(A/N) This story is contained within an Arrowverse I'm creating that involves the Constantine, Arrow, Flash & Supergirl TV shows. The events of this story take place after the happenings of the first story in the Arrowverse titled 'The League'. You don't need to read it to know what's going on in this.

Ordo Ab Chao

Chapter I

1:40AM

Hawthorne, California

The walls in the laundry room were probably yellow once but now they were faded and chipped. There were two windows behind the four machines, facing outward to the horrible view of the next apartment. It didn't matter; nobody cared about views in this city anyway. Too busy with their faces buried in phones, scouring social media for the next cat video.

There were two washing machines and two dryers and a man was loading both. The manager had told him before, no washing after 9:30, but why should he listen when he had the key?

His fiancée and their 1 year old daughter were upstairs in their apartment sleeping while he washed the clothes. They worked late and so washing late was their only option. Next to the machine was a steel trashcan, a really old one, like the ones they used to hit people with in old school wrestling. God he loved old school wrestling-

A loud knock from behind made him jump but nothing was there when he turned around. He shrugged it off and went back to loading the washing machine. The door was behind him and in the upper corner there was a small camera that would go unnoticed by most if they didn't happen to look up. And in a place like this who would think there'd be cameras?

The door behind him swung open and slammed.

This time the man turned around expecting to see one of his neighbors. But nobody was there.

"What the hell?" He moved to the door. "Whoever is playing out there, this shit isn't cool!" When he opened the door he didn't see anything and he shook his head. "Need some sleep," he supposed.

He opened the door and stepped back into the laundry room coming face to face with a fiery-eyed demon. The door clammed closed and his muffled screams were heard by no one.

6:00 AM

Hawthorne, California

Several officers worked together to yellow tape off the stairway to the laundry room. The neighbors were outside peering in, curious as to what was happening. A woman and a baby were crying uncontrollably and a short man who looked to be the manager was speaking to detectives. All the local authorities were present, most of whom knew each other from previous murders.

In walked a man wearing a white button-up shirt that wasn't buttoned at the top, a black tie that wasn't fully tightened, black shoes and slacks and a trench coat in the California heat. He was clearly out of place but he walked up the stairs with persuasive confidence while lighting a cigarette.

The man reached the top of the stairs and attempted to cross the caution tape but was stopped.

"Excuse me sir but this is a crime scene. I'm gonna need to see some ID." The officer glared at the suspicious man.

"Oh, yeah? Right you are, mate. Here it is." The man reached into his trench coat and produced a wallet. He flipped it and it displayed his FBI identification.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Go right ahead." The officer stepped aside and let the cigarette-smoking Federal Agent go through.

The laundry room was a scene from a slasher film. The walls were painted with blood and dotted here and there with hand prints. Blood pooled on the floor near randomly thrown chunks of the victim. The windows were broken out and the federal agent noted that the room didn't have any glass in it.

"Bugger jumped out the window then?" He wondered to himself. He moved around the laundry room looking at the scene and was glared at by the officers in the room. "FBI," the man said through a cloud of cigarette smoke then knelt down next to one of the body parts. "Messy little fucker..." he whispered absently. He stood and took in the room one last time then looked up at the roof and grinned. "My lucky day."

He quickly left the room and went down the stairs to where he had seen the person he suspected was the manager. An older, Mexican man, he quickly assessed him during his approach. The manager was being hounded by two cheap-suited detectives and looked like he wasn't enjoying himself.

"Alright, alright. Enough of that, yeah?" He walked right up and laced his arm with the managers. "We've got a few questions of our own, so why don't you lot shuffle off somewhere?" He showed his FBI identification and the detectives reluctantly moved on.

He led the manager to a corner and smashed out his cigarette, "What's your name?"

"David," the manager replied. "What's this all about? I already told them everything know."

"FBI mate." He showed the badge.

"But that isn't an FBI badge. It's just a playing card."

The man looked at the card then back at David. "You can see that then? That'll make this a lot easier."

"What the hell is going on?" David the apartment manager demanded in an angry and confused manner. "Who the hell are you?"

The man lit another cigarette, "Name's Constantine. John Constantine. I'm here to find the demon that killed your tenant."

David nervously looked around and began to sweat, "De-demon? What? You need help! I don't know anyth-"

"Let me guess, yeah? This lot first shows, you tell 'em what you saw on the cameras, right? They don't believe you so you show 'em and they look right at the screen and still don't see it?" David's features softened and he calmed down so Constantine continued, "They saw nothin' but you saw a demon kill and eat a man. Didn't you, David?" David nodded silently. "Show me."

A few minutes later, Constantine was in David's apartment watching the footage. The victim never even saw the demon coming. It toyed with him, Constantine noted. After he had seen enough he told David he could turn it off.

Constantine took a last puff on his cigarette, "I'll make sure the demon doesn't come back. But just in case, get yourself some protection. You know, crosses and that sort of thing."

He left the apartment without another word and walked out of the complex. Looking left and then right, he walked right and around the complex until he was at the back. It took a second but he located where the broken glass was and saw the bloody prints of the demon. "Messy, messy." He held his hand over the print, "Gonna regret that." He whispered a spell and the print lit up with a strange glow then that glow began to outline the demons steps.

Constantine reached for another cigarette, "Alright then. Let's get this over with." He coughed and felt like his chest was on fire for a moment. The sudden fit of coughing didn't stop and got progressively worse so that Constantine was forced to hold his hand on the wall to keep himself straight. After a moment it subsided and he stood up and straightened himself. When he looked at the hand he had covered his mouth with it was flecked with spots of blood.

"Well that can't be good," he said before lighting the cigarette and continuing to follow the luminescent footprints.

Several hours later

East Los Angeles, California

"I need water! And some cold towels! She's burning up!"

An otherworldly shout echoed throughout the run-down hallway of a run-down apartment complex. An old woman opened her door and made the sign of the cross while whispering, "Padre de la nuestra protegernos."

Others in the building shuffled about their business with increased speed, trying not to be seen. Whatever was happening in that apartment was terrifying and the screams that came echoes of things not of this world. Inside the apartment building a worried mother and father stood outside a door while a young and novice priest and several nuns rushed around the apartment gathering water and wetting towels. The priest was in the child's bedroom praying over her twitching body while reading from a bible.

Sweat fell from the priest's head and drenched his clothing while he chanted, prayed and quoted every scripture he could but it was doing nothing. Fear was apparent on his face and it made the nuns and others present nervous. He was using all the Lord had given them and still nothing was happening.

A small girl lay strapped to a bed looking around the room with blank, milky white eyes. The voice that came from her body was not of this world and it shook those present to the very core. A nun had already passed out and had to be carried away. Outside the door the priest could hear the worried mother crying out for God to intervene and save her daughter while the father's pacing footsteps could be heard in-between the monstrous screams.

The girl's body lurched upwards and her stomach began to stretch outward as if something was ripping through her. The girl's screams were human now and filled with pain and anguish. It sounded as if she was being tortured. What looked like a face stretched her stomach to the limits and claws raked at her insides. Two nuns turned from the room and ran while the priest gripped his cross and fell back into the wall mumbling prayers to himself.

"Father! Father you have to help her!" one of the few remaining nuns tried to bring the priest back to reality but he just continued to stare as the demon ripped at the girl and she cried out in pain. "Father! Father please do something!"

"It's alright, love. Let him rest there for a bit, yeah? I'll take care of this." The nun looked up to see a man in a trench coat standing in the doorway and smoking a cigarette. He didn't look the least bit disturbed by the bloody and horrific scene before him. Instead his eyes held a hint of curiosity that she found slightly disturbing. Constantine took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it aside without looking. It landed in the priest's holy water.

"You defile the holy water! You fool! Leave before you make things worse!" the second nun cried out.

"Worse, huh? Does seem like you lot have everything under control here." He forced his way passed the nuns and stood over the girl. He held his hands out over the girls stretching stomach and began to chant while he closed his eyes. The girls screaming turned from normal to demonic again and her body began to shake violently. White foam began to spew from her mouth and suddenly she sat up, ripping the bindings that held her and vomited a black liquid all over the floor. The nuns watched as the liquid began to pool and started to vanish.

Constantine reached for his lighter, mumbled some words and then tossed it into the dark vomit. A scream filled the room as the black mess began to bubble and evaporate into thin grey lines of smoke. Seconds later the room was quiet and the priest snapped back to reality.

"Wh-what? What happened?" the sweat-soaked and shaky priest managed to splutter as the nuns wiped his forehead with a clean cloth.

"Demon was attempting to use this girl as a portal to this world," Constantine explained. "Was gonna rip right through her, it was. Couldn't have that."

"Our best methods did nothing…" The priest just looked at him, "Wh-Who are you?"

"Me? Name's John Constantine and I'm no one special at all."

The priest continued to stare, "I'm…" he hesitated as if something was wrong, "My name is Father Parish of Cathedral Chapel of Saint Vibiana." He got to his feet with some assistance from Constantine and a nun. "This, this isn't the first time I've seen this."

Now Constantine was intrigued, "Tell me more, Father."

"Not here!" he looked around nervously as if being watched and then put a hand on Constantine shoulder and whispered. "Tonight. At a place called the Gaslight on Wilshire Boulevard."

Before Constantine could dig for more the parents rushed into the room interrupting whatever the Priest was about to tell him. They began crying tears of joy as they cradled their dehydrated but alive daughter. "Muchas gracias senior," they said over and over again.

Constantine waved them off, "No worries at all." The father reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet but Constantine again dismissed him, "I can't take payment for that." He told them slowly in English but they didn't seem to understand just kept holding the money out. Constantine smiled and turned for the door while reaching for another cigarette. He then patted his pockets and remembered he'd used his last good lighter to finish off that demon, "Actually, mate. I could use a light." He smiled.

Sundown

Santa Monica, California

Constantine walked through a shadowy alley with his mind still on his current case, the demon that murdering innocents. He puffed his cigarette looking rather carefree but inside his mind was ablaze. Much to his dismay he had lost the demon's trail after he finished saving the little girl. He didn't know if the demon had led him to the girl's house or if it was an accident but he was sure that he had spent too much time there. With any luck though this priest would be able to send him in the right direction.

Losing the demon wasn't his only concern. If he had been led somewhere by the demon and tricked it meant that it was intelligent and cunning, also able to sense it was being followed. A demon like that shouldn't be able to get through, yet here it was and in its full form no less. Another impossible thing. How'd this happen? And this wasn't the first case he'd been led to that had such strange circumstances surrounding it. How did this demon get through and how was that other able to break through using the small girl? He couldn't wrap his mind around it, such things should be impossible.

Heaven and hell worked a certain way, not unlike the way magic worked. There were rules in place, to keep things fair, Constantine suspected. There were magic users out there with control over elements, or those that could summon monsters and ghouls. Papa Midnite even held some power over the dead, much to Constantine's distaste. He never put much stock in 'flashy magic' as he called it. He was capable enough in most forms of magic but he found a bloke could get by well enough with a few good tricks, a stout mind and good mouthpiece.

However, for whatever reason, the rules were being bent and broken now and magic was all over the place. Zed's dreams and visions had become increasingly more erratic and even painful at times which was why he was here alone in California. Zed and Chas were back home preparing for when he finished his latest task. She'd been having so many flashes lately that it wasn't safe for her to leave and be out helping him. So Constantine had asked Chas to stay with her in case of emergency and set out for California on his own.

Not that John Constantine didn't know a thing or two about being alone but it had been a while since Chas and Zed had climbed on board his crazy train and he rather liked the company. Ah, whatever, now wasn't the time to be thinking on how good it was to have friends. He took a glance upwards and decided now was good a time as any to go meet this priest and see what he could tell him. He had hoped to kill this demon first and then get some Intel but that didn't seem to pan out. Almost as if he was being led nowhere.

Constantine ended up having to actually spend money on a cab to take him to the Gaslight, which he wasn't best about. Only things he liked to spend money on were drinks and cigarettes, with some bits of food thrown in there randomly. Whatever the Gaslight was it was in what one could call a gentrified area. Another negative in his book but as long as it had good drinks he would be fine. He paid the fare and stood back to take a gander at the establishment he was about to enter.

"Well shag me sideways…" Constantine couldn't help but grin. The Gaslight was a bar. "Damned priest only went and invited me to a bar." He chuckled at the thought and made his way to the door where he was stopped by security.

"Need to see ID…" he snatched Constantine's cigarette and threw it aside."…and no smoking inside."

Constantine scrunched his face and reached inside his trench coat, "Sure, sure. ID and all that, we good?" He pulled out a card and flashed it then reached and got another cigarette and lit it.

"I said no-

"You and your friends here won't say a bloody thing about me smoking anywhere I please." Constantine's voice echoed and his eyes went white for a moment as he invoked some sort of magical dominance over the security at the door. Without preamble they nodded and opened the door for him. "Thank you gentlemen. Have a good night." The security would go on to have one of the best nights of his life but when he awoke the next day he couldn't for the life of him remember why.

The place was small but quaint. A long bar to the right ran the length of the joint with tables, stools and a few booths going along the left. There was a small stage for karaoke in front of a small dance floor and a jukebox machine next to that. The few guests looked up at him for a second and then went back to their conversations. If any of them had a problem with him smoking they said nothing and didn't show a sign of it.

Constantine found Parish sitting at the far end of the bar, close to the restrooms and the backdoor. He took a seat next to him and put out what was left of his cigarette. Father Parish was dressed in normal attire and if not for previous knowledge, Constantine wouldn't have been able to tell he was a follower of the lord. "Fancy meeting you in a place like this."

Father Parish looked nervous and shaky. A slight sheen of sweat could be seen about his forehead even though the atmosphere was relatively cold inside the bar. His drink was half empty and his eyes darted around. Constantine muttered a protection and detection spell in case any surprises were waiting for him. He didn't trust anybody. A priest least of all.

"This is the last place they'll look for me." Parish finally replied.

"They? What are you yammerin' on about?" Constantine asked but the bartender approached before he could get answers.

"What'll ya' be havin?"

"Gin and tonic if ya will." The bartender wiped the drink up quickly and Constantine placed down the payment. "So as you were saying, Parish?" he sipped the drink and nodded approvingly. "I see why you come here." He joked.

Parish was oblivious, "Something is happening. Some-Something out of our control." He was muttering nonsense. At first sight, Constantine had thought that the man was nervous about seeing the demon pulling through the girl but now he could tell it was something deeper than that.

"How about you have a drink, calm down a bit and start at the beginning for me." Constantine slid the cup in front of Parish to him.

"Yeah, yeah. A drink. That sounds good." The Priest lifted the glass and drained it in a single gulp. "Bartender! Another boiler maker!" the bartender happily filled Parish request and slid the shot and glass to him. Parish poured the whisky into the beer, "I started about a month or two ago. Started having these strange feelings at first and then it got worse. Started to see demons coming through the barriers…" he looked at Constantine with fear in his eyes. "…what happened tonight…that's the fourth case I've had like that in a month."

"Shit…" Constantine took a drink.

"You don't understand. That's the fourth time I've dealt with it but it's the first time the demons been stopped." Now Constantine stared at Parish. "It's like God has stopped answering our prayers or something. My mentor was killed in a recent botched attempt at banishment. Many priests and nuns have died in recent months. God has abandoned his followers."

"No. More likely some bugger's tampering with the balance of magic and it's weakening things that shouldn't be weakened." Constantine said as if it were nothing.

"That would make sense but who and why?"

"Seems that's what I'm gonna have to figure out, yeah?" Constantine drained his Gin and tonic then waved for another. "Anything else you can tell me, Father?"

"Ever since my first encounter I feel like I've been being followed. Like, like a demon is trailing me or something."

Constantine's eyes grew wide, "Tell me, ever been to Hawthorne?"

Parish eyes narrowed, "Yeah. My brother, David owns an apartment complex there. I washed some clothes there the other day."

It dawned on him what might be happening but Constantine fell silent and drank more for a while. He and Parish sat long enough to both finish their drinks before, Constantine got a tingle from one of his protection spells. He stood up and straightened his coat, "Gonna have a smoke out back. Care to join me?" Parish looked at his empty cup and stood on shaky knees to follow.

At the back of the bar were two doors. One door led out to an alleyway beside a parking lot and another led to a smoking area. The smoking area was sectioned off by a six and half foot fence made from wood so nobody could see through it. Constantine went to the smoking area and found a few people out there. Before Parish could join him he eyed them all, "You're all gonna go inside and stay there until the bar closes." The people got up and walked inside without another word.

"Sit with me, Father." Constantine took a seat and lit up a cigarette. "Banish many demons in your time?"

"A few, yes."

"Interesting stuff." Constantine exhaled. "So what drives a fresh, potential-filled priest of a respectable church to alcoholism?"

"I'm not an alcoholic." Parish said firmly, and Constantine almost believed him. His shoulders slumped and the tough façade broke down, "I'd banished my first demon and was feeling cocky, one could say. The second time I…I went alone, without the help or sanction of my mentor. When I arrived I…the poor boy…I was so nervous…said the wrong words…it shouldn't have been that serious but the unbalance of magic…"

Constantine puffed hard, "So you unleashed the first fucker on us then?"

"Yes." Parish looked ashamed. "...and I know its name."

Constantine sat straight up immediately. If he knew the demons name he could summon it, command it or banish it with no problem. "Its name, Father! Tell me its blood name!"

Parish was sobbing softly. "Yes. Of course. It's-

The wooden fence exploded inward and the demon from the footage flew inside with a shriek of rage. It tackled, Parish down and through one of the small tables that was in the smoking area. Ash and cigarette butts flew everywhere, some going into Constantine's eyes. 'No! No! This wasn't supposed to happen!' he thought to himself and frantically tried to clear his eyes. This wasn't part of his plan.

He heard Parish scream, "No! Constantine! Help me!" and then he heard the sound of bone breaking, chewing and swallowing.

"No!" he finally got his eyes cleaned enough to see the demon standing over, Father Parish mutilated corpse. Then its eyes turned to him.

"Con-stan-tine…" its voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Bloody hell...it knows my name…" The demon backhanded Constantine with a fierce blow that sent him backwards through the fence and onto a car window that was parked on the other side. By the time he regained his senses and stumbled back into the smoking area the demon was gone and all that was left were the remains of the alcoholic priest.

"No. Dammit! No!" Constantine slid to the ground. He had done this. This was his fault. He should have warned the priest the moment he suspected the demon was likely coming for him back in the bar. He had been worried the priest might run or possibly disable the demons ability to track him. Constantine had been so caught up in his selfish quest to stop the demon that he didn't think about what would happen if his bait was harmed. He had led down his guard for a moment in a rush to learn the demons name and it had cost a man his life. Another on the long list of people that had died because of his arrogance and stupidity. This demon was somehow more powerful than usually allowed but that was a puzzle for another time.

"It won't be in vain." He whispered. Ripping a piece of Parish's clothing, he drenched it in his blood then held his hands over it and muttered a spell. He stood up and brushed off his coat and shirt then lit another cigarette. He could hear voices from inside and footsteps coming his way so he turned and walked away.