Chapter 12
Raven tried to make the best use of her time by meditating; perhaps she could find a way to locate her son.
Over the years, Raven had matured and established herself enough that she wasn't easily shaken. She had become used to raging emotions and traumas – especially by the media's bitter hatred of her son. It would take a dystopia of cataclysmic proportions to deeply affect her. It would take losing Constantine.
Constantine was her son. She had lost Jeff, but the child that he had left her had lessened the grief. She could see Jeff in her son – Constantine linked all of Raven's memories of Jeff to the real world. Now she was faced with possibly losing not only that link, but everything that Constantine was in himself: her son.
Her concentration was broken when the red vortex reopened and Constantine tumbled out. The light was so blinding that she could not see anyone on the other side. Overjoyed, Raven ran to her son and embraced him. It was like he never left.
"Oh! Thank God you're alright."
Constantine hugged his mother back, squeezing her gently. With his usual "Mom, I'm okay" expression fixed, Constantine looked into her eyes.
"Mom, thank you for coming, but you didn't need to. I can take care of myself. You didn't need to take time off of work to come here – it's not that big of a deal."
"Constantine, it is a big deal. Big enough to trigger a vision telling me you were in danger. Big enough to rally some other participants," she said, referring to the soldiers in the heli-plane. "Something is going on here, Son, and I can't understand it. I've had premonitions all day that something terrible was going to happen." She paused. "But, obviously the threat has passed, and for that I am thankful. You are my son, and I love you."
"I love you too, Mom." With a wave goodbye, Raven enveloped herself in negative energy and passed into the ground. Alone, Constantine exited the area of the blimp. The place was completely deserted. He had moved only a few feet in front of him when a sudden gust of wind a sent a newspaper at him. He caught it and read the headline.
"Vigilante Constantine Suspected for Murder of U.S. President."
Constantine crumpled the paper and tore it up.
"Man! Why can't I just get a break?! Every time I turn around I'm being accused of something! Geez, give the government another reason to hunt me down."
The wind blew another newspaper at him. It had a similar headline, but the only difference was… this paper had a picture. It must have been taken from one of the security cameras. Constantine immediately recognized it.
"The Phantasm," Constantine muttered with a twinge of anger.
---
Gotham City.
The rain poured down. Constantine hid in the shadows of a building in the financial district. He looked about the city. In Gotham City, whenever it rains, it pours. Constantine made a sound of irritation.
A Gotham Police Chopper flew by and aimed its spotlight in Constantine's direction. He hid himself by becoming shrouded in the familiar black flame and passing through a wall. Luckily, the police were not paying attention to detail. For if they had, they would have noticed the area where Constantine was standing was completely dry, and with his absence was now turning darker in color from the covering rain drops.
The chopper decided to move on, and Constantine resumed his position. He cursed at the vehicle.
"Why am I always hunted?" he muttered to himself, "Well, today, I shall hunt my imposter, and prove that I am not responsible for the death of the President."
It had just struck Midnight. The day had begun.
Constantine pondered what his father had told him. Jeff had told him to put his faith in God, and to fight for the right reasons. What had Constantine been fighting for? Glory? No. Fame? Certainly not. Why did his father fight? Because he had to? Partly, but mostly, he fought for Raven. Constantine wiped the water from his dripping mask, he still did not understand everything. However, in time, he would.
---
The Phantasm climbed into an apartment building window. He was relieved to get out of the rain. But now, he had business.
He slightly kicked his boots so that the rain would come off and not make that squishing noise as he walked. He stepped softly down the hallway toward the bedroom of his target. He approached the bed, and raised his left hand to remove the covers.
"Rupert Thorne, your Angel of Death awai--"
As he yanked away the covers, no one was under them—only a B7 Plastique explosive. He had been double crossed.
"Not again!"
The timer was counting down from 5 seconds when he pulled away the blankets. With the remaining time, he grabbed it, sprinted for the balcony, and chucked it out the window. The Phantasm then braced for a serious impact.
Constantine was soaked. He hated getting wet. But he knew that the Phantasm would show his face again, and Constantine wanted to be around when he did. Constantine's red leather trench coat and hood were drenched like a towel that was dropped in a swimming pool and left there for hours. It stuck to the ground and flapped about whenever he made a movement.
Suddenly it felt as if the whole block shook when half of a building detonated. The Phantasm was violently thrown across the room, and through the wall of the bedroom, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder. After the force of the blast had shoved in through the wall, he sailed backwards, hitting the edge of another building's roof, falling down, and finally grabbing hold of a fire escape.
Constantine was forced to recover his balance. This was it. Whatever the Phantasm did, he sure did make a mess. As Constantine leapt and soared into the thundering air, his opponent grunted as he pulled himself back up the side of the building. He gazed at the smoking demolition site. Whoever did this, was going to pay.
The Phantasm heard sirens: that was his exit cue.
Constantine heard sirens. Not a good sign.
Just as the fog thickened above the ground, Constantine dove off the balcony. He was swimming in the air. As gravity began to pull him to ground, he positioned his feet forward, and headed toward the side of a building. He slid along it, still moving forward, until he started to run along the outside wall. It was as if the wall was his floor, because he ran perfectly perpendicular to the ground. Reaching the edge of the structure's corner, he pushed off with his right foot, did a spiraling flip in the air… toward his opponent.
The Phantasm saw two helicopters come over the horizon, and activated his smoke screen. The black fumes emitted from his feet, and began to encircle him. He made a hard grunt as Constantine tackled him.
The Phantasm's tactic failed. The fumes dissipated.
Both hit the roof hard, but the Phantasm took most of the brunt. His entire backside was torn and scarred. He pushed Constantine off, and got to his feet. As the Phantasm thrust his arm-scythe forward, Constantine quickly drew his sword and blocked it. Then Constantine slashed away to knock back the Phantasm's weapon. Constantine landed a kick squarely in his chin.
The Phantasm spat out blood through his mask as he fell to the floor of the roof. A small murmur of pain escaped his lips. He struggled not to quake, but the shock of the blow was overwhelming.
His hood up and Jason Hockey Mask on, Constantine's eyes narrowed.
"I know all about you," he said, "Andrea Beaumont."
He pushed his sword a little closer to the Phantasm's face.
"Batman told Nightwing… who told my mom… who told me. I hear you've got a pretty face—"
The tip of the blade went in one of the eyeholes, and caught hold of the mask. Constantine whipped his wrist back, yanking the mask off. The face behind it was that of an African American male.
"What!?! You're not Beaumont!"
The man's eyes twitched in fear. The police helicopter came closer. In rage, Constantine pointed his sword at the imposter.
"Who hired you?!"
At the sight of the flying vehicle, the Phantasm took hold of Constantine's blade and thrust it into his stomach, impaling himself.
The Phantasm fell back in a faint, and was dead.
As the helicopter approached, Constantine pulled out his sword. When he looked at the blood and then at the police chopper, he put two and two together. Constantine cursed. Now, the police would think he murdered another person!
"Constantine! This is Gotham P.D.!" an officer on the loudspeaker shouted, "Stay where you are!!!"
Constantine sprinted for the edge of the roof. The door to the chopper slid open, and a man carrying a gattling gun appeared.
"Freeze!"
Constantine kept running.
"Take him down! Take him down!"
The gattling gun unleashed the barrage of the deadly bullets. Constantine launched himself off the roof and into the air. The bullets pierced through his trenchcoat, making many holes. One bullet grazed his left arm, and he lost control. Sprawling, he swerved and spiraled to another roof. He shook himself conscious again and took flight.
Another helicopter joined the one firing at him.
"Subject moving along Main Street and Madison. Beta 2-7 and R-9 in pursuit. Subject is armed and extremely dangerous. Shoot on sight."
The two helicopters each fired a rocket at Constantine. Hearing the sound of it, he whipped around. He motioned his hand to telekinetically turn the rockets around. Constantine saw that they were headed right for the things that issued them! Still hovering in midair, Constantine outstretched his hand, fingers extended, at the two rockets. His fingers condensed into a fist, and the two rockets exploded before they hit the choppers.
A police sniper was off to the side. He took Constantine's heroism as an opportunity. Constantine suddenly felt that he had caught a bullet in the abdomen. He fell to the ground like a dead bird.
Though he was about to faint, Constantine remained focused enough to land feet first. He sprained an ankle. Shakily, he stood upright and was glad to see the bullet had not entered his body.
"Thank God for Kevlar."
The Gotham Police Department activated spotlights that pierced through the darkness and rain. It was still pouring. Constantine limped away, stepping in puddles scattered across the roof. The pain was excruciating, so he decided to levitate away.
A spotlight caught sight of him.
"There!"
Constantine quickly moved himself into the structure of a partially demolished building. The rain dumped into it. Constantine's hood was streaming with water, and the raindrops lined his mask. This place would not provide much cover.
A SWAT officer motioned to another. He hurled a gray, ball-shaped grenade into the building. It landed a few feet away from Constantine.
At the sight of it, he cursed again.
"Oh shi—" BOOOOOM!!!
He was thrown back several yards, knocking down burnt walls and falling through crushed ceilings.
"Did we get him?" One policeman said to the commander.
The commander took out a small radio communicator and garbled into it.
"Delta 6, what is your position? Over."
-static distorted words-
"Mm-hmm. Can you still see the target?"
-affirmative distorted static-
"Copy that," then turning to a SWAT team, he shouted, "Swat down that wasp's nest!"
They then moved two gattling guns, stationed on wagons, to two opposite sides of the building. Constantine struggled to push of the debris from his dust-stained clothes. He grunted as he tried to get up.
"Fire!!!"
Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam!!!
Constantine yelped as a storm of bullets shot out of the floor below him. The ground on which he stood gave way. With a yell, Constantine fell through it. His body twisted in the air, and his chin hit a girder… hard. His back hit another piece of half-floor, but he reached above and clutched it.
His hand and body trembled.
The commander removed the binoculars from his eyes.
"Stupid kitty won't come down!"
He wiped the spit from his lips, then screamed the others.
"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"
They obeyed him, despite his little tantrum, and engaged in their attack once more.
Constantine was overwhelmed with bullets that covered his torso. The Kevlar wouldn't protect all of him. One bullet went astray and sliced through Constantine's wrist.
He fell… and hit the ground with a thud.
But he would not let himself be captured! He was Constantine! He struggled, despite all the pain, to arise once more. He was much too weak to use his powers. The police were coming. The sound of "Hut hut! Move! Move!" rang in his ears. He limped away, into the street.
A man on a motorcycle drove up. He saw Constantine in the street, blocking his way. He had no choice but to stop.
"Hey! You're right in the middle of the road! Out of the way!"
Constantine held up the hand that was not injured, as if to tell him something. He puffed like he out of breath, and still had something to say. The man waited for Constantine. In one swift movement, Constantine abandoned the charade and punched the cyclist off his vehicle.
Constantine got on and took hold of the handlebars.
"Sorry! I'll bring this back! Thank you!"
He sped off. The police following him were too late.
As he sped down the highway, a policeman in his car got a report that Constantine was coming down that road.
Not putting on its sirens, the police car zoomed out of the alleyway where it was hiding, into the middle of the road.
Constantine didn't have any time to react, and hit the car head on. He flew off the motorcycle and landed on his back. His coat was torn, and blood seeped out.
But Constantine still refused to give up.
He slowly got to his feet and limped away at a snail's pace. The entire police force was on his butt now. Constantine cursed again as he found himself at a dead end, between two buildings.
He was too tired to fly over the wall, and the police had gained on him. They entered the alleyway. Constantine leaned against the wall.
An officer drew his gun, pointing it at the exhausted boy.
"Constantine, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…"
He saw Constantine reaching for his belt buckle.
"…anything you say…" he officer went on.
Constantine's fingers were just about to touch it.
Now, the officer just blurted, "Er…Open fire!!!"
Constantine pressed it with his last ounce of strength.
A bright white light flashed. The policemen fired their guns until they ran out of ammunition. But when the smoke cleared…
...Constantine had vanished.