| Gotham University

| 11:25 pm

Before making their way to the university's parking lot, the trio made sure to cast an audio and visual glamour around them to essentially hide in plain sight. It wouldn't make them invisible exactly, but as long as they were careful to just watch and didn't physically interact with anything, no one would pay them any mind. Which was how they were standing a mere three feet away from where the hostage negotiators had set up, eyes glued to the several monitors before them.

They had no access to sound, but the security cameras in the room and halls were capable of live-streaming video. Five students cowered in various spots around the engineering lab, hands tied behind their backs to tables. Two looked almost catatonic, while the other three violently shuddered and screamed every few minutes.

Watching over them all was Scarecrow, sat in the office chair at the front of the classroom, swiveling round and round. He was also tinkering with what looked to be a modified gun fitted with some kind of chamber, which had apparently shot out gas capsules earlier.

Quickly going over how comm-links worked, Zatanna handed ear pieces to the guys, tuning to a different frequency just in case anyone else got on. "Are we good?" she asked, satisfied when two thumbs went up in response. "All right, Kafir, run through it one more time."

Kafir dramatically rolled his eyes under the domino mask they insisted he wore, but obliged anyway. "Tell that Gordon guy I'm here to save the day, sneak into the lab, disarm the weirdo with a sack for a head, save the hostages, and get out of the way for the cops to take care of 'em."

"We'll be watching out here in case something goes wrong. Oh, and don't kill anybody please!" Constantine made sure to stipulate.

"Obviously! Can't collect if they're dead before they sign." At the twin looks of exasperation, Kafir defensively added, "I just meant in general! Contrary to what you may think, I don't lean towards killing." (Anymore.)

"Be careful," Zatanna stressed, poking him in the chest with her index finger. "You're immortal, I know, but Nightwing isn't. And with all these people here, we have to make sure nothing's out of the ordinary. Can't have any rumours flying around that might put him in danger after you switch back."

Pursing his lips, Kafir nodded, no doubt letting the plan percolate in his brain. "Hang on, what's a nightwing again?"

"You! Or— he is, Dick Grayson is Nightwing!" Constantine wildly gesticulated at the lycra suited body, having forgone secret identities a while ago. Nothing to worry about, though, since anything regarding Dick or his life was nowhere remotely on the demon's radar before tonight.

"Oh, right! Sorry, I don't really get the whole codename thing?"

"Just go! And don't say his real name to anybody else!"

Pushed out of the glamour's radius, Kafir stepped over to the mustached man leaning over the opposite table and loudly cleared his throat.

As he jumped up half a foot at the sound, Jim Gordon was about to reach for his gun, before recognizing the person who just seemingly spontaneously appeared beside him. "Oh, it's you— Jesus fuckin' Christ…"

"No," grumbled Kafir, scrunching his nose up in annoyance. "It's Nightwing."

"Uhh, right." Odd thing to say, but Gordon ignored it, busy shaking off the spike of adrenaline. "I hate it when you guys do that."

"Mmhmm…" You guys, who? "Anyway, I'm here! So— I'm gonna go in now!"

"Well, wait! We should touch base," the commissioner turned back to the blueprints on the table that presented the layout of the college's laboratories. "We don't want to take any unnecessary risks, SWAT's come up with a plan of action—"

"Sir," one of his officers interrupted, "he's already left."

Gordon looked to the south entrance just in time to see a sliver of black pass through the threshold. "Goddamn bats…"

The door to the lab sported a small rectangular glass window near its middle, and as Kafir peeked in, he instantly locked eyes with Scarecrow, who was gesturing him in. Sending one more glance to the security camera mounted in that hall, Kafir shrugged, flung the door open and strolled inside.

"Ahh, if it isn't the Boy Wonder, all grown up!" A somewhat muffled and crazed voice called out from beneath the burlap sack. "I was really hoping it would be you who came! Batman, I can always get the next time. And his new sidekicks? Pfft, they just don't cut it! But you? I haven't seen you in, what, three years? I have missed your screams… your whimpers were always so— delicious."

Ooh, that's fun, what a fucked up thing to say! Arkham inmates were living up to their reputation and Kafir couldn't help the fascinated smile that crept onto his lips… which no one missed.

"Can you please look less like you're enjoying this?" Zatanna's plea rang in his ear at the same time Scarecrow finished fiddling with his weapon and started to wave it around. "Something funny?"

"No… no," Kafir coughed, furrowing his brow in an attempt to school his expression into one that was more serious. What's something mortal heroes might say at this moment? "Well, you asked for me— wish granted! You gonna let these kids go now?"

A low, mirthless chuckle shook out of the scientist. "Oh, but we were just starting to bond. Sharing one's deepest, darkest fears is the quickest way to get to know someone, after all."

A choked cry slipped out of the young woman kneeling nearest to them then. "Don't! Please, not you, please," came her whispered begging.

"I believe she's seeing her dear old daddy," Scarecrow teased as he got closer to her. "Nasty business, but I do find the sound delightful… don't you agree?"

Completely (moderately, (hardly)) unbidden, Kafir's gaze drifted down to the girl. Yes, it's beautiful! he thought to himself, relishing in her pain. He knew his eyes had reverted back to their natural color behind the mask, because it burned - and he really hoped they weren't doing that visibly! It would not go over well if it was, so he bit down hard on his tongue in an attempt to curb his instincts.

When Nightwing failed to reply for several seconds and just started shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, Scarecrow grew intrigued. "Something is different about you," declared the villain, circling him once.

"Oh, yeah?" Kafir deadpanned, backing away to recollect himself. "Don't hold it against me, I'm new—"

"You are definitely not new at this!" came Constantine's rushed, insistent shout without even having to know what the context of the conversation was.

"Neew-oot," he drew out the vowel, trying to course-correct. "Not! I'm not the same guy anymore. It's been a few years, I've changed. People do that!" (Or so he's heard, what with their abysmally short lifespans.)

"Mmm, not like this." Stopping in front of the hero, Scarecrow brandished the gun in his direction. "Has this new gig of yours not been treating you well, is that what it is? I'll always be here to welcome you back, little Robin, I'll even take care of your replacements for you! Well, not me, Dent has expressed an interest, don't want to steal that from him."

For the love of Beelzebub, what is he talking about? Kafir wondered as he simply nodded in response. This was taking a lot longer than he thought it would, that girl had even ceased her whining.

Maybe he should speed things along.

"Right… So, listen, how about we make a little deal?" The demon offered, purely meaning it colloquially, not practically. "Get these guys outta here and then you and I— we can catch up! I… I missed you too, man!"

Clicking her comms off for a second, Zatanna dragged a hand down her face in frustration. "Did he really just tell Scarecrow that he missed him too?"

Constantine had dropped down into a squat, born from crippling dread. "I've literally never been happier for security cameras that don't record sound."

"You want to… catch up?" Taken aback and slightly bewildered, Scarecrow slowly started to tip the gun's barrel down. "Why?"

"'Why?' What do you-? You're the one who said you missed me!" Kafir fired back, equally as perplexed. "I'm trying to give you a chance here!"

"Yeah, but, we don't… do that."

"We don't do that?"

The villain shook his head no and just as Kafir was thinking to himself that they probably should've spent more time debriefing him on the expected dynamics around here, Zatanna chimed in again, "No, we don't normally make a habit of interacting with sociopaths more than necessary!"

"Well, fuck, how am I supposed to know?" Those were basically all he talked to back home! "Do humans make a habit of ever saying what they mean?"

"What?"

"What?" Damn it, Kafir had hoped that that slip might've somehow harmlessly bounced off the burlap. Pipe dream— it was definitely heard, because the gun was now trained right back at him. Putting his hands up as a placating measure, he retreated, trying to further himself from the situation. "Let's not do anything drastic…"

"You are right about one thing, you're not the same." Taking aim and matching the other's steps forward, Scarecrow cocked the hammer. "And I think I should like to find out what new fears possess you now."

He fired.

A thick, cloying, green gas engulfed Kafir immediately, taking him down to his knees, wracked by wheezing coughs. John and Zatanna were shouting something in his ear, all the while Scarecrow stood at attention, monologuing.

"Do you know how difficult it is to procure ingredients while stuck in a cell? But, at long last, the formula has been perfected, approve of it?" A gloved hand gestured to the victims around them. "They received a less potent hit, shared between the five of them, but you? My dear boy, you have just breathed in… all of it. You wanted to talk. Tell me, what do you see?"

Now, here's the thing.

In the crash course he was given before arriving, it had been explained to Kafir that the green gas was 'fear toxin', a hallucinogenic drug invented by the scrawny, disheveled, ramshackle doctor before him. Once coursing through a victim's veins, it was highly effective in living up to its name, causing them to see that which they feared most.

Of course, the thing about mortal concoctions was that they were, well, for mortals. As expected, when he took a peek at the supposed horrors awaiting him, nothing had changed.

So he had, at that point, collapsed forward onto his elbows, trying to keep low to the floor. It was just to keep up pretenses, (though his temporary human lungs were constricting, annoyingly enough) as he was trying to cover up his whispering to the comm. "What do I do now?"

"You're not affected by it?"

Fighting the urge to find the security cam so he could blankly stare into it, Kafir grit out, "No."

"Can you fake it?" Constantine asked. "Zee cut the feed. They're scrambling to get it back up, but it looks like they've decided to breach soon. I don't know if we can explain away Nightwing getting a full dose of toxin and being fine."

Kafir didn't get a chance to answer as a strong, swift kick was delivered to his rib cage, getting the remaining wind knocked out of him.

"I asked you a question!" Scarecrow shrieked, driving heel to torso once more and sending the hero tumbling to the side.

Landing flat on his back, Kafir panted out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, fuck this." Hand flying up to his ear piece, he growled back to Constantine, "Stall!" and shut it off. He didn't want to concern them with this next part, or else Gotham might never be allowed to him.

Getting up with a deliberate slowness, Kafir snapped his head to one side, cracking his neck, then fixed the other man with a particularly menacing glare. "That wasn't very nice."

Though the sack mostly obscured the action, the villain seemed to narrow his eyes in suspicion, keeping watch. He still had the weapon trained on him, finger itching to pull the trigger again.

"We could've finished up here in— five minutes, sent everyone on their merry way, but you just had to try it, didn't you?" Kafir took a step forward. "Now you've gone and pissed me off!"

As the one he knew as Nightwing advanced, evidently angry and unperturbed by the gas, a confused Scarecrow admittedly panicked a bit and his trigger discipline failed him. Another pellet shot out of the barrel, the noxious fumes quickly gathering.

"Would you stop that!" Kafir barked out, fanning the gaseous substance out of his face, coughing only a little bit more.

Glancing down at his gun and rattling it a few times, Scarecrow started to back away faster, though his gaze never left the other. "You've ingested enough toxins to drive ten men insane! You— you're not him! My god, what are you?"

Hmm, I'm your worst nightmare? Nah, that's so cliché! Kafir mused to himself as he lunged forward, slamming Scarecrow against the wall. God's not here to help you now— meh, no. One-liners are tough! While still contemplating on what to say, he could feel his eyes reignite, stronger now than ever, and he let them. The lenses of the mask probably could cover them, but if not, no worries, only one person would be able to see it now anyway.

"G-get away from me! Don't fucking touch me!" Scarecrow struggled hard under the mysterious entity's grip, losing his gun and sending it skittering across the room in the process. "You- you're the Devil! Aren't you? The Devil wears a familiar face and tricks you with his lies!"

"I have not once lied to you tonight!" Right? Technically? "And I'm not him actually, but that's extremely flattering of you to say!"

Despite his flailing and alarm, Scarecrow managed to gain enough clarity to reach into his back pocket, whipping out the knife he had there. In one agile, practiced movement, he flicked it open and buried all six inches of the blade deep into the other's gut.

"Ouch," Kafir gasped, only minutely in pain, mostly in sheer disbelief at the audacity. Grabbing the hilt, he ripped it out, sinking the sharp tip into the drywall by Scarecrow's ear. "Pretty fucking rude!"

That was the last straw, he'd had more than enough.

"If it's fear you desire, Jonathan Crane…" The demon leaned in ever closer, one hand wrapping around the burlap, lifting it up. He made sure to also drop the comforting normal human voice, and as his natural baritone bled in, that snarling echo returned to underscore every word. "Then I shall provide."

"What was that!?"

Having run about a half mile away from the university grounds in the middle of the chaos, Kafir had found an alleyway to hide out in and was considering eating a rat he had discovered on a dumpster lid when Zatanna's accusation pierced the silence.

"Hey, did you or did you not save the hostages? Also, what I did was justified, I got stabbed!" He sighed deeply, sending the rodent scurrying away, presenting the tear low on his stomach. "You're probably gonna want to fix this, it was a big knife and I may have felt it touch intestine."

Zatanna made a face that was equal parts exasperation and distress as she gently placed a hand on his torso. "Oreh, laeh flesyht! Dnem cirbaf." Thehole in both skin and lycra layers stitched closed.

"Nice." Leaning back on the brick wall, Kafir took in the rather peeved glares from both mages and crossed his arms. "Ok, lay it on me. How bad was it?"

"The police took him in kicking and screaming that the Devil was after him," Constantine explained first, the slightest hint of satisfaction seeping into his tone. "And something about how he'd just seen true suffering?"

"Oh, is that what he was going on about? I think what I showed him was pretty tame, but I'll take the compliment," Kafir said innocently, very pleased with himself. "It personally pained me to abandon such… divine torment, but I figured you wouldn't want me seen there after all that."

"Yeah, great looking out," Zatanna scoffed. "Apparently, he also told them he wanted to go back to Arkham— for protection."

"Well, there you go, two problems solved! You're welcome."

"Solved?" Scrubbing her fingers through her scalp in frustration, Zatanna nearly adopted a stress squat of her own. "What part of Nightwing - who everyone saw was the only person in the room with Scarecrow that wasn't incapacitated - vanishing without a word, inexplicably leaving a blubbering mess in his wake says 'solved' to you?"

"Please, that was coincidental, at best. You turned off the cameras, right? No one saw what happened and no one can prove anything," Kafir reasoned.

"He… might be right," Constantine jumped in, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat as he rationalized. "The amount of fear gas buildup in there? If anyone involved said anything, it would just be dismissed as a hallucination or ramblings of a madman. As for Nightwing leaving… he knew the effects of the toxin and left to get treated immediately. I think we might be in the clear."

"See, Johnny agrees!"

It was all just conjecture and it'd be easy to poke holes if anyone cared to look, but even then, in this city— who would? Well… there was one.

Zatanna turned towards Constantine then, acknowledging, "Yeah, ok, that sounds— plausible. But you better hope that holds up, because this whole night is probably going to end up on the Gazette tomorrow morning. I'd start thinking about what to tell Batman once he reads it."

"Right…" the blonde winced as he tried to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Great, so that's done!" Kafir clapped, then reached an arm over both sets of shoulders, pulling them in close. "Now about that payment I was promised…"

Constantine shrugged him off, pivoting to look him in the eye once Zatanna had done the same. "Why are you so determined to get this city anyway?"

"Really? Have you not been paying attention?"

"Full of crime and sin, no, we get that part," confirmed Zatanna, "but why go through the trouble? Deal-making not doing it for you anymore?"

"No, it is, I'm just looking to expand! I already rule over six legions of demons downstairs, but I'm an ambitious fellow— why not? With this city, I could add to the numbers. But it's already getting a little cramped, so we're going to need the extra space."

"Ok, but what exactly does that mean for Gotham?" Constantine asked, eyes narrowing. "Are your little imps gonna start running around, acting as the devil on people's shoulders and try to get them to do bad?"

"No, we can't even do that!" Kafir assured them, almost sounding offended. "Hate to break it to you, but that's just good ol' human nature. Look, like I said, it's capitalizing on what's already here, I won't be doing anything ever, I promise! And— what good's a demon that goes back on their word?" He outstretched both of his palms to them, crisscrossed. "What d'ya say?"

If there was truly no harm, no foul to be found in this arrangement, then… why not? It wasn't really a deal they had any authority to make, and if Batman ever found out that not only were they in his city in the first place, but also promising it to a demonic force? Truly, only God could help them then.

Although, Kafir did keep his end of the bargain and, until Dick was back, they needed to stay on his good side. Besides, he hadn't really given them any reason to believe he'd lie.

Moving to accept the offered handshake, but not making contact just yet, Constantine glanced over at Zatanna. "If he ever breaks his promise, I'll find a way to kill him."

"I accept those terms," muttered Kafir, with a nod.

Though she didn't look particularly ecstatic about it, this was the path of least resistance and Kafir didn't seem the type to abandon an opportunity like this very easily. "… Ok." Zatanna relented, and as the three shook on it, somewhere in the distance, the clock tower struck midnight.

Loud bells reverberated through the still night, and Kafir released the handshake, perking up at the noise. "Couldn't ask for more perfect timing, that was quite dramatic."

Constantine rolled his eyes, but cracked a smile nonetheless. It was very fitting. "Well, not that we haven't been through enough horror tonight, but happy Halloween, Zee!"

"Wait, what?" Kafir blurted out, a sense of urgency in his tone. "What's today?"

"Uhh, technically, it just became October 31st," informed Zatanna, "Halloween?"

"Ohhh, Samhain's Day!" A large grin made its way onto his face as the demon nearly jumped for joy. "I have a few contracts expiring later today but luckily for us all, the first one is to run out right here in Gotham. I know exactly where Dick is going to be!" He started to walk out of the alley with single minded focus.

"What, really?" Constantine inquired, as he and Zatanna scrambled to follow. "Oh, so now you remember where your appointments are?"

"This one I do. It's not a deal I made personally— I'm repaying a favor to an… acquaintance," Kafir explained, making increasingly sharp turns, like he was following some internal compass. "He's incredibly particular about his contracts, very anal-retentive! I had to memorize this one just to please him… can't believe it's actually paying off! Oh, hang on, this suit is kind of uncomfortable, do you think I can change first?"

With a wave of her hand, Zatanna mumbled a spell and a flurry of what could only be described as magical confetti started to swirl around him. Like a quick-change artist, Kafir instantly reverted back to his previous outfit. "Wait, you can do that? Why didn't we just do this earlier?"

"It only works backwards! Come on, lead the way!"

Arriving at the residence of the soon-to-be collected soul, Celsus gave a few knocks on the door and waited, zipping up the yellow hoodie his borrowed meatsuit had on.

It was shockingly easy to find one in this city! He had just managed to ascend to the mortal plane when he instantly stumbled upon this gentleman: a purported arsonist wanted on three counts. Sinners were much easier to possess, especially for a demon of lower stature such as himself, so he really could not believe his luck!

As soon as the door to the brownstone creaked open, though, it seemed that that well may have already run dry.

A young man stood before him— black hair, dark eyes, probably the contract owner, but before a word could leave either pair of lips, Celsus honed in on the figure sitting on the stairs behind him.

His lord— wait, no… Dick — had beaten him there, as expected. What was not expected was the casual and unbothered air about the humans; typically, a collection had a little more screaming and begging involved.

"What's happened here?" Celsus narrowed his eyes at them both, pushing the door open further so he could walk in, uninvited.

"Wha- hello? Who are you?" Though he failed to keep this intruder out, the unfamiliar boy impressively stood his ground. "Ever heard of trespassing?"

"Oh, uhh, it's ok. This is the demon assistant I mentioned earlier," said Dick as he jumped up and pulled the other back. "Couldn't you tell by the fact he was purple and had a tail?"

"You have a tail?" The rather hostile and indignant look in the stranger's eye dissolved, quickly replaced by one of beguiled intrigue. "Where?"

"What?"

"I am using some lowlife's body at the moment," Celsus lazily explained. "Mortals cannot perceive my true form while I am in a vessel, the only reason you can is… well, it's obvious. Now, tell me what is going on here. I sense a soul when I should be getting a distinct lack of one!"

"I figured something else out… made it so an innocent person wouldn't be getting dragged to Hell today." Dick flashed him a self-satisfied grin, gesturing to the supposed-to-be damned man and introducing him. "This is Sebastian. Believe it or not, he never even made a deal, so technically, there's nothing to collect."

Celsus looked back and forth between the two, suspicions abound. He knew from his trusty organized binder that, yes, this particular soul was not promised to them by Kafir. His master had owed a fellow demon, Nebiros, and offered to take this contract off his hands. Nebiros had gladly relinquished it, complaining that it was a somewhat troublesome case— evidently, an apt description.

"What do you mean? How could he have not made a deal? How else would he be in the pipeline?"

"It was my father," Sebastian informed him. "He traded my soul away 20 years ago for power… you know, for like black magic or whatever."

… they can do that? Celsus thought to himself, furrowing his brow in confusion. Hmm, well, the specifics always were above his pay grade.

"Yeah, apparently, that's a thing you can do," confirmed Dick, reading his expression well. "Anyway, that's when I thought, what's the one thing demon lords do that I know how to do?" Blue claws latched onto the bannister, the wood creaking lightly as the weight of a 7 foot tall body was leaned into it. "I made him a new deal."

"And what exactly did it entail?" Celsus demanded. How did he, the actual demon with centuries of assisting experience, end up being so out of the loop here? "Wait, how did you find all this out and draw up a new contract that fast? You left moments ago! I found this body in record time, and immediately made my way here!"

"What are you talking about?" Dick exclaimed, glancing over to the analog clock hung left of the stairs. "That was half an hour ago!"

"... Was it? Shit. I can never get the time zones right!" Celsus grimaced, starting to awkwardly play with his hoodie's drawstrings. "Well, just tell me what you settled on!"

"Ok, ok, let me start from the beginning…"

With yet another flash of arcane blue, Dick found himself in a third new location that was, coincidentally, also somewhat of a posh living room.

Directly ahead of him, there was one large black leather sectional couch oriented toward a flat screen TV, with a wooden round table stained black set beneath it. A bit farther to the left was a kitchen, filled with chrome appliances, and a dining room that housed a white rectangular table with a few place settings lay beyond that.

"Oh, fuck!" A startled shout sounded from behind him, near the stairs.

Having a good sense of where this was going to lead, Dick spun around to meet the voice, fully intending to offer some reassurance that he was not a threat. For his trouble, he was met with a flask of water getting emptied out right on his face and chest.

"Uhh, dude, this is velvet!" Dick started, running a hand down his face to dry it, before shaking out the excess. As he proceeded to figuratively dust himself off, he paused, taking in his current situation, then mumbled, "And they're not my clothes, so why do I even care?"

"I just had this holy water blessed, why didn't it work?" The new person wondered aloud, looking at the container in his hands with wide eyes. He then very quickly turned his attention back to Dick, backing up against the bannister. Grabbing something out of his pocket, he scrambled to hold it up at eye level. "Begone, foul beast!"

It was a cross. This guy was legitimately trying to ward him off with a four inch long wooden cross.

Resisting the urge to burst out into laughter by reminding himself what he looked like, Dick took a step back as well and put both hands up. "This isn't what it looks like, I'm not going to hurt you… Well, I might, but I'm gonna try not to if that's any consolation?"

"Wh- what do you mean?" The guy, who was now giving Dick a once over, trembled slightly in his spot, the holy symbol remaining as a barrier between them. "It— you're here because my time's run out, right? You're here to take my soul?"

"Uhhh," Dick hedged, dragging his fingers through his hair along the middle of his head, careful not to hit the horns. He paused, taking in the guy's appearance. He was so young… what, did he make a deal when he was 10 years old? There had to be more to the story. "You know… not if I can help it."

"What does— can you quit being so vague? Why are you here?" He thrust his arm out further, the cross shaking in his grip.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'm… new at this." Clearing his throat, Dick tried for a disarming smile, not sure how successful he was, what with the height and fangs. "My name's Dick. I'm not a demon, this is all— extenuating circumstances! Basically, I was told I'm here to collect your soul, but maybe… we can find some way to get away with not doing that!"

"You're not a demon?" The cross was lowered an inch, the guy's brow furrowing in confusion. "Could've fooled me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, the horns and blue skin are pretty big giveaways— I don't usually look like this! I am actually a human person! It's a long story, we don't have to get into it," Dick said, glossing over the events of his eventful day in the interest of time. Who knows how long he had before he got whooshed away again to another location? "Uh, what's your name?"

"Sebastian," the guy replied, though his eyes still narrowed in suspicion and he didn't fully lower his hand. This could all be a trick still, but seeing as how none of the usual holy vestments had any effect, - and being no stranger to shenanigans of a demonic persuasion himself - he was somewhat inclined to believe the strange man in his home. "Exactly how much do you know then?"

Dick heavily exhaled, his lips vibrating from the forceful burst of air. "Very little. I'm not usually involved in… the mystic arts, so it's been a disconcerting time, to say the least, heavy on the dis-. According to my newly acquired assistant, who might show up at some point, just to warn you, I've taken over a demon lord's body! And you were supposed to be my next appointment." Gesturing to the holy water and portable cross, Dick continued, "I take it you know more about this than me?"

"Known about it my whole life," Sebastian confirmed with a nod, moving around the demon-human, giving them a wide berth. Walking to the coffee table in his living room, he slammed a fist down on one edge, causing a hidden compartment to pop out. He fished out the book lying inside and flipped through it, revealing pages filled with all sorts of symbols and ramblings in red and black ink. "Never thought this was how losing your soul would play out, though." He let out a mirthless chuckle, plopping down onto the couch.

"Wait, wait," Dick circled back, stopping a foot away from where Sebastian was seated, agreeing that a large amount of personal space was probably best right now. "What do you mean, your whole life? Doesn't a standard deal last for 10 years? How would you've—?"

"I didn't! Apparently, before I was born, my father - the fucking psychopath that he is - made a deal with this demon named Nebiros. In exchange for him getting the ability to do magic, Nebiros would get his soul."

"Oh, and let me guess, in a classic case of not being careful what you wish for, he somehow gave up his firstborn son instead?"

"Yep!" Sebastian concurred, loudly popping the 'p.' He smiled ever so slightly up at Dick, though it looked plenty dour. "Bright side, though? He didn't get the magic either."

"Huh. But if the deal went through, it had to go somewhere," Dick surmised, utilizing what little he learned about the practice. "Wait, did you…?"

Sebastian's smile turned up at the corners a little more, leaning more towards amused now. "I thought you were clueless about this stuff?" At Dick's noncommittal shrug, he opened the book up again and hovered a hand over the pages. Muttering some arcane words under his breath, the papers started to flutter by themselves, a bright golden glow encompassing the words. Within seconds, the ink lifted from the page, coalescing out from the spine to form a small cat figurine.

"Whoa… cool."

Picking the paperweight up between two fingers, Sebastian passed it over. "Yeah, I'm not sure how dad managed to fuck up this badly, yet somehow still make me the one who's paying for it!" Groaning, he placed his head in his hands and collapsed further into the cushions. "I'm not ready to die…"

"Ok, don't worry about that, I'm not taking your soul," Dick said with conviction, gently placing the cat figurine onto the table before sitting down next to him.

"Oh, really?" Sebastian asked, voice muffled as he remained in despair. "You can't break a contract, that's not in a demon's nature. I'm pretty sure it's, like, physically impossible."

"Again— human! So, while I'm in control, might as well take advantage." Steepling his fingers together, Dick shot back a smug smirk. "Let's see if we can't change the terms of the deal."

"… how?"

Jumping out of his seat, Dick started to pace back and forth, rubbing his chin in thought. There had to be something, Sebastian was getting punished for a bad contract drawn up before he was even born! It simply wasn't fair, to have to suffer at the sins of the father; there must be some kind of loophole he could exploit. With the already less than airtight conditions, there was bound to be — oooh, wait a minute…. if this wasn't his deal to begin with…

Blazing eyes as red as magma turned their attention back to Sebastian, a glint of mischief swimming in them. "I got it! We'll just make a new deal to override this one!" At the other's look of warranted apprehension, Dick added, "Relax, we'll be really specific."

With a teeny, tiny spark of hope, the first time he'd had that feeling tonight, Sebastian sat up a little straighter. "Can't hurt to try, what have I got to lose? How do we do it?"

"Mmm, I think you just have to summon me— or him? His name is Kafir, there's a forum online that has the right sigils and- oh, wait!" Dick proclaimed, remembering the circumstances of Jax's ritual. "It takes three days to take effect, we don't have that kind of time!"

"Well, hang on, why do I have to summon you if you're already here?" Sebastian inquired with one eyebrow raised. "I'm not exactly an expert at this type of black magic, but isn't that… redundant?"

"Oh… good point."

"Right?"

They stood there for a minute and stared at each other, both in equal states of befuddlement.

"… Let's just try it!"

"So long story short, we hashed out the details together, and Sebastian here will not be relinquishing his soul anytime soon," concluded Dick, draping an arm over the shorter boy. "In fact, not until the end of his natural life… oh, and not to Hell."

Celsus, dumbfounded, bit back a groan and resisted slinging back an insult. He had to admit, though what Dick did was definitely, irrefutably not within usual demonic protocols, the loophole abuse… kind of was, so— he was weirdly a little proud in that regard. "Well, I look forward to reviewing the exact wording of this— agreement you have come to. But we can go now, I suppose, seeing as we no longer have any reason to be here." He nodded stiffly at the soul they just lost out on. His master was not going to be happy. "Good night to you, mortal."

Sebastian awkwardly waved a goodbye back. As he turned back to Dick to thank him again, his front door slammed open once more, revealing three very welcome familiar faces.

"Aha!" A cry of triumph rang out, accompanying the loud bang of the door hitting the opposite wall. "I told you I knew where I was going!"

"Yeah, sure did." Constantine's slightly out of breath voice panted out as he joined them by the porch. "That shortcut through the abandoned subway was definitely the way to go and not the reason we ended up wandering around for an extra 20 minutes!"

"Dick!" Zatanna cried out as she barreled in from behind, pulling him in for a hug, arms scrambling up and around much higher shoulders.

Surging forward to embrace them both, Dick nearly collapsed from the rush of relief that went through him at that moment. "John! Zee! Oh, thank g-"

"Satan!" A voice Dick recognized as his own interrupted, his own face popping into view with a strained smile. "Careful, I cannot be caught alive thanking that man." The entity Dick could only assume to be Kafir then pushed past him, arms outstretched for his companion standing along the wall. "Celsus! Asmodeus's teeth, I missed you so much!"

"My lord!" Celsus yelped as a hundred plus pounds of muscle wrapped themselves around his borrowed body's feeble frame and squeezed. "Urk, ow! It's… great to see you well, sir."

"Hi!" At least three feet removed from the joyous reunions, Sebastian cleared his throat, waving both hands at everyone gathered in his doorway. "Yeeaah, not to be rude, but what the hell is going on?"

"Ahh, you must be Sebastian Faust, correct?" With a brief flicker of red in his eyes, Kafir let go of his assistant, immediately zeroing in on his bounty. "I see you haven't yet collected," he said over his shoulder to Dick. "That's alright, it's hard to get a hang of your first time. Don't worry, I'll take it from here."

"Whoa, no!" Dick shouted out, throwing an arm in front of Sebastian and blocking the demon from getting closer. "His soul's not on the table anymore."

Kafir stopped, folding his arms over his chest, then scoffed, "Excuse me?" When Dick made no show of backing down, he shifted his gaze to Celsus.

"It's true, sir, they seem to have entered into a new contract, one that frees the young man from Nebiros' debt." Maintaining eye contact with the ground, the lesser demon coughed and started to chew on a fingernail.

"What?" Kafir growled. "How could you let this happen?"

"I wasn't here! He," Celsus pointed an accusing finger at Dick, "made the deal before I could even arrive! I followed him immediately, but I- I was too late…"

"Ohhh," Kafir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Time zones?"

"…yes, my lord."

"And you just figured you'd take matters into your own hands, did you?" Kafir turned back round on Dick, poking him in the chest. "The hubris of mortals—"

"Look, it's not like his deal was very fair in the first place!" Dick defended himself. "It wasn't even his, Sebastian's dad—"

"Oh, I am aware of the conditions surrounding his deal! But it wasn't mine to change either! The issue lies with—" Kafir trailed off, adopting a much more thoughtful look as he did not deign to finish his sentence.

"With? With what?" Zatanna prompted, having sidled up to Dick's side amidst the chaos.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," Kafir waved her off, addressing Celsus instead. "The days of that fourth-rate hobgoblin lording his faction numbers over us are over, Cels, my dear."

"Sir? How do you mean?"

"I have secured Gotham as my territory, he's outnumbered now." Kafir rubbed his hands together like an old cartoon villain, a sharp toothed grin and conniving glee overtaking his features. "Should Nebby have any complaints, be sure to send him my way!"

"You have Gotham?" Celsus repeated with awe in his tone. "Splendid!"

(At the same time, Dick turned to his magical twosome, inquiring what that could possibly mean, to which both unhelpfully responded with an 'I'll explain later.')

"Ok! So I'm very confused," said Sebastian as he loudly clapped once. "Umm, I don't think I really care, though… Can I just ask you all to go and leave me alone?" He started to corral everyone out the door, pulling Dick aside for a moment at the threshold. "I can't thank you enough, but I just learned that I no longer have to fear my getting dragged to hell and I kinda have to figure out what that means for me. I am extremely tired, so thank you again, you're welcome to drop by if you ever figure out what all of this is, but for now… goodbye."

And with that, the door was shut in their faces, locks turned, deadbolts engaged.

"Well, this has been a productive night!" Kafir announced. "It's been fun, but the lost soul is correct, we should be getting back now." He held out both hands towards Dick, palms upturned. "Shall we?"

"Oh, g- uhh, I mean, yes, please!"

"Great! It's very simple, just focus on your body and imagine yourself… flying into it, I suppose. Let your soul do the work, it knows where it belongs."

With John and Zatanna flanking him, Dick placed clawed fingers atop his hands and exhaled once.

A/N: For context, Sebastian Faust is the son of Felix Faust and after Felix made a botched deal with the demon Nebiros, Sebastian had his soul taken and given magical powers as a result. In my story, I just changed it to him getting the magic, but only until his 20th birthday, after which he would be taken to hell.

Also the part with Scarecrow is probably one of my favorite things I've ever written :D