"Hold up, ain't this Annie Rayfield's place?"

"Uh-"

I stopped and stared at Harry when he said that. The old lady who apparently ran this place was fierce as a bullwhip, sure, but it was still a shock to hear that one of the biggest gangsters in South London knew her name, much less where she lived.

"Think that was the name of the old lady, yeah. What, she one of yours?" I asked.

"Nah. But I know her. Bright lady. Sends people our way, sometimes. Which means… hrm." He tapped that oversized chin of his. Seriously, it was like something out of a comic book, a genuine lantern-jaw. Solid enough I half expected to hear the tapping clink like it was a metal plate or something. "Can't have her dying in the crossfire. It's nighttime, so they'll be sleeping, I reckon. Len? Have the place cleared out. Peacefully and quietly. Don't want the Coppers comin' round complaining of a massacre. No weapons until we see Mister Furrows, got it? Take his room last. Which number did you say he was, Constantine?"

"Uh-" I almost told him 'no clue', I hadn't exactly been counting the room numbers. "First one on your right after getting to the top of the stairs."

Len gave an affirmative and promptly left to wrangle the troops into order.

All along the road there were dozens of cars. Company cars, some of them, the ones belonging to the higher-up scumbags like Harry and Len, but most were just old beaters and whatever the low-level thugs who worked for Harry could manage to afford. Each one had its load of thugs, sitting around, tense as anything. Some were high, and the ones that weren't had to be hopped up on enough adrenaline to drive them loopy anyway. Just as well it was nighttime, wouldn't be surprised if they went and jumped at some poor pedestrian dumb enough to see this lineup and not turn around and start running.

This was the kind've sight you only saw during actual gang wars. Right before violence erupted and the streets started running with blood. They were armed to bear and out to kill, today, because they knew they were going up against a super. A genuine, honest-to-god supervillain.

The coppers and the news media were going to have a fit over this once they got word of it, people would be saying it was the Peckham Boys all over again.

Or maybe not. I could just as easily see the headlines saying 'Harry Cooper foils murderous supervillain', lionising the old scumbag instead at the end of all this. It'd depend on how everything played out.

The street-level troopers started to file into the building. The lock wasn't any issue. These were a rowdy bunch of lads at heart but they understood the concepts of 'surprise attack' and 'be quiet'. A proper lockpick team was hard at work getting the door open in total silence, whilst men with guns and barbed-wire baseball bats lined up outside ready to burst in.

"Shocked you don't want me in there going fire and brimstone on 'im. You know I'm the only one here who'd be able to stand up to him in a fight, right?" I told Harry, as the two of us stood by and watched proceedings.

Harry gave a one-note laugh at that. More of a grunt, really. "Len tells me he and his guys took you out with a baseball bat."

"Got me by surprise." I mumbled, sheepishly. "Besides, I felt bad for 'em, after what happened to their mate."

"Sure." He didn't sound like he believed me. "I know you aren't bluffing about your powers. I still remember…" His voice cracked a little. A hint of emotion, the first weakness he'd shown since coming here, because he knew it was one weakness I'd already seen in him. "I still owe you for what you did for my boy, years back. I know your abilities ain't just rumor. But I also know you ain't a fighter. Don't pretend to be."

"Still, I'd rather be there when it happens. Make sure nothing goes wrong, yeah?"

He put his hand on my shoulder. Gripped it tight enough to hurt. I winced in pain, as he said "Constantine. Stay. I'm not letting you out of my sight until we're done. Until I know you aren't just trying to play me."

Well, it was worth a shot. I grimaced and gave him a nod. Seemed like just asking politely wasn't going to get me away from him, but the good news was, it wasn't long until the lockpickers got the front door open, and my real distraction arrived.

The first of the thugs filed in through the front door of the building. Then the first of the thugs was thrown right back out the front door almost immediately, landing hard in the street.

Huntress was here. Harry'd spent too long faffing about marshalling forces, getting everybody together and lined up on the street like this.

It'd been long enough for a small team of three arseholes to sneak in through a window or something and get to waiting for us to barge in, even given the fact we'd had a headstart and had been the only ones who knew where we were going.

Huntress spoke loudly, addressing the crowd on the street, not just the thugs right in front of her. It was loud enough I could hear the little speech all the way from back here.

"I'm afraid I can't let you come in here. You all get one chance. Give up, go home. The man you're here for is out of your League, and so are we." I rolled my eyes. Was that a pun? Out of Miss Anger Issues? "We appreciate your… citizens' concern and desire to deal with the threat to the city, but we'll take it from here. Leave it to the professionals and nobody gets their bones broken."

She just had to end it on a threat. The crowd looked half convinced by the soft play, but the moment they heard the threat one of the thugs charged her. She did an over-complicated flip off a wall and kicked him in the face, the poor guy went down like a sack of potatoes… and gunfire erupted immediately in response.

She was forced to take cover behind the door, and I could see Limelight hovering just above the roof, starting to use a gatling gun made of green light to lay down covering fire. Thugs went down by the dozens, and the smarter ones took cover behind their cars.

Harry was one of them. That grip tightened around my shoulder as he threw me behind the expensive limo he'd ridden out here, then slammed me against the door hard enough to dent the metal.

"What the hell is this? Did you lead them-"

I cut him off with anger of my own. "You absolute ponce! You let us get tailed! The fuck were you thinking? You knew they were in town!" Well, I'd let us get tailed, anyway, but that's besides the point. He was an idiot for not noticing anyway.

I'd been hoping to put him on the backfoot, but he just slammed a fist into the car door, indenting the metal inches to the right of my head.

"I don't appreciate being lied to, Constantine. I don't appreciate being played. I know you're in close with that magician bitch, I should've seen this coming. You get one chance. Call your whore of a girlfriend and call them off, or It won't be just Randall who's dead by morning."

I open my mouth to give a retort, but he grabs me by the throat before a word passes my lips. I choke, going white, as he growls "Don't speak. Just nod. You'll call her, right?"

I nod. As firmly as I can, with what little leverage he gave me. He loosened his grip just enough to let me breathe, but tightened it again to choke me every time I tried to speak. Eventually I gave up on even trying to talk as he rummaged in his pocket and picked up a phone, handing it to me.

Without speaking I dialled Zee's number. Her personal number, not the Justice League one she'd given me when we met last week. It rang once, twice, thrice. I went pale as I realised she might not even answer, that she might be too busy cleaning up thugs or trying to subdue Randall. At least it hadn't gone right to voicemail, that meant she still had it on, but…

Then she picked up. Her voice sounded strained, the line crackled with static, but the words were still audible. "Bit busy here, John. What is it?!"

Harry Cooper stared at me with white, wild eyes. Piercing eyes, on the edge of frenzy. He was practically frothing at the mouth, but he loosened his grip to let me speak.

"...Here with- nggh, Harry Cooper… We're… behind the limo in the middle." A heavy breath from Harry. That wasn't quite me calling them off, but it also wasn't not me calling them off. I knew I was on thin fucking ice, even if I'd already given them the information I needed to to save my arse, I needed to get to what Harry thought was the point before he just decided to snap my neck. "Being asked to… call you off. Stop the fighting. N-nggh- negotiate, okay?"

"Give me five, I'll see what I can do." Zee told me from the other end of the line, before ending the call. Harry let go of my neck, dropping me to the ground, and I gulped for air like a fish out of water.

There was a moment's pause. Harry Cooper just stared at me, expectantly, waiting for the fighting to stop. The gunfire still continued in the background, both from Limelight and the mobsters. I hadn't expected an actual ceasefire, anyway. Zee was never going to listen to a plea from me to stop fighting even if it was just her making that decision, and her teammates definitely weren't about to stop just on my account.

But…

After that moment's pause the car we were hiding behind flew about fifty feet in the air and got thrown at the next car over. Mobsters dived away from the vehicle as it went up in a fiery explosion. Harry was stunned just at the sight, and after recovering a split-second later went running in the other direction to avoid getting bowled over by whatever next car Limelight decided she wanted to throw around.

But me? I was the only one not stunned with surprise. I'd been expecting something like that to happen, in fact. It was kind've the whole point of saying what car we were behind. It was my distraction, my little rescue, and so instead of running away I went running forward. I did my best to skirt the gunfire, staying behind the mobster's firing line. All eyes were on the apartment building, and anybody who noticed I was running around in the background knew I was meant to be there, anyway, even if they were probably wondering why Harry or Len weren't supervising me. Nobody tried to stop me, at any rate, as I skirted around to get onto the opposite end of the building to the one Limelight and Huntress were busy fighting over, and smashed a window open with a rock to get inside.

–

I flopped onto my belly, nearly impaling myself on a cold water tap as I found myself in the downstairs kitchen. I awkwardly rolled onto the floor and picked myself up, dusted myself off, and came face to face with the infamous Miss Rayfield… and Zatanna. Apparently they'd been in the middle of some kind of argument, presumably over why her little apartment had suddenly turned into a gang warzone, but on seeing me slide through the catflap they both just stopped and stared.

There was an awkward silence, but Rayfield was the first to get to her senses. Her first instinct was apparently to grab that stick of hers and whack me over the head with it again.

"Another thug! Get out, get out, get out! This is a lovely place and I won't have you or any of Harry's bastards ruining one more teacup! Out!"

Zee, the absolute beauty, grabbed her by the wrist, trying to restrain her. "Calm down! He's with us, he's with us! I assume, anyway."

The old lady stopped in her tracks, adjusting her glasses to get a better look at me, skepticism written across her face. "Oh really? Which one are you, then? That's a terrible costume, young man. Surely you could do better than a ratty old coat."

"Oi! This is a perfectly good-!" I started, before pinching the bridge of my nose, groaning in frustration. I was on a time limit even before all this gunfire. I had to get to Randall before he realised what was happening and went rage-mode, and getting stuck arguing with the landlord wouldn't help me get to him any faster.

Hell, to be honest, I was kidding myself that Randall wasn't up and about already. No clue why he hadn't come out swinging yet. Maybe the League really had him handled?

"Look, Zee, yeah, I'm on your side. I'm here for Randall, just like you. He still upstairs?"

"Yes, but we're having one hell of a time getting this one to identify him, or give us a room number. We were having Limelight scan room-by-room but she's a bit… busy."

I heard another explosion from outside. Busy. Right.

Zee gave Miss Rayfield an accusatory look, frustrated, and the old lady just crossed her arms and said proudly "Always say no to coppers. Ain't telling you shit."

"We aren't cops, we're-" Zee growled in frustration, giving me a pleading look, mouthing the word 'see?'.

"Up the stairs, first door on the right." I told her, plainly.

"Thank you!" She exclaimed. She whipped her wand out, turning to go on the spot, evidently intent on going to take Randall out then and there. She only stopped when I said

"Hold on. I'm not letting you just run in there and crack his skull. You're going to let me chat to him first. Talk him down."

She turned back to me, obviously confused. "What? John, he's dangerous. He's out of your league, even. You don't have the experience to deal with something like him. I'm not letting you alone in a room with him."

"And I'm not letting you alone in a bloody room with him! Every time you've tried to intervene in London so far you've buggered it up. Started a fight, caused absolute fucking mayhem." I'd intended this just to be a guilt trip. A big speech, sure, and one I may have practised in the mirror before coming down here, but I found actual anger seeping into my voice. Actual frustration from a full week of dealing with the fallout of these idiot's games.

"We're trying to help. Yes, okay, it's been a bit of a mess, but we're almost there, we can take him down. Just let us help." She defended. She somehow managed to sound apologetic despite the fact she was asking me to let her do more damage, screw things up worse.

"No! It's your bloody Green Lantern pal who got this ring thing on earth in the first place. It came to London, wrecked up the place, took lives. You came to the Marleybones, wrecked up the place, took a livelihood. And now you're here, wrecking up the place, having started a bloody gang war! You'll be lucky if they haven't killed anybody already just looking for bloody Randall." I mean, I knew full well I was the one who'd engineered this particular battle… but these guys had been on the warpath already thanks to the Lantern Ring, brought here by the League's bloody dick-measuring contests, and I wasn't about to wreck my argument by getting pedantic about the difference.

"What do you plan to do, huh? We're trained for this. We've dealt with Red Lanterns before. Look, you're a good magus, but what can you actually do here that we ca-"

"Talk to him, dammit! I don't care what colour bleeding Lantern he is, he's a damn pub landlord. He's a local lad with a wife and a kid. I can talk him down, Zee. End this right, without tearing London apart, without you locking up some poor tosser whose only crime was getting in the middle of your inter-galactic pissing contest and getting saddled with a rage-inducing gimmick. Without anybody else dying. Please, Zee, you just have to let me."

I almost had tears in my eyes as I finished the speech. She looked sceptical, folded her arms. Mostly unmoved, except… except a crack. A crack, in that poker face of hers. A moment of sympathy.

Maybe even of pride.

"This all sounds… very heroic of you. Unusually so. What, did some of what I said last week finally sink in?"

I scowled at the implication, looking away. "...Maybe." I grunted, sucking in a breath through my teeth. "Not going to lie and say I'm not in this to save my own hide. I figure… set this up as a win-win. Whoever wins here, I get out alive. You guys clean up Harry's lot and I don't need to worry about them, if they kick you out, I just hand Randall over to them and I get off the hook anyway. But so long as you're winning… I'd rather try to end this without the extra death."

That seemed to satisfy her. If anything, she looked amused. She smiled, just a little, at me, before nodding. "Alright then. So long as we're on the same page. Go talk to him. Just… if you fail, if he goes on another rampage? We'll still be here to take him down." Her expression turned steely. I knew she wasn't bluffing, there.

"Fair enough. That's the deal, then. You look after Miss Rayfield, It's time I get to work."

"I don't need no lookin' after, I need you arseholes out've my squat! I mean, my house!" Rayfield waved that cane about and it looked like she was about to try to swat me with it again, so I made a hasty exit. Several thugs were lying around unconscious and cuffed on the floor of the front room, and Huntress had apparently been tossing them indoors for safekeeping whilst she held her running battle on the front porch. I stepped over them carefully and made my way upstairs.

I took out a silk cut, taking a long drag to steady my nerves and my trembling hands. Once I stepped through that door I was on duty, on the clock. No showing fear, I had to be the confident, suave, magus, The Laughing Magician, the Synchronicity Wave Traveller. Not the out-of-his-depth pillock who'd been dumb enough to get himself wrapped up in superhero business without any powers.

But for that quiet moment, I got to be scared. Just one moment. Because I won't lie, I was bricking it. This was a warzone, and one I had no business being in.

By all rights some stray bullet or misfired energy blast should've killed me by now, even with how careful I'd been to run and hide rather than participate in any fighting. This wasn't my element.

But I hadn't been lying to Zatanna, either. This wasn't me being unusually heroic. I had my own hide to save… even if I had other motives, too. Just by starting this fracas I knew Harry Cooper's boys wouldn't kill me, anymore. If they lost this spat with the League, they'd be taken in and out of my hair. If they won, I could just hand them Randall and claim that was the plan all along. And in the case of a draw…?

Part of me was hoping for a draw. A draw would get me almost everything I wanted, out of this. A good con-artist never goes in with just one plan, with just one out. I didn't just want to get out of this alive, when instead I could get out of this whilst spitting in the face of the bastards who'd dropped me into this mess, too.

All whilst getting as few people as possible killed too, to boot.

And to do that, I just had to get through one more round of trying to talk my way around an absolute maniac who could explode me with their mind.

And so it was that, unarmed and alone, I stepped into the supervillain's lair.

—-

Randall Furrows sat in a chair in the back of his apartment. It was dimly lit, dank, and bleak. He was muttering to himself, tearing at his hair. I could see clumps of it down on the floor.

He was on the phone with somebody. It was ringing and whoever was on the other side wasn't picking up. I saw a shattered smartphone lying on the floor, and right now he was sat at a bedside table using an ancient looking corded phone that Miss Rayfield had probably included along with the room.

"Come on, come on, pick up, pick up…"

He wasn't using his mobile phone because he'd near enough put the thing through the wall. I could see the dent where it had impacted the plaster. I was right next to a dozen other dents just the right size and shape to be from him trying to put his fist through the wall, too.

I opened the door quietly and he still jumped out of his skin, pointing his ring at me like a weapon as his fist lit up.

"Get the fuck out!" He yelled. I put my hands up defensively, trying to project innocence.

"Easy, easy! Calm down, old son. I'm here to help, okay? Here to help." I kept my voice as soothing as I could. He looked confused, more than anything. Confused and unwilling to come up from the phone, he kept it against his ear even as we talked.

"Why won't you pick u- I need to take this call. Before the people downstairs come to kill me. Stop distracting me, if she picks up before-" The line clicked dead as the phone rung out, but all he did was dial up again, starting it back to ringing.

"Keep it to your ear, if it picks up i'll shut up and let you talk. But I'm here to get you away from the guys downstairs, okay? I'm here to save your arse."

I nudged the door shut behind me with my foot, and he nodded, saying "Okay, yeah. Okay. I saw you running from the guys outside. The ones with guns. That means you're with the other ones, right, the Justice League? The superheroes?"

"...Yeah, mate. I am." I lied.

"Heh. When I first got this thing, I figured maybe I'd sign up." He gestured with the ring. I winced as it passed over me. It felt like somebody waving a gun around, there's a little moment of tension anytime it's pointed directly at you. "Then when I actually used it, you know…"

"Yeah. I- I'm sorry, I'm a little thrown, was kind've expecting to talk down a giant screaming rage monster like last night. You're not…"

"Hah!" He let out a genuine laugh at that, grinning. "That was you? Oh, I remember now! Yeah, that's only when I get going." He shook his head, chuckling. But then his smile died in the space it took to blink, turning deadly serious as he said. "You tried to take the ring. You were rude to Rayfield. She's a nice lady, and I am not fucking tolerating that."

I froze a little, expecting his anger to escalate just like it did before, but… he took a breath. Let the anger seep away, even if it was a slow, slow thing.

"...That's… fair enough, honestly, yeah. Fair enough." I told him. Partly to placate him, but also… I really had come barging into his place to try to take the ring by hook or by crook. Hypnotised him and all. He wasn't exactly wrong to be pissed about that.

"But… I've got bad news, mate. I still need that ring off've you. And you need to give it to me. Harry Cooper's gonna kill you if'n you don't. And the League'll have to lock you up, to boot. I can let you off free… but only if we get the ring off you.".

"No chance." He shook his head, going back to the call. It had rung out again, and so he just redialed. "Harry Cooper's whoever's leading the fucking pack of thugs down there, right? He's not killing me." Another laugh, but this one was darker, it had more of an edge to it, an touch of slow, simmering anger. "I'll rip off his fucking arms and use his own hands to pry apart his goddamn ribcage and piss in his lungs if'n he tries. I'll tear out his spine and shove it up his arse, then rip out his intestines through his arse and stick it where his spine ought to be! I'll break-!" He cut himself off. Another of those deep breaths. He closed his eyes, and though he didn't say it out loud, I could see him forcing his breaths to regularise. I could practically hear him count to ten in his head.

"Sorry." He said, finally. "I need- I need to take this phone call, first. Then I can do what I did to the last batch've boys that tosser sent to threaten me. After this phone call."

I rubbed the back of my neck, awkwardly, before asking "...Yeah, gotta ask, who's on the other end've the call?"

"My wife. I'm- I'm no superhero. Barely know how to use this thing. I know I'm gonna die, tonight. I'm gonna kill every last fucking scumbag who thinks they can take what's mine, threaten my fucking family and piss around in-" Another breath. Another silence, another count to ten.

When he spoke up again, he took a deep breath, and with tears in his eyes he said "But I want to say goodbye to my wife, first. Because I can't take them all, and I especially can't take on three actual superheroes. So I want to say goodbye."

I… really didn't know what to say to that. I went silent. He didn't seem to mind, didn't even care. I took another drag of my silk cut to cover the silence, hide my expression. Then I took out another cigarette and offered it over to him.

He took it, and I lit it up for him. He took a drag, and sat back in the chair, slumping a little against the wall.

"Thanks." He muttered.

"No problem mate."

We sat like that, for a moment or two. The gunfire had largely died down outside. I had no clue who'd won, or if this was just a brief lull in the action. I heard yelling, and could make out Harry Cooper's voice, even if I couldn't really make out any specific words.

I took another drag of the ciggy, and closed my eyes a moment as the idea hit me. I thought… I thought I knew how to get him to give me the ring. I was going to feel like shit for weeks over this, but… I knew how to get him to give me the ring.

"...You know why she ain't picking up, right?"

He tilted his head at that, confused. "...No, why?"

"...We've been… we've been watching these guys a while. They have some woman in lockup. She's…" I racked my brain to try to remember what Chas had told me about Mrs. Furrows. All I pulled up was 'my wife was a friend of hers', so I wound up going with "...Got picked up outside the Chandler residence. Your missus, I guess?"

"What!?" He stood up like a shot, and slammed the phone through the wall and out the other side. I could see the street through the hole once his hand came back through, bleeding from the impact. He didn't even seem to notice the pain. He was already working himself up into another foaming-at-the-mouth frenzy. "They have Amy? I'll kill them, rip them, tear them, fucking burn them to cinders and rape the fucking ashes, I'll-!"

I had to cut this off quickly before he was too worked up to talk to, before energy blasts started flying.

"Easy, easy! You can't- Slow down and think for a second, dammit! They have her! I don't even know bloody where, what do you think happens if'n you go out and get your arse killed picking a fight with them, huh?"

"They-" It took the thought a second to get through to his brain. His eyes were starting to glow too, now. Edging dangerously close to total mania, to the ring having full control of his thoughts. "They'll kill her. If they touch a hair on her fucking head I swear, i'll-"

"So you can't go out there. If you go out there they'll kill her." I say, speaking very slowly, very calmly. I knew he wasn't thinking straight now, I had to explain this like I would to a child. "Calm down, take a breath. You go mental, you'll kill her. They don't want you, they want the ring. Fight them, she dies. Give me the ring, we can save her, okay? We can save her."

"I'm not calming down. Fuck giving them anything, they've already taken too much from me. I'm not giving them the ring, much less anything else."

"Don't give them the ring, give me the ring. I'm with the League, remember?" I changed tack, making a point of implying that had been what I'd meant all along. "We've three- uh, four supers here. We'll take 'em for you. Properly. Let you watch the trial as Harry Cooper goes down for life. But we can't do it whilst worrying you're gonna go mental because the ring worked you into a frenzy and you decided to blast us in the back."

He looked down at the ring, reluctant. Couldn't blame him, really, that kind've power could be… intoxicating. Hell, if I could do half the stuff he could, I wouldn't want to give it up either.

Even if I knew it'd probably turn me into a right tosser. I was bad enough with what scraps of power I did have.

He was hesitating, though. I had to push, harder. "Give me the ring, save your wife. Randall, this should be a no-brainer, c'mon. Think about her. Think of her, and give me the ring."

A moment's silence. He stood up, paced on the spot, growling lowly. That growl rose into a roar, he raised his fist, and at first I thought it was me he was going to slug before he cracked the table the phone had been on in two, instead.

"Fuck! I- Promise me. You fucking promise me you save her. Promise me you'll rip out Cooper's spine for me." He wheeled on me, grabbing me by the shirt and pressing me against the wall. Spittle flew and hit me on the cheek as he shouted in my face. "I will do so much fucking worse to you if you lie to me! So much fucking worse! But-" He softened. Those tears that had been forming before started to fall, now, streaking down his cheek, as he said, more quietly. "Promise me. Promise me you'll save her, okay? Please, I need you to promise."

"I- I promise, mate. I'll keep her safe. Nobody dies tonight, okay? Nobody dies."

My throat caught a little as I told him that, but it seemed to convince him. He nodded. He let me go, and I fell to the ground with a thump, as he reached down…

And took off the ring.

It looked physically painful. He had to tear it off himself, muscle obviously straining to get it to go. But then he had it in his hand. All the glowing stopped, it just looked like an ordinary plastic signet ring, and an ugly one at that. He tried to hand it to me, but I jerked, not wanting that thing to even bloody touch me.

"I, uh- That thing needs proper bloody containing. Let me get in an expert, I- Zee!" I opened the door back up, and yelled out down the stairs. "Get your arse up here! I got the ring off him, what the hell do I do now?!"

—

The fighting with Harry Cooper's mob had long since come to a stop. They'd realised they couldn't break through the stonewall Limelight and Huntress were putting up. The pair weren't even scratched, and had about two dozen thugs each they'd managed to cuff and haul into the apartment ready to be sent down to nick. They'd doubtless injured or crippled most of the remainder who'd turned tails and ran. None of the higher-ups were amongst the haul, though. Harry'd buggered off shortly after the cars started flying, Len had turned tails even earlier than that. I didn't even know the names of the others, or the corrupt cop, but they were gone too, not captured. But it'd still be a sizable dent in Harry's organisation, and frankly, it was good to see scum like that getting taken off the streets.

Randall was pretty beat up. Emotionally more than physically, but we'd bandaged up his hand. He'd started feeling the bleeding as soon as the ring was off. He probably needed to get that seen to by an actual doctor, but Huntress had helped bandage it for now whilst Limelight put the ring in some kind of weird bubble thing, ready to be taken away.

Which brought us to here. Sitting on the doorstep of the apartment, waiting for our ride. I'd told Zee I'd call Chas to pick both of us up, take Randall home and make sure he was okay. I'd made the call about ten minutes ago, the cab ought to be here any second.

"I'm… sorry, about all this. Really. I'm- I don't want to hurt anybody, you know? It just- it pisses me off so fucking badly, seeing people like that hurt people. Especially when that somebody's me, aheh."

"I get it, mate, I get it. But- you can't just go killing people over it. You'll just cause more bleeding trouble than it's even worth. Let the cops handle it, yeah? People who know what they're doing. Taking shit into your own hands… well."

"Yeah." He said, holding his head in his hands. He'd had a good cry, whilst we finished cleaning up the place. Talked to Lady Rayfield a bit, who'd provided him tea. "Just- I can't thank you enough. And- you are going to help Amy, right? Like you promised?"

The moment the ring had come off him he'd gone from violent to utterly placid and apologetic. I guess the ring really had been screwing with him. No trace of violence in his head, now all he could think about was that wife of his.

That wife of his I still hadn't told him wasn't really in trouble.

"...Yeah, mate. We will. Like I promised." I told him gravely. He let out a little sob, at that, though there weren't any tears in him left to fall. Instead, he just threw his arms around me. Hugged me, tight.

I didn't hug him back. Just let my hands hang awkwardly at my sides. I tried to give him a bit of a pat on the shoulder, at least.

"There, there." I told him, limply. The saddest bloody attempt at comfort I'd ever really given anybody. "Don't get all soppy on me. We're getting you home and then we're getting to work, alright?"

"Right, right." He gave me a squeeze hard enough I thought it might crack my spine before letting go. I was saved from the awkwardness of his fifth or sixth apology when the cab pulled up.

"Ah, you're finally here. Come on." I smiled, cracking the door open and ushering him in. I glanced back towards the apartment, saw Zee give me a wave goodbye and returned it before getting in myself. The engine revved up as we drove off.

Randall practically sank into the seat, finally able to relax now he was safely on his way home. I was tense as a wire, though. Shuffled as far away from him as possible.

"I'm just… I'll be glad to be home." He sighed, before noticing I was half pressing myself against the window, and asking "...Something up, John?"

I shook my head, silently. The car made its way down the street and rounded a corner before almost immediately stopping again, pulling up on the curb.

"...We, uh, stopping already? This isn't the right place. Should I be giving directions?" He leaned forward towards the front seat, to get a better look at the driver. "I'll let you know where we're going… what's your name? John said you were an old mate, Chas something?"

I leaned back, bracing for the inevitable, gritting my teeth and looking away out the window as I said "...That's… not Chas, mate. I'm so, so sorry."

"Sorry about what?" He turned around to ask.

I didn't reply. Didn't even look, as Len turned around in the driver's seat and shot Randall in the back of the head.