"Witches versus Hunters" (closed)

[Alice2015]

"Witches versus Hunters"

(closed)​

She'd gone by a lot of names over her more than 900 years of life, but for the last 60 years, the woman who'd been born Alžběta Svoboda in the Moravia region of the Czech Republic in the year 1112 had been going by the name Chloe Devine. It wasn't a name that she'd picked for herself, of course. It was the name of the woman whose life -- and body -- she'd assumed after the Daughters of Brno Coven performed the Obnovení; the Obnoveni, which was Old Czech for Restoration, was what most people in the know -- or who were fans of the Steve Martin/Lily Tomlin movie All of Me -- would call transference reincarnation.

The original Chloe Devine had been precisely what Alžběta had been seeking in a new vessel for her duše, her soul. Chloe had been 26 years old at the time of the Obnovení in 1965. Alžběta liked that age, the late 20s; it was old enough to avoid being carded at most bars and taverns or to not be taken serious by older people who equated youth with ignorance; it was also an age that caught the eye of men from 18 to 80, and Alžběta liked the attention of men across that age range.

The original Chloe being that age meant that Alžběta didn't have to Pull the woman's age. Pull was the Witchy word for using one's Magical Powers to make oneself look younger on a permanent basis. It was a process that even a 900-year-old Witch found exhausting and time consuming. Employing all of her Innate Magical Power, her Spells, her Potions, and her Charms, it could take Alžběta as much as a week to Pull her new body's appearance back just one year. Once upon a time in a bygone era, she'd spent an entire year Pulling because she'd needed the Obnovení immediately and the only choice of vessel at the time had been a wrinkly old 55-year-old hag of a woman.

Despite the young woman's age being just what she wanted from a vessel, Alžběta had still spent some time -- 3 weeks -- sitting in a dark, damp, dingy basement with her Spells, Potions, Charms, and -- of course -- Innate Powers improving upon the woman's body. The original Chloe Devine had been a big heavy for Alžběta's taste, almost 170 pounds at a height of only 5'6"; her C-cup tits had suffered the natural ravages of Time and The Mother; she had a noticeable defect from a cleft lip surgery she'd undergone just days after her birth; and her left arm, hip, and leg bore the nasty scars from the Hunters attack through which she'd suffered but thankfully lived, thanks to the quick intervention of the Daughters of Brno Coven.

Alžběta couldn't help but find it ironic that the woman was saved by the Coven, only to later give up her conscious existence to one of their members because she herself had been a non-Magic Using Witch, a Dormant. The Coven preferred the proper, Old-World term for such unaware Witches like original Chloe: Spontánní čarodějnice, Old Czech for "Spontaneous Witch".

Alžběta could do without all the Old-World terminology, though. She'd avoided anything old for the whole of her life; she'd lived the modern life in each of her centuries of life, constantly moving forward even as many in the Worldwide Covens sometimes tried to stick with their traditions. That was why she'd ceased using the name Alžběta the moment she emerged from the Obnovení and then completed her makeover of her new body.

The new and improved Chloe Devine -- with her gravity-defying tits, ever-pert nipples, tight apple-shaped ass, flat and narrow waist, and flawless, exotic face with its now-perfect, pouty, kissable lips -- was walking the waterfront on a beautiful, spring day; she was scanning the families, couples, and solo picnickers scattered across the greenway's lawns on blankets or playing in the fountains or standing in lines at the multitude of food and drink carts.

She might have looked as though she was simply enjoying the beautiful day with its warm temperature, gentle breeze, and clear, blue sky. But Chloe was here with a purpose: Mayhem. She, like many of the modern Witches, used the word Mayhem, once again choosing to leave behind the Old Czech word, Zmatek. What word one used really wasn't important, of course; causing Mayhem was.

No one knew why a Witch's Innate Magical Power came from causing Mayhem, Madness, Death, and Destruction. It was just the way it was. Chloe didn't like having to do this, unlike some of the truly Wicked Witches. But it was something she did nonetheless because she liked the way she looked, she liked her virtual-immortality, she liked not having to hold a 9-5 job, she liked having just about anything or anyone she wanted for the taking. These were all things she got via the energy of her Magic, and the energy powering that Magic came from what she was about to do.

Chloe took a right up a path flanked by food, drink, and souvenir carts, plotting her actions as she went. She knew the danger of using her Magic, of course; Hunters had various ways of Sensing a Witch's presence -- their own Innate Powers, Spells, Potions, and Charms. Chloe had two things going for herself, though, that would protect her against all but the most powerful of Hunters: first, she was a 900-year-old Witch, not some 18-year-old rookie still in her figurative Witchy diapers, so her own Innate Powers had already told her that there were no Hunters within one or two miles of her current location; and second, she'd learned over the years how to combine her various sources of Magic to create the maximum amount of Mayhem with the least possibility of attracting attention.

(Part 2 next. Sorry it's so long; that's just how my RPs start.)

 

[Alice2015]

It was still no guarantee that she wouldn't get Sensed, of course, but by the time any really good Hunter got to the waterfront to look for her, she'd already be sitting down to lunch at Rinaldo's using the credit card she was about to lift during her show.

The first act would come in the form of a Potion. This one -- which Chloe ironically called Mayhem -- involved a small pouch of what looked like potpourri which she pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket. She tested for wind direction with a finger wetted by saliva, turned the appropriate direction, then shook the bag, sending a light powder wafting through the air. In less than fifteen seconds, men and women caught in the thin cloud of dried herbs, dehydrated lamb's blood, and ground Argiope aurantia eggs were hollering at each other, facing off, pushing and shoving, and finally throwing fists and swinging shopping bags.

Chloe's second act involved a common Seeing Spell, which on this occasion she caused the crowd to suddenly begin seeing a swarm of millions of mosquitos flying about them, attacking their skin, landing in their hair. Between the hands striking at other and now striking at themselves, the scene was simply hilarious as far as the inciting Witch was concerned.

Her third and final act started with Chloe reaching to her choker, slipping a finger between it and her neck, and spinning it around 180 degrees. The Charm that had previously been hidden by her long, blonde hair came into view -- or, at least, into her view. As she squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger, Chloe chanted, "Dovol mi vidět, ale nebuď viděn, nech mě slyšet, ale nebuď slyšen, dovol mi dotknout se, ale ne být dotčen."

If anyone standing near her had been fluent in Old Czech -- or, at least, in Old Witchy Czech, which was its own slightly different dialect -- they would have heard Chloe say, "Let me see but not be seen, let me hear but not be heard, let me touch but not be touched." And then -- if they hadn't already been engaged in the madness, nay the Mayhem, of the fight, flight, and fright of the Potion and Spell preceding the Charm's Chant -- such people would have seen Chloe Devine simply disappear from their view.

She took a moment to just stand there and see if anyone showed signs of being able to see her. Once she knew the Charm's Chant was doing it job, Chloe began filching wallets from pockets, credit cards from purses, dollar bills from vending cart cash boxes. She took her time, never rushing; she'd intentionally timed the Magic to dissipate in two minutes, which was time for her to collect her booty but not be Sensed by any Hunters who might be in town.

Her own Innate Power began warning her that her time was drawing near to a close, and she turned for the park's exit. She tossed her first stolen item, an oversized purse, over her shoulder -- it was now heavy with wallets, purses, cash, and even a few souvenirs and pieces of jewelry -- and simply walked away from the craziness which, very quickly began to die down; dozens of people simply stood there staring at one another without the foggiest idea of what had just happened to them or why, in some cases, they had torn clothes, bloodied lips, crying children, or yelping dogs.

Chloe stopped for the crossing light to change to walk, and then ... her heart skipped a beat as she herself Sensed a Hunter!

She spun back toward the park, simultaneously looking for signs of a male hurrying her way -- Hunters were always males, of course -- while also reaching again to her Charm and speaking a Protection Spell: "Detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana", which simply translated to Detect and Protect, repeated thrice.

It only took a few seconds for Chloe's 900 years of experience as a Witch to let her relax; she was in no immediate danger. She delved deeper into her Innate Power, searching the park and city around her, and slowly concluded several things about the Hunter:

• He was young, or at least youngish, which meant that his own Innate Power was far weaker than her own. That wasn't surprising.
• He had Magical Ability, which actually did surprise her. So few Hunters these days had Magical Ability: the first reason for that was that there simply weren't as many Hunters these days than there had been in centuries past; the second reason for that was that to inherit Magical Ability, a Hunter's mother had had to be a Dormant -- much like Chloe's new vessel -- and like Hunters themselves, there simply weren't as many Dormants as there had been in centuries past.
• The one thing about this unseen but approaching Hunter that did cause Chloe hesitation was his Lineage. Chloe could Sense that the Paternal Line through which he'd inherited his power had been a strong one. She could Sense that both his Father and Paternal Grandfather were both dead at his point, but she could also Sense that they'd passed on to him an inordinate amount of Magical Ability, more than the typical Hunter inherited from their male ancestors. Chloe was impressed with the man, even if it did cause mean that he could possibly be a danger to her.

She'd learned enough for now and turned again toward the street, finding the crossing light reading and speaking out Walk, walk, walk. She started out into the street--

Then suddenly, her heart leapt in her chest again and she spun back toward the park once more. Chloe stared into the park, scanning each male, searching for the Hunter, though, she didn't believe that he'd actually reached the park just yet. She wasn't just looking for a hunter, though. She was looking for a very specific Hunter ... one with whom she had a connection.

A loud honk came from the front end of the car to her right as it crept toward her slowly. Chloe looked to the driver as he stuck his head out the window and hollered angrily, "Get the fuck out of the road, you stupid Karen bitch!"

Chloe smiled wide, casually sweeping her hand through the air before her. Simultaneously, the car's front windshield spiderwebbed into thousands of little shards and all four of the vehicle's tires blew out, dropping the car six inches closer to the hardtop. Chloe then headed casually into the park to wait for the Hunter's arrival...

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

To the unknowing observer, the voice on the police radio might sound overly bored given the excitement the situation warranted.

“All units in the vicinity of Unit 54. Unit 54, disturbance in Founders Park. Multiple nine-one-one calls reporting what some are describing as a riot. At least two dozen people involved. No report of weapons. All responding units report on Tac-2.”

Excitement can be contagious, and dispatchers are trained to be the voice of calm, to counter the excited voices on telephones and radios that naturally happen when someone is on the scene dealing with the emergency.

“Update on disturbance in Founders Park, caller is now reporting up to 50 people involved. Still no report of weapons.”

Of course eye-witness reports weren’t always accurate.

--

Twenty year old Connor Jansky wasn’t exactly an eyewitness to the disturbance. He was, however, three blocks away from the park when he pulled to side of the road to allow the police car – lights and siren going - to pass. The windows on his old pickup truck were rolled down, enabling him to know a little more of what was going on than the average driver who was buttoned up tight inside his or her vehicle, music playing, air conditioner blowing cold air, while talking on a cell phone.

The other thing that enabled him to have a clearer picture of his surroundings was the fact he had trained from a very early age to be aware of his surroundings. He was a Hunter.

Another cop car passed him by, then another. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, but his instincts told him it there must be something happening in the park. Something happening, plus at least three cop cars – no wait, he could hear more sirens approaching from different directions, more than three cop cars – probably meant roads blocked. He took the next left onto Maple, then a right on Avenue M. To get to Old Sam’s Trading Post he would have to take Willow which ran adjacent to the park, but at least that route would avoid most of it. It wasn’t until he turned right onto Willow Street that he caught the scent.

It wasn’t a “scent” in traditional terms. Not a “smell” so much as a sensation. One that was sorta like a smell, but felt it all over.

A witch.

Zmatek.

Mayhem.

The park was clearly visible to him now. This was no riot, no one group advocating for one cause fighting another group opposed to that cause. This was simply – mayhem.

Connor was scanning the area as best he could as he drove by the park. A few people were still scurrying away – couples, and couples with children. None of them gave off anything that Connor could detect from a distance. There were a number of people hurrying toward the park. People who wanted to see what was happening and watch it unfold. No sense in concentrating on them. If this was caused by a witch (and what other explanation could there be?), she would be hurrying away from the scene.

Or would she?

Screech.....

Connor had to slam on his breaks. Fortunately, there was no one tailgating him, though the little old lady in the very old Cadillac was probably none too happy having to go around an old pickup truck pulling a 16 foot trailer which had ended up occupying part of the oncoming lane of traffic. Connor had been so lost in thought and scanning for witches that he almost ran into a car that was simply stopped at a crosswalk. That may not have been unusual in itself since there were a number of people gathered in the vicinity, some of whom were in the crosswalk (and almost got ran over by the little old lady in the very old Cadillac). The unusual part was the fact that this car had four flat tires.

Connor turned on his flashing hazard lights, as if he was performing a public service by parking behind the disabled vehicle, and got out to join the growing crowd of people who were almost as interested in the man’s flat tires as Connor was. His worn and faded jeans were covered in something like a combination of motor oil, grease, and dirt - much of it in the form of hand prints. His old sneakers (one of which was held together with 550 cord which itself was on the verge or breaking) were equally dirty and oily. Only the white muscle shirt looked pristine, except for the tell tale spots where his dirty fingers had been when he put it on for the trip to the city. Kneeling down to examine the right rear tire, there could be no doubt. To him, it practically reeked of magic. Of mayhem. He stood to look around again. Surely, if there was a witch … but then she could be long gone by now, or watching from a distance. He’d have to be careful, if she was watching, to give nothing away. He’s just another guy in the crowd, being nosey about what happened, and not using any kind of innate magic – and certainly no kind of spell – to identify her.

Just another face in the crowd who had emerged from a beat up old truck with the words “Jansky Small Engine Repair – Cripple Creek – 867-5308” painted on the door.

If the man was talking, telling anyone what happened, he would listen. If possible, he would as the man a few questions. He couldn’t ask about a woman without giving something away, but if the man was irate with the “Karen bitch” who had something to do with his tires and windshield, Connor would sure like a description.

 

[Alice2015]

As Chloe turned slowly, scanning the park, the street and riverwalk flanking it, and even the businesses across the street for the Hunter, she thought back to the Mayhem she'd caused to get to this moment. She'd used a combination of Innate Ability, Spell, Portion, and Charm -- all of her forms of Magic -- in smallish portions to prevent being Sensed by any Hunters who were in the vicinity.

And yet, he was still here and still hunting for her. Viola could Sense that he was looking for her as opposed to simply in the area. It had started as the latter, of course; she'd used her Magic, he'd Sensed it, she'd Sense him, yadda yadda. But as soon as he'd seen the effects she'd had on the asshole's car and had started looking for her, Chloe had known the Hunt was on.

Her first act, without even thinking it, had been to cast a Detect and Protect Spell. After that, she'd just joined the rest of the Mayhem's onlookers in scanning the crowd as if wanting to know what had happened. She knew what she was looking for: a young or youngish man who himself would be scanning, Sensing, for her.

Most likely, she's Sense his Aura. Oh, it wasn't like the auras of which the faux mystics spoke when they were stealing the hard-earned money of naive believers. It wasn't as if it glowed a color that designated good or evil, happy or sad, eager or reluctant; Chloe wasn't looking for a walking, talking Mood Ring. Nonetheless, she would Sense it when the Hunter was within her line of sight.

Finding him was made easier, of course, by the man's own Sensing search for Chloe. She found the general direction, which didn't surprise her when she realized it was back at the car she'd destroyed with the wave of a hand. She started casually that way, staying deep inside the milling crowd. Traffic had come to a full stop in both directions of Willow Avenue, with the jam being so bad that the incoming police cars and EMT vans were stuck blocks away.

Chloe scanned the vehicles, thinking that maybe the Hunter had come in one of them. There was the car she'd very nearly destroyed with the wave of a hand, of course, and right next to it a huge, early model Cadillac. An old woman sat at the wheel of the Cadi; Chloe didn't even have to consider her, of course.

There were dozens of other vehicles to view, but that all became moot when Chloe saw blazoned across the side of a 16-foot trailer the words, Jansky Small Engine Repair. She literally laughed aloud, then softly spoke aloud, "You have to be kidding."

She continued slowly the direction of the truck; concerned about being discovered by the trailer's owner, she again chanted the Detect and Protect Spell, "Detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana, detekce a ochrana."

Almost instantaneously, Chloe knew the Hunter's exact position, even though she couldn't yet see him. She continued closer, and as the crowd between her and her target, she saw the Hunter rise from behind the far side of the destroyed car, just twenty feet from her!

It shocked Chloe to have not realized how close they were together, and she reached to the Charm around her next ready to cast another Spell to protect herself. But it turned out not to be immediately necessary as the Hunter's attention went to the ravings of the driver of the devastated car as he talked to a Foot Patrol Officer who was the first to respond.

"I don't know what happened!" the man was saying as he leaned back against his car, still a bit disoriented. "This woman was standing in the crosswalk ... I politely tapped my horn ... you know, 'cause I was concerned for her safety."

"I'm sure you were," the Officer responded, not for a moment believing that it had been anything other than impatient asinine behavior on the man's part. "Then what happened, sir?"

"The window just EXPLODED!" he said, waving his hands frantically. He brushed some glass shards from his shirt, continuing, "I don't know what the fuck it was. It was like one of those, what do they call'em, you know, the cops use them at drug houses and shit like that--"

"A Flashbang?" the Officer asked.

"Yeah, yeah!" the driver said with certainty. "A Flashbang! She must have thrown a flashbang at me!"

"And what about the tires?" the Officer asked. He gestured the man's attention to the tires on the driver's side, both flat of course.

The Driver looked even more shocked. "What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY TIRES?!?"

Chloe had barely heard anything the Driver and Officer were saying; her attention was fully on the Hunter. Earlier, shen she'd first Sensed him, she'd understood through her powerful Innate Magic that his Paternal Line -- his Father and his Father's Father -- were both dead. But now, seeing the name on the side of the work trailer she realized something both intrigued her ... and worried her.

She didn't know Connor Janky by his given name; she'd never the privilege of meeting the boy. But Chloe had known his father ... intimately. And if that wasn't interesting enough, she'd also known his Father's Father ... again, intimately, though some two decades or so apart.

Interesting...? Yes. The end of the story...? Far from it. Chloe hadn't simply made love to Connor Jansky's father and grandfather; she'd killed them both!

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Connor was confident he was a "good" Hunter. Everyone involved in his training (in recent years, anyway) had said he was "good". The reality, however, was that he lacked experience. How does one give a trainee real world experience in hunting witches? There was no "simulating" the darker magics - only practice detecting magic in general, the kind Hunters could create for the purpose of training other Hunters.

He'd been on hunts before, of a very limited nature. Tracking the movements of a witch. Examining the after-affects of a Zmatek, or discarded items the witch had used in a spell or to make a potion. He'd even helped dispose of a couple of bodies. But always - always - with more experienced Hunters taking the lead.

Now, he was on his own. He might need to act swiftly and violently with little to no time to think. An overpowering tension started at the lower base of his spine and began to work its way up. Fight or Flight? No, there was also a third possibility: Freeze. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Protection spell. Protection spell. He was running over it in his mind, but careful not to actually cast it. Casting it too soon would be the equivalent of throwing the switch on a floodlight on a moonless night saying "here I am" to any witches within ... within how close? A hundred yards? A mile? That would depend on the witch, wouldn't it? One who with a wave of her hand (what might appear to the man as "throwing" something) and she could both shatter a windshield AND flatten four tires in an instant. And the tire he got close to - it wasn't a spell. It wasn't the power she focused from a charm. Though it had a little of the scent of both, but not in themselves strong enough to ....

Wait - what? What did the man say? She was wearing what???

As an onlooker, he couldn't very well demand the man repeat himself, that was the police officer's job, but the officer was probably paying attention because he wasn't being distracted by the need to protect himself from a powerful witch ...

Oh shit.

Not witch. Witches. Two of them.

Redhead witch. Blonde witch.

Thank God he hadn't made eye contact with either of them, though as he looked around he saw about 90% of the men gathered around were no longer interested in tires and windshields, but in two very sexy attractive women standing nearby observing. One was watching the man, nervously fingering the choker she was wearing, while the other one was looking at the first with great affection.

No, not affection. Lust.

Definitely witches. With the little focus that scene provided him, Connor could better concentrate on using what innate skills he had to detect their evil. With them standing so close together, he couldn't discern which of them was the greater threat - the blonde or the one with red hair. The redhead looked older, with bigger boobs and wider hips, but that didn't really mean that much when it came to witches, did it?

The big battle which could play out if the witches attacked could change everything about him and his life. For now, all he could do was try to be inconspicuous and keep an eye on them. There was no way Connor could leave without abandoning his truck and trailer - the traffic was backed up in every direction. He would, however, very slowly make his way back to his truck, where he kept a shotgun behind the seat. The shotgun might have been standard stock, but the ammo it held was something special. Projectiles lined in soft lead - enough to hide the magical nature of the shot from prying witchy senses, but thin enough to fall away in flight. If anything went down, to the dozen cops on the scene he would look like a murderer if he succeeded. If he failed, he would look like a guy who dropped dead for no apparent reason.

On the passenger side of the truck, he slowly opened the door, pulled the back of the seat forward a few inches, then leaned against the vehicle as if he were nonchalantly waiting for the traffic jam to clear. He kept the two witches in his peripheral vision as he kept running the protection spell through his mind over and over so when the time came he could say it perfectly in the space of a heartbeat - and repeat it at least twice before he was drained. Then it would be a simple matter of outrunning the cops. With radios. And a couple of dogs. While leaving behind the vehicle with his name, town, and phone number painted on the doors.

Finally, the training was starting to make sense.

 

[Alice2015]

As she studied Connor from a distance of just 30 or 40 feet, she finally consciously tuned in to the conversation between the Driver of the car she'd destroyed and the foot patrol Police Officer who had been the first to respond; he'd since been joined by his partner, who was still carrying his coffee and hotdog from their interrupted lunch break. A pair of motorcycle cops had also arrived, weaving through the traffic jam that they were now directing toward an eventual clearance.

"So, this woman you think threw a flashbang at you," the Officer was asking with an obviously doubtful tone; he was barely able to prevent a smile from spreading his face. "Can you describe her...? White, Black, Brown...? Old, young?"

The Driver looked confused, his mind still trying to absorb the damage to his car. "Um, I dunno ... young, I guess. Yeah, young. And Jesus, what a fucking hot ass body. Fuck, you should have seen her." He held his hands out before his torso with his fingers curled. "She had tits right out of Sports Illustrated."

"The Swimsuit Edition?" the Officer asked.

The Driver gave him a WTF? look and answered sarcastically, "No, the fucking Soviet Union women's shotput team photos ... of course, the Swimsuit Ed--"

He suddenly went silent, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. He pointed an extended finger toward the park -- directly at Chloe! -- saying, "There she is! That's her! That's the bitch who blew up my car!"

Chloe suddenly realized that she'd been so interested in the Hunter that she'd concentrated her Conceal Spell solely on him and let it slip on everyone else, including the Driver. As the Officer turned his eyes her way, Chloe grasped the Charm around her neck again, looked about herself, found a woman standing nearby, and chanted, "Odraz!"

When he finally found the blonde woman -- Chloe -- who the Driver was indicating, the Reflection Spell Chloe had casted caused the Officer to instead see the redheaded woman where Chloe was standing and Chloe where the Redheaded woman was. The cop asked, "The redhead?"

"No, no!" the Driver said, jabbing his finger in the air almost violently. "The blonde! Right there, the blonde!"

"Okay, okay," the Officer said, thinking to himself The Redhead's tits are EASILY 4 cup sizes larger, so how do you define 'a fucking hot ass body'? He told the Driver, "Settle down. I'll go talk to her."

He waved one of the motorcycle cops over to babysit the driver, then headed into the park toward the wrong woman. Meanwhile, no longer concerned with either of those two men, Chloe turned her attention back to the Hunter; he'd moved, returning to his truck as inconspicuously as he could. He, too, had seen the Blonde and Redhead, but unlike the Cop on whom Chloe had casted the Reflection spell, Connor saw the two women for who they were.

But he couldn't tell which one of them was the actual Witch, thanks to Chloe's original spell. She ambled away from the Redhead for a closer view of the Hunter, finding him opening his truck's door and pushing the seat forward. It didn't take a 1,500-year-old Witch to understand what Connor was doing; Chloe's 900 years of experience was more than enough to know that he was going for a weapon.

She continued studying him as the distance between her and the actual Redhead increased; the Officer had reached the woman and was beginning to question her, even as the driver was hollering to him, "Not her! The blonde! The blonde! Over there! Jesus fuckin' Christ, are you blind?"

The Driver was beginning to annoy Chloe and, at the same time, was a potential problem; the cop with him now was beginning to look for the supposed-Blonde the man was pointing to. She waved her hand through the air, using her Innate Power without the need to cast a Spell. Suddenly, in every direction, car horn alarms were blaring while the accompanying signal lights flashed crazily.

The distraction caused the second cop -- as well as the other two dozen who'd finally reached the park and traffic jam -- to forget all about Chloe. But when she looked back to Connor, she found the Hunter looking directly at her. Her heart skipped a beat, not because she really feared him -- he was young and inexperienced, she'd already Sensed -- but because she couldn't be certain that he didn't ID her as the Witch for whom he was searching.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Connor Jansky the well-trained Witch Hunter was beyond pissed with himself. Like every spectator present, he’d been distracted by the sudden racket of every car alarm going off simultaneously. Distracted for only a second, but if the witch had been determined to strike, he would probably be a dead man.

For whatever reason, whether it was the witch’s inexperience, or the grace of God, or maybe even because the witch had other plans – Connor was still alive, and determined to never make that mistake again.

As he saw it, there were only two ways out of this “Mexican Standoff”.

Ideally, he could get in his truck and drive away. That would depend on the cops clearing the traffic jam (which would happen eventually) and the witches not attacking him. Even if he did get away, they had surely seen his name and the location of his business painted on both his truck and the trailer. That would mean clearing out quickly, and getting his mother to safety as well. That would involve a lot of phone calls in a short period of time – IF his phone even worked. He couldn’t be distracted by a phone now, however. 100 per cent focus on the witches, who by now were getting further and further apart – no doubt to attack him from two directions at once.

Which led to the other one of two ways this could end: Combat. He wasn’t going to initiate it unless he was absolutely sure of their intentions, but he was definitely ready if they started something. Ready, as long as they didn’t trick him again – like with the car alarms.

He ran through a mental checklist. If the blonde one gets within 20 feet, protection spell and shotgun, then don’t even waste time looking to see what effect it had. She was obviously the expendable decoy. As soon as you shoot, do another protection spell and go for the redhead. It would be ABC time: Always be charging. Remember to count the rounds from the shotgun. Five blasts, then drop it and go for the knife.

When your sword meets that of your enemy, you can never waver, but must instead attack with the complete resolution of your whole body

Perceive that which cannot be seen with the eye

If you do not control the enemy, the enemy will control you

When you decide to attack, keep calm and dash in quickly, forestalling the enemy...attack with a feeling of constantly crushing the enemy, from first to last.

(she is so… so … pretty)

Do not let yourself be guided by the feeling of lust or love

(I never realized how.. pretty… and sexy …)

In single combat you must not fix the eyes on the details. As I said before, if you fix your eyes on details and neglect important things, your spirit will become bewildered, and victory will escape you.

(I wonder … what it would be like … not with a witch, of course, but with a woman, like her)

Musashi and Takuan both believed that the great mistake was being slowed or rendered immobile by what one sees, hears, feels, or thinks. For them, even an instant’s preoccupation could be fatal. Both body and mind must be free to flow and to respond to whatever the situation demands

(Is … is this … wh..what my father … felt?)

Do not let the enemy see your spirit

The only reason a warrior is alive is to fight, and the only reason a warrior fights is to win

(Enough of that. I’m ready for you, bitch – you and your friend.)

But was he?

--
--

(OOC - To give a bit of credit where credit is due, the words in purple are mostly from the writings of a (17th Century?) Samurai known as Miomoto Musashi in The Book of Five Rings, with the exception of one which is from a commentary on the book. The Book of Five Rings is pretty much standard training for every Witch Hunter.)