Introductory Author's Note: I did intend on updating my last piece, but I have a feeling I'll update this one more. I promise! This is not a oneshot and I fully intend on continuing it. For my last piece, I had ideas flying around my head. For this, I know (almost) exactly what I want to do and where I'm going. I've already started writing the second installment, so no fear.

Nemesis is the remorseless Greek goddess of revenge.

This takes place pre-movie. I'm putting the 2005 movie on an indefinite time line, and putting this about five or seven years before that. (So it's pre-Chaz, also. Sorry Chastines!) So it takes place in the "present", and the movie takes place in the "future". That way I don't have to muck around with dates. That will seriously confuse this author. Speaking of which, this particular author owns no rights to Constantine, or Hellblazer, or Warner Bros., or any such thing. The only thing I own is the sick fantasy world constantly whirling through my head. I've taken the leisure of transcribing this sick fantasy world, and here it is!

It's rated M so that I may take all leeway with language, violence, and sexuality without having to worry about changing the rating. C'mon, folks, this is Constantine. He is a sexy, foul-mouthed, demon-fighting machine. That equals rating M. Speaking of sexuality, any Constantine-related relationship is going to take place between Constantine and an outside character who you will be introduced to shortly. :)


"There are certain qualifications for the job. One: transportation. You—"

"I'm cool with that! I just got my driver's license—well, I mean—"

"I'm only going through this once, so I advise you not to interrupt me. The second qualification: sight."

John Constantine took a drag of his cigarette and made eye contact with a woman sitting at the bar. The cretin he was interviewing for the position of apprentice and driver disrupted his concentration. Why is he talking? he thought.

"Chief, I got so much sight! I been seeing since I can remember. Uh, there's a, a half demon over your shoulder and, and—" He gestured animatedly, but was obviously floundering about in a lie.

"The last qualification is that you have to not annoy the shit out of me."

The man paused. "Huh?"

"Leave." Constantine exhaled a cloud of smoke into his face, but the interviewee didn't leave. He sighed, stubbed his half smoked cigarette out on the table, and reached slowly into his jacket as if to produce a gun. The man saw this and bolted from the table.

Constantine snapped his Zippo lighter open and relit the crooked cigarette, with little success. Thankfully, though, the bluff worked. He didn't have anything inside his jacket.

He looked over at the bar, but the woman there was gone. He took a deep drag and rubbed his forehead tiredly. The state of California refused to give him a driver's license because he couldn't provide a car or proof of financial responsibility. Exorcism was apparently not a valid occupation. He would have to get over his distaste for most other people and hire a driver. Training an apprentice was the only reasonable way to attract a driver who didn't demand an exorbitant price, but most of the people interested in becoming exorcists, he had to admit, were freaks.

Just as he took another drag, the woman from the bar sat down at his table.

"John Constantine." She set her wine glass down and folded her hands on the table. "My name is Bethany Grey. You're looking for someone to fill an apprentice position, and I'd like that to be me."

Constantine examined the woman more closely. She had rosy, soft-looking lips and her naked eyes were large, brown, and rimmed with fragile eyelashes. Her dark hair was pulled gracefully back into a loose ponytail and contrasted well against her pale skin. Underneath her leather jacket, she wore an off-white blouse and smooth black pants.

"Okay, Bethany Grey. First explain how you know who I am and what I'm doing here." Constantine wasn't terribly alarmed. He just wanted to know where she picked up on his tracks so that he could do a better job of covering them.

"You may do well to conceal your footsteps, Constantine, but you're connected to several occult circles, and they aren't difficult to find. You both get your exorcism information from the same sources." Constantine made a mental note to get on Father Hennessey's case about slipping information to the occultists. "Besides, in the hour you've been here so far, you've smoked ten cigarettes. That, and your lighter is very distinctive." She took a drink of her wine and held his gaze over the rim of the glass.

"Impressive. What makes you think I would hire you?"

Bethany ticked her qualifications off on her fingers. "I have the sight, I have a car, I have knowledge, I will be available to drive you at any time, and I really want this job."

He thought of a few more qualifications, but kept them to himself. Constantine found the combination her beauty with her obvious intelligence rare and enticing, and wouldn't mind having her as an apprentice.

"Let me see your driver's license." He ought to make sure she wasn't lying before getting his hopes up. She produced her ID.

After briefly examining it, he looked up at her. "This isn't fake."

She looked back at him with a furrowed brow. "No, no it's not...?"

"You're definitely not old enough to be in a bar without a fake ID." He examined it closer. She was born in 1990. "This says you're seventeen."

"Yeah. I've been able to do this for a while. If I show someone my ID, I can mentally persuade them of what it says. I project what I want to onto my license, when I need to."

Constantine was mildly impressed by this display of an intuitive psychic ability for illusion. If she had previous formal training in the occult, she would know this skill by name. He concluded that she was inexperienced, but she seemed to be a quick learn. He decided he needed to further test her sight.

He removed the lighter and cigarettes from his pocket. "If you can tell me what I have in my jacket pocket, the job is yours."

"But—"

"Even if you don't think you can, just try. Close your eyes and concentrate."

Bethany did as he said. She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on the contents of his jacket pocket. After a moment, she felt a concentrated location of negativity. It was very dense and very small. The negative sensations of dread and the will to harm were amplified by its deceptively innocuous appearance.

She opened her eyes and looked at Constantine quizzically.

"Go ahead," he nudged.

"Small and dangerous... no sharp edges, no fire... it's a lethal weapon."

He removed a small, beautiful amber stone out of his jacket pocket. Black veins streaked inward toward the heart of the oval stone. "This is a culling stone. It's from Africa. It's used to remove the suffering, the deranged, and the dangerous. To kill someone with this, I simply have to will it. Of course, without the culling key, it's relatively harmless."

Bethany took it in her hands. "Relatively?"

"It could still dent a skull."

She put it down. "Right."

He hadn't yet gotten this far in any of his eight or ten interviews. He didn't think he would after this, lit a new cigarette, and even dared to let a smile slip. "Okay, the job's yours."

"...That's all?"

"That's all." He took two black and nondescript cell phones out of his pants pocket and slid one across the table to her. "This is to be devoted entirely to the job. No unrelated outbound or inbound calls. Keep it on and with you at all times. The only number on there is my cell phone, which is devoted entirely to this job."

She nodded and put the cell phone away, and as Constantine did the same, it vibrated.

He answered it immediately. After a few moments, he repeated an address. "1450 North Benedict." As he said it he pointed to Bethany, indicated for her to remember it. "Got it." He closed his phone.

"It's your first night on the job. Let's go."


Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism is never taken personally, so criticize away! Reviews are appreciated.