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Ch. 5-- the aftermath.
This was pitiful. Chas was 17-years-old, he was a guy, and he had one of the most kick-ass jobs around, but he sat in that odorous, old cab blasting the new backstreet boys song because there was simply nothing else to do (and because, he kinda liked it but would never admit it).
"I tr-yyyyyyyyyy to go on like I never knew yoooooooooooou,
I'm awaaaaaaaaaake but my world is half asleeeeeeeeep,
I praaaaaaaaaay fo--" He was singing at the top of his lungs. You know he could be the 6th member if he really wanted.
"There's something wrong with you."
Why was it that only in the most embarrassing situations possible did John Constantine ever speak in more that four word sentancesto him?
"So what was it today? Vanquishing? Paranormal investigation?"
"Exorcism."
"Oh…" At that precise moment Chas was trying desperately (and with no luck) to eye some Polaroid pictures which John held in his right hand. See, John only took pictures on the job when something trulyodd had happened.
"Are you going to drive or should I start the car for you?" Constantine asked in his usual detached voice.
"Sorry, John." Chas put the key in the ignition and started off towards John's apartment.
"Listen, stop at the church on 54th." That was in the opposite direction.
"Alright."
How could John do this? Why would he just leave those pictures right there? Why would he want to tempt Chas like that? He knew there was nothing other-worldly which Chas could deny himself of. He just didn't enjoy pain like that.
Hmmm… maybe if I just peaked at them…
As soon as he glanced at even the first picture he caught himself whispering, "What the hell?"
The guy in the pictures-- wasn't he John's friend? The one he'd run into in the hall last night? It looked exactly like him… only… only this wasn't the same put-together guy he'd pointed in John's direction… This Blonde had cuts and bruises and there was even one shot of him tied down to a bed with… what was that? Neck ties? In fact, this guy looked like he'd been in a fight...and lost. Chas noticed at least one very deepbite mark at his neck and then another on his chest.
Chas felt a little sick.
Chas stepped outside for a quick gag and then a breath of fresh air.
Chas quickly put the pictures in place before John came back.
John was back at his apartment…
He should have been reading up in the books he'd picked up at 54th street,
He should have been trying to contact Mammon,
He should have been (at least) picking up some new weapons…
What he was doing was flipping through the pictures he'd taken of James Green. Why was he so enamored? It was simply Mammon, the sick fuck that he was, playing with his head…
So why the hell did he pity this kid so much?
He'd cried. James bawled when John had finished untying him. One glance in the mirror was all it took to bring the kid to the floor. He didn't allow any one to touch him. He kept asking all of them to leave. He wanted clothes and then more clothes and his mother had almost screamed when he'd yelled that he didn't want her to touch him.
Of course, he had calmed down by the time John left the house. They managed (somehow) to get him in the shower and into some sweats. This kid had been so fragile and some how all he reminded John of was Mammon.
This was sick.
He felt…
It was as if…
He was seduced by both of them; by Mammon and James together.
No…
This was sick.
"Yeah, but I bet I was more fun…" he heard a familiar voice behind him.
John turned around toboth blonde haired, green eyed Demons, but Mammonspoke,"So you've met my friend, James?"
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