Author's Note: If you like what you're reading, or maybe you don't, please leave a review below. If you're lost on story elements, character backgrounds, or even just think my writing style could use a few tweaks to make it better, let me know. If you really like "Vanishing Crisis", please Favorite to stay up to date, or PM me on any questions you might have. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
He woke up drowsy and aching. His jaw hurt like he'd been hit by a professional heavyweight, and his insides felt like they'd just gone through the wash. That wasn't the worst of it, sadly. Between the blood seeping into his shirt from his stomach wound and hanging by chains over an occult pyre. Just another bloody day in the life of John Constantine.
"I swear this day was going well for me, " Constantine said his head wavering just over the flames.
"I guess you aren't as great as the whispers claimed you to be." John's captor was a large creature, with skin red as blood and a frame that would put any wide shouldered athlete to shame. His horns curled down across his jaw before they whisked outward. His eyes were threatening enough, pitch black, in a permanent squint of aggression, and hallowing to anyone inexperienced in the Dark Arts. Unfortunately for him, John was anything, but inexperienced. The worst part about this unquestionably powerful hell-fiend was that Constantine was at a huge disadvantage. Besides being completely at its mercy, Constantine didn't know this Demon's name.
In the magical world, a creature's name was a connection to its ethereal being. When acquired by forces that would do it wrong, it served as a huge weakness. A well learned magician or supernatural force could use a creature's name to wound it to its core, banish it, even bind its soul if the caster was strong enough. It was like Kryptonite, John thought. He could make the blue boy scout with the big S do whatever he wanted if he had enough of the stuff. Wouldn't solve his problem in the here and now though, would it.
"Yeah well, I'm just warming up. No pun intended," John smirked, still bleeding. He knew if he didn't take care of the cut soon, he'd pass out, but he also knew that if he stayed trapped in these chains, he'd die long before that. He'd just have to work through the pain. Nothing new.
"Always the hero, aren't you? The brave John Constantine, Master of the Dark Arts and official Justice League member. You must be so special."
"Wrong on both counts, mate. I'm far what you'd call a hero and the cape and tights type don't much take kindly to a man like me. Besides, if I were a real master of the Dark Arts, do you really think I'd be trapped in here with the likes of you? The Infernal equivalent of a mail delivery boy? Fat fucking chance."
"Imbecile," the Demon bellowed. "Do you not know who I am?! It was I who conquered the plains of Titus amidst the Hellscape Wars! It was I who stood victorious against the Infernal Tartarus before your kind had even crawl from the mud! I am a Gladiator of Hell itself and will stand to be insulted by an insect such as yourself!"
"Yeah yeah, that's all very impressive, but why the wait? Why the chains and blood mate? There any reason for the theatrics?"
"It is a ritual, petty dabbler of the Mystic Arts. Made especially for you."
"That right? Why's that now?"
"Because despite your best efforts to underwhelm me, I know your reputation. Taking your soul to Hell has been the bane of who've dared try. Never before has someone like you avoided our grasp for so long. You've made preparations, haven't you? Some relic or ward on your person to avoid your inevitable fate?"
"No mate, just been running on luck this whole time."
"Well then, it has run dry. The chains around you were crafted of a special metal. Any wards protecting you from my pyre have been absolved. The fire itself will burn your flesh away, despite any protections you've marked your skin with. It will be the purest death, one that will cleanse you permanently."
"Then my soul gets added to your stash as currency, aye? Not a bad plan mate, really read up on me didn't cha?"
"You and I are similar in that regard. We are always prepared, but not this time. This time I have you, and you are without time to save yourself."
"Why ain't I dead yet then, aye? Just like watching me bleed to death, is that it?"
"With every drop of blood your body pumps though you an into my flame, the higher it shall rise. Millimeter by millimeter it shall consume you, and it will be entirely your own doing. The very blood that gives you life will be your end." The Demon gargled a hideous laughter. John began to slowly shake his head side to side.
"Tsk tsk, is was a good plan, mate. Was being the key there. But now you're shit outta luck."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Beg all you want mate, you've still lost this bout." The Demon cocked his enlarged skull to one side.
"I don't think you understand where you are right now."
"No, I don't think you understand. You see you may have me chained and bloody, and about to burn myself to a crisp, but I've still got the edge." The flames were licking at Constantine's more unkempt hairs now. He curled his cut up stomach to avoid getting roasted, at the cost of great physical distress.
"You have NOTHING, John Constantine. You have lost."
"Sorry, but I have everything. I have your sodding name⦠Hephareal." The Demon squirmed in its own skin, its voice strained as a part of its very being seemed tortured.
"Foul Human! How dare you utter that-!"
"Say another word and I'll be sending you back home. Empty handed." Hephareal grunted a low grumble that seemed to shake Constantine's chains. His sharp claw-like toes gripped into the stone floor of whatever room they must have been in.
"What...What do you want?"
"Little more aware of the situation are we? Good. First unchain me and get me out of this sodding fire."
"What's stopping me just waiting you out?"
"The knowledge that the last thing I do before I pass will be banning you from every plane of existence."
"You don't have that kind of magic in you. Not today anyway."
"Even if I was as drained as you thought, I've got enough still kicking to brand your name with a special little something of my own. Anyone with even the slightest ounce of mysticism in their blood will suddenly know your name and hate it with every bit the same hatred you hold for me. Think of it as a little spam email chain you can't delete no matter how hard you try. This little fire you've set up here and blood you took from me served as the conduit for this incantation of mine. I've been murmuring it to myself while you were gloating about yourself, which is where I got your name."
"Nonsense, I never told you my name!"
"Oh didn't you? 'Conqueror of Titus?' 'Slayer of the Infernal Jezebel?' May as well have handed me a sodding resume. Face it, mate. You've lost." The flames were making his scalp uncomfortably warm now, sweat dropping as fast as blood. Another thirty seconds and his hair would no doubt be ablaze. "The incantation goes into full effect upon my passing. You kill me here, now, or anywhere else, you become branded to every magical being in existence! You'll never be safe, always on the run, always being hunted. Am I really worth that much?!" Hephareal stroked his chin with some serious thought. "Choose soon mate, I'm prepared for my fate, are you?"
After what seemed like eternity, Hephareal concluded his analysis of his situation. With a snap of his fingers, the pyre was extinguished and the chains holding Constantine disappeared in a puff of smoke. John fell onto the ashen heap with an unceremonious crash.
"Well played, Constantine. But this is not the end." John held a hand at his stomach wound, a manageable thing if he called someone soon.
"Yeah, how's that?"
"Because all of Hell already knows your name. If you think Humanity is something to be feared, imagine the whole of Demon-kind wanting nothing more than to take your precious Soul."
"Hephareal," John spun a distinct inflection into the name, and the Hellspawn erupted in a shower of embers and ash, banishing it back to its home realm.
"I don't have to imagine, mate." John pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it with a wisp of fire from his fingertips. "I live your nightmare every sodding day."
Constantine got up with a wince and an arm at his stomach, a purple glow emitting from his palm. "Nicked me good though, chief." His spell would keep the wound at bay, maybe putting a temporary end to the bleeding, but the pain was still irritating. It was far from healed, but it'd last him until he made it to a hospital. If nothing else, it was nice to have magic at his fingertips, to be tapped into the boundless world of the supernatural. He loved the void, or at least he was good at it, but far from invincible. He knew that if not for a single obscure article he'd read once or twice, he'd have been dead just there, but he didn't dwell on it."Time to get moving."
Even as he strode, the winds of magic began shifting, changing around him. Odd, this wasn't what recovering from an cursed incantation felt like, usually it like a supernatural hangover of sorts. This, this was something different. Something much bigger.
John walked out into the blinding sunlight of a London streetside. He could feel it though, something ominously powerful was doing...Something. Damnit, why couldn't he get a read on what this was. This feeling, he could sense it, the inherent magic of the world being channeled all around him. Whoever was doing this, was an actual master of the Dark Arts. And based on the scale, this spell was on a global level.
Were they trying to fight John? Where were they? Attacking another defender of the House of Mystery? What was this about to be? He had to get-!
As pedestrians brushed past him, John's gaze turned to the sky, as a green pulse swept through the clouds. He felt a tremendous rush of the arcane, a buzzing aftershock of the awesome might of something incredible. Amazingly, he was otherwise unphased. He looked around, realizing he'd thrown his hands up as an involuntary reaction. Everyone on the street just stared at him, as if he was the odd one for wanting to defend himself.
"You alright, buddy?"
"Didn't you see it?!"
"See what?" It was then, John's face turned from fear to annoyance.
"Bullocks. Nothing, sod off." John pushed past the man with an uncanny grace. Looking down at his stomach he realized his cut had closed. He'd been healed by that wave of magic. No, something that massive, it had to be more. More powerful, and completely invisible to those without magic.
"Fucking A. What the actual hell just happened?"
