Mistakes Were Made
Author's note: Been trying come up with an Illyana and John Constantine (HELLBLAZER) story. Then I realized that Illyana's and Jeremy Clarkson's drive in Scotland (Top Gear X chapters 6, 7, 8) was the perfect opening based on the events that happened in that part of the story. To fully understand this story you will need to have read Top Gear X.
This is the first of several Illyana/John Constantine short stories that I've written.
FYI, John Constantine's language is quite harsh, which is how he is written in Hellblazer so it's not my fault.
Part 1: Hanging around
'Well fuck" John thought to himself, "Scared for my bleeding life and bored to tears at the same time".
John was hanging around waiting for the girl to show up. Well... hanging around in that he was currently upside down and nude apart from a pair of (mind the GAP) boxers and his socks. He had been dangling over a pit of ravenous hell beasts for the last several hours. John had a really good view of the foot of the creature that was dangling him via one of his ankles. The foot was purple, leathery, had very impressive claws, and a rather epic toe fungus thing going on.
John decided it was time to sweet talk his way out of this.
"Mate, is this really necessary? Why don't you just put me down and we can both be comfortable until she shows up. I mean..." John glances at what little he can see of the hellish landscape " I'm not likely to try and run off or something based upon what little I can see of this suburbian paradise".
John was hoisted higher into the air until he was high enough to be face to face with his captor. A demon. Of course it had to be a demon. Just once John wished it would be some well endowed nympho Amazon with a thing for British blond blokes.
The demon's head was also purple, as well as his body, and had a very impresses set of choppers; the incisors must have been two inches long. There was a single horn growing from the center of the creature's forehead, roughly 6 inches long. Interestingly the creature was smoking a thick but short stogie.
"Quiet you" the creature grunted and exhaled a cloud of pungent smoke. "S'ym dislikes speaking with morons".
"Must make family reunions rather boring then" John quipped.
The creature glared at John and sucked strongly on the stogie, the tip now glowing red; then he dangled John closer and closer to the cigar until the tip just touched John's nose.
"Ahhh! You mother fucker" John shouted as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "Lay off you, it was just a joke".
The creature gave forth a chilling smoky chuckle. "S'ym likes jokes. Want to tell S'ym another"? He then inhaled again on the stogie and caused the ash tip to again glow red.
"No, my sense of humor appears to have run dry all of a sudden".
A cloud of smoke was exhaled into John's face. "Good.
Time to attempt to illicit a bit of info. "So... who's the twa..., um girl".
Another snort of smoke, this time from the nostrils of the creature. "A name does not define a thing".
"Ok... (cheeky bastard, demons always wanted to answer questions vaguely, must be a union rule or something). So what is she"?
The demon stared John in the eye. "She is hurt and darkness given form".
A cloud of smoke was exhaled into John's face. "Word of advice. Boss Babe not as keen on jokes as S'ym. Mind your manners". John was lowered back down till he was once again dangling over the hungry beasts.
"Well double fuck" thought John. "All I wanted was a blasted pint".
Part 2: Sheep Head Inn
John was in Edinburgh Scotland for a bit of business. Cass had driven him up in his taxi from London, all the while pointing out that there were these new fangled inventions called trains; advice that John steadily ignored. Yea the train would've gotten him there faster, but that would have left John to his own devices as to transport about town. Dragging Cass along solved that most handedly.
Anyway the business as now done, possessed cat and a haunted Abby all taken care of. Cass was down the street having some bangers and mash while John popped into one of the pubs he liked, the Sheep Head Inn.
John noticed three things as he walked through the pub's door.
ONE: Jeremy Fucking Clarkson was sitting at the bar having a pint. John hated Clarkson. It was nothing personal, John had actually never met the man. John hated everything that he believed Clarkson stood for. Rich Tory bastard looking down upon the working man. John also believed that Clarkson was one of the reasons public transport was not as good as it could be, and would share such opinions in any pub if Top Gear was on the telly (pubs tended to show sports or Top Gear if the telly was on). John likewise despised the show Top Gear.
TWO: He now suspected that he know who owned, or was at least driving, the high end Jaguar convertible parked out front. Shame the roof was up, oh well at least he could key it on the way out.
THREE: There was a demon at the bar sitting next to Clarkson. It was a good disguise. Tallish blond wearing something nice but not too flaunty, quite the looker. She felt powerful. Looked like she was drinking some white wine. John had a theory about high level demons. Always drinking wine, never having a pint. Dead giveaway in most situations.
John walked to the bar, got a pint of bitter, and then walked over to an isolate booth from which he could observe the two, and had a sit.
"So the tabloids got him nailed to a tee" John thought as he took a sip. "May be having a bitter divorce but not stopping the right bastard from trying to wet his wick with anything that wanders by".
John observed Clarkson telling a funny story about something. "Probably about running over the downtrodden peasants or paving over a coal miner" John bitterly thought. "Well serves him right. Wonder what kind of demon she is? Succubus? Naa, not busty enough, that type always over does the physical attributes and dresses to show the goodies. Fear demon? Naaa. Hmmm I wonder what she is...".
John took a hearty swallow and briefly stared at the ceiling, hands on his head, trying to place her demon type. He sensed some movement in the corner of his right eye and glanced back down only to find her standing right at his booth (Clarkson was off to the loo, he was a big boy with a big bladder so he was going to be awhile).
She was looking at him with an expression slight irritation and quickly came to the point. "What do you want"?
"Well that was quick, whatcha selling lov? Same thing being offered to the old goat?" was his snide reply.
Now she had a look of mild disgust as well as irritation. She glared at him and John felt it grow cold. "I see, a minor practitioner. One capable of avoiding the snares that the other paparazzi fell afoul of. I wonder who hired you and for how much"?
John lit a fag and puffed back some scorn "Minor! It's John Fucking Constantine to you, you demonic twat. Now piss off and leave the Tory bastard alone before I get nasty". John knew he had quite the reputation in the infernal realms so that should put the fear of God or something in her. Her reply was not the usual response.
Her voice dripped cold scorn, "Never heard of you".
That's a new response. Some would flee (which always make John feel good), some would bluster or threaten. Others would laugh and disparage him. No demon had pretended to not know of him in a long time.
"Nice try, but we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Up to you twats".
Nothing, not a rise out of her. Not even a (I'll crush you if you interfere) statement.
"Goodbye Mr. Constantine", she smiled a smile that did not reach the eyes, "Oh..." she pantomimed smelling an armpit, "It's called soap". She walked back to the bar just in time to meet Clarkson. They existed the pub and John heard the rumble of the Jag as it drove away.
He gave his pits a sniff. "Been it bit busy" was his muffled and lame retort.
Part 3: The Hard Way
"Minor practitioner my ass. I'll show that demonic twat a thing or two". John was now remembering that words spoken in haste tend to be regrettable.
The last two days had been hell for John and Cass. Let's see, run off road seven times, four by busses, two by cars, and once by a herd of cattle. Three flat tires, a punctured gas tank, a punctured radiator (cow horn) and the last little delay of a shit storm had actually been a real shit storm as a flock of fucking buzzards had dive bombed the cab and completely obscured the windscreen with... well shit (where the hell did she get buzzards in England for fucks sake?).
"She's good" was John's sarcastic statement to himself as he listened to Cass curse while he fixed what was now the fourth flat. "The buzzards were a nice touch".
John smoked yet another fag (third pack today), "Think I'm going about this wrong Cass mate of mine".
"You think" was Cass's reply. "Shit, looked what caused the flat". Cass had extracted the item that had holed the tire.
"Well fuck me" was John's response. It was a cigarette, more specifically it was one of John's preferred silk cut brand.
"It's a hard a rock John and... Ouch, sharp as well. How the hell did she do that"?
"Lot's of ways Cass (not that he could think of any off the bat). Twats playing with us, showing off a bit".
"John..." Cass looked thoughtful, "Something's off on this whole thing".
"What way Cass"?
"It's... well so far it's not lethal or even very dangerous. All my other times with you the demons would be throwing death and destruction around. But a cow horn? The cow head butted the cab and punctured the radiator. Since when do demons use cows for their plots? It's like she's trying not hurt us, just scare us away or something".
"I think she's trying to avoid attention Cass. Hurry up and get the tire fixed. I've got an idea that should sidetrack whatever she's throwing at us, and..." John rolled the fag between his fingers "This little gift from twats should do just the trick".
Part 4: Smoke Them If You Got Them
Cass and John were parked outside of the remote Scottish highland pub that Clarkson and the girl had gone into. John was busy relighting the fag that the girl had used to hole the tire (he had figured out how to transform it back to a cigarette, but now it was no longer an ordinary cigarette). John had figured out how to negate whatever enchantments she was using to hinder them, but the ritual involved smoking the cigarette.
"I don't think picking those blokes was a good idea John".
"Naa, some right proper bruisers they are. Jobs simple. Go in. Invoke the charm, which will reveal her true form and temporarily hinder her powers (a bit of the cigarette was in the charm), and then relentlessly taunt the twat. Twats will be revealed for whatever she truly is and that bastard Clarkson will owe me big time. Fancy a new cab Cass"?
"Don't know John, they were a bit too eager for the job, plus their pupils were pinpricks. Their high on something".
The cigarette tip suddenly glowed white hot. "Charms been tripped. Twat's true self is shown. You wait here Cass and I'll go get our reward from the oh so shocked Mr. Fing Clarkson".
John exited the cab and slowly walked over to the pub. He could hear shouting and screaming (Ahh the twats getting her comeuppings). Wait one, that screaming sounds like Clarkson and it sounds like somebody's beating him to death.
John hurriedly ran to the pub door and opened it. The pub keeper was standing behind the bar holding a cricket bat. The four thugs that John had arranged the job with were no where to be found. Clarkson was one the floor with a disturbing amount of blood scattered about, and from the condition of Clarkson it looked like all of it was his. The girl was in the processes rolling Clarkson over.
The girl was in the process of rolling Clarkson over. But she was a demon, she had to be. John would have bet his life on it. The charm should have shown her true form.
"Oh Fuck" John proclaimed as he surveyed what was in fact now a crime scene.
The girls head came up, she had a panicky expression on her face. She immediately recognized him and her expression hardened. "You" she hissed. "This must be your doing. I'll deal with you later".
There was a flash and then John found himself in some hellish realm suspended upside down over a pit of some kind of hell monsters. Bellow him the hell monsters were busily eating what was left of the thugs John had hired.
Part 5: Playing With a Weak Hand
Hours later.
"S'ym grows bored" declared the creature.
"Great" thought John, "I hate people who talk about themselves in the third person".
"Might we discuss this situation by chance" John attempted to sound casual. For the last hour of so the creature had played a game of dangle John lower to encourage the hell monsters to leap up to in an effort to grab John. So far John was alive and relatively unhurt, he had had a few close encounters with the leaping hell creatures and had some nasty cuts from their claws. "I was rude before and now have seen the error of my ways".
"S'ym has idea".
"This is not going to be good" thought John.
"S'ym likes music. You will sing for S'ym".
"Ummm, sing what".
"You pick. S'ym will judge and if S'ym not happy...".
The girl showed up while John was belting out a truly horrible rendition of Elton John's Rocket Man. S'ym was singing along as well, S'ym loved Elton John songs.
And I think it's gonna be a long, long, time
'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Ah, no no no...
I'm a rocket man
Rocket man
Burnin' out this fuse
Up here alone
S'ym stopped singing and chuckled evilly. "Boss Babe here".
He turned John so now he could see her (remember he is still upside down). The girl was walking towards him.
She was covered in silvery armor holding a sword burning with silver fire. John could feel the power radiating off of her like heat from a grill. He recognized the sword. He has seen and felt it once before.
The sword had been embedded in a rock outside a lighthouse on a small Irish island. John had heard about it and gone to take a peek. Turned out only some American girl by the name of Kitty could actually remove the sword (she was living in the lighthouse with some other folks). John had examined the sword and then had gotten far far away from it as fast as he could. Sucker was nothing but power, rage, hate, madness and violence incarnate. That sword was only going to be safe for whoever had actually created it, not for anybody who was unlucky enough to hold it. Sucker had vanished years ago (and good riddance).
Be nice, be nice ,be nice John chanted to himself. No twat, strike the twat. Don't use the word twat. Hope she forgot I said twat.
"Hi. Remember me"? She cheerfully called out as she walked up, the sword scraping the ground behind her and leaving a trail of silver fire, then her tone got darker. "You know, the twat".
"Umm, yea. Look I'm really really sorry. I think there's been a real big misunderstanding and it's all my fault".
The girl started to walk around the pit, John had to twist his neck to keep her in view.One of his shoes was by the edge of the pit, she casually nudged it into the pit with her right foot.Two hell creatures had playful tug of war over it as it tore apart.
"Yes. It is. No thinks to you Jeremy will live. By my guess he was within minutes of dying. Luckily I obtained an Odin stone and was able to heal the damage".
"Odin stone? Bloody hell (Fuck I'm cursing, don't curse at her) that would fry any mortal unless somebody siphoned off the surplus energy". And how the heck did a Demon get such a stone John thought to himself?
The girl gave him an angry glare. John could guess who siphoned off that extra energy.
"Sooo... what to do with you" the girl purred as she finished walking around the pit and then used her sword to slowly cut his boxers off. John could hear the boxers being torn to shreds below him. "I dislike people trying to kill my friends..." She stopped talking and had a surprised expression on her face.
"Friends" John heard her whisper to herself. "Who would have thought that was possible".
She shook her head. "Back to the topic at hand. Why are you alive Mr. Constantine"?
"Umm... (no sarcasm or witty comments, oh crap she can see my dongle and doesn't look impressed (No she wasn't, Constantine did not compare well at all to the tallest man in BBC Television)). Because I was trying to save Clarkson from a demon"?
She made a buzzer sound (the sound from the game show family feud)which of course made no sense to John. "Wrong answer. Oh it's demon now instead of demonic twat, I guess I've been promoted. Try again".
Shit, she is not going to let that twat comment go, I am so fucked. "Teach me the error of my ways and set me free"?
She made the buzzer sound again. "Last guess, make it count".
John gave a heavy sigh "Because you're planning on feeding me to the hell beasts yourself".
"Bingo!" She makes a sound like a bell ringing "Ding, ding, ding. Survey say 99 percent of all demonic twats would do that". S'ym gave John a little congratulatory shake by the ankle.
"Well fuck" John thought to himself "Wait 99 percent"?
"And the other one percent" John said hoping that that it did not involve the sword.
"Well that depends" she said as she again glared at him "If they are demonic twats or not".
"I am deeply and truly sorry for calling you..." John gulped "A twat".
"Yes" she purred. "You're going to be. So... I did some research and found out more about you. I can see that you may have some minor uses to me. You're abnormally lucky for a marginal second rate practitioner, although your acquaintances tend to not share in that luck. Ordinarily I'd just gut you like the slime you are and kick you into the pit for what you've done. But... I'm willing let you make me an offer. If I like it then we can do business, if not". She not so carefully sliced off the sock from his other ankle (the one S'ym was not holding). "Well, I'm really looking forward to gutting you".
She held out her left thumb sideways, like how the Roman emperors used to judge gladiators. Thumb up you lived. Thumb down you died. The sword was poised just over his privates, John could feels the magical flames from the sword shriveling his pubs.
"Umm... I'll undertake one mission for you?" The thumb started turning down.Shit, even upside down he could tell the smile did reach the eyes this time.
"One? Did I say one? I meant two, no I mean three". The thumb returned to the neutral position.
Shit "Four and I promise to never insult you again or to ever refer to you as a twat so long as I live".
The thumb said he got to live! He could hear S'ym groan with disappointment.
S'ym dropped John by the side of the pit face down into the gravel and dust. John pushed himself up by his arms and sat well way from the pit.
"What should I call you my lady" was John's oh so not sarcastic statement.
"Girl will do for now. I'm sure a smart person will come up with a name or something, let's see how well you do".