George, his conscience gnawing at him, ultimately declined Roger's offer of diabolical healing.
Consequently, George was transported to a hospital. Sally remained to tend to him, while Roger returned to Sally's residence, initially intending to destroy the enchanted mirror forthwith.
However, after prolonged deliberation, he ultimately could not bring himself to do so. After all, it represented the culmination of the efforts of a predecessor in the field of demon hunting, an artifact of untold labor, and possibly unique in all the world.
Alas...
With a sigh, he resolved to store it away. Perhaps it would prove useful in the future.
Having secured the mirror, Roger departed, intending to inquire as to the whereabouts of the imposter.
Could his negative persona truly be so ruthless? George, it was true, was a mere man, but Sally was a comely woman. How could he bring himself to discharge a firearm at her? Tsk, tsk—
He made his rounds, ultimately locating the corpulent police officer with whom he had shared breakfast the previous day – or, rather, the day before. The officer appeared to have gained further weight, and was, as before, devouring hot dogs and milk tea with gusto.
"Greetings, Officer. I trust you are well. Er... May I inquire, have you seen an individual bearing a resemblance to myself departing the township?"
Roger had initially intended to address the officer by name, but, to his embarrassment, he found he could not recall it. He remembered only his corpulence.
"Ah, it is you. What do you mean? I confess, I am somewhat perplexed," the stout officer replied, though he retained a clear recollection of the handsome fellow who had provided him with an unexpected gratuity the previous day.
"Er, it is thus: an individual bearing a striking resemblance to myself has stolen a vehicle belonging to my friend. The license plate number is Xxxx."
"Not only did he steal the vehicle, but he also assaulted my friend George. Oh, George is also a police officer, from New York. He is presently convalescing in the hospital."
"I see. I shall make inquiries. In which hospital is your friend? Is it necessary to file a police report?"
"Indeed, of course. However, I must first inform you: though he bears a resemblance to myself, he is not I. I implore you, do not mistake one for the other."
"Rest assured. Once I have finished this hot dog, I shall accompany you to the hospital to visit your injured friend, and to obtain a formal statement."
"That would be most appreciated. I shall await you at the hospital." With that, Roger considerately proffered another cigarette.
The corpulent officer's eyes lit up. He swiftly accepted the cigarette, simultaneously slipping two green banknotes into his pocket.
Roger smiled, nodded in acknowledgment, and departed.
What is the swiftest method of locating an individual? Preposterous, to pose such a query! One need not exert oneself when readily available instruments are at hand. The police system was the most expeditious instrument in the nation.
Magic, to be sure, was also an option. But, according to Sally and George's accounts, the imposter possessed memories identical to his own. Thus, he would, in all likelihood, be cognizant of Roger's methods.
However, one certainty remained: the imposter lacked Roger's cheat. He did not possess the game system, nor the storage space it afforded. This was the crucial distinction between them. It was probable that he lacked even the memories of Roger's previous life, having replicated only the memories of this incarnation.
The imposter would, no doubt, be perplexed. Why did he possess the spatial magic to store items, yet his memory contained no record of such a spell?
————
"Damn it all! He has escaped! How is this possible?" The mirror Roger was currently taking refuge within a cavern.
He had taken refuge in the cavern because he had discovered that his connection to the real world was growing increasingly tenuous, his shadow becoming ever fainter, nearing the point of vanishing.
Unlike the real world, he was aware that if they severed their ties with this world, returning to the dimensional space within the magic mirror, they would be reduced to nothingness, all returning to the void. Thus, the mirror Roger was seized by terror.
Finally, he had sought refuge within a cavern, shielded from the sun's rays, because the mirror Roger had made a discovery: that the Ghost Rider could disregard his and the real world's connection.
In other words, the mirror Roger in human form, will be turned back into a shadow and returned to the mirror, but the Ghost Rider would not.
Therefore, he could only temporarily transform into the Ghost Rider, and then take shelter within the sun-shielded cavern, devising a solution.
The Ghost Rider's expenditure of energy was substantial. Even without engaging in combat, his power dwindled with each passing moment.
"It appears that, as night falls, I must seek out a location teeming with sinful souls to reap a harvest," the mirror Roger murmured to himself.
It was unthinkable for him to surrender and return to the dimensional world within the mirror. The false would always remain false. The delicacies of that realm, in his estimation, were inferior to the wild vegetables and tree bark of reality.
The women within, however beautiful, could not compare to a sow in the real world—
Ahem, that was a digression.
But the mirror Roger had learned, from his memories, that this world was unfathomably profound, its depths unfathomable. It concealed a multitude of powerful beings.
Should he indiscriminately reap souls, he would, sooner or later, attract the attention of these concealed masters. Stealth and cautious development were the keys to longevity.
"Curses! Why does Roger possess that cheat, while I do not?" The mirror Roger, enraged, struck the cavern wall with his fist, leaving a deep indentation.
For in his memory, he had perceived that Roger possessed some form of cheat. He knew not what it was. The game system interface Roger observed was, in the mirror Roger's memory, a mere mosaic, as though obscured by some impenetrable barrier.
Since he lacked an identical cheat, he could only seek alternative solutions. The mirror Roger closed his eyes, meticulously reviewing the vast store of memories pertaining to the exploitation of devils, seeking a method applicable to his current predicament.
For him to subsist in the guise of the Ghost Rider for an extended duration? Impossible. How, then, would he partake of sustenance? How would he imbibe beverages? And how would he engage in... intimate relations with women?
Meanwhile, after receiving medical treatment, George resolved to return home to recuperate. His fractured bones necessitated an extended period of rest. The cost of hospitalization was exorbitant.
Observing George, swathed in bandages like a mummy, Roger thoughtfully advised, "George, are you truly unwilling to reconsider? Diabolical healing is remarkably swift."
"Dispense with such notions. I cannot perish. I shall convalesce within two months."
"Very well. Then you shall rest comfortably in the vehicle. Sally and I shall undertake the driving."
Sally's vehicle had been stolen by the mirror Roger. Naturally, they would journey together in their own vehicle. Roger merely needed to await news, for the police system possessed a certain efficacy in locating individuals.
Seated within, Roger depressed the accelerator, and the vehicle commenced its journey along the thoroughfare, their destination, naturally, being New York.
"Roger, did you destroy that enchanted mirror?" George inquired abruptly, recalling the artifact.
"Rest assured, I have sealed and secured it. No one shall have access to it henceforth."
With that, Roger glanced at Sally. He sensed a certain impropriety in his appropriation of another's belongings.
Sally, seemingly perceiving Roger's thoughts, smiled.
"That mirror... I had intended to destroy it, in accordance with my father's last testament. Since it is safer in your keeping, I will give it you. I merely hope that, in the future, it will not emerge to inflict harm upon others."
A most understanding woman. Upon their return, he must find a means of compensating her.
It was not Roger's custom to take advantage of a woman.
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[Burkesville Welcomes You]
Upon Route 9, Roger glanced at a roadside sign. They had been driving for several hours since departing Sally's ancestral home.
The automobile was now en route to New York. The roadsides were lined with farms, the vegetation flourishing, indicating fertile soil.
"Alas... a pity."
Roger sighed, his driving listless.
"What is a pity?" George, swathed in bandages, could not help but inquire.
"Have you not noticed? The abilities granted by that fruit we consumed within the mirror dimension are no more."
Upon emerging from the dimensional space of the mirror, Roger had discovered that the abilities were gone. Because George was an ordinary individual, unversed in the control and cultivation of such powers, his perception was likely less acute.
But Roger was different. He trained diligently each day, and his control over power was far more refined than George's.
The amplification ability remained, but it was separated by a dimensional barrier, inaccessible. As though some ineffable rule restricted it, unless one could shatter that invisible, intangible stricture.
At this thought, Roger could not suppress a surge of profanity. If he possessed the capacity to shatter space and rules, of what use would the fruit's ability be?
Unless—
Equivalent Exchange
This was the sole method he could conceive. But how to exchange? He was no master of spatial magic, possessing no relevant knowledge whatsoever. Devils possessed a plethora of established incantations. This magic mirror, however, was likely unique in all the world.
"It is indeed regrettable. Had that ability persisted, it would have been akin to possessing the marksmanship of a god, infallible in aim. But its absence is of no great consequence. You need not be so despondent."
"Alas... you do not comprehend. The importance of that ability I possessed... amplification, you see. It amplified..." Suddenly realizing that a woman was present, Roger abruptly ceased his discourse. This topic, it seemed, was unsuitable for mixed company.
"What were you two discussing? Was it something brought forth from the magic mirror?" Sally inquired. She had surmised that they were speaking of matters pertaining to the mirror.
"Indeed. It was this—" Roger casually retrieved a grotesque fruit from the storage space of his system.
Because the temporal flow within the storage space was static, it served as a, perhaps, a BUG, which allowed Roger to retrieve the fruit.
Upon its retrieval, true to expectation, the fruit immediately withered, as though it had been subjected to eons of desiccation, ultimately dissolving into a wisp of green smoke, vanishing without a trace.
Seeing this, Sally remarked, smiling, "It is as I said. I previously attempted to bring forth much gold from within. It vanished upon my egress. Otherwise, I would have returned to New York long ago."
Alas, Roger sighed, forlorn. Sally, oh Sally, you know not the significance of that amplification ability to a man.
Had it persisted, he could have performed wonders with it...
"Roger, it appears someone ahead requires assistance?"
Roger raised his gaze. Ahead, upon this desolate stretch of highway, stood a man and a woman, extending their thumbs in the customary gesture of hitchhikers.
Somewhat peculiar...
————
A lorry, preceding Roger and his companions, halted beside the pair. The driver lowered the window, a smile upon his face.
"Greetings. Do you require a ride? I will convey you, but not the gentleman."
The pair exchanged a glance. The man felt a surge of awkwardness.
However, in the wilderness, the peril to a lone man accepting a ride far exceeded that to a lone woman, for a woman's inherent physical strength could not rival that of a man. Thus, drivers were more inclined to offer assistance to women.
This man, or more accurately, this boy, for his countenance was exceedingly youthful, akin to that of a student.
The sole anomaly was his stature, nearly 1.9 meters, rendering him somewhat imposing. It was no wonder the lorry driver declined to offer him passage.
"It is of no matter. You may proceed. I shall await another opportunity..."
Screech—
An automobile, trailing the lorry, came to a halt. The window was lowered, revealing the handsome, mixed-race visage of Roger.
"Greetings, young man. Do you require a ride? I shall convey you alone. I decline to offer passage to that short-haired maiden."
The maiden: "....."
The youth: "....."
The lorry driver: "....."
Ultimately, the pair, one man and one woman, each boarded a separate vehicle: one the lorry, the other Roger's automobile, embarking upon divergent paths.
"Young man, were the two of you not acquainted?" George inquired, unable to suppress his curiosity.
"Er, I met her but this morn, also upon the roadside. By the by, my thanks. My name is Sam. May I inquire as to your names?" The youth, his countenance bearing the marks of youthful innocence,
"My name is Roger. Those are George and Sally. You stated your name is Sam? What is your surname?"
The youth smiled. "My surname is Winchester. Sam Winchester."
That name sounds ominous, Roger thought to himself. 'Killer Mother Winchester...'
"Do you have an elder brother? A brother named Dean?"
Hearing Roger utter his brother's name, the young man, Sam, could not help but feel a surge of surprise. He surreptitiously placed his hand upon his rucksack, for, in his recollection, they were unacquainted with Roger.
"You are acquainted with my brother?"
George observed his subtle gesture, and interjected, "I am a police officer, of the New York Police Department. Do not be alarmed, child. Roger, you know them?"
Roger shrugged. "I know of them. The Winchester brothers, a pair of fledgling phoenixes. Exorcising demons without remuneration, all across the land. Renowned throughout the realm of demon hunters."
This time, it was Sam's turn to be astonished. "Sir, you are also a demon hunter?"
"Indeed. However, I am a different sort of demon hunter than you."
"How so?"
"I charge a fee."
"....."
"Hahaha—" Sally, seated beside them, could not suppress a burst of laughter.
George, too, was amused by their exchange.
"It is truly remarkable, to be a demon hunter at such a young age."
"By the by, Roger, why did you decline to offer the young lady a ride? I had presumed you would offer her passage. Were she to accompany that driver, and he harbored ill intentions, it would be most troublesome."
Had George not known Roger well, he would have descended from the vehicle to present his police credentials. In the wilderness, a young maiden accompanying an unfamiliar driver – should the latter harbor malicious intent, the maiden's fate would be sealed.
"You have misconstrued the situation. The one who requires our concern is the lorry driver..."
"What?!" Sam inquired, uncomprehending.
This time, it was Roger who gazed upon Sam with astonishment.
"You cannot sense it? That maiden is a practitioner of black magic."
"A practitioner of black magic?" +3 (All three in the car)
The three occupants of the vehicle were astounded. That seemingly harmless and comely young maiden was, in fact, a practitioner of black magic?
"My word! It appears you are truly ignorant. I daresay your survival thus far is attributable not to the formidable power you wield, but rather to your having captivated the opposing party with your countenance," Roger quipped, teasingly.
"Power? You speak of a formidable power within me? I am unaware of any such thing."
Sam was perplexed. He had never, from his youth to the present, perceived any distinction between himself and ordinary individuals.
[PS: The black witch, or female practitioner of black magic, is Meg. The director's depiction is inconsistent. Initially, she is presented as a practitioner of black magic, but later, she is portrayed as being possessed by a demon, then slain repeatedly by the Winchester brothers, and even develops romantic feelings...]
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