I stick my cigarette into a merrily burning fire. Insert end here. The deep double lungful of hot smoke hits all the right spots.

Disaster's snapping at my heels and it's time that I was somewhere far away. It's all up to me again, ain't it? Somehow, I've got to stay ahead and get some new aces up my sleeve.

But right now, all I really need's a smoke.

"I know I'm not one of Yer favorites," I mutter beneath my breath. "I'm not even welcome in Yer house. But, I could use a little attention."

"Constantine!"

Bollocks. They always get my name wrong. It's pronounced like turpentine. -TYNE, not TEEN. Ask Etrigan. You'd think a Demon Lord of Hell would get it right.

My name's John Constantine. I'm not the nicest bloke you've ever met, but I do me best.

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The Ultimate Plot Device II

"Destroy All Enemies!"

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Written by Sheo Darren under threat of death from Gouki for calling him by his bastardized Capcom USA name

Conceived by Sho Tsuzuku and Sheo Darren on a boring day with too much booze at hand with Gouki within hearing range

Disclaimer: Street Fighter and everything else I crossover with it in this fan fiction are not mine.

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Chapter 08

Hellblazer

(a.k.a. NOT A Friggin' Fuku Fic This Time Around)

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A lot's been said about me. Everyone who's known me has their own pet theory as to who I am. Hellblazer. The Laughing Magician. Trenchcoat Brigadier. Con man. Occult detective. Gambler. Magician of ill repute. Magical arsehole. Memetic badass shrouded in mystery. The wizard who did it. That guy who looks like Sting in Quadrophenia or Castiel in Supernatural or Keanu Reeves in some bastardized American movie adaptation of my life story, the royalties of which I ain't seen a cent yet.

A cynical, cancer-ridden man whose life is doomed to continue soaked in bloody death and misery.

Papa Midnite's always told me my tar-crusted soul is the only one the Devil himself would personally come to collect.

He's right. What he didn't say is which devil was coming to collect it.

All of them want it.

This handsome bloke here's Diablo. al'Diabalos. Lord of Terror. Youngest and yet most powerful of the three Prime Evils that ruled over Hell. He looks like a Techicolor reject from a Godzilla movie. The real Japanese deal, not the tuna-eating lizard. American adaptations are always cock-ups.

He's currently first in line for my soul. Some poor sap decided to play Mage: The Awakening in real life. You'd think they'd learn after summoning Solomon Grundy one time too many. Or maybe they did learn. Least this time it wasn't the dark dimensions, the great unknown of the occult. Reaching into that world always ends in chaos and disaster, and every now and then something nasty with tentacles.

Oh, I know all too well what the dark dimensions can do. Long story short, I got turned into a magical girl. Briefly. And stopped only 'cos my sweet niece Gemma, for whom I worked my bum off to keep her away from magic, nicked my magical shtick from me and became Sailor Nemesis.

Bloody friggin' fuku, indeed.

Back to the current business. "Hello, squire," I drawl at Diablo. "Just won the amazing race, I see."

"Your false show of courage is amusing, Constantine," Diablo sneered. "But it is to no avail. Not even Death of the Endless can save you from me."

Oooh, you've got balls to be talking smack about Teleute. Don't fear the reaper 'cos she's nice? Fear the reaper cos' she's nice. You're just the Lord of Terror in Hell. You don't even have a Lantern Corps to your name. Despair will have you for snacks.

"Betcher life on t'at, D-boy?"

Oh, but that buggered him well an' good.

Ah, shite. He's so buggered, he's a-charging his laser.

"Any last words, Constantine?"

Didn't his mother teach him not to talk when his mouth is full? Ah, for the good old days of classy Lu running the asylum...

But I smirk. He asked for it. He's about to get it.

I'm the one who steps from the shadows, all trenchcoat and cigarette and arrogance, ready to deal with the madness. Oh, I've got it all sewn up. I can save anyone. If it takes the last drop of that person's blood, I'll drive the demons away. I'll kick them in the bollocks and spit on them when they're down, and then I'll be gone back into the darkness, leaving only a nod, a wink and a wisecrack. I walk my path alone... who would want to walk with me?

You're about to see just who. Time to summon bigger fish.

"Hey," I puff through my cigarette. "Gouki. Batter up."

"DYNAMIC ENTRY!" gleefully shrieks a little girl's voice.

And Diablo gets a faceful of flying kick straight out of a Bruce Lee flick.

His wave motion blast fires straight up into the air as he falls on his spiky arse. There goes Tokyo.

My new best friend from the land of the rising sun touches down in front of me. Christ, but he's huge. Especially when you compare and contrast with his little albino shoulder pet. You'd even think he was a devil himself. And he is. A devil in the art of fighting, the king of fighters himself.

You fight fire with fire. Devils with demons. Diablos with akuma.

"About time you showed up, mate," I greet Gouki.

"Excellent, Constantine." At least he doesn't mangle my name the usual way. "It is never a dull moment when you call."

"Glad you have my back, chum. Ansatsuken away."

"Raaargh!"

Oh, look, Diablo's back up on his clawed feet. "You again!" he snarls at Gouki. "What are you doing here?"

Oh, they've history together, eh? "Kicking your ugly mug for me," I answer. "With your arse next in line."

The little girl on Gouki's shoulder gracefully hops off. She curtsies to me. "Hello, John," she greeted.

"Pleased to meetcha again, Illya," I tell the red-eyed homunculi. I know Illyasviel von Einzbern by way of her gramps. Now there's a tight arsehole if I've ever seen one. But Illya here takes after her lovely mum Irisviel. "How's yer big brother... Sheo? Sherwin? What's his name again?"

Illya giggles. "Shiro-oniichan is tending the castle with Rin while Gouki and I are away."

"Good for you. You might want to step away from Gouki for now, princess. They're just about ready to rock."

"Of course. Will you lead me, John?" Illya held out her hand all lady-like. I oblige her by guiding her to a safe spot to watch the mayhem unfold. I even lend her a Rayban. I've one of my own. Light show's about to start, after all. Wouldn't miss this for the world.

The wheels of fate are turning! Rebel One! Fight!

"RED LIGHTNING HOSE!"

"MESSATSU GOU-HADOU!"

My name's John Constantine. I've got ringside tickets to the grandest game ever. Fuck off.

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Author's Notes: Featured Hellblazer (with a little side dish of the Constantine movie) and Diablo II plus Fate Stay Night, DCU's Death of the Endless, BlazBlue and Guilty Gear, and the Sailor Moon-Hellblazer crossover fan fic Sailor Hellblazer written by David Tai and Rod M.

Jotted down the notes for this years ago with my friend Sho Tsuzuku. Lost the notebook containing those notes soon afterwards. Rediscovered them every now and then, only to forget about them just half an hour afterwards. Finally got down to writing it... while I read Sailor Hellblazer, which proved an invaluable aid, indeed. Completed the task in just two hours. Ain't aggravated inspiration grand?

Lots of lines were lifted straight out of Hellblazer and Constantine. Some tropes were also overdosed. I will not pretend my take on Constantine is the best. But I try my best.

Read Sailor Hellblazer. Rave about it. It's awesome.