Hero & Witch Pt. 05.1: Heroine Falls

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Preparations are made for heroism and magic to collide.
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Part 5 of the 7 part series

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

Jon sat in the passenger seat of his car, checking over some documents from work when he noticed Sabrina returning, probably from the five-star hotel she said she wanted to check on, for some reason. He didn't ask at the time why she had her eye on such a place, as if either of them, or both of them combined could reasonably afford a room there. He figured he'd ask about it later, until her expression became clearer as she approached the car. The hurried, flustered gait of her approach gave away how upset her face turned out to be. "Annoyed" looked like the tip of the iceberg.

"And the hits just keep on coming" is what he thought he heard from her as she got in the driver's seat and started the car. There was silence between them as she pulled out slowly into traffic. To Jon, it didn't look like Sabrina was going to indulge in any road rage, but the clear look of controlled anger on her face scared him a little.

Against his better judgment, he decided to speak.

"I don't know what is upsetting you, but is there any way I can help?"

Sabrina turned in his direction at the next red light, looking indignantly at him. They both knew he believed the question to be a futile attempt to appease her, and that he had balls for even trying to ask with the vibe she put out.

"No," she replied evenly. "Not yet."

"Ok," he said simply, accepting the mercy he was granted, curious about the "not yet."

Jon never knew he'd heard Sabrina correctly as she approached the car. She'd run into a string of inconveniences in the past few weeks, a few months after she began her role-playing adventures. The hotel she'd come out of had been the latest bust in her plans, a failed back-up, apparently one of many. A world-famous celebrity band had come to town, taking the penthouse suite she planned to "borrow" soon for her games, and it seemed every hotel in town worth Scryer's attention had become suddenly full. Her initial choice of play was an abandoned building she scouted that was just recently set for early demolition. The suite balcony she'd found in her venue scouting surpassed her previous expectations as it would seem like exactly the kind of place a powerful sorceress would appropriate for herself, certainly worth the effort of convincing the concierge, maids and whatever other staff was necessary that it was hers for a night or two. But hopes of that dream setting were dashed as quickly as they were realized.

Besides that, Sabrina had planned to revisit Jesse, or more specifically her heroic alias in the past two weeks for more playing. But in prepping those meetings, as a means of fairness, if for some reason she didn't show, Jesse would have a daydream where Scryer and Psiana would face-off to a stalemate, or Psiana would somehow become victorious, and the witch would flee. All four times in the past two weeks Sabrina couldn't make it. The first time was more her fault, as Jon spontaneously took her in his arms one night, kissing behind her ears, which distracted her long enough to take Sabrina's lips in a fiery kiss. In one of the first post-hypnotic triggers she'd installed in him, it was all too easy to turn that kiss to her advantage, but she forgot he could be as compelling as she was when it came to enticing the other. In the kindled heat produced, she forgot about Jesse and everything else that night. The next three times though, either Jesse had been unavailable when Sabrina was free, or work somehow interfered.

It felt like the bad omen of clustered disappointments were descending upon Sabrina once again. Occasionally in her life, a series of random setbacks, obstacles, or defeats would descent upon her. As a kid, she never understood why it would all come her way in a short period of time. As her life usually went swimmingly well, she could hardly complain about it often, though she found herself being superstitious because of it, watching out for and dreading any sign of disappointment, expecting a domino effect to follow. She hoped she would've left the omen behind after immigrating to America, considering how at least one occurrence among the cluster always had to do with a relative of her generation deliberately doing something; it'd been no such luck outside of Ireland. The last string she could remember ended with the loss of a boyfriend, and it scared her a little that things were happening again revolving around another, a better one, the best she could ever remember having. Scary enough the omen seemed to be indirectly aiding a woman she grew to like less the more she knew, but still strung along like a puppet.

Sabrina looked over at Jon as she pulled to another red light.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what," he asked.

"For asking."

***

She'd felt better later in the day, spending time at his place, watching him react to her suggestions. Sabrina sat cross-legged on her side of his bed, in one of his buttoned work shirts, brainstorming with pen and paper in her lap, stack of comics nearby. His surface thoughts were nearly bare except for when she asked him questions, and the only thing that could pass for clothing was Scryer's witchy hat, covering his crotch. Like the night of their characters' first introduction, he was sexually besieged by the hat's interior, sinking his crotch and by extension all of him into a familiar state of inescapable bliss.

She never thought using it like that would be more than a one-time fun gag, until he tried surprising her once at her place with it. Laying across her sheets coyly, nothing more than a rose in his mouth, and the tall hat's pointy end phallically, suggestively pointed at her did entice her as intended. His plan worked, and yet backfired as he didn't consciously remember what Jon or Striker was supposed to feel under those conditions. She arrived to find his hands gently gripping the hat's rim and the rose nearly pruned from biting down hard when his mouth wasn't moaning, riled up and confused as Sabrina quickly figured out his play and his error, turning it all into a power play for Scryer.

Neither were really fulfilling their role as vigilante or sorceress during her brainstorming; it just helped her creative juices flow with the air of their sensual play permeating the bedroom. She'd accidentally spent the night before planning until dawn, excited in what she thought was to be the perfect set-up she could arrange, before it became a bust. She was surprised she wasn't sleepier at that point, but time grew short for the game she wanted to play in the next few days, so she needed all the inspiration she could get, especially with no set venue. Sabrina had a general plot for their next scene, or scenes in her head. Being an amalgamation of some referenced mind control scenarios plus ideas she came up with in her youth, it was the most complex endeavor she had yet. But her confidence in the role kept her from worrying about how she would pull it off once she became Scryer. The other details were more worrying question marks on the pad of paper in her lap. There was no place satisfying enough she could think of to settle on, whether there would be any guess appearances like Psiana, whether there'd be any new tricks to play, or suggestions to embed.

The redhead sighed sourly in her palms, feeling the mounting disappointment omen loom over her more and more, a disposition mismatched next to Jon's delicious stupor. Unfortunately he didn't have anything substantial to contribute for options either, whether lucid within a light trance or locked in a buzzing arousal of caresses that kept him hard but not on an edge under her hat. Settling for another standard fare of their role-playing was by no means a disappointing idea on its own, but she opted for something special to combat the potential letdowns coming the following week.

Sabrina's vibrating cell phone shook her from her thoughts. Seeing the familiar number on the screen, she stroked Jon's chest tenderly and kissed his forehead, urging him to keep enjoying the power of her hat. He smiled and gently nodded as she left the bedroom.

"Hi Mom," Sabrina replied cheerfully. "Isn't it late over there?"

"Evening my little rose," a cultured, accented voice intoned. "Wedding planning can be an all-hours job. You seem to be up in the wee hours yourself. Burning the midnight oil?"

"You could say that," Sabrina smirked, ears perking at faint moans behind the closed door. "A busy few weeks ahead."

"Indeed. I hope you haven't forgotten one of those weeks includes a family that rather not see you estranged."

"Not all of them," she stated in her head. "Mother, lots of families barely hear from each other except for a few times a year, and they're not dysfunctional."

"American families, surely. Even some Irish ones, but I'd like to think our family is close-knit enough to where it's not six months before we hear from each other. When you crossed the pond, I didn't expect you to call everyday, but I had a smaller time-frame in-mind when I told you to 'keep in touch.'"

Sabrina shook her head on-cue at her mother's somewhat overbearing sense of family values.

"It's easy to say that since most of the family is still clustered together. I bet Lacy doesn't even plan on moving very far from Dublin, does she?"

"You shouldn't fault her for appreciating where she comes from, and wanting to raise a family here."

The Marks' affluence in Ireland meant more than likely that a nanny might be doing most of the raising, but Sabrina didn't press on that thought. She was remiss to mention the wedding or anything that entailed afterwards for fear of her life being put under the microscope. She wanted to keep her energies positive, and on things outside of family while she could.

"The dates haven't changed, right? Nobody's getting cold feet?"

"Child! Please don't even think such things. Keep your prayers on their 'I do's.'"

"Ok, sorry Mom."

"Still a week from today. Please inform me or your aunt about your arrival plans so we can have someone pick you up."

"I will let someone know," she replied, the disingenuousness in her commitment well-hidden, as how she usually liked it with her mother. "Now please get some sleep, Mom; late nights probably invite more grey hairs, you know," Sabrina poked at her mother's superstitions one last time.

"Silver," Alexandra Marks corrected. "Silver hairs. And thank you for your concerns. Sleep well, little rose."

Sabrina wished she could be guaranteed one that night, but she made her way back to Jon's bedroom, knowing it might be all night before she might reach something satisfying to work with.

***

Sabrina woke at in her bedroom, staring at the small alarm clock with tired, unhappy eyes. Smacking it off the nightstand for the mocking sound it made was a small victory, but the only one to claim. She'd excused herself from Jon's apartment, not trusting herself to get any serious brainstorming done with his naked, hypnotized form so close. Coming home at 3am didn't improve things, and she had to work on only two and a half hours of sleep after two days, throughout the new day. Both in her bathroom and the closest mirror to exiting her apartment, she laughed at her appearance instead of recoiling in horror.

"So this is what a working stiff looks like," she mused to herself. Talking to her mother so recently gave her a small sense of pride. She was probably the only one of her generation in the Marks lineage who could resemble having middle-class problems, let alone the only one who ever tried to make it on their own, independently of the family money. The Marks' wealth wasn't necessarily ancient 'old money,' as it was Sabrina's grandfather that broke away from dirt-farming into business ventures and smartly cultivated a stable increase from his first million on. It helped that they married into money occasionally, like Lacy was soon to. Sabrina resembled the rest of her family in the pursuit of power, but she most resembled her Aunt Maxine, a savant at messing with people's heads. Maxine set the tone for how women maintained power in their relationships, and everyone followed from Maxine's sister on down; Sabrina being Maxine's inevitable apprentice of sorts made the power with the mind a priority over power with money. She traveled to America to educate herself and have it down to a science, willing to make it on her own steam after college, and did so to the surprise of some, except her aunt. Maxine was truly the only one she was looking forward to seeing the next week.

The redheaded hypnotist arrived at work, and the looks she got matched how she felt, like crap. Even her typical attractive, professional dress most were drawn to when they saw her didn't mask the slight lack of confidence in her step, and the stern face showing obvious regret from having gotten out of bed. Those who inquired were polite about it, asking if she was ok. She replied with an easy to read smile stating "No, but I'm here."

As her blue eyes scanned her route and cubicles to avoid, it seemed like a few people were late that day, or had done what she should have and stayed come and taken a sick day. She got to her office and sat in her chair, looking at the chaste lounge couch, wondering why she wasn't already napping on it. Turning to turn her PC on to actually do work was less the thought of getting caught sleeping by someone and more the reminder of her mother, and her earned independence.

"Jonathan would be so proud of me," an assured thought brightened her day's outlook momentarily. She'd gotten an hour or two of work done before she found herself fading hard. She took a break and decided to reach out to the one person that could lift her spirits. She reached for her smartphone to send him a text, but found it was missing, figuring she'd left it in her car by accident. She instead grasped the office phone to call him, and got his voicemail instead.

"Now that's strange," she thought to herself. Jon was the last person she expected to be MIA at work for any reason. He always tried to lead by example, and yet it was fitting other people were absent on a day he was. She called his cell number and ended up with voice mail again. Concern started to surface on her face. There wasn't a time she could remember when every means to reach him was met with absence or voicemail. She walked to the elevator on her way to the parking lot, but was stopped by a conversation she'd overheard.

"Please tell me there's a flu going around and we're not going through 'corporate restructuring.'"

"What do you mean? Oh, you weren't around for it last week. Nah, even better. Remember they mentioned that lottery thing after the company got bought? Looks like it went through, took everyone by surprise earlier this morning. Some of our guys and guys downstairs got sent over. Shit's suspect to me, but at least it's not anyone getting downsized."

"I had to go to a funeral of my in-laws; would've much preferred a European getaway. I hear spring could be awesome for where they're going."

Sabrina silently walked by, put-off by talk of celebrating a great-aunt no one liked croaking, but trying to remember talk of a lottery at the office. Every step to the car, she searched her memories for mention of it. Other than her own work, she'd had a one-track mind of making her fantasies come true, working Jon and Jesse's minds into pliable actors. Anything office-related was deemed vague and unimportant, but just before she could reach for the handle to her car door, the lottery being mentioned at a meeting she tried keeping herself awake at came back to her. Some sort of long shot that actually happened. The door was quickly opened and she reached for her phone to find she had two voicemails to listen to.

The first confirmed her fears.

"Hey Sabrina. Listen, need to apologize in-advance, but I'm at the airport now. Tried to catch you at the office and on your phone, but no luck unfortunately. That lottery thing apparently went through, and I'm part of the group going. I know it's really short-notice and doesn't mean much, but I did consider turning it down because of you. I'll call you when I get over. I'm sorry; I know you've got something coming up soon too, so I'm going to work extra hard so I can see you sooner rather than a lot later. I'll be missing you over there. Talk soon, bye."

She took in the words, made realer by all the airport announcer noise in the background, holding her phone as if trying to crush it in her grip. She controlled her seething as best as she could. She felt like getting into her car to scream and loudly curse at the inconvenience omen that struck again; she didn't know why she didn't, as it was safest to surrounded by nothing but cars. She didn't stop the next voicemail from playing, hoping that it was Jon calling to say that he didn't get on the plane, and that he was coming back because he needed to throw himself at her feet and make her feel better.

"Ms. Sabrina Marks, hello. This is Patricia Task. I hoping to catch you for lunch today if you have the time. If so, please contact me at the number I've reached you with, or 547-3856, same area code as the rest of the city. Looking forward to speaking with you."

"Task?" Sabrina questioned several times in her head. "Jon's relative, or mother?" All the feelings heading for anger took a sharp left to bewilderment. She had to sit in her car for support, to make sense of how she went from sleep-deprived to wired and worried. In a more coherent state, she'd probably congratulate the omen for the record multiple heavy blows dealt only seconds apart. Losing any sense of control was her biggest pet peeve, something Sabrina sometimes forgot as she wasn't prone to losing it at all. Unwilling to submit to the delirium, as was her subconscious response to losing control, she left her car to find someone to exercise her control on.

Minutes later, Peter Bevy called in Sabrina knocking at his door.

"What can I do for you, Sabrina?"

"Right about now, I'm so very glad you already know your place."

Sabrina strode in like a hungry lioness impatiently approaching her cornered prey, not at all interested in toying with it.

Bevy didn't have time to ask about her comment as he was fixated on her predaceous walk. Never before had Sabrina foregone the subtly of bringing her boss into trance, but he'd been there so many times, any sign of authority from her already had him half-programmed to submit to her. Walking to his desk, hands pressed on them, she leaned in and smiled as he leaned back a little as if frightened.

"Sleep for me, Petey."

The adrenaline from the shock of her appearance slowed the rate of trance washing over him.

"Sleep NOW for me Petey. Do NOT keep me waiting."

She snapped her fingers twice in his face to punctuate her words, expectantly watching him collapse under the weight of her will.

"Y..yes Ms. Marks."

"Are you hypnotized, Petey?"

"Yes Ms. Marks."

"Are you deeply hypnotized, Petey?"

"Yes Ms. Marks."

"Not deep enough. Submit farther and faster NOW!"

Another snap in his face to emphasize her commands shook the already weak foundations of his mind. Sabrina knew taking him the slow way was more effective, but she let herself continue on her power-trip. Though she was discreet with her volume, she hoped no one would disturb them at first, for the sake of their own minds. Bevy's secretary took to her "do not disturb" trigger well as usual, enough to prevent disruption, but the longer she rode out the power-trip, the longer the already-incensed hypnotist almost hoped someone would barge in so she could flex her mental muscles meant for manipulation. After a brief round of fractionation, he'd become more mindless than she needed him to be since he first surrendered to her.

"Every word you speak to me 100% truth, right Petey?"

mechan11
mechan11
243 Followers