15 years ago, night of the Arkham Asylum fire...
"What...what the ever living Christ...is going on?"
Officer Bullock stared wide-eyed between the detective and the burning hospital. The flames continued to pull back into the building like someone hit reverse on a nightmare. The noise of the courtyard faded, leaving only the sound of water on stone and random orders shouted by the fire squad.
The crowd of emergency personnel, Arkham staff and inmates were watching the spectacle in terrified awe. Ash began to settle on the gaping mob mesmerized by the fading fire and light. Finally, a wild cackle broke the silence, laughter quickly spreading among the most unruly Arkham patients.
Bullock felt someone shake his arm and he looked again at the detective as the older man began to bark commands to the milling G.C.P.D. officers.
"Snap out of it, ya lunkheads!" he yelled those nearby, "We got to get these loonies back in line before this really goes to hell."
The detective gave Bullock at doubtful glare, "What's your name, kid?"
"Harvey..." he choked out in the smokey air, "Harvey Bullock."
"I'm Dix," he said, "You're with me. Come on."
Bullock nodded and followed after Dix as the detective moved toward the smoldering walls of Arkham. The other officers began to wrangle together the lingering crowd. Dix approached the closest open door but shook his head.
"Damn," he muttered, "No getting through here. Let's go..."
"But..." Bullock began in a stammer.
"But what?" Dix barked, "You wanted to play hero. So let's go see if we can find any survivors."
The young man nodded and again paced along after the detective. They rounded the west wing and, after a few minutes of wandering through the billowing smoke, they actually were able to find some victims and got them moving toward the front gates. Bullock and Dix did not bother asking for ID or checking for the tell tale striped uniforms. Most people were covered in soot and no one seem interested in doing anything other then getting the hell away from the ancient asylum.
Dix was in the middle of waving forward two frightened nurses when he stopped in his tracks. Bullock nearly ran over the other man and yelped.
"Hey! Watch it!" Bullock said and Dix waved a hand in his face.
"Shut up," the detective growled and then put a finger to his ear, "Do you hear that?"
Bullock nodded incredulously, "Yes, sir, I hear a lot things, what...?"
Dix again motioned for him to be quiet and unexpectedly drew his weapon. Instinctively, Bullock did the same, though he was not sure what suddenly put the older man on guard. Dix lead them deeper into the compound, which was becoming more difficult to navigate in the growing darkness. Then, Bullock picked up on what the other man had heard. That grinding noise from before, though nowhere near as loud as it had been when the fire first started doing its backward slide.
And there was another noise underneath the first. A low, strangled sound that made Bullock's blood run cold. It sounded like some kid crying.
Bullock shook his head and remembered the department issued flashlight on his belt. With a practiced motion, he grabbed the light and clicked it on. It did not do much in the dense air but it gave them a little more perspective on the scene.
Dix rounded a corner littered with crumbled stones as Bullock shone the light back and forth to catch any hidden obstacles. Muffled sobbing floated through the smoke and Dix waved Bullock forward.
"Is that a kid?" Bullock asked, "Do they even keep kids at Arkham?"
Dix frowned and replied firmly, "No. They don't keep kids at Arkham."
The pair continued searching for whoever was crying, though the asylum's looming walls were like an echo chamber, sounds were not easy to track.
"Hello?" Bullock called, hoping to get a response. But Dix gave him a hissing shush.
"Quiet!" the detective growled, then muttered, "Something's not right here..."
A patch of white against the dark stone caught Bullock's eye. The white gown became clearer as he approached and so did the figure wearing it. Bullock moved cautiously, not wanted to startle the small person huddled in the shadows. He re-holstered his gun and crouched as close as he dared, shining the light near the figure's feet so not to blind them.
"Hey..." he started, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice, "Hey... are you hurt?"
Bullock looked over his shoulder and called to the detective, "Hey, Dix! Over here!"
The figure cringed at the raised voice so Bullock lowered it again when he spoke.
"Don't worry, kid," he tried to sound reassuring, "We're gonna get you out of here."
The child, who had head pressed against knees, looked up at him through short wet hair, eyes wide with fear. He though the child was a girl but it was hard to tell through the grime. Dix walked up beside him though he made no move to put aside his weapon.
"Jesus..." Dix breathed, "This ain't right..."
Bullock took off his uniform jacket and held up a hand to the child in what he hoped was a friendly gesture. It was clear now she was only wearing a hospital gown and she did not have any shoes. The kid must be freezing so he planned to wrap her in his coat.
"See?" he said trying to smile, "We're okay. We're gonna help you..."
As he reached toward her, the girl shrieked. There was a bright flash of light and Bullock felt a wave of heat roll over his body. The jacket in his hand began to burn, flames racing across its faux leather surface. He yelled in surprise, stood and threw his uniform aside. As he stomped at fire, the girl covered her face with her hands and started to scream once more.
Dix kept a steady position, looking between the girl and the burning jacket. He leaned forward and gripped the girl's thin shoulder. The child jerked her head toward Dix and the older man's hand began to smoke.
Dix asked, not releasing his grip, "That's the way it is, huh? You like to hurt people?"
The child's eye widened. Bullock watched mutely as the flames on his coat and the smoke coming from Dix's hand dissipated. Then, the girl sobbed before she choked out a few soft words.
"No," she said through her tears, "No. I...I...I'm sorry. I...I didn't...didn't mean to..."
Bullock took a step back toward the girl as Dix pulled off his suit coat and wrapped it around the girl's shoulders. She continued to weep softly and buried her head in the rough tweed. Dix looked up at Bullock, his face grim.
"Officer Bullock...we have a problem..."
Present day...Gotham City train station...
With a small burst of orange flame, John Constantine held his lighter to the cigarette dangling between his lips. He stepped off the mid-town train and took a long drag. No one spared him a glance in the busy station, which suited him just fine.
Gotham City. What a town. Constantine had been to some of the darkest, most nefarious corners of the globe. But nothing between here and hell could compare with Gotham. The only place on Earth where the people were scarier than any demon the wide world could claim. The stone and steel made him feel more relaxed than he had been in a very long time.
Constantine smiled and glanced back over his shoulder to see if his travel companions had made it off the train. A man and woman walked up to the warlock carrying the bulk of their luggage.
Chaz sighed as he took in the foot traffic of the busy station. Their newest tag-along, Zed, held her bag tightly to her side and glanced around warily. They weren't much, but they were here. And hopefully they could get some answers.
A month or so prior, Constantine had received a package postmarked from Gotham. The stone within had been far too familiar for comfort. His mentor, Jasper Winters, had one just like it. Though the rune inscribed translated to fire and the one Constantine received had meant blood. Apparently Jasper's stone had come from Gotham as well, 15 years ago.
"Alright, you lot," he called back to the pair, "What say we try to flag down a cab? Traffic shouldn't be too bad this time of day."
Chaz and Zed caught up to Constantine and followed him out to the street. Gotham's skies were misty and gray, making it feel more like mid-evening than mid-morning. Zed folded her arms as they reached the curb.
"I've never been to Gotham before," she shared nervously, "So many people..."
Constantine nodded, "That there is, love. But most are good, if not a little more world weary than average."
The warlock waved down a cab and their small group piled in, with Chaz taking the front seat. The cabbie looked like he could have been working 30 years ago without anyone batting an eye. His voice was thick with east coast accent when he spoke.
"Where to, folks?" the cabbie asked.
Constantine leaned forward and answered, "Gotham Natural History Museum. Uptown."
"I know where it is, pal," the cabbie shot back before shifting the yellow Buick into gear and tearing into the city streets.
Zed grasped at the door handle and Constantine's arm, looking uncomfortable in the racing traffic. She seemed to be trying to concentrate, frown lines creasing her brow. The warlock chuckled and pulled out another cigarette.
"Don't strain yourself," he suggested casually, "You'll find it a bit harder to pick up any psychic impressions in Gotham."
"Really?" she asked, "Why is that?"
Constantine shrugged, "Dunno...not for certain anyway. It's like there's curtain shrouding the whole metaphysical world. Even my tricks aren't as helpful within the city borders."
"Then why are we here?" she pressed, not satisfied with Constantine's vague explanation.
"If I knew that," he said, "We probably could'a stayed at home."
After about 30 minutes, the cab pulled up to the entrance of Gotham's history museum. Chaz paid the cabbie as their group exited and stared up at the imposing structure. The museum would have been at home in an old style Hollywood noir film. The high stone steps melted into series of columns, which once could have been white but were stained with weather and age.
Constantine lead them on through the main doors and toward an information desk. The receptionist had a beehive of bright blonde hair, her glasses think and pointed. She squinted at the arrivals and smiled, stretching her brightly painted lips.
"Good morning," she said cheerfully, "Need tickets?"
"Yes, surely," said Constantine, gesturing toward Chaz, who rolled his eyes and again pulled out his wallet. While the bee-hived woman counted out their change, Constantine gave her an inviting smile.
"Actually, love," he said, "We're also looking for Professor Shore's assistant. I believe her name is Claire?"
"Oh?" the woman asked, with a clear interest in any new gossip, "Well, she's probably in the back offices. I could give her a call if you like..."
"No need, darlin'," Constantine said, "I wouldn't want to trouble your pretty head when you seem so busy. I've been here before and can find my own way."
"Oh, I don't know..." the woman began. This time Constantine withdrew his own wad of cash and passed the woman several bills.
"Come on now, love," he said with a flirtatious flourish, "Do us a favor, eh?"
The woman blushed and took the money, tucking it away quickly in her shirt. Zed gaped at the exchange as Chaz chuckled.
"Of course, sir," the receptionist replied, batting her eye lashes, "Please...enjoy... your visit."
"I'm sure we will," he replied and jerked his head in the direction the others should follow.
Zed moved to his side and whispered, "Did you just bribe that woman?"
Constantine grinned, "Just a little bit."
The archives of the Gotham City Natural History Museum were a vast tangle of boxes and books. Yellow florescent lights hung down from tall ceiling arches, designed for style more than function nearly 100 years ago. In between the stacks were desks and cabinets, whose deep drawers held all variety of documents related to the city's history and artifacts from around the world.
Claire Selton was seated at one long table, bent over an old text in deep thought. The museum was planning an exhibition in a few months related to foreign relics from overseas. She had been tasked with creating pamphlets that would give visitors an informative explanation of the antiquities. It was not as easy a task as it initially appeared. She already had two drafts returned from the board of directors overwritten with vague notes about the data not being alluring enough for Gotham's elite. If those with money were not entertained, they would be less agreeable to making donations.
When a knock sounded on the office door, Claire was grateful for the interruption. She looked up and smiled with surprise at her guests.
"John," she said, standing and walking toward the office door, "You made it..."
Constantine did not reply. He held his arms wide and then slammed his hands together in a loud clap. Everyone else in the room jumped as the warlock began chanting in low grunting tones. His eyes rolled back in his head and he rubbed his palms together vigorously.
Claire looked back and forth at Constantine's companions for an explanation. Chaz shrugged, looking amused. The woman seemed as confused as Claire. Constantine clapped his hands together once more and then fell silent. He opened one eye and peaked around the room. When nothing seemed different, he nodded.
"Just checking," he said, "Can't be too careful. Especially after I got your invitation."
"Sorry," Claire replied, then looked over his shoulder, "Hey, Chaz."
"Hey," Chaz replied, then gestured to the woman at his side, "And this is Zed. She's been helping us out the past few weeks."
"Hi, I'm Claire," she said in greeting, then looked between them apologetically, "Sorry again for getting you involved but...I appreciate that you made it to Gotham. You...you didn't bring the stone back, did you?"
"No worries, love," Constantine replied, "It's all locked up at Jasper's mill house. Along with the other one..."
"What stone?" Zed interrupted, sounding annoyed the warlock had been holding back information.
"An ancient artifact infused with dark magics," Constantine explained, "Thought to be lost to history but apparently still has a rabid fan base. So, why don't you give us the full story?"
Claire sat with the trio of supernatural detectives and explained what had happened with the bloody stone. She went through everything in detail, except some specifics about herself and her fiery secret. If Constantine noticed the omission, he chose not to call her out on it.
"Well?" she asked finally, "What do you think?"
Constantine pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it and took a long drag. He paced between the archive shelves, for the moment, keeping his thoughts to himself.
"You mentioned there was another one?" Zed asked, "What about that one?"
Claire hesitated, glancing back to Constantine for guidance. When he offered none, she sighed.
"There was another one like it found in Gotham before," she shared, "About...a decade ago...or so..."
"And that one's been locked up tight ever since," Chaz added, "Nearly forgot about the damn thing, if I'm being honest. It's not as flashy as some of Jasper's other stuff."
Claire wrung her hands together, "The stones have symbols on them. Runes. That show up when...when they are touched with fire. I did some research but didn't find much beyond some basic meanings. The one I sent to John said 'blood'."
"And the other one says 'fire'," Constantine stated flatly. Claire met his gaze for a moment before Zed offered another question.
"How many are there?" Zed asked.
"Twelve," Constantine answered, "Each supposedly have unique...qualities. You haven't happened to hear of any more of them coming into town, have ya, Claire?"
"No," the young woman answered, "But I'm not the best person to ask."
"Fish Mooney," Constantine said then gave them all a cheeky grin, "Good. You think you could get us an invite to her club?"
Claire shrugged, "Can't hurt to ask."
"Terrific," Constantine said, "Maybe this trip won't be a waste after all. No offense, love, but sitting around with a bunch of old book isn't exactly my idea of a good time."
The three investigators exited the museum and headed toward a line of waiting cabs.
"Let's find us a hotel," Constantine suggested, "And maybe some clothes better suited to the night life."
"Do you really think Mooney's going to talk?" Chaz asked, "Even if she did know something, she doesn't seem like the helpful type."
"Don't worry, we'll have back up," the warlock replied, "And, anyway, don't you trust my sway with the ladies?"
Zed laughed, ready to shoot back some clever quip, when a body came falling from the sky.
There was an audible splattering sound and several people around them screamed. Traffic screeched to a halt and a small crowd started gathering around the scene. The trio joined the mob to gawk at the horrific site.
"Is that..." Zed began, then swallowed back bile before finishing her thought, "Did a priest just fall out of the sky?"
Constantine pulled out a fresh cigarette, lit it and inhaled before offering the best explanation he could.
"Welcome to Gotham, love."