WORD OF THE DHARKESIDE
The following tale steals from many rich sources, including the movie, the deleted scenes, the video game and the 'Hellblazer' graphic novels. It is very, very, very loosely based on 'Hunger' from the 'Original Sins' collection, and a story line of my own creation. Here's a useful key; the good aspects are stolen, the bad aspects are mine.
Prologue
"I'm baaaaaack…" Balthazar teased.
And he was glad. Despite having been born in Hell, he regarded Earth as his natural habitat. Earth was such splendid fun! He adored human beings, especially when they suffered mentally and physically. It was even better when he caused the agony. They were such good fun to tease and taunt.
"Pleased to see me?" he taunted.
He committed the same crimes in Hell, but the damned weren't nearly as satisfying. Aside from terror and agony, Hell's people no longer experienced emotions. Eternal torture destroyed wounded minds, whereas Earth's coexistence of pain and pleasure marred and healed injured souls. Such unpredictable suffering generated a whole rainbow of emotions.
"Finger lickin' good," he sniggered.
Even Earth's humans were more diverse. Hell was filled with an immoral flavour, but he found the meat too sour and tainted. On Earth a luscious delicacy was available. He loved the taste of virtuous half angels, whose meat was sweet and pure. He wanted his enemy's flesh, where sweet and sour lived in disharmony.
"The Great John Constantine," he sneered.
Although Earth was an excellent feeding ground, he'd returned with another purpose in mind. Lucifer had given specific orders. But before Balthazar obeyed them, he'd fulfil his own selfish needs first. He wanted revenge. It would be bitter sweet and such splendid fun!
"My first target," he snarled.
He stood in the doorway, studying the hydrotherapy room. A mossy pool marred the very centre, like a stagnant wound weeping green sludge onto fevered flesh. Two human parasites contaminated the rancid water. One dead, one alive. Both longed to swap places.
"Fresh meat!" he jeered.
The dead Mexican floated backwards and forwards, his corpse greasing the pool of life. Aquatic hands pushed and pulled, throwing humankind into different waters. The shallow end offered protection and security, whereas the deep smouldered with danger and fear. He'd visited the deep end far too frequently. Now he lay facedown in the pool; having paid the ultimate price for rediscovering the Sangre De Dio.
"Such a lively companion!" Balthazar cackled. "The life and soul of the paaarty!"
Gabriel did not respond.
He looked into her eyes, but his stare wasn't returned. Instead she watched the Mexican's carcass, as it floated past her broken body. She stood in the pool's very centre, where the seepage was deepest. Aside from her head and shoulders, the water claimed everything.
"Your plan's worked wonders," he gloated. "Constantine's certainly quivering in abject horror!"
Gabriel finally returned his gaze. Trying to express humble indignation, she furrowed her fair eyebrows and sharp features. Owing to the slumped, shivering shoulders, he merely saw an exhausted, pathetic human being. Protruding from her collarbones were two, spindly, broken bones. A reminder of her previous life.
"Looks like the farmer broke your wings," Balthazar ridiculed. "Chicken."
She did not reply.
Desiring a more satisfying answer, he approached the ailing pool. Gabriel stared silently, an aquamarine reflection dancing over her translucent skin. The luminescent water generated an undulating pattern, which blemished the surrounding room. The palpitating walls writhed and wiggled in sickly green agony. He cherished this impression. Like a watery timepiece, the shadowy patterns announced night's arrival. John and Angela had left hours ago. It was quite the inconvenience time stopped still in Hell, but Balthazar had made sure to familiarise himself with it.
"What do you want?" she managed.
He was silent.
Sensing her self consciousness, he examined her visage to determine why. Gabriel's bedraggled hair obscured her face, especially the lofty, puritanical cheekbones. Through the pale blonde hair a blood red bruise glowed angrily, whilst the telltale marks of four knuckles grew more and more prominent. Simultaneously angered and humoured, he remembered how the same fist had damaged his own jaw. He would wreak sweet revenge on John Constantine! This resolute vow cooled his rage, allowing him to enjoy an untainted spell of sadistic mirth.
"Did you walk into a door?" he mocked. "Or is Constantine treating his women well?"
"Leave me alone," she pleaded. "Finish what John started. Kill me."
Balthazar laughed. A deep, scornful laugh.
He walked towards the pool, stopping only when he'd reached the edge. Miniature waves washed over his business shoes, turning the burnished leather into a wet black, like frozen tar. His laugh subsided. He listened to the hydrotherapy room. The only background noises issued from the lapping water, as it inhaled and exhaled over the pool's boundaries. It gnawed greedily on the rubber flooring, reminding him of Hell's Scavenger Scouts, nibbling noisily on fresh carrion.
"Music to my ears!" he sniggered.
"Stop delaying my death," she begged. "Just kill me."
He laughed again. Crueller then before.
He stood opposite Gabriel, watching and waiting. Her humanity sickened him. He wanted to break her windpipe. His palms curled into fists. Balanced on one hand was a silver coin, his sudden hunger generated its movement. It rocked backwards and forwards over his tensed knuckles, his murderous greed reluctantly relaxing. The hot metal always calmed his pernicious appetite.
"How ironic," he sneered. "Constantine didn't kill me, but you did. Looks like the tables have turned."
"You don't belong here," she declared. "Go back to Hell!"
"My talents are wasted in Hell," he scoffed. "Even the boss noticed. He has a bad reputation, but deep down he's a very generous chap. I mean who else would have sent the medium's sister to Heaven? Or who would've removed Constantine's cancer? God? I don't think so! The boss is a very generous chap indeed."
"Stop gloating!" she protested. "Just shut up!"
"Occasionally," he started. "Generosity fails him. He absolutely despises half angels. I despise them too, especially ones who are now human. At least they make a decent meal."
"Stop torturing me with your threats," she lamented. "Just kill me. I'd rather die then spend another moment in this human body."
"Good!" he jeered. "And that's why I'm going to let you live!"
She shuddered.
Physical coldness had not caused the shudder, for the room smouldered relentlessly. The warmth didn't exceed Hell's climate, but it felt lovely nonetheless. He could not absorb heat through his outer shell, and so relied upon the coin's touch. The metal was susceptible to hot and cold. And he was susceptible to its caress. Despite his skin's flaws, he felt very proud of his exterior mask. He loved boasting about his handsome human features, whilst wearing expensive business suits. He was admired by gullible mortals and feared by jealous half breeds. Balthazar enjoyed the attention, no matter how unpleasant.
"My talents are wasted in Hell," he repeated. "And your suffering would be wasted in Heaven."
Another shudder attacked her body.
His wealthy position in society made the half breeds especially jealous. He possessed a multibillion dollar enterprise, and controlled the lives of those who worked there. The organisation even featured his own initials; 'BZR Brokerage Corporate Offices'. All this made Earth such splendid fun. And now Gabriel's suffering was the icing on the cake!
"What do you want with me?" she enquired.
"Aww," he mocked. "Surrendering so quickly? Surely being human isn't that bad? At least you're not half chicken now. Don't worry about laying anymore eggs for that fowl farmer God."
"Leave me alone," she pleaded. "Let me die in peace."
"Die?" he scoffed. "How are you going to die? Drown yourself in the pool? Suicide will send you straight to Hell! You won't find any peace down there."
The hydrotherapy room smelt like Hell. Acrid smoke and scorched rubber dominated the air. He loved these smells. The noxious fumes would have caused the average mortal to cough and vomit. He wondered whether the tremendous heat and the harmful stenches effected Gabriel's human constitution. His malicious hunger grew.
"What if I could help you?" he taunted.
She frowned. "And why would you help me?"
"The boss sent me back for a reason," he bragged. "If you assist me, he'll look favourably on you. And if you're lucky, you might even be promoted to half demon."
"Demon?" she sniffed. "Demons are lower than humans. What gives you the impression I'd want to be a half demon?"
"Oh, please!" he scoffed. "I hope you're joking! We are far superior to humans! And far more powerful too."
"Superior? More powerful?" she grimaced. "Does the same go for half angels? If a mortal man could thwart our plans, we must have been inferior to our species."
"We underestimated him!" he snapped. "But this time, I have a secret weapon. Constantine will never beat us again!"
"And what exactly do you want?" she queried.
"I must fool Constantine into damning his own soul. And then I will kill him," he sneered. "But if he can trick the boss, no doubt he'll trick me too. My secret weapon's killer, but I'm not smart enough to use it. And that's where I need you."
Gabriel's defeated demeanour slowly disappeared. The self-piteous expression darkening her features brightened into fierce determination. Her slumped, broken shoulders straightened into sharp, angelic arches. She was no longer a pathetic human being. She was a pathetic human being, with a sudden will to live.
"Are you in?" he demanded.
His words spurred her into movement. She waded through the pool, sending mottled water splashing and swirling violently. The manmade lagoon grew shallower and shallower, until her waist was free of its current. Her ruined clothing humoured him. The vest top hung in filthy tatters, whilst the trousers were blackened by stagnant smoke.
"Fresh pair of clothes?" he jeered.
She glared. "You love human suffering so much."
"Now that's the spirit!" he crowed. "No more defenceless crap. It doesn't suit you, Gabby."
Suddenly defiant, she ascended the pool's steps. Water trickled from her hair and clothes in silvery streaks. Despite being human, she still retained her angelic radiance.
"Your plans are careless," she criticised. "I betrayed you before. I could betray you again."
"It will never happen," he snarled. "If you want to rise above humanity, you'll need my help. You won't betray me again."
"You must be getting something out of this too," she mused. "What's your selfish motive? Or do you merely love seeing John suffer?"
"Both," he smirked. "If I fail to acquire Constantine's soul, then I can say adieu to Earth. The boss will make sure I stay in Hell forever."
Gabriel abandoned the hydrotherapy pool. She approached Balthazar, her bare feet slapping wetly on the smooth flooring. The peculiar aquamarine light danced across her body. The dance was accompanied by music. Somewhere in the distance, sirens communicated their sadness through long, mournful wails.
"Sounds like it's time to go," he affirmed.
"Yes," she supplied. "Let's."
"And let's send Constantine to Hell," his voice grew cold. "The great John Constantine."
ESTIMATED UPDATE FOR CHAPTER ONE: SATURDAY 6TH AUGUST