Hero & Witch Pt. 01: A Hero Falls

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A hero encounters and beautiful sorceress.
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Part 1 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 08/05/2017
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mechan11
mechan11
243 Followers

The door to the rooftop of a midtown apartment building opened, the man who opened it surveyed the roof, making sure that he was alone there. It was nearly midnight, with a full moon hanging over the entire city like a watchful eye, waiting to see what would unfold. Most people on that roof would've been there to enjoy the warm summer air of night, maybe for a smoke or a late-night tryst. The man who stood alone on that roof was there for an entirely different reason: to protect the building's occupants, the neighborhood, and places stretching far around them if need be.

When the sun was overhead, the man would be working at his day-job in the city, just another hard-working, unassuming citizen. At night, many nights like this one, he dressed himself loosely for physical combat and took on the persona 'Striker.' In a city full of a variety of heroes and even superheroes, Striker was a much lesser-known title among the public eye and criminal underworld. As he only recently became Striker, his name hadn't gotten around as much. He wouldn't have expected it to though; it was hard to measure-up to those who could fly, were genius inventors, managed mystical feats, and could withstand the likes of bullets or bombs. Essential all Striker had were his wits, years of honed martial arts skills, determination and will to combat foes. A lot of the time, that ended up being all he needed. Villains of all types, super-powered or not, regarded him as a miniscule threat, and that underestimation led to their undoing at Striker's hands.

Tonight, as Striker didn't have a line on any big cases or events, was simply on patrol. Near the edge of the roof, he took watch of his neighborhood to see who or what might pop-up. It saddened him that he didn't need to look further than his own neighborhood to find consistent trouble, but that was his motivation for becoming a hero in the first place, and he was perfectly alright with sticking to his own neighborhood to fight crime most of the time.

It didn't take long before he saw two people walking down an alleyway toward the main street. One looked like a woman casually walking toward the busy street ahead, the other behind her looked like someone actively stalking the woman. That was his cue as he began to make his way toward the building's fire escape. He was a few steps away from it before something flashed at him; something flashed in him to be exact. It was just a split-second of a mental picture, but the impression was clear in his head, and the details were easy to grasp.

He and another person were on the same roof where he stood. He was kneeling for some reason, looking dazed and out of it. Even stranger was his kneeling in-front of a witch-costumed woman sitting crossed-legged on the roof's surface, gesturing to him.

Striker shook his head and looked around the roof to see if he was still alone. It stunned him a bit to immediately see that he wasn't, and even more to see who it was - the woman from his mental flash. Her eyes were closed, and it looked like she was meditating. She was dressed like a stereotypical witch, the kind he was used to seeing at Halloween as a child; dark one-piece dress, navy stockings, black heels, even the typical hat over fiery red hair to match. Despite the cosplay nature of her look, he was inclined to take her more seriously for some reason. If people could take his sleeveless shirt, sweatpants, and cloth mask seriously, why couldn't he grant her the same courtesy?

Her eyes opened, revealing a piercing blue, and a smile to compliment. He blinked several times to make sure this wasn't some sort of illusion, but blinking didn't make things any clearer as he still saw the same woman. Looking at her gave him the feeling of looking at a mirage, wondering if this was some kind of trick. Her being a mirage made it seem more plausible as he saw her levitate herself off the ground, high enough that bringing her legs down meant that her heels perfectly touched the ground. He shook his head one more time to make sure she was real; the only change was her widened smile, entertained by his disbelief.

Blue eyes held his brown, bewildered ones for nearly a minute as they stared each other in silence. As her gaze shifted to something near Striker instead of directly at him, he noticed the turn and began to wonder what had caught her eye. The mugging attempt he witnessed before she appeared rushed back to his mind, and his body tensed as it moved to do what he originally intended. He could only hope he wasn't too late in acting, but his body was delayed movement again as he heard "wait" coming from the woman's direction.

Besides noticing the distinguished accent of her voice, it struck him how quickly he responded to her request. He had an innocent woman to save, and yet the wonder of mysterious woman rooted him in place, who or what she was and what she wanted from him. "Wait for what?" Striker screamed in his mind. He would've struggled out of inaction were it not for watching a few people from the direction of the street come to the woman's aid. The mugger was pushed away and the woman safeguarded, followed by a cop appearing almost out of nowhere to chase the perpetrator back down the alley.

It was rather surreal for Striker, to watch all of what he saw go down, to see his neighborhood temporarily transform into one that was all-too-willing to help someone in-danger, including a vigilante inspired by no one else daring to step up. The mystery behind him kept him from dwelling over the pride of a neighborhood growing a conscious as he turned back toward her.

She still stood there, staring at him. The smile hadn't changed, but something in her expression was different. The best he could guess was some sort of satisfaction, like she was pleased with him acquiescing to her request.

"Thank you," the woman said, finally breaking the silence.

"...for what?" he asked behind the cloth covering his face from nose to chin.

"For waiting like I asked you to."

Besides the questions of who she was, where she came from became just as important. The accent in her voice was strong, and easily suggested she wasn't from around here, let alone this country. The city practically housed aliens from other worlds now, but sound of her voice seemed even more exotic; he could easily trace the accent to somewhere from Europe, like Ireland or Scotland, but it sounded so beautiful to his ears. Just listening to it made him want to know more about her, and hear more from her.

"Who are you?"

"I'm not sure you'd be able to pronounce my name properly. For now, you can call me Scryer."

"Scryer?"

"Yes, Scryer, as in a seer, someone who can see unseen things that have yet to come."

"Why did you want me to wait?"

"I think you know why."

The way he looked at her suggested he was unconvinced.

"But in case you're still trying to piece things together, I saw what would happen to that woman, her being saved by others, before your eyes ever saw her."

Striker's head turned toward the empty alleyway below, replaying the sequence of events in his head, wondering if he really should take Scryer's word that all of it happened, even though it did. Briefly the thought of the cop chasing the mugger came to mind, how he would've ambushed the mugger to make it easier for the cop. But he now had other, stranger matters to attend to.

"Ok, impressive trick. Why did you choose to show it to me? Looking for a standing ovation?"

"Not that I wouldn't mind one, but that trick was more a matter of timing. It just happened to happen as I wanted to meet you."

"And why did you want to meet me?"

"You are Striker, one of the city's heroes, are you not?"

"I am. Are you a hero yourself?"

"Can't say that I am, no."

"Does this mean I need to worry about you?"

Scryer watched the hero opposite her on the rooftop in amusement. His posture changing and his arm and probably leg muscles were tensing so subtly, in a way meant to prepare his body for combat while not making it obvious to his enemy what was coming. He might as well have entered a fighting stance or charged at her; she was used to reading people's body language, especially when it came to their reaction to her powers.

She held one palm up to discourage any action he might've taken. "If you're asking if I'm some kind of supervillainess, I'm not one of those either."

Her gesture was ignored as Striker kept his body battle-ready. "So, what are you?"

"The simplest explanation, a witch. A magical practitioner of the mysterious sort," she said while making a strange hand gesture like it was some kind of incantation. Striker watched it carefully to see if it was.

"I don't fight on either side of the law, for this city, or anyone else's sense of law. I suppose it would bother you if I was a supervillainess, wouldn't it?"

"Since we'd want different things, with you doing as you please at the expense of innocent people, and me trying to protect those people, most likely."

"Well, I wouldn't want you fighting me, so I'm glad that I'm not one."

He noticed something in that cryptic smile of hers; no matter how beautiful she looked or how nice her voice sounded (sometimes the mark of a supervillainess), something, several things about her seemed off to him.

"So, you just wanted to meet a hero, is that it?"

"A superhero, actually."

"Sorry to disappoint you then; 'super,' I'm not. You'll have to wait to see if one of the higher-profile ones make a public appearance."

"I actually did, hence why I'm here."

Now Striker got the sense he was part of some elaborate prank.

"First off, a rooftop isn't exactly 'public'. And second, what makes me 'super' to you?"

"I suppose my definition of 'super' might seem a bit strange to you, so allow me to expand on what I mean." She turned her attention away from Striker for the first time and toward the closest rooftop edge, out to the city.

"This city does have its fair share of heroes, all with some unique abilities you won't find anywhere else in the world, or even beyond that. Its amazing how these heroes have come about over time, and have even inspired more unassuming heroes like yourself. Honestly, you're not the first hero I've encountered. While amazing, these near-deities in public eyes seem deficient in a way I never thought possible."

"That way being?"

"Mental fortitude."

That made Striker's brow raise up, and then both raised when she looked back at him.

"In their presence, unbeknownst to them, a witch with my skills would sense what they themselves couldn't see - a lack of mental fortitude. Of course, it would be hard for anyone to know how strong of mind they are with nothing to gauge or no one to compare it to. You'd be amazed at the level of gullibility in some heroes. It's staggering."

That made Striker think to himself for a moment. He'd met some superheroes before, mostly in the course of big events that needed more than one hero present to save the day. They were good acquaintances, even friendly in his presence. Though Striker kept his distance and didn't prefer public exposure, he had no problem being seen amongst other heroes from time-to-time. Spending time with some of them though, he was privy to finding out things about them most would never know. Some of their personalities surprised him, for better and for worse. Scryer's words of rang more true than he wanted them to be; he could only imagine how citizens would view heroes if they knew what he knew. Hell, if supervillains knew what he knew. Their core was filled with goodness, but sometimes wasn't supplemented with much book or streets smart as one would hope. Maybe that's why one of the hero psychics he met considered him 'just as useful'. He always thought it was because he stepped up to help, and not because he had what others didn't.

"I wonder if you underestimate some of the heroes you say you've met, Scryer."

"I wish that were true Striker, I really do. But it does kind of make sense. Some heroes simply play to their strengths, they're able to do great things with their power, and fortunately act selflessly as they do prevent terrible accidents, or stopping others with powers who actively act with no regard for anyone else. You stand as one of them, yet one of your key strengths isn't easily seen or documented. Every night you step out of your comfortable world, armed with little more than a few hidden tools like rope or martial arts weapons, honed fighting skills at normal human strength, and wits, and you fight against those who you normally wouldn't stand a chance against. Yet you do, and you succeed. It can simply be chalked up to luck or divine help or courage, but willpower like yours makes a difference in the most amazing ways."

"And what about cops, firefighters? Maybe you should be complimenting those guys like you do me."

"They do deserve recognition, but your comparison is still off. Police and fireman act as a joint force to combat mostly everyday problems among citizens, and receive payment for their services. Striker is neither paid nor forced to fight for the preyed upon. What makes you want to fight for them?"

"Because I can, because I'm able. Everyone is, even if they don't believe it. You have some skill to you, yet you won't."

"At my leisure, I will."

Striker had just about had it with Scryer's attempt to dissect his motivations for being a hero. He couldn't foresee this conversation going anywhere substantial, so he prepared to move the next set of rooftops to patrol.

"Well, speaking of leisure, I'm going to use mine to see what else is worth looking into."

Before he started moving, he saw her smile turning cryptic again, as her hand stared making another weird, intriguing gesture. Her hand raised toward him, and ended with a snap of her fingers in his direction. At that second, she completely disappeared from sight. He blinked as hard as he could, thinking it was another illusion or his eyes being made to play tricks on him.

"What's the hurry," was playfully whispered in his ears. Striker jumped a few feet back from the roof edge and Scryer who somehow transported herself next to him without a trace of movement. He rolled back toward the center and stayed crouching in a defensive stance.

Nothing was said between them as Scryer effectively stood in his way of patrolling, and Striker gathered his wits as quickly as he could to ask "how did you do that?"

"A simple sorcery skill, one of many," she smiled

"Scryer, you say you wanted to meet a hero, or 'super'hero. Apparently you have before and this time you got to talk to one. What else do you want?"

"A small test."

"A test of what?"

"Your willpower."

Striker began thinking of his options, what techniques he knew for escaping or for restraining her, if that was even possible. She interrupted his thinking, trying to calm him down.

"Really Striker, I'm not here to fight you. I'm sorry for startling you like that, but I didn't want to leave before telling you about the test. Please, I promise you have nothing to fear from me."

Striker held her gaze as sternly as possible.

"Were you really sorry?"

"I won't lie and say I never have fun when I use that, so I'm half-sorry. And you might as well relax yourself; you won't be going anywhere until I'm done explaining."

Scryer happily watched the confusion on his face appear, as he loosened himself a bit, and then rose to test her claim. The closer he got to an edge of the roof, the more something stopped him in his tracks. It was as if she'd created some kind of field around the rooftop, something that sapped his energy and momentum the more he pushed against it, or entered it. If that wasn't weird enough, the invisible field came with a suggestive feeling of moving back to the center of the roof, toward her, and giving him just enough energy to do so.

He frustratingly turned toward her when he was done testing. "More simple sorcery?"

Scryer shrugged. "Not exactly simple, but effective, wouldn't you say?"

He approached her like he would another warrior, showing no signs of apprehension or fear. He hoped to give her a feeling of intimidation, but the look in her crystal blue eyes told him she knew he was the one full of both emotions.

"So, your test involves mind games?"

"In a way, yes. Testing your willpower."

"How?"

"Testing it against my powers."

"Haven't you already?" he asked, assuming some of what she used was mental trickery.

"Not really, and this test is different. A witch like me is more an observer of the world more than anything. Always looking from the outside in, wanting to interact with it more, but holding back as a matter of safety."

"A city full of people with crazy powers and you're still worried about standing out?"

"Yes, as you can imagine, witches have a history of wanting to remain hidden from society; that feeling lingers. But it hasn't quelled the desire to interact more and test my powers on those who interest me. I've cultivated my powers for decades, always curious as to who I could affect, and how much; but I rarely get the chance to do so. While I am confident that no man or woman can resist, because none have yet, there are still challenges out there like yourself, one where you just know you're in the presence of great strength and want to know for yourself where you stand against him. And of the few I've tested my skills against, a smaller number were ever directly told that they were being tested, like yourself. Though you've been told, while I assume you may not stand a chance against me, I'll never really know until I try. If in the course of this test you don't fall into my influence, that will be the end of it. You'll go on about your nightly activities and won't be bothered by me."

"And if you win?"

"If I happen to win, hmmmmm..." she thought to herself, trying to brandish a wicked smile while thinking of the possibilities.

She looked back at him to see if it shocked him, and giggled as his eyes did get wider.

"I'm sorry Striker; I couldn't help myself. It's not a matter of winning, but if I happen to 'win,' you still have no need to worry. I wouldn't make you do unbecoming a hero, or the public standards of a hero. Anyone who's fallen to me has experienced nothing but bliss and happiness in their minds and bodies, so I can promise you the same."

Scryer was happy to see him looking away, deep in-thought, considering her offer. She didn't expect him to take her offer lightly, but she did expect his response to be a decline. How he declined surprised her though, as he moved to the roof's edge again, only for his energy to be totally sapped away and ushered back towards her again. He looked at her almost accusingly.

"You said until you were done explaining. You stated the name of the game; never said I had to go along with it."

"Smart boy," she remarked in her mind.

She smirked as she slowly approached the stunned, trapped hero.

"Actually, I wasn't done explaining," she told him as her crystal blue eyes were fixed directly on his. "You may appreciate a few small tips or bits of information about this process. For example, one of the best ways to test a perceived strong will would be staring into their eyes. That's right, staring into your eyes, like you're staring into mine, with intensity, and a clear intent. My eyes have been known to sparkle and dazzle another's if you look into them long enough, but I'm sure big, brown handsome ones won't let that happen. For now, just look into my eyes, listen to my voice, and feel your hands in mine. Concentrate on nothing else but the feel of my hands, the sound of my voice, the sight of my eyes."

There was silence between them as their eyes spoke enough between them. Striker put up his strong resistance hoping to somehow push back against her stare and her words. Scryer's eyes matched his intensity, but spoke as suggestively as her words did with an inviting stare, nicely asking his to look and take a dip into her shining blue pools. It was an invitation his eyes didn't readily accept.

mechan11
mechan11
243 Followers