemed to be working. Not much of a softy, Sentinel let the thug's arm fall back to his side like a rag doll and stood up, facing the girl. He made sure to keep his distance, though. Whatever this girl was... she could drop people in an instant without touching them.

"What did you do?" asked Sentinel in his fake gravely voice. He didn't want to reach for his swords just yet; it was just a little girl, right?

The young hero opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided not to and merely sighed in confusion. What the hell was this girl talking about? Her mind seemed to be that of a three-year-old. Sentinel had heard of cases where people mature slowly... but this was different. This girl seemed to be one of the many supers that inhabited this town. But... why was she so... out of it? Was it a side effect of her ability? Maybe... but Sentinel didn't know a lot about these things; he himself was not a super. Someone had to know what was going on with her... but for now, maybe he could do his good heroic deed and get her out of this bad part of town.

The difficult part would be communicating with her. If she spoke in that funny way, she might not understand a lot either. Maybe if he talked to her like he talked to a child... maybe it would work.

"I'm Sentinel... you know, like a guardian? A good guy?" he started out, "I help people who are in danger. I'm like Superman." The last statement was a bit of a stretch; he was actually more like Batman. But Batman was scary to little kids. "What's your name?" he asked, still keeping his distance.

Amnesiac? Sentinel asked himself, taking mental notes of her condition. After her rant about name tags, Sentinel caught on the part about 'Mr. Detective.' Did she mean Detective... oh... what's his name... Oual? Detective Oual? Did this girl know Detective Oual? She might be useful in establishing contact with the police... if only she were mentally sane. At least she took his offer of friendship instead of knocking him out like the other guy who was still drooling on the alleyway floor. His name didn't stick though... he guessed Mr. Shadyface would have to do for now. Better than what other people called him.

Extending his hand, Sentinel said, "Come on, you might want to get off the ground. I can help you get home." He wasn't exactly sure this girl had a home, but he could help her find one.

"Don't worry, I won't take you to the big house place." Sentinel said, realizing that she might have come from an abused home... which would explain the memory loss and mistracked mind. Sentinel felt somewhat sorry for her; and could relate to her. He had to deal with a lot of stuff when he was a kid... but he didn't like to dwell on that now.

"I have a small apartment place. I stay there all the time. I won't leave," Sentinel said, not really sure why he just offered his own place to a possibly medically psychotic teenager.

Sentinel cursed himself a thousand times over for offering his own apartment to the teenage girl. What was he thinking? Now there was no way out of this. Wait a minute... she just refered to her own living place. And a lady... her mother? Caretaker or legal guardian maybe? He would have to worry about that later.

"Yes, you can see my living place," Sentinel nodded. "But first, I have to see a friend of mine in the hospital. I need to talk to him. It won't take long. Okay?" Maybe if Oual was still there, he would know more about this mysterious 'Violet.'

"No no, hospital is a nice place," Sentinel explained. "It's where people get better when they are sick." Definetly amnesiac, Sentinel told himself, if she's a teenager and doesn't know what a hospital is, she's either sheltered, mildly retarded, or her memory is elsewhere. Sentinel listened to the rant that Violet had about keeping him from being scary. Like that didn't already happen three years ago. Still, the girl seemed to settle down when she gave herself the 'assignment' to keep Sentinel from becoming 'scary'. Maybe it was good for Sentinel too. He needed something to keep himself from going insane.

"Alright, let's go," he said, walking towards the end of the alleyway. Hopefully the police would pick up the two unconscious thugs off the ground.

JONATHAN JOHNSON

Usually Jonathan Johnson would not be caught dead in downtown Delmor. He was always very nervous about even thinking about the place, but this was something he had to do. Jon had to see his parent's lawyer in order to deal with all of the inheritance issues. Jon passed by a couple who eyed his with what looked like vulturous hunger and Jon doubled his pace. Sweat started beading down his head and his breathing started becoming labored. Jon was terrified beyond belief.

He let out a sigh of relief as he saw the big sign the read: Glossinger & Felix. 'This is it...' thought Jon was he quickly went inside the rundown lawyers' office. Glossinger had been the Johnson family lawyer and though Jon no longer paid for Glossinger's services, Glossinger had kept the papers Jon's parents had left years ago. Jonathan Johnson was very thankful for Glossinger's selflessness.

Jon slowly walked down what seemed to be a never ending, dark hallway and into a waiting room. He saw an elderly woman in the corner and guessed she was the secretary. Jon walked up to the woman, who's name tag read: Matilda, and spoke to her. "Hello. My name is Jonathan Johnson. I am here to see Mr. Glossinger." Jon told Matilda.

She answered in a horse, croaky voice. "Just wait a couple of minutes please... I will alert Mr. Glossinger that you have arrived Mr. Johnson."

"Thank you." Jon said, but didn't feel reassured that Mr. Glossinger was going to get the message because Matilda made no movement to get up and alert him. That was going to be another long day. Jon sat down and picked up a an issue of Delmor Weekly, but it crumbled in his hands. Upon looking at the date, which was now in pieces, Jon saw it read January 7th, 1964. Now there was nothing else to do but wait and while he waited, Jon finally touched upon yet something else that was bothering him.

Ever since Jon had been attacked by the serum, his stuttering problem that had been plaguing him for years was virtually gone. Usually in a room like this, Jon would not have been able to make logical sentences if his stuttering problem still existed. Not to mention, that vacuum was still inside his body and could pop out of his back at any moment. What was going on with him? But the better question, could it ever be fixed?

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Joel landed on top of a small building and dismissed his wings, looking over the streets. This was the dark side of downtown, this was where all the scum and thugs were bound to hang out. He stood straight up and started walking around on the rooftop, unaware how much attention that might draw, looking around the alleyways to see if he could find anyone he might suspect of doing some illegal activities.

If he was going to make an impact as the new face of justice in this town, he would need to actually stop a few crimes. He figured he would start small and gradually work his way to the top.

Joel crouched down on the rooftop, placing his left leg out and resting his arm on his leg in an epic heroic pose. Nothing was visibly happening, but there was bound to be some dark dealing behind closed doors or right around the corner. He had to do something, but nothing seemed to present itself.