For all that Dick and Tim liked to tease that Batman would always choose the most complicated, complex solution to any situation (undoubtedly provoked by Alfred and Superman), the Dark Knight understood the beauty of Occam's Razor.
'The shortest path is usually a straight line,' he thought as he primed the small, localized explosive on the ceiling above them.
He had thoroughly scoped out the area Nick Necro was holding the young John Constantine hostage, finding no weak points. His call to Zatanna had yielded no response either, with the beautiful sorceress still busy fighting the sentry demons. In fact, no one had replied to his calls. Generally, that was a cause for concern. But Zatanna had warned them that their coms would likely fail the longer they spent in the magical bubble. Magic and technology, it seemed, were never intended to exist side by side for long.
At least, that is what Batman told himself.
'I can't think about them now. Zatanna, Flash, and the others know what they're doing. They are trusting me to do my job, and that is to find and save this kid. That is what I must focus on.'
So when he couldn't find a way to slip inside the bubble silently, it left the back of Gotham to try brute force and surprise. As a general rule, Batman preferred stealth. He was a prideful man, yes, but Batman did not let his ego drive him. He knew his limitations, and he understood very well when an opponent was stronger than him. Being quick, clever, and quiet had always served him well; it had allowed him to figure out his opponents' weaknesses and take advantage of them before his enemies even knew he was there.
Now though, Batman would have to rely on simply being fast enough to surprise Nick Necro. He didn't know the extent of the man's abilities, but something he had learned from Zatanna and her father was that magic users tended to neglect their physicality in favor of their magic. If he could land a strong enough attack on this man before any spells could be cast, he would win.
And he had to win.
Which meant finding another way. Inspiration for that other way had come from an observation, that the bubble was not truly a bubble. In fact, it was closer to a dome. The red energy expanded to cover the dilapidated apartment, but it did not cover the floor. Therefore, the floor was theoretically a weak point. Doubling back down the stairs, Batman found the apartment directly underneath the one John Constantine had been squatting in. Like many of these similar low-income, mass-developed apartment buildings, the layout of all the floors was the same. Which meant that the ceiling of this apartment's bathroom was effectively the floor of the one above it. And, with a little creative demolition, it would serve as an ideal entryway into the apartment above.
Ideally, Batman could have just detonated a hole in the living room, grappled up, knocked out Nick Necro, and been done with it all in under thirty seconds. But Constantine's presence complicated everything. He couldn't risk a demolition that close to the teenager; he was there to save the teenager, not accidentally blow his leg off. So the bathroom it was, even if it would likely add another minute to this endeavor.
Oh well, you work with what you got.
And what Batman had was the equivalent of a high-tech spray can of gelignite. To most people, the gelatinous explosive was mostly useful for mining purposes. Batman was more creative than most. Creative but careful, it took many tests to ensure that the formula he used would never be enough to harm innocent civilians or himself. It was a tool, not a weapon.
Satisfied by the ring of gel on the ceiling, Batman ducked behind the wall and crouched down, hitting the detonate button on his gauntlet. He was not a man to pray often, but he took a half second to do so now. If this technology didn't work, Batman was going to have to light that explosive by hand.
BOOOOOOM!
The explosion was enough to rattle his teeth and popped his ears, but the Dark Knight didn't give himself time to get his bearings. He sprung to his feet and rushed forward toward his newly created entrance. Drawing his grappling gun, Batman fired. The claw latched onto the ceiling above, and with the push of a button, Batman was propelled upward. He didn't even bother recalling his gadget when he got his feet on solid ground once more, instead letting it hang there as he threw himself against this apartment's closed bathroom door.
CRASH!
The cheap, hollow core door gave way easily under the force of Batman's shoulder. He couldn't even say it was flung open so much as it crumpled open. Still, the sound was loud and distracting, exactly what Batman needed.
Under different circumstances, Batman would have allowed himself a moment to enjoy the stunned, dumbstruck look on Nick Necro's face as Batman crashed into the room. Instead, he whipped a taser bolo from his utility belt, and toward the man. Its thin wires were not even visible as it flew through the air. Then again, even if Necro had been able to see them, it moved so fast that he didn't even have time to blink before the wires wrapped tightly around his body, pinning Necro's arms to his side. The wizard opened his mouth, surely about to grunt a spell, but his words died immediately on his lips as the bolo's tazer function was activated, its wires turning electric blue and zapping him into unconsciousness.
As Necro's body hit the ground, the red energy that incased them flickered before fading away.
'Still under 60 seconds. Not bad.'
Batman still could have been faster.
"Fuckin' bloody bastard," John Constantine growled, staring down at Necro's prone form.
Dark Knight glanced over at the teenager, his lips pressing together into a barely contained scowl at what he saw. Looked like he could have been one of the dozens of underage boys who came in from street corners to be checked over at Leslie Tompkins' clinic -covered in half-healed scrapes, cuts, and bruises, dark circles hung under tired, hostile blue eyes, and a recently split lip was swollen up. He was also favoring one side of his body over the other, one shoulder slumped lower in a clear sign of pain and injury. This was made even more prominent by the way Constantine's hands were still tucked behind his back.
'Odd,' he thought, eyes narrowing behind his cowl.
Was Constantine hiding a weapon? It was possible, the teenager might have been waiting for an opening to attack Necro himself. He needed Constantine to show his hands.
"You're safe now," Batman said. He stepped forward and held out a hand. "Come on, I can get you out of here."
The teenager said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he stepped back.
Batman remembered what Green Lantern and Flash said about kids like this. Hostile and untrusting towards adults, but also terrified. He remembered when Dick and Tim both came to the Manor for the first time, so young and yet already so world-weary from the hand they'd been dealt.
"I know what he- " he jerked his head toward Necro, still lying on the filthy floor where he belonged "-did to you," Batman said, gently as he could manage. "He won't do it again. I'll make sure of it."
It was a risky move. No one liked talking about how they'd been abused, teenage boys less so than most. Machismo and societal pressure against the idea that males could be the victim of such a horrendous crime almost being more effective in keeping victims silent than their abuser's threats ever could be. Still, Batman wanted to say it. Part of him thought that it was a false promise. After all, not even The Dark Knight could truly make sure it never happened again.
But he would do his damnedest to make sure Nick Necro never even set eyes on John Constantine again.
He pulled out a pair of iron restraints, specifically handed out by Zatanna for the specific purpose of bringing Necro in. Batman couldn't say he liked them. The restraints felt oddly cold in his hand, to the point he could feel it through his glove, as well as being lighter than iron usually was; however, the strangest thing about them was the purple runes that glowed off the surface. In some ways, they were beautiful, and in most others, they made Batman uneasy.
That being said, these restraints did as advertised, he'd be asking Zatanna for a few pairs to take home. It'd good to keep a thing like this in the back cave in case of emergencies. And the sorceress was sweet enough on him that Batman could surely talk her into it.
At the sight of the restraints, Constantine scrambled even further away. The fear was obvious in his eyes, overtaking even his anger and mistrust. Batman didn't allow himself to look directly at the teenager though, instead approaching Necro's body and kneel down to restrain him properly.
Constantine wouldn't talk now, it was clear he was still too skittish and fearful. If they hoped to win him over, they'd have to get the teenager more comfortable. Something to eat, a mug of hot chocolate, a shower, and some clean clothes would do wonders. That's what Alfred had always said, and it never failed to be true. Not with Tim, not with Dick, not even with Bruce himself, all those years ago.
And the first step was getting the teenager's abuser safely restrained and thrown into one of the Watchtower's very expensive and very fortified cells.
But just as Batman reached out to roll Necro onto his back so he could start securing the man's wrist, Constantine yelled out from behind him.
"Get back! That isn't him!"
Relying more on instinct than thought, Batman threw himself to the side as the figure on the floor started to flicker and fade. He rolled to his feet just in time for it to disappear entirely.
"It's an illusion!" Constantine yelled. "It's another layer to the illusion!"
'Did he know this whole time?'
A slight movement out of the corner of his left eye, as well as the immense feeling of something behind him, gave Batman all the warning he needed to leap out of the way of a bright bolt of magical energy.
Hand going to his utility belt once more, ready to deploy a battering the second he got an opening, Batman glared at the man before him. "Nicholas Nolan, I presume?"
The use of his birth name hit its mark. The sorceror scowled, an ugly expression that contorted handsome features that wouldn't have been out of place on a movie star or young, upcoming politician. It was almost laughable how Necro forced himself to smile.
Less laughable was how he moved across the room so he was standing between Batman and Constantine.
"Nick Necro, if you don't mind," he said, voice oily and false. He looked Batman up and down. "I'm sure you, of all people, understand a preference toward a specific name."
Batman glared. "I'm going to one chance to leave. Leave now and pray I never have reason to find you again."
Zatanna though, would definitely have reason to track Necro down again. There was no way he was walking away from this completely. But Batman wasn't above exploiting a couple of loopholes here and there. Hell, that was how he got most of his Batman-related projects funded via company funds
He really did owe Luicis that expensive steak dinner.
Necro laughed, a sound that made Batman want to punch out the man's teeth. "How generous. I've heard all about the Big Bad Bat of Gotham. But, honestly, I am so far out of your league that you should just turn around, leave me to my business, and go-"
"Ignis ignis manus ignis! Afferte mihi potestatem ignis!"
There was a bright red and heat from Constantine's direction as he lunged for Necro. The man whirled around, only able to make out a strangled scream when the teenager grabbed ahold of Necro's face.
"A little burn makes it better, isn't that what you also told me, Nicky?" Constantine hissed. "Then I'm sure this feels like a dream!"
The screaming that filled the room was... Agonizing. As was the smell of burning flesh. Necro fell to the ground, writhing and kicking, as John came down on top of them. Desperate to maintain his grip. By the time Batman had crossed the room, grabbed a hold of the collar of the teenager's shirt, and pull him off, there were a pair of twin handprints burned deep into the sides of Necro's face.
"He's down," Batman said. Just to be safe, he stopped down on Necro's stomach.
"Bastard!" Constantine growled, aiming a sloppy, bared-footed kick at Neco's side.
Batman pulled him further away. Better to be safe than sorry. Still feeling the heat, he looked down at the teenager's hands, eyebrows raising when he saw they were glowing bright with small flames dancing around each digit.
Constantine caught his gaze and shook his hands out, extinguishing them. Fire melted back into soft flesh. "Just a spell," he muttered. Then he smacked the hand that was still gripping the back of his shirt. "And let me go!"
"Earlier, you knew we were still under an illusion. How?"
"I could still feel the damn bonds he had on my wrists. Spells like that, they can change what you hear, what you see, but not what you feel. It's a parlor trick, but good for a distraction. The bloody arse must have had it in place as a backup plan."
Alfred would have a fit if he heard this kid's mouth.
Why didn't you warn me sooner?" Batman demanded, ignoring the fingers trying to pull his gloved hand.
"I thought you might be part of the illusion, didn't trust you." The teenager shot him a sharp look. "I still don't."
Batman gave him another once over. He was thin. Teenage boys usually were, despite the seemingly endless amounts of food they could put away. He doubted Constantine was eating enough for his age and height. But there was more: a damp, dark smudge over his right shoulder. And under it, peaking out from the collar of his shirt, was the white fabric of gauze bandages.
'Blood.'
"...Fair enough," he said, releasing his grip.
The teenager immediately pulled away, putting a solid six feet of distance between them. Constantine's left hand immediately came up to cradle his injured shoulder.
"Did Necro do that?" Batman asked.
Still suspicious, the teenager turned away -doing his best to hide his shoulder from view.
"Fell down the stairs," he grunted. "What are you doing here?"
That was a question that Batman got asked far less often than one might think. Usually, his arrival got screams of terror, gasps of relief, or angry roars. All of which he could understand. But a teenager asking why he was here before thanking him for the save? Now, that was unusual.
"Zatanna. She contacted the League to find you."
Constantine clicked his tongue. "Yeesh, she must still be salty I nicked those books. It was only a couple, seems greedy when she has a whole library to herself."
The teenager said it so easily, it was surprising.
"No," Batman said slowly. "She was worried about you."
"Yeah, worried enough to throw me out," Constantine scoffed. Walking over to a discarded tan trenchcoat, he picked it up, pulled it one, and fished around the pockets until he pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out. When Batman cocked an eyebrow, the teenager scoffed. "What are you looking at? I smoke, and you dress like a giant rodent and punch people every night. Are you really going to claim I'm the one with an unhealthy method of dealing with stress?"
Then, still staring Batman dead in the eye, Constantine popped a cigarette into his mouth and went to light it when-
BAM!
Constantine jumped further back, bringing his hands up as if to block his face as the cigarette fell from his lips. Batman whirled around to face the source of the noise, hand going to his belt. The teenager still didn't trust him, but that didn't mean the Dark Knight wouldn't defend him.
BAM!
At the sound of impact, a large crack appeared in the out-facing wall of the apartment. Confused, but still cautious, Batman inched closer.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BOOM!
With an explosion of dust and rubble, the wall gave way, revealing a smiling Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl. Behind them, hovered the Javelin with J'onn in the cockpit.
The Martin steered the Javelin around, its loading door lowering so a Flash and Zatanna could greet them with a twin pair of happy waves.
"Saved the day again, eh Bats?" Flash asked. "Always got to steal the glory from the rest of us?"
Any response that Batman could have to that stupid question was lost when Zatanna leaped from the Javelin and into the apartment, rushing forward to hug Constantine.
"Oh, John," she said, "I'm so glad you're okay."
'Okay' was a gross exaggeration, anyone could tell that just by looking at Constantine. If not from the half-healed injuries that covered his body, then from the way the teenager stiffened in horror as Zatanna hugged him.
"Uh... Good to see you too, Zee. You and the rest of the capes, tights, and cowls club," he coughed, scanning the rest of the room over the sorceress' shoulder. "But I, um, need to get going."
He pulled away from the woman, outright yanking his trenchcoat from Zatanna's hands as he started inching toward the door.
"Wait!" Zatanna grabbed his sleeve, pulling Constantine back. Batman frowned as the teen winced, the motion undoubtedly irritating his injured shoulder. "John, I talked to Madame Xanadu. She's going to take over your education. You're going to stay with her from now on."
For a moment, Constantine looked dumbfounded... before jerking away and glaring. "I'm no charity case, Zee. And I don't like it when people try to decide my life."
His eyes flickered toward the door once more, muscles tensioning in a way that made it clear that he was ready to bolt. Batman shifted himself, ready to chase or block the door. He could understand the desire to go it alone, but he wasn't about to let more teenagers suffer than absolutely necessary. A glance to the side told Batman that his colleagues were thinking the same.
"Hey, calm down now. No one trying to force anyone to do anything they don't want to," Flash said, voice all gentle cheer. He jumped into the room, Flash raised his hands and slowly approached Constantine. "Look, kid, we're just here to help. I know that-"
BOOOOMMMMM!
The force of the... explosion(?) was enough to shake the building, knocking Constantine and Zatanna to their knees as he and Flash scrambled to stay upright. Out of the corner of his eye, Batman saw J'onn pull the Javelin away from the side of the building as rumble rained down -Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl dodging and smashing the chunks of stone in equal measure.
Then, barely detectable over the rumbling, was the laughter. Laughter comes from the prone, smoking form of Nick Necro. As swirls of crimson and black energy filled the air, Batman could only think,
'What's going on now?'
Pain shot through John's body as his knees hit the hard floor, coupled when he stumbled forward, and his chin clunked against the wood.
'How many lips can I bust in one day?' John wondered. Blinking the stars from his eyes, he forced himself up and glanced at the swirling energy around him. "This isn't good."
"No," Zee whispered. "This... This is a fail-safe. If the spell fails... Or the spellcaster falls, the last lingering energy compresses into one final burst of guard demons."
She swallowed hard. "Everyone, be ready! Something bad is coming!"
As if on cue, the head of a glowing-eyed, red-skinned, massive cobra-like demon appeared in the hole in the wall, lunging up at Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl, who dodged it.
"Are we lucky enough for that to be the only one?" John asked Zatanna.
He'd been bitten by an adder when he was a kid, and had never liked snakes since then. A giant demonic one was pretty high on his list of things John did not want to face, especially not after everything he'd gone through today.
Zee silently shook her head, flinching when something unseen let out a massive roar. Wordlessly, the Superhero Squad leaped back into action. It was all very noble, and John was happy he'd never have to be like that. So stupid. He had more important things to worry about.
"Nicky, you've got to stop this!" he yelled at the cackling man.
His former teacher, his former... everything lifted his head from the floor to look at John. That handsome face, the one that used to give him so much joy, was ruined. Even without the burns John himself had inflicted, the mania in his eyes was the ugliest thing John had ever seen.
"Bloody useless!" John scrambled for the dirty area rug that covered the middle of the floor. He yanked it to the side, coughing at the dirt cloud that kicked up, to reveal the sigil trap he'd painted on the floor when he first 'moved into' the apartment. "Zee, I need your-"
"Nrut ot tsud!"
John looked upward just in time to see several chunks of ceiling dissolve to dust, covering him and almost certainly asbestos-filled tan powder. Oh well, still better from getting knocked out from a chunk of ceiling tile. Of all the ways he was likely to die, John would prefer not to go out in a way that humiliating.
"John, you need to get out of here," Zatanna yelled over the sounds of combat echoing from outside.
"How? It's not exactly a peaceful spring day outside!" John shouted back, pointing through the destroyed wall where Hawkgirl was beating a demon-gorilla to death while Batman clung onto its back. "We've got to get rid of them! Help me!"
Nick's laughter increased. "You'll never be able to-"
"Shut up!" he and Zee demanded at the same time.
The sorceress looked down at the sigil trap, lips pursing. John knew what she was thinking, these types of magical traps could be dangerous. If they were drawn wrong then they could backfire. And when magic backfired, it typically backfired with deadly results.
And yet... What other choice did they have? Even if he had the energy, John didn't think he could leave the people who had helped him behind. Life wasn't fair, sure, but John rarely played by the rules of life.
"...Alright," Zatanna agreed reluctantly. She crawled over and crouched across from John, holding out her hands. "Do you know the incantation?"
John grinned. "Wouldn't have set up the trap without knowing it."
He'd learned his lesson about messing with things outside his control.
They began to chant, their voices reverberating through the room. Magical energy sparked between them, and the sigils painted on the ground started to glow bright white and gold, Zatanna and John's magic combining to activate the trap. The vortex started, sucking in the lingering remnants of Nick's spell from the environment.
CRUNCH!
John's eyes widened in shock as fractures appeared in the ceiling of the apartment. It was only due to luck and instinct that he was able to keep up with his chanting. If he and Zee stopped now there was no telling what the portal would spit back out. The sorceress met his eyes, and he could tell she was thinking the same thing.
'Can we finish before-'
An air-splitting crunch was the only thing that warned them of the ceiling collapsing in on them. John shut his eyes, ready for it to be over... Only for the pain to never come. His eyes peeking open, he almost gasped when he saw a dozen pairs of long, lean permanent arms crisscrossing across the ceiling, holding it up.
'Nico...'
She was here. She came to help him.
Joy sparking in John's heart, he refocused himself on the spell he was casting. In Sync with Zatanna, they pushed through the final words. The pulse of energy that flooded the room as the spell was finished, the vortex opening fully, was a euphoric satisfaction.
"There, it's in place" Zee yelled. She jumped up, rushing over to pull John to his feet. "We've got to go!"
John didn't want to go with her. Sure, Zee was nice enough, and pretty as a peach to boot. But she threw him out once, and that meant he couldn't trust her. And he certainly didn't know enough about this Madame Xanadu to trust her!
'If Nico is anywhere around here, I should find her. She might be in danger.'
Zatanna started pulling him toward the destroyed wall. "C'mon!"
The tugging aggravated his injured shoulder, sending jolts of pain through John's entire body. Without thinking, he moved with Zatanna's tugging.
"Wait, I-"
A hand seized John's ankle, stopping him in his tracks. He looked down at Nick's ruined face. He wasn't laughing anymore.
"You can't- You don't get to leave me!" Nick hissed as he glared up at John.
Behind him, John heard Zatanna growl. "I forgot about him. We'll have to-"
"I've got this."
John pulled Nicky to his feet and stared into those beautiful, deranged brown eyes. Leaning close, he kissed the man's cheek before whispering in his ear. "Sorry, Nicky, but you were the one who taught me this little trick. So I look like I'm the one screwing you this time. This ends here."
Then, without hesitation, John shoved Nick backward. The man stumbled, shrieking and swearing as he was caught in the pull of the magical vortex. Not waiting to see the result, John turned on his heel to face Zatanna.
The sorceress's face was pale. "That spell doesn't affect humans."
"It does if you tweak it to target the caster of the spell you're trying to suck up," John grunted. Nicky was the one who'd shown him that little loophole. The building shuttered one more, only barely holding it together with the damage it was taking. He glanced up at the arms still holding the ceiling up. "Let's go."
After a moment, Zatanna pulled herself back to the present and nodded. She reached up and tapped a small device on her ear. "J'onn, come get us!"
Before John could fully understand what was happening, he was being swept into the good guys brigade neat little plane and shoved down into a seat at the back of it as the aircraft started to raise into the sky.
The green guy piloting jerked the plane to the side as the nasty bugger of a snake lunged at them once more. Even with the vortex kicking up, that thing was the last holdout of Nick's spell.
"No more magic for a while!" the Flash yelled, as they were jostled.
"Just go! The vortex Zee and I set up will take care of it! Just go!" John shouted back.
"Are we really trusting a kid in a trenchcoat here?" Hawkgirl asked. "I still say I should go take care of that thing myself!"
As if responding to her challenge, the demonic beast reared back and prepared to strike once more... Only for a massive arm, nearly fifteen meters in length, sprouted up from the ground. The hand grabbed the snake, slamming it hard into the concrete and pinning it in place.
"What in Hera's name is that?" Wonder Woman gasped.
While the heroes were in shock at the odd sight before them, John's eyes darted around the inside of the plane, hoping to see- Yes, there it was.
The familiar brown eyes of Nico Franks peer out at him from the shadows. They met his, a clear question shining from their depths. It was such a relief that John could barely even hear Zatanna yelling for them to go.
Slowly and silently, John shook his head. 'No, you can't help me here.'
Then, in a blink, the eyes were gone, and John was alone once more.
The table in front of John was a gleaming chrome, so well polished that he could see his reflection in it. It wasn't a pretty sight.
The door of the room opened, and Flash walked in, a big smile on his face and a big tray of food balanced in his hands. John's stomach clenched with want when he caught a whiff of roasted chicken. He refused to let it show though; after all, all the food in the world didn't change how the door slid shut behind the superhero, audibly locking.
John crossed his arms, careful not to irritate his freshly bandaged shoulder. "What are you, Good Cop or Bad Cop?"
Flash put the tray down on the table. "I'm the young cop. They sent me in hoping I can talk your lingo. It was a toss up between me and Wonder Woman coming in to talk to you, and I figured you wouldn't want someone getting too gentle with you. "
Then he pulled out one of the other chairs and sat down so he was straddling the seat, arms folded over the back of it. "So, why don't you want to leave?"
With a scoff, John leaned back. "Would you want to stay in a place where you were locked up in a room and not allowed to leave?"
"We're not holding you prisoner, kid."
"You're saying that door isn't locked? With both magical seals and whatever tech nonsense you've all cooked up?" John asked, nodding toward the exit. "That I can stand up and leave whenever I want?"
"Hmmm, fair enough. But, John, you're sixteen, got a bullet hole in your shoulder, and are in America illegally. We can't exactly just drop you off outside a 7/11 and call it a day," Flash said. He cocked his head to the side. "I understand that you might not want help -trust me, I remember being your age and feeling like I was alone in the world- but don't you want to help yourself? Zatanna says this Madame Xanadu is a good teacher. I bet you could learn a lot from her."
He probably could, but that wasn't where John wanted to go. He couldn't trust this lady to put up with him. And, for all John knew, she wanted something out of him too. They all did.
'Everyone except...' He thought of a comfy couch, way bigger than normal. Of a tasty sandwich and stories about an island in the sky. 'She came for me. I ran and stole from her, and she still came for me.'
John wanted to go back to that weird, underground house. He wanted to go back to Nico Franks. He wanted to meet the unseen husband who bandaged him up and tucked John into bed without even knowing who the hell he was.
He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be safe and free!
And to get that, he'd need 60 seconds alone and some blood.
'Time to put on a show, Johnny.'
He slumped down in the chair, peeking up at Flash through his messy bangs. "Would you believe I'm scared?"
The smile he got in return was soft enough that John almost felt bad about what he was about to do. Almost.
"Yeah, I can believe that," Flash said. "But would it be so horrible to try? If nothing else, you'll get some new, awesome magic spells! And who know? Maybe you can even join the Justice League one day!"
John almost gagged at the thought. "I guess... Can you go get Zatanna, please? I want to talk to her. In private?"
He added that last part so Flash wouldn't try to hang around.
"Yeah, no problem. Oh, and try to eat something. Our food is a lot better than high school cafeteria goop, I promise," Flash said, pushing the tray closer to John.
As he stood to leave, John held his breath. 'C'mon, leave so I can-'
"Hey?"
John jerked but tried not to let it show. He forced a smile. "Yeah?"
"When you graduate from Hogwarts, promise you'll come show me how to pull a rabbit out of a hat?" Flash teased.
Nearly groaning at the corny joke, John nodded. "Sure, but you gotta keep it. Rabbits don't go back in the hat nearly as easy."
With a laugh and a wave, Flash left the room. He was a nice guy, but John didn't let himself think too much on that before sliding a hand under the collar of his shift. He pulled the bandages out of the way, and, bracing for the pain, dug his fingers into the bullet wound. John's blunt fingernails tore through his stitches, grimacing as blood started to spill down his arm and chest.
It wasn't pleasant but it gave John what he needed.
His hand dripping with blood, John began scrawling the right ruins on the shiny tabletop as he chanted a spell. '40 seconds.'
.
.
.
"JOHN!" Zatanna rushed through the door, face pale once more. Behind her, John could see the rest of the Heroes Club. "What are you-"
WOOOOOOOOSH!
Heat flooded John's body as his vision was overtaken by bright white light. He was rushing, his body being pulled through space and time in an instant. Away from the heroes' weird space station and toward the place he most wanted to be.
Then-
"Umpf!"
John hit the ground hard, sprawling out in the grass. When the pounding in his ears lessened, he could hear the peaceful sounds of crashing waves and strong, cliff-side wind. The teenager gasped, trying simultaneously to catch his breath and not throw up. He might have passed out at some point if the way the sky changed between blinks was any indication, but it was hard to say.
All John knew was that in one moment he was alone, then he opened his to see a pair of legs in front of him. He let his eyes trail upward to meet the warm, worried eyes of Nico Franks and then smiled.
"Can I stay?" he asked, voice weak. "Please, I want to stay."
A warm hand cupped the back of his neck. "Of course."
Alrighty, we've officially reached the end of John's arc. It shaped up differently than I thought it would, but I'm happy with it. I hope no one is TOO disappointed by the lack of Robin. More about what she was up to will be revealed next chapter, which will also serve as an epilogue to this arc and lay more of the groundwork for the next arc. Does anyone want to guess who Robin and Franky will be adopting next?