Chapter Text
The only thing John wanted was drink. A drink, and maybe a nice boy or girl to take him home and make him forget about the bloody ghost problem. This wasn't like his last ghost problem; he didn’t think he could bullshit his way into being successful this time. The cold weather pulled at his coat eagerly. His hands fiddled with a collection of rocks he had accumulated along his walk to the pub. Before he was even in sight of the sweet salvation of intoxication, a black blur landed in a nearby alleyway. With an overdramatic swoosh of a bat themed cloak, John watched the chiselled jawline of Gotham's richest man as all white eyes swept over the street.
“How's it going, Batty?” John drawled, as he flicked his lighter carelessly, watching the gold flame scare away the ickle beasties of the night.
“Constantine.”
“ Batman”
The silence spread between them. It was a shame; John could think of a few ways he could spend his night that might make up for being interrupted on his crucial stroll.
“What are you doing in Gotham?” Batman's harsh rough voice fit Gotham's aesthetic very well , thought John. Although that was probably the point, knowing him .
“Maybe I’m just passing through, I do have to make money some way or another. Magicking up too much money makes people suspicious.”
“Passing through doesn't take three days.”
Leave it to the man dressed like a bat to know exactly how many days John had been in town, and to not even drop by and say hi.
A red blur fell gracefully down beside Batman. A scrawny preschooler with swords almost as long as him strapped to his back stood up.
“You got another one. How many is it now?”
“Hm”
John jabbed a cigarette at the literal baby with half a dozen knives. “How old are you?”
“Tt. I’m old enough to know my place is by his side.”
What the fuck is wrong with this little squirt? His place is watching cartoons in that big ol’ house of theirs!
John checked his watch. It stopped working a few days ago.
“Oops, time to go. See you ‘round Bats and birds. Take the little tike to the zoo or something, normal toddler activities and stuff.”
His pub time would now have to wait, he was meant to be at a cult site ten minutes ago. Beige fabric swooshes around his legs as John weaved through the streets, further and further from the sounds of life and happiness, like every other time. The site was a fickle thing, but a friend of his left a tip that he should look into it, that it might be down his alley. The justice league could save the world a million times, but John would keep the supernatural world safe single handedly and he would rarely even be offered a drink.
The site was in a park, not even a warehouse or abandoned building, which would have at least blocked the wind. Trees caked the park in shadows and the grass hadn’t been mowed in a few weeks. A faint light flickered between the grass; a set of candles nestled in a circle. A faint voice chanted in Latin, and with every word, the lights seemed a bit brighter, and it wasn’t long before John could see an intricate pattern woven in salt, blood and chalk, all in a circle of burnt grass. He could feel the pull of magic in the area, and instinct let him know that this was a summoning. The chanting grew stronger, a single voice echoing in the park.
“ I call upon you of those left behind!
I call upon you, outcasts of this plane!
I call upon you ghosts and memories!
I bring you from the land beyond ours!”
The same four phrases repeated. Titles meant this fool was summoning a creature, and John learnt very early on, that if something had more titles, it was even more powerful.
The lights swirled away from their anchoring candles and joined in a bright circle. The chanting reached a peak, and the fire violently changed to green. John put his cigarette into his pocket and took a step back. It was too late to stop it, whatever it was, John hoped it was easy to bargain with. There was a flick of movement, and out of the shadows stepped a person hooded in dark green, they held up a long, ornamental dagger, and cut their arm, watching as it dripped into the circle. It fizzled and dissipated into the toxic green air.
One arm at a time, the fire swirled inwards and took shape. As the fire resembled something humanoid, eyes sprouted from the flames, closed, and John watched as the young face of a child appeared. Fire spun around, materialising into a body clothed in a black suit, with white accents. The creepy culty person fell to the ground and watched as green lit their fingertips, and their hand began to fall away into ash. The creature floated in a trance, a deathly pale face sleeping, almost like it had been for a millennium.
John strutted over to the cultist and held up the disintegrating hand. Shock registered in their eyes, and they pulled away, scurrying across the grass, but not getting far with one arm.
“You bloody idiot. Did you even read the damn spell? Did you even know that you literally gave your life to bring him here?!”
The cultist yelled as the dust began to spread. In seconds he was gone. Only a pile of Ash remained to signify that there was ever anyone there.
John stared around the clearing, lit only by the glow of the flames and the strange creature in the circle. A moment passed where he thought long and hard about his decision to skip a drink. The creature's eyes opened.