DISCLAIMER:
Both writers Catie, and TK-Productionz do not in any way own the movie Constantine, and the characters in it…
IF we did we'd totally make Balthazar into our sex slave…We do own the characters, Khi, Attie, Shaman Tenesh, and Lykoi.
BORN FROM HELL AND IN BETWEEN
Rain fell in torrents onto the roof of a small, gritty bar in Los Angeles. Inside, drunkards, Winos, killers and thieves gambled away their worthless lives for a bit of green paper.
The bar tender, a swollen old man with five-0o'clock shadow glanced up as the door swung open. A tall stranger in a strange black trench coat sauntered inside, his collar pulled up over his head, an oilskin hood obscuring his face. His back was marred by twin humps on each shoulder, but he still walked tall and gave an air of deadly calm.
The bar tender (Joe) cleared his throat, "What can I get you, stranger?"
The stranger lifted his head, a gleaming smile visible under the hood. His eyes roamed around the room, and the bartender noticed with a panicked skip of his heart that one of the man's eyes glowed a radiant white, while the other was illuminated by a garnet red which flashed from deep within his pupils.
Every occupant of the room instantly turned, the tell-tale red of their eyes gleaming effulgently in the smoky room.
The man sighed, and pulled back his hood. Short, spiky tri-colored hair exploded out to frame his face in a halo of gold, garnet and blue-black, as his perfect lips curled back wider to reveal a mouth elegantly framed by dual fangs.
The bartender gasped, his ruddy eyes a ruby red, "Wha...what do you want?"
The man turned to him, just as a pair of jet black wings slid out from the holes in the back of his coat, revealing what the humps had been, "What do I want?" he asked, coyly, as he whipped out a large shot gun, "To restore the balance by sending your scaley ass straight back to hell!"
The strange intruder unloaded both barrels point blank into Joe's chest. Grave dirt mixed with ash exploded into the air, just as the rest of the Half-breeds attacked.
The stranger moved like a whirl wind. He walked back and forth across the long gallery of the bar as if for an evening stroll, unleashing death and havoc with every step of his iron-shod hobnailed Jackboots. Grave dirt and ash erupted like a volcano on every side, and the demonic crusader wasted no mercy on his victims.
Finally, when nothing moved in the entire building, the stranger dropped the now empty weapon, and yawned. He turned on his heel, and strode towards the door, his long, delicately pointed ears twitching to the familiar sounds of the badass 1950's music which was still playing cheerfully in the background. As he paced to the door, a long, sleek tail snaked out from the pleats on the back of the stranger's coat, on coiled around his ankle. The man dug into his pocket and pulled out three shiny coins, and dropped them coyly on the counter, a deep thrumming purr sounding from his throat.
The man made his way outside into an alley, his cat-tail retracted up around his waist where it hung like a belt. He pulled his coat closer around him to ward off the rain, his massive wings forming a make-shift umbrella for his head. As he walked, the tiny thorns which had been raised upwards like hackles down his vertebrae dropped back to their normal position, which was flush against his skin, completely invisible to the naked eye.
Suddenly, he stopped dead, his ears rotating to catch the sound of a footfall behind him. He turned slowly, to face five incredibly tall half-breeds, a devilish red gleam lighting their eyes in an aroused, feverish light.
The stranger sighed, and shook his head, "Not YOU again, Benezhar. I thought I finished you in London."
"No, you didn't, Khi Damascus." The tallest, ugliest half-breed chortled. He pulled back his shirt, revealing a cross-shaped gash through which one could see light, "Although I must admit it was pretty close."
Aekhiyael Damascus, son of the ex-Arc Angel Gabriel and Mammon, son of Lucifer, smiled, "Not close enough for my taste, Benezhar."
Benezhar looked at his cronies; "The abomination must die!! Kill him!"
The other demons leapt forward, growling angrily. Khi wasted no time. He lifted both of his hands, letting the long, cat-like claws which were dormant in his hands spring outwards, the crusader's crosses tattoos into his wrists blazing. All down his arms, hidden runes and alchemic symbols burst into light, as Khi drove his claws into the hearts of two of his assailants. They screamed as Khi yelled, "En name de patric, et fili es spirit du sanctem, amen!"
Khi's fingers glowed, as he screamed, "En nome de Patrice, et Fili, es spiritdu sanctem! AMEN!"
The half-breeds screamed in horror as they blew into a million peices. Khi grinned, and leapt foreword, ducking the third half-breed's punch, and kicking the thing straight in the balls. The demon roared and fell flat as Khi quickly spat three times onto the demon's back, "Esen du raden do Deus!" the demon melted into the floor with a howl.
Khi suddenly fell flat as the fourth demon lifted a crucifix in a gloved hand. The half-demon half-angel writhed on the ground as his demon half screamed at him to run, while his angel half to heart in the symbol.
Bene (I forgot his whole name) walked over, and pinned Khi to the ground by driving two silver stakes through each wing. Khi roared and thrashed, trying to remember any incantation which would help him.
The demon bearing the crucifix dropped it like it was something loathsome and ran to help. They bound Khi's thrashing limbs together, and finally, Benezhar pulled a huge battle axe out of a bag. As Khi looked along the blade, he realized that the weapon had been personalized for the soul purpose of destroying him. Along the silver-infused blade, where symbols of Crucifixes as well as the symbol of Khi's father, Mammon, and the anti-christ's charm. He roared, "COWARDS!"
Benezhar smiled, "this is going to hurt you a lot more than it will hurt me."
Sister Bridget walked her normal rounds in front of the small nunnery where she lived. In modern times, it was hard to keep a nunnery running in downtown Los Angeles, but somehow the small convent managed.
As she walked, Bridget noticed a dark stain on the marble steps. She bent, thinking some careless gangster had spilled spray paint, but as she knelt she realized it was something completely metallic silver. She carefully steeped her finger in it only to realize that it was warm and sticky, rather reminiscent of blood.
She suddenly remembers a story she'd heard as a child, a myth about the angels of old having blood the color of silver. She stood, quickly, not quite knowing what she was looking for. She rounded the bend and stopped dead.
Khi lay hunched on the stairs, trench coat torn and mangled. His wings were in shreds, and deep, ragged wounds ran the length of his torso, which was exposed through his ripped tee shirt. Cross-shaped burns marred his stomach, and there were marks from a cat-o-nine-tails across his shoulders. His tail was ragged and lay limp around his waist, and his eyes were only half-opened.
Bridget crossed herself, "Sweet mother of Jesus!" she ran over to Khi's fallen body, and gently touched his cheek.
Khi's eyes opened slowly, and he stared at her through the glowing blue of them. He gasped something unintelligible, and groaned. Bridget turned, "Somebody help me!"
The nunnery's caretaker heard her calling, and hurried over. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Khi, "My god! What is he?"
Bridget carefully placed her hand on Khi's bare skin over his heart (He's buff, by the way, but not Arnold Schwarzenegger) her eyes closed. Visions flashed through her head, and she sucked in her breath in horror. She turned to the caretaker, "help me get him inside! And find the Mother Superior!"
Khi lay on a small wooden cot, his wings falling limply to the ground on either side of him. His wounds had been sewed shut, and he had been bathed to clean the blood off. The mother superior stood with Sister Bridget as they stared at him.
"You're sure?" The mother superior was saying, "You're absolutely certain that this is Gabriel's son?"
"Positive, Mother." Bridget said, crossing herself, "He is the only son of Gabriel I've ever even heard of."
"I wonder who his father was." M.S (I don't want to keep writing that out, sorry) mused.
Bridget bit her lip, "Mammon."
"What?!"
"Mammon, son of Lucifer." Bridget said, coarsely.
"You know how crazy that sounds?" M.S sighed, and put her hands on Bridget's shoulders, "I have never doubted your visions, Bridget. I know God speaks to you in his own way...but are you sure you are not mistaken?"
"It certainly explains the tail." Bridget said. She went to Khi, and lifted one of his slender, graceful hands, "And it explains this." he pressed down gently on his palm, and the blades in his knuckles extended slightly, like a cat's would.
Khi suddenly, opened his eyes. He turned to look at Bridget and the M.S. and his eyes lit on the crucifix around Bridget's neck. He sucked in his breath in pain, yet continued to stare with a look of raptured fascination on his face.
The M.S. looked at him, "You're awake. Can you remember anything?"
Khi looked at them, "Yes. I don't know who you are though. Should I?"
"This humble sister saved your life, Son of Gabriel."
Khi winced, "So. You know of my mother...father...person."
"And we know of your father. Mammon." The M.S winced as she said the name and crossed herself. Khi flinched at the gesture.
Khi stood, slowly, and yelped in pain. His wings fluttered feebly, "I should go."
"You're not well yet." Bridget said, not unkindly, as steered him to a small stool, "You are still very hurt. What did this to you?"
"Demons." Khi shuddered, "of the most unsavory nature."
"Your father is a demon of a most unsavory nature." The M.S spat. She caught herself, "Excuse me." she then turned to Bridget, "I think we need to make a phone call."
"To who?" Bridget asked, surprised.
Khi looked at her, a wary look on his face.
The M.S looked at Khi, "What is your name, Demon-Spawn?"
Khi's eyebrows narrowed, "Khi. Khi Damascus."
"Well...Kuh-heye...you'd better stay where you are and don't make trouble." The M.S turned on her heel and marched to where a phone rested on a small table. She spun the wheel until it rested on the O symbol and said curtly into the receiver, "Get me Constantine. John Constantine...Asshole."