Hero & Witch Pt. 05.3: Heroine Falls

Moving toward the center of the space, he moved to take Bevy first, but a growl from nearby made Bevy turn around and point in the direction where Striker was, before ducking and hiding behind another wall, nearly ending the game as quickly as it started, even if it was timed one.

"In case you're worried about her, don't be. She still safe and sound inside herself, sharing a special bond with a new roommate. To you, her conscious would look like a body wrapped in a chrysalis for butterflies, but a butterfly named Lacine has already emerged. I intend to take good care of her, and this body. Someone with a mind able to easily ignore suggestions of how heavy or light a witch's stone is, someone who can take a whole sleepy village and have them enslaved, only to be activated at the flip of a figurative switch. Someone with extensive knowledge of those equally useful American heroes, who might find themselves enjoying the space within a few stone circles. The pleasure, the whispers, the inseparable new friends they'll make. She'll be greatly rewarded for all she gives me. Funny thing is, she hasn't asked for very much."

"I have a connection directly to the basis of what makes her, her, freed from civilized bonds like we want to be free. She was so willing to turn on her good, heroic beliefs and succumb to me with the condition that I give her one thing - you. Mind you I don't think it's love or anything, but she is positively mad for that body. And maybe it's the symbiosis in me, or just having acquired a new body recently, but I can't blame her. You are quite the fine specimen."

He tried keeping track of where her voice was coming from, but it nearly echoed through the whole floor. Striker knew he needed to move faster, as that voice could easily begin echoing in the caverns of his own head if she stared concentrating hard enough.

"Jesse and I enjoying what you are and will be for us won't be as satisfying as the fact that I'm stealing away a specimen from a witch. Taking from her and everything she loves, even you. I bet you're interested to know what happened to your little crone when you found us gone."

Hesitation struck as his ears perked up at hearing Scryer's fate, just enough time for the canine to tackle Striker onto the ground. The vigilante was worried less about the what since he immediately knew it was a man. Rolling over to be on top, he was about to deliver a punch to the dog's face, finding Mark was the dog. He growled convincingly at him as Striker turned him over to bind his hands and feet together, ensuring he wouldn't be moving.

"Something tells me you've already met my little hell hound. Quite obedient and protective of his new owner, probably met a more peaceful fate than Scryer, for certain."

The light got closer to the muffled sounds Mark made through a gag Striker shoved in his mouth. In seconds Bevy's light shone on an angry struggling. Bevy was unable to make out the signs of warning Mark gave, as Striker grabbed him from behind, shutting off the light, and swept him off his feet, grabbing him to soften his landing to the ground. On the floor, Striker held him in a light sleeper hold he quickly succumbed to, as did Mark.

"I hope you enjoyed that little interlude. Figured I'd be nice; giving you a battle you can win before you lose the war. Now, where was I? Oh yes. Scryer's defeat. Would've been a sight if she didn't take the battle away from you. As it turns out, she underestimated both the psychics own abilities, and a little magical assistance from me. She must have a lot of pride, to think she could win a stand-off which she's lost more than one, and that was before me. She was stubborn about recognizing my superiority, not to your standard, but impressive enough."

The hero listened as he searched, trying not to put much stock into what she was saying, knowing it could be nothing more than psychological warfare.

"Psiana's power opened her up while I whispered as temptingly as a specter can, unyieldingly, until she began to whisper along with me, until she couldn't tell the difference between her whispers and mine. Until there was no difference."

He tried keeping himself afloat as Lacine's words did in fact turn to whispers that sounded like they were coming directly from his head. The walls of the cubicles grew disorientating, as he pushed forward onto what his ears told him might be where she was, before Lacine blocked the connection between his hearing and his mind.

"Witches look more appropriate on their knees, they don't even realize. It'll will be fun teaching them all their place. They're good for information too. Where the stone sites are, how to arrange them properly, she was even nice enough to give me one for this special little occasion; one she arranged herself, just for us."

Striker used his own concentration to focus on where her voice was the strongest. Turning a corner, he turned the flashlight taken from Bevy on, blinding who he'd finally been looking for. She ceased her talking, covering her face in her hands, giving him the opportunity he needed to close the distance and restrain her. Attempting to grasp her from behind, he didn't expect her to turn and grasp his face in her hands, no longer phased by the light, look of deep concentration on what was in front of her.

"Hello, naughty boy," her whispers reverberated against the mental wall, shaking it like an earthquake. "Welcome to the inner circle."

She tilted his head down to show the trap she'd set for him. So deadset on Lacine, he'd missed the circle he'd walked into, couldn't even sense it with his adrenaline so high. Most of the stones had the triquetra carved into their faces, probably signifying how powerful it was.

"I'm glad you found me, saves me the trouble of waiting for you mindlessly crawl to me."

Being so close to her, he could smell what Scryer meant when he said she smelled like a bad omen. It was as if the scent of rust tried to make itself smell sweet, with minimal success.

"Aw don't be like that. Take a deep breath in. You'll love this scent before long."

He glared at her angrily, held in place by her hands and unspoken suggestions that kept him still, while the pleasure slowly got his muscles to relax and just enjoy being. Despite still fighting, he still found himself breathing deeply, in and out. It was so easy for him to do so, that he closed his eyes, forgetting that he was told to breath and just doing so for himself."

"That's it, just-"

"You clueless, simpleton specters, so easily bested with your one-track minds."

A glow from somewhere in the circle grew brighter, enveloping the pair inside it.

The next thing Lacine knew, she found herself in a void of night. Full moon off in the distance, nothing on the horizon but stars. Though reminiscent of the realm she'd escaped from, this was much more beautiful, the kind of place she wouldn't mind being trapped in for a short time, just for the view.

She turned to find Striker several feet away, upright and lost-looking, like she'd had him at the office, before the light. She used her hands and concentrated on her power to bring him closer, but he didn't respond. To her horror, she couldn't even feel her powers working in this place. She talked toward Striker, only to have Scryer show up right next to him, very much not the subdued sorceress she'd thought she'd reduced her to.

Scryer gave the bewildered blonde a taunting grin, while waving her hand at Striker to fill his head with the perfume that made him breath so deeply minutes before, expunging the bad omen scent from his lungs. Heady vanilla in his system, he opened his hazy eyes to see traces of one of the one Lacine would've made him forget, sluggishly emerging from a light trance. His heart, mind, hands, began to ache at the sight of her, before she looked directly at him.

"The questions you must have now," she regarded the possessing entity making the blonde's eyes go wide. "The impossibility of this wrinkle in your plans, the crushing disappointment of reaching for the stars, not noticing how the were aligned in my favor. All that time spend 'taming' me, the misguided effort confusing whom was really instructing whom. I know it seemed that way with you directly using restricting, harsh words masquerading as soft, whispered suggestions; I wonder if you ever realized that your words were so harsh and restrictive because you were fighting the tide. 'What tide,' you'd ask. For your answer, the eyes have it."

"All the time you looked down at me, you never wondered why my eyes remained open amidst an innocent expression? You never bothered pondering the meaning behind the name 'Scryer?' Just thought it was silly sorceress tripe, didn't you? Witches like myself, we see and give glimpses into the future. Seers always have the standard fare crystal ball or pendant to use, there are so much more creative means. Literally just the reflective surface of my eyes is more than enough to show a person their future. Of course, being a natural mesmerizer as well lends my ability to interpret futures creatively as well. And while specters aren't easily affected by this, they can share special synergy with those who would be."

"That's right. Of course the psychic and I have had our little tussles every now and then, with her scorecard reporting higher wins. But it means little against first impressions and the willingness to experiment after. Psiana was mine for the taking everytime I met her, but every loss was nothing more than a test, to see what new spells and inductions would work on her and what wouldn't. I could've informed her what I was doing, but she made a much better test case thinking she stood a chance. You and I have taught her better than anyone how 'the mind is helpless to magic,' about 'mind over matter, but magic above all,' and certainly that 'magic enslaves the mind.'"

Pangs of elation and joy collided against Psiana and Lacine's weak attempt at resistance from the triggering phrases.

"You can feel those words affecting that body you're having trouble controlling now, aren't you? If you only knew the vast number of verbal triggers she responds to, ones she's unknowingly learned to associate with my eyes if the need arose. I hexpect nothing less from an obedient, less-than-hexemplary hexpert in matters of the mind. And just as Psiana adorably reacts to the freshly-applied weakening spells, so does Lacine. There's quite the Trojan horse analogy to make there, but it's rather confusing given possession. Perhaps reverse Trojan horse," she queried to the silently seething woman, read to dash to do what physical harm she could.

"No need to advance any further than that."

Lacine managed to get just within arms-length when Jesse's body just stopped and wouldn't cooperate in producing forward motion. The finger snap and intense, unblinking stare from Scryer anchored Lacine using Jesse.

"Don't struggle so much, my spectral friend. Rest on your knees if things get too heavy for you."

Another condescending suggestion and snap turned Jesse's legs wobbly, buckling at the knees as Lacine fought for balance, the remainder of her strength keeping her up while Jesse inside herself just wanted to sink down.

"I can't hexpress enough how glad that we're finally seeing eye-to-eye, on the same page as it were. And the longer we are eye-to-eye the more that page becomes full and detailed. Specters don't really have a fixed, tangible body or mind in my plane of existence, but there is a mind with Lacine somewhere. And with every consciousness for a mind, a subconsciousness hexists as well. A necessary counterpart for any being capable of thoughts. Through my eyes, it is the subconscious that has their future revealed to them. My words like ink and parchment, foretelling your future as I see it. And the longer you compliantly stare, the clearer your fate becomes. It is a fate you've already begun to live out, defined by the witch you mistakenly bore a grudge against. You plotted against her using superheroes to further your schemes, made choices you thought were sound, but notice how all those choices led you here, under my power, a fate you chose as much as it was chosen for you. You didn't want to admit that you were assisting in your own humbling, and fought against the tide as best you could. But the tide of fate takes all of us forward, and as it will happen anyway, I can only tell you to stop resisting it. Give in to the tide like you give in to me. Cool blue waters in our eyes, the ocean of my eyes flooding my will into your small pond as you feel it smooth out and become undisturbed, at peace with its fate."

Whatever storm Lacine tried to produce as imagery to battle Scryer's suggestions, she couldn't shake the feeling of being in the eye of the storm, where things were most calm, where she could watch her conjured hurricane fizzle out into exactly what the spellcaster said she should see.

"And unfortunately, I don't see Striker in your future. His fate leads elsewhere, currently adrift, thrown into the turbulence of a perfect storm, one of concentration, resistance, and irresistibility. Weathering the storm as best he could, the future destined to him, one he wants more than anything, is to return to what he can call home, familiar waters and territory. He has a glimmer of hope on the horizon, to return to the sea that be a hypnotic mistress. My attention turned to you all this time, and he's just waiting for me to turn my head. My heroic toy taken back under just at the sound of my voice, at the need to search with his eyes. Turning his way must be what fate would interpret as a lighthouse guiding his way home with the luster of my eyes, or the siren singing through my eyes to bid his return to me a safe, inevitable one. You should see how grateful he is when the fates smile upon him."

After an eternity of waiting, he found the eyes of his owner, blue waves in hers crashing at the sandy brown beach of his, throwing him at her mercy. His forehead fell forward, softly butting hers.

"What do we say now, pet?" Scarlet fingernails traced from the back of his neck to his cheek, teasing his skin after letting his face mask fall away.

"Fuck you..." his voice trailed off after speaking breathlessly, knowing she purposefully swooped in at the last moment to rescue him, knowing how frustrated, hot, and aching he felt for a number of reasons, all of them having to do with her.

Scryer gave her own evil smile, much more satisfied with the expression of feelings surrounding those words that time, the raw need in his voice. Stepping into his eager grasp at her waist, they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, taking a journey of azure of his own volition, desperately wanting to embrace the crimson, but waiting for her to give the order. He never noticed the deafened scream from Lacine depleting the last bit of fight from strained muscles, brought to her knees with a final snap of her fingers. Lacine demanded through Psiana's eyes to know how this had happened, how everything in her grasp had vanished like she never had it. Scryer turned to stare down at her fallen opponent.

"Enjoy never having what I possess, who I own, for ever and ever," she tells her before snapping her fingers at her face to plunge her into deep trance. Scryer merely had to turn her head to face him, to set Striker off. Aggressively pulling her into his arms, he began to devour her lips with a tigerish hunger, passion he'd been holding back and been tempted with since his arrival in the UK. The kiss grew from rough to slow, but the passion burned hotter as Scryer's hand reached down to squeeze his ass cheek possessively. He gasped and pressed harder against her lips, lifting her off the ground, pinning her to a nearby wall that didn't exist in that realm, feeling overcome by another trigger Jon Task was yet wasn't familiar with. The sorceress lost herself enough to let her heels slip from her feet and wrap her legs around his torso, riding the friction he created, edging toward what their bodies screamed for in stimulation. The pair savored each other until they pulled back for the need to breathe. She smiled as she watched the hero fade but his need remain intact, giving him another hypnotic kiss, using the pressure from her legs wrapping tighter to induce a more mindless depth. Quicker than he expected after the second time, she leaned back in but with her eyes to get close to his already-glazed ones.

"Journey of azure, lover."

He'd already taken it, but smiled helplessly at enjoying the command of being told to. Uncoiling herself from him, she guided the twice-triggered fighter to the floor, and produced another cloud of her perfume to get lost in, letting his body and mind know beyond a doubt that he was in Scryer's trance again. There was no place on earth that made him happier as he dreamed of more coupling and service for his witch.

Scryer regarded the defeated woman before her.

"Two beings of animus, contained in one space

let your inclinations, leaning toward me and mine, efface."

Jesse's face was drawn upwards, blankly staring at the victor of their conflict, while Scryer told her to look deeply into her eyes, to be shown her future the witch would lyrically narrate to her. Through mesmerization of an astonishing depth, both Psiana and Lacine were subdued even more, their sense of selves shrunken subatomic. Her words isolated one from the another with precision, and the heroine was removed from her cocoon. The specter was sent back to her own realm, seen as a flare from Jesse's eyes, evaporating into nothingness. Scryer helped Jesse come to terms with the fact that Jon and Striker could be nothing more to her than comrades at best. She was convinced of her disinterest for the hero, and respect the measure of power the witch had was too high to confront. It could've been easy to convince her of being a fellow heroine out on her own, but posing herself as neutral in the heroines mind would be more fun; the look of Psiana's uncertainty and inferiority would be reason enough to play villainess every once in a while, and then resetting her character back to neutral.

When she was satisfied with her work, Scryer returned to the office with two hypnotized heroes lying at her feet. After gathering the stones, she had everyone follow her to the exit, thanking Wayne on her way out with a suggestion of forgetfulness of that night would feel like a warm massage. Before reaching the hotel, they were commanded to return to her hotel room and forget all that had transpired, remembering a night preparing for their day off. They all did as they were told, except Jon, following a special command to pack his overnight bag and spend the evening at her hotel in the city.

***

Unlike the rest of their co-workers, Sabrina and Jon had spent the entire day in bed, enjoying room service and a series of afterglows, preceding and following loud screams and orgasms that garnered at least one noise complaint. The bellhop that asked them to keep the noise down was nice about it, and as he admitted, envious of what he'd heard on his way to their door. Jon almost blushed in embarrassment as he apologized for the noise wearing just a bedsheet, unable to fully hide his erection under the sheet, or to ensure he could keep their excitement down. The sounds of other people in nearby rooms caught their ear, Sabrina wondered if some of her suggestive commands during love-making had been received outside the walls of her room.

It was near dusk when they waited for dinner to be delivered, laying by each other to see the sun setting from the great view she had from her room. They hadn't talked too much. He had a lot of questions. He was sure he asked when she made it out there to visit, but she hadn't answered. All day, they let their bodies do the talking, and when they didn't sleep, they enjoyed silence. It was an unspoken pact between them, something they enjoyed together.