Prologue
It was musty. The stench of old newspapers engulfed Batman. He was in an old cellar searching for any clues of the whereabouts of Temple Fugate, the Clock King. Fugate was always a slippery one, managing to barely escape at the last moment. As Batman shuffled through a stack of the local Gotham Gazette, a loud shriek pierced through the silence. He rushed outside and saw a woman trapped within a ring of fire. He quickly covered his face and jumped in. Batman grabbed onto her waist and sheathed her with his cape. As he went for his grappling hook, he felt his strength fade and his vision blur. As he stumbled and fell to one knee, Batman turned to look at the woman. The last thing he saw was the mysterious woman's unnatural yellow eyes.
Batman awoke with a sharp breath, gasping for air. Immediately he began to gauge his physical and mental status. With full range of motor functions, the only noteworthy malady affecting him was a pounding headache. Batman checked his cowl, the anti-personnel security measure was not triggered. He looked around but did not recognize the room he was in. There was, however, a noticeable stink of cigarette smoke in the air.
"No restraints, no sign of tampering with my cowl, and the more obvious fact that I'm not dead," Batman thought. He then murmured, "coupled with the smell of cigarettes-"
A voice came forth from the shadows and cut him off, "Yeah mate, it's me."
Batman knew that voice and the accent that came with it. He looked towards the silhouette stepping out into the light. And with what seemed to be a hint of disdain, he uttered, "Constantine."