Showcase: The Sentinels of Magic: 1948: Sacrifices Must Be Made, Chapter 2: Last Stand

by CSyphrett

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Gary the Miracle Boy hesitated outside the commanding officer’s door, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the voices of Major Henry Valdemir and Captain Richard Exeter conversing with urgency. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his bones.

“All planes are grounded as per your orders, sir,” Captain Exeter reported. “And we’ve kept that Blackhawk out of the loop. It will be impossible to withdraw the Sentinels from Grim Island before they meet their doom.”

Major Valdemir’s response was chilling. “Excellent. Ensure that the boy is taken care of, and my plan will be complete.”

Fear gnawed at Gary’s insides. Whatever Major Valdemir had planned, it couldn’t be good. Determination welled up within him, overpowering the anxiety that threatened to consume him.

“Yes, sir,” said Captain Exeter, who turned to exit the room but abruptly collapsed, as if invisible strings had been severed.

“What’s going on here? Why don’t you take care of me yourself?” Gary demanded as he burst into the room, his voice trembling with rage.

A sly smile crept onto Major Valdemir’s face as he looked down at Gary. “So, the cub roars,” he sneered. With a flick of his hand, Valdemir cast a spell, shooting a magenta beam toward Gary.

Reacting instinctively, Gary raised his arm to shield himself. The beam flattened out, only to transform into a narrow dagger that plunged toward his left eye. Pain exploded through Gary’s body as the dagger connected, leaving his eye in ruin. He crumpled to the floor screaming, his mind reeling from the agony.

Valdemir towered above him, his voice filled with cruelty. “Time to die, cub,” he taunted, stepping forward. “First you and then your precious Sentinels of Magic… you’ll all die just as easily as when I killed your dear old mom and dad.”

Gary lay on the cold floor, clutching his destroyed left eye with one hand, the other hand limp at his side. With a blazing fury in his one good eye, he glared at the treacherous figure standing over him, even as pain throbbed relentlessly through his body. The man’s words barely registered as overwhelming rage consumed the boy. Slowly, Gary clenched his relaxed hand into a tight fist, summoning his hidden power with an insatiable hunger.

Henry Valdemir, sensing the imminent attack, hastily created a magical barrier to shield himself. He would only realize much later that this instinctive action was what caused him to be confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life. Still, despite the devastating consequences, the ward had saved his life as his bones fractured, tiny blood vessels ruptured, and his hair was brutally torn from his scalp. With one eye on the brink of splitting open, Valdemir collapsed broken and bloody to the floor, only clinging to life thanks to the protective shield he had conjured.

As the dust settled, Gary lay there, gasping for breath. The room was silent, save for the heavy panting of the defeated major.

***

In the heart of Grim Island, a colossal giant continued to force its way out of the spreading pit, its glowing skin splitting open as demonic figures burst free to battle against the Sentinels of Magic. And amid this chaos, the fate of one warrior hung in the balance.

Roland DiGrasso, commonly known as the Stainless Steel Cat, fought valiantly against the horde. With his diamond-hard claws, he cleaved through enemy after enemy, his movements as swift as lightning. Slicing one demon in half, he swiftly shifted his attention to another lurking at his right flank. But in a cruel twist of fate, the demon he had previously injured seized the opportunity and coiled itself tightly around his legs, forcing him to the ground.

Silently, the surrounding demons descended upon Roland, shattering his once impenetrable armor and crushing his unyielding claws. Finally, a brutal stomp landed upon his helmeted head, shattering the skull beneath. A triumphant roar erupted from the assembled crowd, celebrating their victory.

Amidst the chaos, Mac Maine resolutely fired his morning-stars with devastating precision. Anger coursed through his veins as he pressed the repeat key again and again, unleashing a barrage of lethal strikes upon the cheering demons. His eyes welled with tears at the loss of his dear friend, but he pushed aside his grief, focusing solely on the task at hand.

***

With determination burning in its eyes, the giant in the pit extended one massive hand toward those who sought to close its gateway. It realized that the spell being cast by the human with peculiar yellow hair and a strange-looking cloak must not be completed. However, an unexpected annoyance diverted its attention.

Something sank its teeth into the giant’s leg, causing it to scowl in irritation. When it looked down, it discovered the source of its vexation — a human capable of absorbing substances. The human, known as the Black Star, utilized his unique ability to cut deep into the upper thigh of the emerging demon. Despite the pain, the giant swiftly clamped its enormous grasp around the persistent human, intending to rip him apart.

But as it tore the unfortunate Harry Hutchinson into two pieces, parts of the giant’s hand dissolved under the human’s corrosive power. Discarding the fragmented remains of Harry’s body, the giant refocused its attention on its primary objective — ultimate dominion over the corporeal realm.

With relentless determination, it pushed forward even as it bled countless more monsters, its colossal frame poised to stride upon the earth once more.

***

Hal King felt the familiar surge of energy drain from his body, leaving him vulnerable in the midst of the fierce battle. He quickly flew away from the chaos, landing softly before his powers completely faded away. Desperately, he reached for the dial, hoping against hope that it would defy its well-known limitations and work again, allowing him to rejoin the fight. He knew his comrades needed him to return as someone who possessed more than just the brute strength of a flying barbarian.

But just as Hal prepared to make his move, an abrupt pain shot through his back. He tried to pivot around, but his body was frozen in place, leaving him helpless. His eyes widened as he glanced down, only to discover that his feet were no longer touching the ground. And then he saw it — a protrusion resembling a scorpion’s stinger emerging from his chest. The vibrant green of the grass and the lush foliage around him became tainted by his own blood, seeping out slowly as he faced his impending demise.

Then Hal King’s body was cruelly torn apart and devoured by the monstrous creatures that surrounded him, their insatiable hunger consuming him while his warmth still lingered. The dial that had been his faithful companion for the past seven years was casually discarded as useless. None of his comrades witnessed his fall, for he had vanished without a trace except for the haunting evidence of the crimson-stained earth, a testament to his valiant sacrifice in defense of humanity. His would not be the only empty grave as the final battle approached its inevitable conclusion.

***

Johnny Constantine couldn’t help but lament over the fact that he hadn’t bid a proper farewell to his beloved wife and son. In his heart, he longed to have been more present as a father, to have shown his love in abundance. Regret and remorse plagued his thoughts, yet as he prepared to complete the final lines of the incantation, a newfound steely determination replaced his grief.

With a sense of resolution, Constantine finished reciting the spell, drawing the blade of his dagger across his palm, thus ensuring the necessary blood sacrifice. Fortunately, Harvard Yale had possessed knowledge of a particular method that could potentially work.

“Goodbye, my love,” Constantine whispered, his blood trickling from the wound in his hand, forming a swirling ring around the vortex before him. “Farewell, my son.”

Unbeknownst to Constantine, Harvard Yale had also sliced his own palm with a small pocket knife in a nearly identical fashion. Their mingling blood created a radiant ring of brilliance, pushing against the darkness, valiantly battling to drive the monstrous force back into the depths from whence it came.

***

Mac Maine’s heart pounded in his chest as he surveyed the battlefield, panic coursing through his veins. The generator, his lifeline in this never-ending nightmare, let out a desperate cry for mercy. Only he and Number 99 remained, the last Sentinels standing against the encroaching darkness. But what terrified him most was the realization that the abomination before them refused to retreat to its wretched depths.

He took a deep breath, the weight of his decision settling upon him like a curse. The equation was simple, however. The hole needed to be sealed, to prevent these monstrosities from escaping into their world. If they failed, the consequences would be more devastating than anything they had witnessed during the war. With each futile attempt the creature made to escape, the opening remained unclosed. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

His mind resolute, Mac understood the madness of his plan. Yet duty pushed him forward. Fingers trembling, he pressed the self-destruct sequence on his pad, then leaped into the abyss with his eyes tightly shut.

***

A howl of agony pierced the air, the lamentation of Number 99. Amidst the turmoil, he tapped into a reservoir of power he had never known existed within him. Devotion turned to wrath, loss fueling a fiery determination.

In an instant, the swamp monster known only as 99 transformed before his foes’ very eyes, swelling to a staggering height of thirty feet. Menacingly, it swung its colossal frame, obliterating anything that dared to approach. The smaller demons felt the weight of its fury as it mercilessly charged at the hulking monstrosity that had plagued their world.

Again and again, the earth elemental rained down crushing blows upon the startled giant. The demon tried to cast 99 aside, but the indomitable force would not be denied. With every ounce of might in its massive form, it retaliated with unyielding persistence, a force of nature incarnate.

The battlefield was filled with screams, a cacophony that blended together as the giant below writhed in unprecedented agony. The sound was mixed with the earth elemental’s own roar as it battered its opponent with fists akin to tree trunks. The spectacle was mesmerizing, a clash of titans unlike anything witnessed before.

Suddenly, a deep rumbling arose from within the earth itself. In an instant, a brilliant flash of light engulfed the fighters, accompanied by an intense wave of heat that reduced them to mere drifting dust. It was as if an atom bomb had detonated. The explosion’s luminous ring rapidly expanded, obliterating anything in its path within milliseconds. Then, as quickly as it had erupted, the force imploded, irresistibly drawing any remaining survivors of the nightmare back into the closing portal and thrusting them below.

As the chaos subsided, the remnants of the battle dissolved into oblivion, seamlessly blending with the fabric of existence. All that remained was a burnt imprint on the ground where the pit had once loomed, a white cross within a circle, as if marking the burial ground of an unimaginable nightmare.

***

Gary the Miracle Boy arrived on Grim Island, the wind howling as if welcoming him to a world of secrets and magic. Hours had passed since he left behind the meddling medics who tried to keep him confined to the hospital, their concern for his injured eye veiling a deeper truth. Major Valdemir’s obvious guilt was even called into question, and they had begun demanding answers from the boy.

But Gary had other plans. His voice laced with determination and a hint of danger, he issued a chilling threat to anyone who dared stand in his way. “I swear, I’ll kill anyone who tries to stop me from getting on the next plane to Grim Island!”

And so, it was Chuck, the sympathetic Blackhawk pilot, who took pity on him. He allowed Gary to sit up front in the cockpit, feeling the hum of the plane as it soared through the skies toward their destination.

The boy instinctively touched his face, attempting to suppress the pain surging within him. His determination urged him onward to the exact location where the Sentinels of Magic had last been spotted alive. Not even the loss of his own eye would deter him from reaching his objective, even if it meant forever remaining in the dark about Valdemir’s haunting revelation regarding his parents’ demise. The orphanage, his childhood home, had only revealed the disheartening truth that his parents had passed away when he was a mere toddler of two years old. He had never found out more than that about his parentage, and it appeared that now he never would.

As Chuck smoothly landed the sea plane on the glittering surface of the ocean just offshore, the boy’s heart thumped with anticipation. He rushed to the hatch, flinging it open to embrace the salty air, stepping onto the pontoon beneath the aircraft. With a surge of adrenaline, he sprinted across the water, each stride in sync with his determination.

Chuck, the American member of the Blackhawks, maintained a steady pace, giving the awe-inspiring scene a moment of tranquility. From high above, he had concluded that the danger had passed. Plus, he understood the value of granting Gary a moment of solitude amidst the chaos.

Finally, Gary reached the scene of the battle, his eyes widening at the devastation that lay before him. The sight forced him to a halt, his body shaking with a mix of grief and disbelief. Slowly, he sank to the ground, unable to tear his gaze away from the book that had tumbled out from the pocket of the fallen hero, Harvard Yale.

Doc’s book, a constant companion he carried in life, now lay there, a silent witness to their last moments together. Gary’s hands trembled as he picked it up, his fingers tracing the pages filled with untold knowledge. The weight of loss pressed upon him, and he remained seated, absorbed in a sea of memories and unanswered questions.

Time seemed to lose its grip as Gary mourned, haunted by the lingering presence of the fallen Sentinels of Magic. He knew that this was just the beginning of a long journey, an odyssey that would test his every belief. But he also knew, as he held that book, that the answers he sought were not lost but waiting to be discovered. And amidst the ruins, a fierce determination ignited within him, a flame that would guide him through the darkest of times.

The boy sat like that for a long time.

***

A lot of changes took place on Grim Island after that final battle. And within the boy who had become its master and guardian, changes ran deep. Some were for the better, while others were not.

Gary’s heart weighed heavy as he recalled the difficult task he had faced. Leaving the island, his steps were heavy with reluctance as he journeyed to deliver the devastating news to Mrs. Constantine and her son, Thomas, that their husband and father would never return. It was a duty he had to fulfill, and he carried the weight of it heavily upon his shoulders as he paid further visits to rest of the Sentinels’ next of kin. To his mind it was unthinkable that someone from the army would end up performing that duty instead of him.

As the last remaining Sentinel, Gary knew he had a crucial role to play. He returned to Grim Island with the unwavering intention to remain there forever. It was his role to guard the pit from which the wretched monsters had emerged. With a fierce determination, he threw himself into a frenzy of construction. He built massive structures, from the foreboding metal and stone Doom’s Doorway to the Memorial Park that honored the Sentinels. Many other buildings were erected so quickly that to an outside observer it might have appeared that they had emerged fully intact from out of the dirt and sand. Gary’s innate psionic abilities, which grew more powerful by the day, helped him greatly in these tasks.

Every day, he would make his way to the Memorial Park. It was a place of solace for him, a testament to the people who had taken him in as an orphan and taught him the true meaning of sacrifice. Gary would gaze at the statues, honoring their memory. Deep within his soul, he knew he could no longer be the boy hailed as Gary the Miracle Boy. He had failed his team.

Gareth Gallowglass, for that was his true name, often found himself wondering if the guilt of his absence during the Sentinels of Magic’s time of need would ever fade. The bitter grip it had on his heart seemed impenetrable, and he feared it would remain so forever.

Continued in Secret Origins: The Books of Magic: Times Past, 1951: Founding Fathers

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