The Hero and The Sorceress

Frank Botello had lived in the city of Riverton for ten years and every year he told himself that this was it, he'd finally retire and get out of this crime-ridden shithole. He found himself mentally saying his yearly mantra as a masked man entered the lobby of Metropolitan Bank and approached his counter. It would be a nice quiet town with a local credit union he could work at for a few hours a week, yeah, that would be perfect. It would be a place where he didn't have to deal with people waving guns in his face or yelling at him.

Frank sighed, raised his aged hands and prepared to be the victim of yet another robbery. He looked up at the clock on the wall, damn...right before lunch too.

"Give me the fucking money," the masked man screamed! He pulled a shotgun from underneath his thick, brown coat and held the barrel a foot from Frank's chin.

"Just calm down, young man, I'll get your money. Do you want it strictly in one hundred dollar bills or is this an open the vault type job?"

"Get on the fucking floor, now!"

"Well, which is it? Do you want your money or do you want me to lay on the floor?"

"Well..." the robber paused, "money, give me the fucking money!"

"I'm going to need to lower my hands to get your money, can I lower my hands?"

Three other robbers wearing black ski masks and tactical gear came rushing into the lobby. They fanned out across the white marble floor, corralling hostages into glass partitioned rooms. Rick, the sixty-five year old security officer, was already handcuffed to his chair. They didn't even give that poor man a gun, just a nightstick.

"Hurry up!" The man with the shotgun shouted.

Frank nodded and lowered his hands, a single finger fell to the panic button underneath the table. "Alright, young fella. Do you have a bag for all this cash or will you need one?"

As if on queue the robber threw an empty duffle bag. It hit Frank right in the chest. He grunted and started stuffing stacks of one hundred dollar bills into the duffle, layering them in neat rows. Frank dreamed of his quiet place with a nice little garden where he could plant lily flowers.

Police sirens blared outside. They had come too quickly. The silent alarm should've taken a good fifteen or twenty minutes for a cop to get there, but they'd shown up almost instantaneously, damn, he was going to miss lunch for sure.

"Hey, Jeremy, it's the cops, man! It's the fucking cops," a short, masked man yelled! He slammed his back against the lobby wall and peered around the corner. He held a rifle in his hands, slung loosely by a black strap around his shoulder.

The other robbers took note and backed into cover as well. The lights from the police cars pierced the glass and steel partition of Metropolitan Bank's lobby doors.

The robber at the counter turned to the short man and rolled his eyes. "Really? You're using names? Is this your first fucking robbery, guy?"

"Hey, fuck you, Jeremy," the man with the rifle yelled, "you got us into this shit, now get us out."

Frank passed the overloaded duffle back.

Jeremy, the man with the shotgun, lifted the duffle by its strap and slung the bag over his shoulder. He grunted and stumbled, obviously surprised by the weight. "Keep your shirt on, BILL," he emphasized the name loudly. "Is that a fucking water pistol in your hands? Point it at the cops!"

"To the group in the Metropolitan Bank," a voice over a megaphone yelled from outside. "Come out with your hands up, it's over, we have you surrounded."

The third robber put his head in his hands and sobbed quietly. The fourth robber, by his side, smacked him. "Get your shit together, Cliff, we still have hostages."

"O...O-kay, Pete, just give me a second," Cliff managed to choke out between sobs.

Jeremy pressed himself against the wall and peered out through the lobby doors. A S.W.A.T van pulled up and men in full tactical gear poured onto the street.

"Ah fuck, it's S.W.A.T, we're dead, man, we're fucking dead," Bill groaned.

"Quit your bitching. We still have hostages, go get a few and bring them up here," Jeremy hissed.

Bill took off across the lobby and practically dove into one of the glass walled rooms. He came back with his rifle trained on a lovely woman, barely out of her twenties, and an older man in his late thirties, dressed in a thick gray coat.

The telephone near Frank's desk began to ring. The robbers turned towards the phone and eyed one another speculatively. Jeremy pointed to Frank. "Answer it."

Frank nodded and put it on speaker-phone.

"This is Lieutenant Hawkins of the Riverton Police S.W.A.T unit, who am I speaking with?" The voice rang with crisp authority.

Jeremy came closer to the phone. "Sam," he said gruffly.

"Alright, Sam. You obviously know the situation and you have to know you're not getting out of here, we've got the place surrounded. I don't want anyone getting hurt, Sam. If you come out now, that will be the end of it, you can let all these people go home."

Jeremy laughed. "Are you kidding me? We can't do that. I want a helicopter on the roof in one hour and I want a plane ready to go at the airport. You'll get your hostages once we're on board, otherwise they're dead."

Bill let out an exasperated breath.

"Alright, Sam. It's going to take some time, one hour won't be enough, can we make it two?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes again. "You have one hour." He picked up the receiver and slammed it down, ending the call.

Bill nudged the back of the young woman with the tip of his rifle and she let out a panicked sob. The man at her side squeezed her hand softly.

Frank looked up at Jeremy and wished he wasn't stupid enough to say what he was about to say. "Let me take her place. I'll be your hostage."

"What? You're out of your mind, old timer." Jeremy turned and was about to walk back to the hostages when Frank caught him by the cuff of his jacket.

"Please. It's not right to make a woman suffer like that, if you're going to kill someone, let it be me. I won't struggle, I won't fight, just...please."

Jeremy raised the butt of his weapon and was about to club the old man when he suddenly stopped. There was a fire burning in those eyes. The thief lowered his gun and nodded softly.

"Bill, put the lady back with the other hostages. This guy wants to take her place."

"Are you out of your mind, Jeremy, why are you taking requests from the fucking hostages," Pete asked in disbelief?

"Just do what I fucking tell ya, yeah?"

"Thank you," Frank whispered under his breath. He let go of Jeremy's coat and walked around the counter to the open lobby. He took the woman's hand in his wrinkled one. "It's going to be okay."

The woman trembled, her beautiful green eyes fresh with wet tears. Bill led her back to the other hostage room and she watched from the window.

"Ballsy move, old timer. If they don't get the helicopter here on time, you're going to die, you know that, right?" Jeremy asked.

"The measure of a man is not his wealth or his achievements, but the actions he takes when face to face with evil." Frank looked sidelong at Jeremy. "I will always stand against evil. I'll pray for you, young man."

Jeremy actually smiled. "I hope they don't make me kill you."

Dark storm-clouds wheeled overhead, racing across the skylights that made up the Metropolitan Bank's ceiling. The sun was lost amidst swollen, angry gray.

The minutes ticked by in tense silence, each one a reminder, to Frank, that his life was running out. The hour approached and the first drops of rain began to trickle against the glass.

At twelve fifty-five, the phone at Frank's desk rang and the sudden noise of it caused everyone to jump. Jeremy walked over and answered it.

"Yeah?"

"Sam, it's Lieutenant Hawkins again, we need more time. We've got your chopper ready, but we're having trouble finding a pilot for the plane. If you could just give us another hour we'll be ready to go."

Jeremy turned cold, angry eyes to Frank. "You have five minutes, lieutenant."

"Come on, Sam, be reasonable. We need to get--" Frank slammed the receiver against the cradle.

He walked over and put the shotgun barrel against the back of Frank's head, the weapon was raised so the cops and S.W.A.T could see the situation through the glass. The phone rang again but no one answered.

"Come on Jeremy, you can't just kill this guy, we'll be tried for murder," Pete pleaded.

"Shut up," Jeremy growled! "They need to know what happens to people that fuck with me."

"You don't have to do this. There are other ways, please, don't throw your life away," Frank urged.

"Sorry, old timer. It looks like we're going to hell together."

The clock turned to one, time was up.

The phone rang again.

Frank took a deep breath and thought for one last time about his quiet place. The wind outside howled and the rain came down in thick sheets.

"Goodbye, old man," Jeremy rasped. He raised his finger to the trigger.

A flash of thunder lit up the sky. The lights to the bank flickered and went out.

The man at Frank's side whirled suddenly, his body a blur in the dim light. His heel caught Jeremy high in the chest and with an explosive crash, the robber smashed through a decorative glass partition and came to a stop underneath the teller counter. The shotgun rolled across the floor and vanished underneath a desk.

Pete ran to Jeremy. Cliff raised his rifle and put his eyes to the sight. Bill caught the faint outline of someone diving into the shadows.

Moments later a hulking figure emerged from the dark and swept Bill's leg. The man fell backwards against the ground. His rifle roared to life.

Clack. Clack. Clack! The echoes from the gunfire were deafening.

A branch of lightning traced fire across the sky, blooming into a blinding white flash.

Cliff and Pete opened fire.

Frank fell to the floor and covered his head. The hostages screamed.

The hall filled with the symphony of war, but when the dust settled and the hail of bullets ceased, the man was nowhere to be seen.

"Pete, go get the hostages," Bill screamed.

Pete turned to run inside the glass room, but the shadow was on him immediately. He raised his rifle, but a thick fist caught him in the stomach. He wheezed as the breath exploded from his lungs and his body went flying.

Pete smashed through the glass entry-way and rolled into the street.

Bill and Cliff turned towards the hostage room and were about to shoot when the big man swept forward and punched; his fists crashed into their faces and their bodies slammed into the marble floor. The tile cracked from the force of impact.

It was over.

Tentatively, Frank got up and stared at the lobby in stunned silence. The robbers were down. Glass, empty shell casings and broken wood littered the floor.

The man walked towards him and into the dim light. "That was a brave thing you did."

Frank gaped. It had to be him. It just had to be.

"Ironhand?"

The big man nodded and clapped a hand on Frank's shoulder, with a soft smile he put a finger to his lips.

He wasn't masked or in his costume, he was just a normal every-day guy in street clothes. But it was him, it was Ironhand, the greatest hero Riverton had ever known.

"You're lucky I had some errands at the bank today," Ironhand laughed. It was a warm, deep sound that you could tell came from his belly.

The woman with the beautiful green eyes rushed into the lobby and swept Frank up in a desperate hug.

"Thank you," she whispered. She kissed his cheek.

"You were very brave," Ironhand added. "I wish I could stay longer, but too many people will see my face if I do. I'm trusting both of you with my greatest secret."

The woman turned to Ironhand and kissed his cheek as well. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Me too," Frank said.

Ironhand smiled and crouched. With a sudden lunge he leapt through the air and broke through the ceiling skylight. The glass and rain poured down over an empty stretch of marble floor beneath where he'd jumped. Lightning flashed overhead and just like that, he was gone, a figure fading amidst the storm.

* * *

After a few hours the clamor settled down and the crowds that milled about the street dispersed. Frank went to lunch and put in his two week's notice shortly after and the green eyed woman, after speaking with the officers, found herself alone in an alley near the bank. She leaned against the wall, gray overcoat soaked through, tangled black hair bunched about her neck. She threw back her head and laughed.

As she walked, the air around her body warped; her green eyes changed to cold blue, her black hair - which had been shoulder high - spilled down to her backside in waves, her gray overcoat grew brighter and longer, till it shifted to a red dress etched with black lines that clung tightly to her body and black, elbow length gloves appeared on her hands. "At last, I finally know what you look like, Ironhand!"

The Sorceress deftly wove her fingers together and blue energy crackled to life in the dreary shadow of the alley. The light rotated and began to pulse, like the rhythm of a beating heart. She moved her hand from side to side experimentally and as she did, the pulse in her palm would quicken or slow, trained to her target's whereabouts.

"A kiss will be your undoing..." Her ruby red lips creased to a smile and she walked deeper into the shadows. It was time to track her prey and take Riverton once and for all. Her magic was strong, but he had always proven stronger. Ironhand had been careful, too careful, over the past year since she'd arrived to this wretched city and she had never been able to touch him. The hero, Ironhand, was nigh invincible, but the man...she laughed again and with a wave of her hand she became someone else.

When she stepped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, she was a buxom blonde with long hair, a white dress shirt that strained against her massive bust, a smart gray suit jacket and a gray overcoat. The Sorceress crept along the streets, the pulse in her hand steadily getting stronger. She approached a busy intersection down-town and found she was the only person on the street not holding an umbrella, apparently everyone knew it was going to rain today except her.

"Miss, do you need a ride?"

She turned and saw a man looking at her from a silver Mercedes. He was handsome with strong features, soft eyes and a chin that looked like it was carved from granite. He was older, in his forties, well dressed, obviously one of the myriad of big tower office workers who called downtown home. The Sorceress leaned against the open window, which revealed a swell of pale, wet cleavage.

"How kind, I wouldn't want to ruin your seats though." She smiled as she watched his eyes fall to her blouse.

The man licked his lips and smiled back, "It's no trouble, I'd hate to leave you in the rain. Get in, please, I'll take you wherever you need to go."

She got in and sat down. Her suit jacket parted as she buckled her seat-belt, the cold rain had made the tips of her nipples poke through the fabric.

"Thanks for saving me, you're quite the gentleman! What's your name?"

The man's cheeks went fiery red as he noticed the state of her shirt. He placed his hands back to the wheel and cleared his throat. A silver ring was on his finger.

"James," he said quietly, voice cracking. "Yours?"

"Tanya." She undid a few buttons on her suit jacket. "So, James, make a habit of saving strange women on the side of the road?"

He chuckled nervously, "I wouldn't put it like that, but with crime-rates in the city being what they are, I just wouldn't forgive myself if I had the chance to help someone else, you know? I tell ya, things have gotten much worse since these super-villains moved in."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Destructo is probably the worst, I mean, he's the biggest arch-villain right now, but I've personally got my eyes on this new villainess that came into the city a few months ago. I don't think a lot of people know about her yet. Where am I headed, by the way?"

Tanya lifted her hand and moved it about the cabin, as she turned to the north the pulse in her palm grew stronger. "Turn left here."

James put on his blinker and merged into the left hand lane. They stopped at a traffic light at the intersection. His answer surprised her, she hadn't realized that she'd become so well known to the general public. Her biggest strength was illusion and magic that would let her control the minds of men, she had used it to great effect to keep her presence in the city relatively unknown. If the public knew about her, that was a huge problem.

"Really? I've not heard anything about a new villainess," Tanya said, genuinely vexed.

"I'm not surprised, I'm a criminal defense attorney and all the big rumors downtown say she can control people. We keep getting these complex cases downtown: big crimes, robberies, petty theft, gang violence, you name it, but you'd be surprised by the amount of people lately who have no memory of what they've done."

"Isn't that normal for criminals though? Like they're going for the insanity plea?"

James laughed. The light turned green. "Normally? Yeah, there's always the couple that try to get use the insanity angle, but it rarely works. The problem with insanity is, that you have to show proof you're insane, hard to do when you've followed a logical, thought out course of action. These criminals organize a heist, recruit people, have a plan of attack, but insanity by definition is an act that goes against logic. However, in the cases that have come about in recent months, these criminals are lucid, smart, and completely rational. These guys are the underbelly of the city and they know how to live on the streets and how to stay in the shadows, yet they're the ones who suddenly shoot up a bank or kill five people? It makes no sense. These are career criminals, the kind of top men you find running things, not foot-soldiers on the front-lines."

Tanya frowned at that. "How does that point to some new villainess? I don't see the connection."

A car merged over into their lane, James stepped on the brake abruptly and honked his horn.

"Well, that's the thing, the one aspect to these stories the criminals have in common is a beautiful woman. Like, I have this one guy in lock-up right now, who tells me this story about how he was at a bar downtown, he meets this girl, they go to his place and after that, nothing. The next thing he remembers is holding a gun and standing over a body. He said it was like waking up from a dream."

The rain came down in thick sheets over the city as night began to settle in. The sky was alive with a fierce flurry of lightning that would occasionally flash and leave behind a rumbling crescendo.

"Even though he says he can't remember her face, he remembers feeling funny, not quite right, you know? If there's a villainess out there who can do something like that, they could be the most dangerous person in the city. Just keep following this road?"

The Sorceress looked sidelong at James, that same frown etched into the skin of her beautiful face. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "Yes, just keep going. Are people taking the rumors seriously?"

"Oh no, just me and a few of my colleagues, I hate to say it, but I'm a bit of a conspiracy nut," James laughed. "Putting stuff like this together, I guess, is like my version of a soap-opera, you know? Just a way to relax."

"I see..." Tanya took out her phone and looked at the screen, no new notifications. "Oh cool," she began, "my friend has offered to pick me up at a parking garage near here for an early dinner, care to drop me off?"

"No, not at all. Where is it?"

"At the second stoplight take a right, it's on the corner there by Freznos, you know the place?"

He nodded. "Yeah, have you there in a second." James put on his blinker and merged into the furthest lane, after the second stoplight he made a right and followed the road half a mile till he turned into a dark parking garage.