DC Hellblazer: I'm Constantine

C3. I'm Constantine

Constantine was well-versed in the events of *Justice League Dark*, both in the animated series and the comics, though he always preferred the comic storyline. Yet, after hearing Deadman's account, he was certain he was in the animated storyline.

But it didn't matter. One of the biggest perks of being transmigrated into a world of supernaturals was that you could influence events to your liking.

"Best reverse that Flashpoint sooner rather than later, " Constantine muttered to himself, though loud enough for everyone, especially Batman, to hear.

"What about the Flashpoint?" Batman inquired, his voice measured.

"Never you mind that," Constantine dismissed. "You were talkin' about the incidents in Gotham, Metropolis, and London."

Batman remained stoic, grunting in acknowledgment.

"Not paying attention, are you? And I doubted you even once," Zatanna interjected, reminding Constantine that Batman had already explained the situation.

Constantine had been paying attention when Batman described the incidents, noting that they were mystically related. The people involved claimed they saw demons surrounding them or that their loved ones had transformed into demons, which drove them to attack and kill.

"Aye, I know, I know," Constantine waved dismissively at Zatanna. "Just makin' sure you didn't leave anything unsaid."

"Any idea who hit ya with a mystical tornado?" Constantine asked, casually fishing for an ego boost. "Or why you chose to come to me instead of seekin' out the good Doctor? I hear the accommodations at the Tower are far less mysterious than here. "

"Whoa!" Constantine yelped as a figure materialized behind him. "You've gotta stop doin' that, love."

The figure was the Magic of the House, dressed in a purple, human-like skin. Constantine had learned her name.

"How new is she?" Zatanna asked, eyeing the new entity, assuming she might be one of Constantine's latest conquests. She certainly had the body, but Constantine found her too enigmatic.

"She's not what you think. She's the Magic of the House of Mystery in the flesh. Call her Orchid," Constantine explained as Mystery walked forward, introducing herself to the others in her peculiar way.

Constantine, sitting in his chair, his eyes momentarily met with Zatanna and his heart warmed for a second. His past memories were influencing him, but while Zatanna was gorgeous, Constantine felt the desire to explore this insane world. 

Their were so many he'd like to encounter. See if Diana Prince is as beautiful as in the movies. Whether he could hit it off with Artemis. Super Girl seems nice and Black Canary is a must. 

It's a challenge, but Constantine is planning to experience the world.

Noticing his distant look, Zatanna explained why they sought him instead of Dr. Fate. "Khalid Nassour hasn't yet mastered the Helmet of Fate."

Constantine, sitting in his chair, momentarily locked eyes with Zatanna, and his heart warmed for a second. His past memories were influencing him, but while Zatanna was stunning, Constantine felt a stronger pull to explore this insane world.

There were so many he'd like to encounter. See if Diana Prince is as beautiful as in the movies, whether he could hit it off with Artemis. Supergirl seems nice, and Black Canary is a must.

It's a challenge, but Constantine was planning to experience the world.

Noticing his distant look, Zatanna explained why they sought him instead of Dr. Fate. "Khalid Nassour hasn't yet mastered the Helmet of Fate."

Constantine wasn't sure if Kent Nelson had retired or passed on, but with Zatanna's update, he was now in the know and already mentally arguing the importance of someone more experienced wielding the Helmet of Fate. Maybe someone like him?

And now that he knew Kent wasn't Doctor Fate anymore, he knew better than to bring up Zatanna's father, Giovanni Zatara.

"You're a pretty powerful magician yourself," Constantine remarked to Zatanna.

"I, err…" Zatanna stammered, and Constantine understood why. Zatanna was extremely powerful, but her magic fuse blew easily, and she often lost control of her powers. He didn't like that. He was planning on helping her with it so she could live in the light instead of just doing magic shows.

"Let me help you with that sometime, yeah?" Constantine said, finally deciding.

After the cigarette he'd just smoked, he was almost certain he couldn't live without it... and the booze. Magically, he conjured a gin bottle with a couple of glasses, deciding he'd live to fight another day.

"Here's what I'm thinkin'," Constantine said, pulling everyone's attention to him.

"Mystic attacks happen more often than you'd reckon," Constantine continued, fixing his gaze on Batman. "What I'm about to propose can't be a one-off."

"From what I've seen, mystics only tend to gather when they're at the Oblivion Bar," he explained. "Few of 'em are ever keen on the whole saving-the-world business."

"Well, I'm in that latter camp," he said matter-of-factly. "The world might be short a trench-coated bloke and a helmeted mage, but there's no need to start gnashing your teeth. The Justice League is Earth's first line of defense, but it needs to broaden its horizons to cover the mystical side of things."

"Are you saying you won't help?" Deadman asked.

"I'm sayin' that grumpy here should have a chat with his team about setting up a Justice League Mystical or somesuch," Constantine replied bluntly.

Batman grunted in response.

"We're wasting time," Batman said. "If you're not up for it, we'll find someone else."

"Ah, you've got it all wrong," Constantine said with a smirk. "I'm just sayin' I'm not doin' it for free."

"That's a first," Zatanna remarked, genuinely surprised. "Since when are you this upfront about what you want?"

Constantine raised an eyebrow. "Have dinner with me after all this madness, and you'll see where I'm comin' from."

Zatanna smiled, deciding she'd evaluate him later when the stakes weren't so high. The world needed him now, regardless of the charisma he chose to flaunt.

"You'll get your paycheck once the job's done," Batman said with a grunt.

"Fine by me," Constantine replied, accepting the terms. "By that logic, I suppose I'll be working solo then."

"The house will drop you off whenever you need," Constantine added as he headed out, off to see an old friend.

Constantine made his way to his old band-mate Ritchie's place. Like nearly everyone else in his life, Ritchie despised Constantine's guts. Their bad blood traced back to their teenage years when their ill-fated attempt to summon a demon from hell went horribly wrong.

They'd succeeded, but the botched ritual had dire consequences. Ritchie had ended up with mystical cancer, and a girl had died—a loss that haunted Constantine deeply and contributed to his ongoing sense of depression.

But that was then. Now, Constantine was focused on the next step. His current goal was to acquire a powerful coin from Ritchie—the Keshanti Key, which allowed inter-plane travel. He planned to get the Key and then deal with Ritchie, knowing that Ritchie was partially responsible for the chaos Batman had talked about.

It was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

In front of Ritchie's door, Constantine encountered three ghouls—dark-hooded figures floating in the air like dementors. Their grim purpose was to drag a dead soul to the depths of hell. Their presence meant someone was near death, and since they were hovering in front of Ritchie's door, it was clear he was dying from the cancer.

But Constantine didn't care. The guy was already too diabolical to warrant sympathy.

He approached the door, the ghouls swirling around him, whispering dark promises of taking his soul when he met his end. They tried to instill a sense of helplessness in Constantine, declaring that there was nothing he could do for Ritchie. Constantine simply shrugged off their threats and walked in, ignoring their ominous presence.

He knocked on the door, and when Ritchie opened it, Constantine felt a fleeting pang of guilt for being partly responsible for his grim fate. He swallowed it down, pushing aside any remorse.

"Alright, Ritchie, I know I'm probably the last bloke you want to see, but I thought I'd drop by and check on you, mate," Constantine said, bluntly as ever.

Ritchie's response was a volley of accusations. Constantine brushed them aside and cut to the chase, asking for the Keshanti Key. Ritchie, as expected, refused.

The thing about mystical artifacts is that you can't just snatch them and expect them to work for you. So, Constantine played the game.

"I'm aware of Destiny, and I'm willin' to trade my half of the Dreamstone for the key," Constantine said, cringing inwardly at the awful deal he was about to make. But he was a man who had perfected the art of the terrible idea, as Blood would say.

Ritchie's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm savin' you the hassle of dealin' with folks like Felix Faust, just so we can both get what we want," Constantine added. "I've got no use for the Dreamstone myself, and I know you'll go to great lengths to get it from me. And, just so you know, you succeed." 

"Let's save each other the trouble," Constantine remarked.