Disclaimer: I don't own Constantine, but someone does….maybe Marvel? I dunno.

A/N-okay, so, this is my first Constantine fic and is going to be my first on-going fic w/ multi-chaps.

This story takes place a while before the movie-months maybe, if not longer. Also-this story is heavily occult based, with all kinds of myths, legends, creatures, etc. The stuff I put in here is very 'truth' based.

Reviews are welcome all around. Love me, flame me, w/e.


Deformed

Prologue

The Sin District did not get its name out of some sort of error or mix-up. You didn't even have to know where it was; you knew where you were as soon as you entered it. It wasn't from the rancid smell coming from the alleys, the bars that had little more to offer than heavy, bad tasting drinks; smoke, and possibly fatal injury from the many-a-night brawls, the buildings that were either falling apart or already had, or the hookers that did not look a millennium's distance within 18. L.A. had plenty of those.

You knew you were in the Sin District by the feel of the air. It made you look over your shoulder every two minutes, it made you want to just sprint as fast as you could. And the annual number and types of crimes that took place there didn't help you try and shake the feeling.

Things had been bloody and perverse in the Sin District for over a century. Mob trouble in L.A. had naturally been around in the 20's and thirties, but the Sin District had claim to a 'special event'. In 1928, Jacob 'Jake the Snake' Pistocelli and his gang had been missing for months, and authorities had presumed that they had fled the country. But, a group of five boys, ages ranging from 8 to 15 years old, had broken into an abandoned house in the Sin District, probably looking for some fun. In the basement, they found Pistocelli and his gang-or, what was left. The mobsters were found chained up and with their skin peeled off. The police never found the skin, and the boys all become deeply psychologically affected, one committed suicide in later years.

In 1952, Hale Krone, a prominent businessman, and his wife, a respectable English teacher, drove their Ford to the Sin District one evening. A few hours later that night, a busboy taking out the trash out of a diner, The Quiet Gull, saw whom he later identified as the Krones carrying something wrapped in a white sheet out of their Ford-something that he later testified was moving. The busboy, curious, quietly followed the Krones as they took the large object into a nearby apartment building. The busboy watched from a window as he saw the Krones and one dozen other individuals-all of whom were later identified as respectable community members, even a member of the city council-perform a religious ritual, which included drinking the blood of and killing the Krones's guest, a 17-year old girl, Molly Thratch, a student of Mrs. Krones herself. The busboy called the police from The Quiet Gull, who arrived on the scene just as the cult members were about to depart. The police found several bodies at the scene, all of which had connections to the cult members.

There were other cases, but these were the most known of the Sin District incidents.

It was the infamousness of the Sin District that made it difficult for business owners, and more specifically those involved with prostitution. There were plenty of other corners for girls to stand on that were not in the Sin District.

That was exactly how Kristi Rolletti had felt when she'd first started working for 'Mr. B.' as her boss called himself. She'd heard plenty of stories about the Sin District had had no intention of making money anywhere near there. But Mr. B. was a very good persuader, far more than Kristi could fully understand. He made her and the other girls feel taken care of, and this effect had worked-even since Ashlee's murder.

Kristi hadn't known Ashlee, not well at least. She knew Ashlee's face: an enchanting round, pale face that reminded you of the moon, with soft blue eye make up and tulip-pink lip-sticked lips, all of this framed by lovely blonde hair. Ashlee's body had been found in the middle of a street-almost run over by a car, in fact. She had been severely beaten to death, her pelvis broken, her rib cage fractured in several places, and oh yeah-her skull had been crushed beyond recognition. The police had yet to find any suspects. When Ashlee had been found, Mr. B had gathered up the girls and given a little speech. Speeches usually bored Kristi, but whenever Mr. B spoke, it was like a warm security blanket was draped over her.

So there Kristi was, lighting up near an abandoned apartment building whose North wall was no longer in existence. Her not-all-that-real brown hair was lying limply on her shoulders, like it had fallen asleep at the late hour. Her dark purple eyes make-up was heavy, per usual, and her painted dark red lips held the cig with practiced balance. She twirled a few strands of hair on a finger with a painted black fingernail. Not many customers lately; murders were bad business, and the Sin District was bad enough on normal days anyway.

She tucked her lighter back into the pocket of her biker leather jacket, which was only a little shorter than her purple mini skirt. She looked up and down the road. Nothing… But it sure as hell felt like there was something out there. She didn't like being alone, no matter how assuring Mr. B was. She wished that Gina had come with her, or Lita. But, they hadn't. She shrugged to herself. Oh well… She'd be okay.

Suddenly, she distinctly heard something move behind her.

Kristi turned around, and found herself looking at a figure, standing in the shadows about 100 yards away. She didn't like the look of the guy...he seemed oddly shaped.

"You want somethin' big guy?" she called over to him, putting on a casual persona. She did need the money.

The figure didn't speak in return, but grunted as it stood dumbly on the street.

Kristi frowned worriedly. "Hey, look, I don't got no money…" she said nervously, "You want anythin' else, I charge by the hour." She smiled tensely at her joke.

Again, the figure did not answer her, but instead made a sort of grunting noise. Then it sounded like it was…smelling the air, in deep gulps of the night air, like a dog trying to catch the fox's scent.

Kristi started to slowly back away. "Yeah, well…" she didn't get a chance to say anymore as the figure interrupted her, letting out a great roar, as if in rage.

Kristi screamed, turned, and ran. The figure ran after her, roaring and snarling. Had she been in running shoes, maybe even bare feet, Kristi probably would have outran the beast. But she was wearing heels, which failed her miserably and sent her to the ground after she'd only managed to run for ten yards. The figure closed the gap and Kristi tried to get up.

Kristi screamed into the night, but no one came to save her, not even the great Mr. B.