Notes: This was meant to be one chapter, but this and the next one got split into two, with the actual supervillain's meeting, due to time constraints in writing, and because frankly I wanted to have the chance to do that meeting justice. It's going to be totally packed with characters after all, and I want to give them all a little chance to shine, to keep them from being total cameos, even if they're still bit parts.

This was a bit of a slower chapter as a result, a recovery after the trauma and horror of the last two chapters, to build up to the finale. I hope it wasn't too slow, though? It sure was a lot of dialogue and philosophising, but I do plenty of that anyway. Let me know what you all think in the comments, constructive criticism is always appreciated.

I awoke-

Wait a moment, I awoke? I wasn't supposed to do that. It was getting to be an unfortunate habit, didn't I wake up yesterday, too? And that brought me nothing but pain, too.

I awoke in a room I didn't recognise, strapped to a bed. I was in the lavish, posh kind of hotel room. The extravagantly posh kind in fact, where the lights are all miniature chandeliers, the bed is 4-poster and the wallpaper is almost invisible through all the paintings of Victorian Lords and boats on lakes and all that other crap rich people like owning paintings of.

The only good news was that I was cuffed to the bed, which meant either I wasn't here voluntarily or I'd had some very good sex last night, which were the only two acceptable reasons for me to be in a room like this in the first place.

I wasn't alone, either, since I could hear movement from the bathroom. Right then, time to scarper before my captor and/or one-night-stand got back. I sat up and got a good look at the cuffs. Metal, police-grade, but shockingly sturdy. Adjustable tightness too, but not too adjustable.

I'd learned a few escape artist tricks back in the day for just this kind of situation. Knew an old sheikh who could practically turn his bones to rubber, lovely bloke. Never did figure out how he did it without it hurting like hell, though. I rolled my wrist and my shoulders, trying to get the muscles moving, get the blood pumping, get nice and limber

Now let's see if I could remember how to do this… bend the wrist back, then turn the hand right, then the elbow jerks… and everything turns white and red with searing fucking pain for a minute.

My wrist flopped at a stomach-twisting angle, but at least it was soft enough I could slip it out of the cuff and use my other hand to jerk it back into place.

I hissed in pain, eyes starting to water a little. Always hated doing that. Good news was, I was still dressed. Bad news was, that made it way more likely I'd been abducted rather than taken home by some lovely lady. Though at least me wallet was still in me pocket, so there was nothing to stop me from quietly slipping out the front door.

And also nothing to stop me from bumping bodily into fucking Harley Quinn as I left. I opened the door and ploughed right into her, we both nearly tripped and fell but she recovered faster, grabbing me by the collar and hauling me into the room.

"Well hiiiiii! You aren't trying to sneak out, are ya'?" She glared at me, face a mask of anger, a sharp contrast against her words as she pressed a hand to my chest and shoved me back hard, before her expression swung on a dime and turned into the brightest, sunniest smile I'd ever seen. "I knew I liked you for a reason!"

"Uh-" I sputtered, trying to get my brain in gear, heart rate rising at a rapid pace. Supervillain, shit, what do I-

"Hey sweetie! Pretty-britty's up! You wanted me to tell you when he was up, right?"

Her eyes went towards the door to the bathroom, and it opened up. Poison Ivy was stood there, in a goddamn hoodie of all things. It was a ratty old thing, and it wasn't even green-themed.

No time to focus on her dress sense though, I was surrounded. I started to panic, looking for an escape. My eyes landed on the window, which led out to a fire escape.

"Crap, he's up? Didn't you say you cuffed him? I- wait, shit, John, don't-!"

Poison Ivy was speaking but I was already dashing, throwing the window open, diving through to the other side. Both villains jumped to stop me but Harley was the one who actually reached me in time, grabbing me by the legs before I was all the way through and hauling me back into the hotel room. I landed on my ass with a thump and a sharp pain in my behind as I scrambled up to my feet.

"Nice try, but you run like an old man. Don't worry though, I like ya anywa- whatchu doin?"

I couldn't slug her, she'd just hit me back harder, but she seemed easily distractible. Her brain was all over the place, and so susceptible to cheap little mentalist tricks. I raised my index finger into the air in front of her face, just in front of her nose, close enough she'd have to cross her eyes to look at it. I moved it left, then right. Left, then right, swinging it like a pendulum. The girl had the attention of a cat, focusing utterly on whatever she's looking at but easily distracted by sudden movements, and both of those things made her easy to hypnotise.

She was already dizzy in the first two seconds, but Ivy was still advancing, so I took what I could get, got her confused and sleepy with a few swings of the finger, and then dashed for the window again.

At which point history repeated and I was dragged back into the room a second time, but this time around by Ivy instead of Harley. I kicked and flailed, but I was out of shape, had just woken up, and hadn't exactly had my breakfast yet. Plus, I was shagged out after jumping about like a crazy thing last night… or last week, or whenever it was. Point was my muscles still ached, and she dragged me back through whether I liked it or not, and she barely even seemed to notice when I kicked her right in the gut.

An accident, I swear.

Even after I got back up, she still had me by the arm, and I was backed up against the window whilst Harley shook her head and tried to clear the fuzz from her brain. I couldn't really hypnotise Ivy as easily as I did with her wife, or pull any other kind of trick. She wasn't quite so easily distractible and I didn't have the tools on me to go really fire and brimstone on her.

"Look, I swear, I'm sorry, okay? I was drunk, and I do stupid stuff when I'm on the piss. Was just a little drunken fun, okay? Didn't mean to break anything, or hurt your plants, I'm sure I can pay you back for the damages, yeah?"

"John." She said, her tone flat and serious, sounding about as unimpressed with me as I was with myself.

"And hey, I helped you out, right? With Scarecrow and Mirror Master? You fuckin' owe me and you know it." Words started coming out at a mile a minute as I tried to figure out any angle to convince her not to hurt me. I was babbling, and I knew it, but I just didn't have anything else to help me, here except whatever bullshit I could string together on the fly. "I went in to deal with your problem almost on my own, which is why I was even in that state. Where do you get off with kidnapping me, huh? You can't do me after that, imagine if word gets out you're going around you're going about murdering people after they help you out!"

"John!" She repeated, raising her voice. "We're not going to fucking kill you!"

"Uh- what?"

"We're not going to kill you."

I stared gormlessly at her. My jaw must have been hanging open, and I felt like I was drooling all over myself, totally stupefied. They're not going to kill me? What?

"...Okay? Then what's all this about then? C'mon, you had me chained down and I know it ain't for the other reason I usually end up handcuffed to beds."

The two exchanged looks. Guilty ones. I… didn't like where this was going. Didn't like it one bit. But still, the pause gave a little time for my heartrate to go down. For me to collect myself, and to step aside, past them, so I wasn't cornered against the window anymore. Neither of them tried to stop me, which was good. A little evidence that they were telling the truth.

"You were drunk and causing trouble. But after what happened to your father… that's not something worth killing you over. Scarecrow might not have any restraint, but I do."

"Okay?" I looked around the hotel room, the cuffs, saying "So why am I he-"

"Because I also had to stop you before you went and did anything stupid like that in public. I have an image to maintain. If you'd tried to slug me in public like that… Then I would have had to kill you."

"I think seeing you in a hoodie kills any any image you may've had, mate." I said. I wasn't even judging, she didn't look bad in it, it just… went very much against the picture of the powerful villainess she usually projected

"I've seen you in your underwear now, had to change you into a pair you hadn't pissed last night. Consider it mutual." She said, dryly.

"Whoof…" Harley said, finally starting to wake up. She swayed on her feet, nearly falling before Harley caught her, looking at her with concern.

"Easy girl. Is she okay?" Ivy looked at me with a look of subdued threat. She was more concerned than anything, expecting a yes, but I knew if I gave a no…

"Basic hypnosis, she's real weak willed. She'll be right as rain in a second, promise."

"Ohh… heya, beautiful~" Harley seemed to realise she was in her wife's arms after a moment, looking up at her with a starstruck look. She leaned up to plant a few soft kisses across Ivy's jaw, but Ivy looked away, embarrassed. Scowling through a smile, doing her best to look annoyed but not quite managing to keep the edges of her lips from quirking upwards.

"Not in front of somebody else, dear. C'mon, wake up, you can do it." She pushed Harley away, patted her cheek, and Harley seemed to come to a little bit more, looking around.

"Oh… weren't we fightin' him a minute ago? Heya, pretty-britty! You're lookin' better!" She gave me an exaggerated wave at that. Yeah, definitely back to herself, she was practically bouncing off the walls again.

"...Hi." I said, awkwardly. "...Look this- this is fun and all, but am I here for a reason, uh, wherever here even is, or can I go? "

"You're in the Iceberg Lounge, and yes, you're free to go." Ivy sighed. "And as for that last question, we brought you here because-"

"Because you were in dire need of an alcohol detox and we didn't want you going into shock. You were spiralling into depression with clear suicidal ideation, and a tragedy was very likely to occur in the absence of an intervention."

Who'd said that? Her voice came out cool, clinical and professional. I looked around but my eyes only settled on Harley. I- it couldn't have been right?

The silence must have gotten awkward because she spoke up again, and this time I knew it had to be her, I could see her lips moving.

"We already applied a handful of medicines to help with your blood alcohol content. Acamprosate, specifically, but I still think you could use the presence of an actual therapist or group of friends to discuss your feelings surrounding the death of your father."

"Heh. Heheheh…" I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have laughed, just… it was altogether too much. Too silly. Too stupid. After everything, the stress, the horror, the absurdity of running around with the guys in tights, seeing Harley Quinn, the bimbo clown extraordinaire, talking like a goddamn doctor was too much for me. I started laughing hysterically, falling back onto my arse on the bed.

"I'm getting given a fuckin' alcoholics intervention by a bloody supervillain… pfahahahhahaha! I- I'm sorry, I-"

"Manic laughter. A very familiar sign of an impending break." Harley shook her head, sadly.

Ivy gave me a nonchalant shrug, and the only explanation she gave was "She was a therapist before she became a supervillain. She knows what she's talking about, John."

"Bullshit she was. She acts like a bloody teenage psycho, you're telling me she's got a doctorate?"

"Oi! I got a doctorate, a'course I do!" Like the flip of a switch, she was back to Harley Quinn, rather than whoever she'd used to be. She pouted at me in childish annoyance before straightening up again, adjusting the collar of her top. "A degree in psychoanalysis from Gotham State University, as a matter of fact. Is that so difficult to believe?"

"A little? Aheeeh…" The giggling fit started to fade, and I found myself actually, genuinely smiling. "You normally act so…" Don't call the supervillain an idiot to her face, John. "...wild."

"Well, yes. People are scared of Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Not of Pamela Isley and Harleen Quinzel. If I walked and talked like this in front of the other villains, I'd lose credibility and get dogpiled immediately. I'd be dead inside of the month."

"We all do this." Ivy contributed. "If they saw me tending my plants, wearing this…" She tugs on her ratty old hoodie, well-worn and comfortable. "Or hugging my wife in bed each night, we'd stop being Supervillains. We'd be people. And thus free for every thug and low-level super to try to gang up on without fear. We all put on masks for this job. I'm honestly surprised you don't do it, yourself. Or at least, you don't do it quite so thoroughly."

I thought back. Trying to remember my first meeting with Scarecrow. The ratty old professor, gangly and nebbish. Yeah. He'd seemed like a person too at the time, that was how he'd got me. Lured me into a false sense of security until I made a mistake.

That was probably part of why he'd come down so hard on me, too. He was pissed I'd seen his real face. I brought my knees up against my chest, saying

"...But then… then it makes even less sense."

"...What makes less sense?" Harley asked, bouncing down onto the bed beside me.

"..." I took a long breath in through my nose, trying not to think about it, to think about him, and failing. "I thought- I was fighting him like - I couldn't decide what he was, you know? I tried fighting him like a mobster. I thought he was one, after Penguin. Mobsters have rules, you know? Reputation, honor. They don't do women and kids, usually don't do going after friends and family. Or- they do, but only under certain circumstances. Only if you brought it on yourself, after a betrayal. I didn't summon demons, didn't use magic, didn't go fire and brimstone, I just went in with words and plots. I worked in the system, recruited a hero, sent them after him. And he killed me damn dad."

My voice cracked at that. I could feel the tears welling up again, now the emotions weren't dampened by the alcohol. "Over and over. Consigned him to hell, handed him to eternal torment. People… people don't do that. Mobsters don't do that. So I thought he was a demon, sent to haunt me. That he's inhuman. That all you people, all you villains are.. It's why I went to you, I thought if I pissed you off enough you'd-" The words caught in my throat. I didn't finish the sentence. Instead I curled up a little tighter and said

"...And you're telling me you're not? You won't? He consigned an innocent to fucking hell, over and over again, in front of me, and you want to tell me he's human?!"

Both of them sat down to either side of me. Harley gave me a comforting smile that just made me shiver, it looked too genuine, it was just wrong on her face.

"He's human. But humans are monsters. Moreso, given powers. Do you really think even mundane criminals wouldn't do that kind of thing given a chance? Sweetie, I was a mundane criminal before I started dressing up and acting funny. Before I got in with Mi- with the Joker. We all were. He was, too, once upon a time."

"I just-" I tried to grasp for the words. The tears started running, now, I could feel them hot and damp, scalding against my cheeks. "...if he was a demon I could get it. I could just- banish him, you know? Destroy him, scatter his soul, whatever. And I've… I've killed. Before. To save me own skin. With magic, even. But never outside self-defense, never… not like that. This- I want to…" My hands shook as I stared down at them. Clenching them into fists.

"He's a monster. He has to be. I want to- I want to destroy him. But if he's a person… if I do. What does that make me? He used his powers to destroy an innocent, somebody who had no chance to fight back. I could do the same to him, I know I could. He's no innocent… but against what I could summon? He'd be defenceless, too. But if I do… what does that make me?"

"Somebody who's father just died, and who has the power to do something about it." She said, plainly. "Do you really think anybody else wouldn't do the same in your place?"

No.

No, I didn't think they would.

I cracked a little at the realisation, and drew into myself, beginning to sob. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, squeezing. Harley's.

"Do you want us to give you a minute?"

I don't think I gave a response. I did want to, but all I let out was a pathetic little squeak. She seemed to get the message, though. She gave me a pat, and stood to go.

"A few of the others are downstairs arguing about what to do about Scarecrow. This room's booked out for the next two days, stay as long as you like. You can leave Gotham when you're ready. Or, if you want…" Ivy smiled at me sympathetically, as she said "You can come join us downstairs."

With that, both her and Harley turned around and left me alone. Alone to cry my heart out. Alone to grieve my father.

And alone to try to decide just how much of a monster killing the Scarecrow would make out of me.

—-

They were less arguing and more having a shouting match, as best as I could tell. The Iceberg Lounge had been emptied for the evening for a 'special event', which apparently meant a big meet-up of the major local villains. Ivy and Harley had apparently gone to join them after they left me in the bedroom, and it looked like all the big players were there. Penguin himself was livid, gesticulating wildly and shouting in the face of a guy in question-mark pyjamas who was probably The Riddler. Some guy in a black skull mask I didn't recognise was busy breaking them up.

They were holed up in the suite where I'd spoken with Penguin earlier in the week, and I could see them through the window whilst standing on the ground floor having a smoke. I'd cleaned myself up in the hour or two since I'd had my talk with Ivy and Harley, couldn't look all red-eyed and weepy in front of the villains, after all, though inside I still felt like I was on the verge of cracking. I'd had a tipple, just a bit, just to calm my nerves, to keep my voice from shaking every time I spoke.

Just going by body language and shared glances, I could just about make out two factions inside the meeting room. Penguin, Ivy, Harley and Mister Freeze of all people stood on one side. Freeze in particular was positively radiating anger, his expression blazing hot, despite the ice cracking his fishbowl helmet, and was barely restraining himself from lashing out. They'd be the group in favour of going after Scarecrow, then. On the other side was Riddler, some asian girl in a cheongsam dress, and some guy in a black mask, with Two-face, perhaps predictably, mediating between the two.

Supervillain politics, it was interesting to see. I could practically taste the interplay between them, stuff like this was my bread and butter. The asian girl was quiet, professional. An outsider, but they hung on her words. Somebody important, possibly the representative of a larger power, or just somebody with a great deal of restraint, given she clearly had a great deal of weight and was very disinclined to use it.

Penguin carried a lot of weight too, because his lair was being used as the meeting grounds, but they were scared of her, in a way they weren't of anybody else. She was the one who needed convincing, I thought.

I took out a silk cut, and reached for my lighter before finding one was already being held out in front of me.

"Fancy a light, mucker?"

My bones wanted to jump out of my skin, but I didn't let them. Instead I stuck the ciggy in my mouth and let him light it.

Mirror Master stood to my right. He was out of costume too, in a simple shirt and jeans. Ivy and Harley had changed into their work clothes at some point between leaving and coming down here. Guess he wasn't part of the boys club, or maybe he just wasn't here on business, given he didn't seem inclined to attack me. He had brown-ish hair under the mask, verging on ginger. Which explained why he verged on lacking a soul, even if I wasn't quite sure if he was missing his entirely just yet.

Either way, I he didn't seem like he was about to attack me, so… I was down to talk.

"They always like that, up there?" I gestured towards the suite. Penguin was calming down now, brushing himself off, and Riddler was saying his piece instead. He was ppffing his chest up, getting all haughty. Whatever he was saying, it wasn't helping, and I could see the others cringing at him.

"Yeah, always. They're like a family, ye know? All hate each other, an' start fights if they have ta get together fer christmas."

"Hah! What, but they really love each other, deep inside?"

"Nah, they just hate each other. Don't even really respect each other, either. Seen too much've each other's private lives at this point, know all the others're just as fucked up and petty as they are."

"Nooo, fucked up?" I mimed astonishment. "Never. Not possible."

"Yeah! You know I once caught Black Mask askin' a prozzie to dress up like Harls there? Ivy had the poor lass turned to mulch. Still has a standing order for her goons ta' castrate the poor lad if they ever catch him."

I nearly spat out my cig, putting a hand over my mouth to keep myself from snorting. "You're pulling me leg. Really?"

"Yeah! Cross me heart. Oh! I ever tell you about the one time Riddler pissed off the league o' assassins? They didn't even bother ta' kill him, they just started mailing him zen koans 'til he broke down cryin' 'cause he couldn't solve any of 'em. Spent three weeks curled sobbing in bed surrounded by the things 'til the bat caught him and hauled him off to Arkham 'cause he was too busy sobbin' to maintain any of his fronts. 'S why he's sidin' with Lady Shiva on this one, still scared've her. I was henching for him at the time, though, got to see the whole thing. You ever walked in on a supervillain lying in bed and sobbing like a wee girl? It's an experience, let me tell you."

I broke out laughing at that. Oh, god, I'd needed that. "No, never, but I can just bloody imagine. I did for a demon one time though, that was fun. That really works, that trick with the koans?"

"No shit it works, these guys're all nuts. Not like you'n me. Well, eh, maybe a little like you'n me."

"Like you and me, huh?"

"Yeah, mucker, we're actual people, ain't we? I mean, look, I know ye run about with the stupid name and stupid outfit-" He gestured down at me and I said

"Oi, what's wrong with me coat?"

He waved a hand, ignoring me. " - but ye don't really believe all this 'laughing magician' bullcrap, do ye? Most've these guys… look, it's a sliding scale, right? How much time they spend as Penguin instead've Oswald Cobblepot, or Riddler instead've little-shit-number-five or whatever his name is. But most o' 'em spend a wee bit too long on the wrong side of the fence, you get me? Me, though? I'm here fer the cash, so I can spend as much time living it up on beaches as Evan McCulloch as possible… and I imagine you spend almost all a' your time as Johnny-boy Constantine, don't ya?"

Yeah, that… that explained a lot, actually. I kept getting these glimpses under their masks, brief looks at the people underneath that I couldn't quite reconcile with their actions as villains. They were businessmen, wives and husbands, sure, but also monsters out of horror stories, inhuman.

"...Maybe I do. But I'm going to go up there in a minute, and I'm going to be the Laughing Magician again. I'm going to talk to them, and they're going to agree with me, and Scarecrow's going to burn. So what's it matter who I am in my off-hours?" I know my voice is cold. My eyes are too. I don't care.

I was entirely right. He was going to die, and I was going to do it.

"...Sure, mucker, but listen, I'm giving you this wee chat for a reason, aye? I left Scarecrow's employ after I heard what he did for a reason. I don't do women, I don't do kids, and I sure as hell don't do old men who can't defend themselves. Because I do plan to go back to bein' Evan McCulloch down the line, and even though Mirror Master can kill whoever he likes, I have ta' spend most of me time doin' that. So then, Mister Laughing Magician… don't do anything John Constantine'd regret, aye?"

He clapped me on the shoulder, but I didn't react. I just kept staring up at that room full of maniacs debating whether or not to kill a monster. The cameraderie slid off my back, Mirror Master smiling broadly in a way that just felt insulting, condescending. I knew he was trying to help, but…

"No." I said, quietly.

"Uh, pardon?" He said, sticking a finger in his ear to mime clearing out the wax. "Must've missed that?"

"I said no."

"No ta what, mate?"

"No, you can't just- is that how you justify it? You helped him condemn a fucking innocent and that's how you're justifying yourself? 'Weren't me, honest guv, it was Mirror Master'? You expect me to buy that?"

He raised his hands placatively, saying "Okay, look, I ain't trying ta make excuses, yeah? I know I screwed up, just-"

The dam burst. All the pent-up rage. I'd been bleeding sorrow for days, now, since my father had died, but this anger had been building up for weeks. Since the Red Lantern had come to London, since all these costumed fuckers had first started screwing everything up and leaving me holding the bag.

"No! That's your problem, mate. You come with your powers and all your games, put on silly outfits and hide your names and pretend to be somebody else, but you've hit the nail on the head, mate, you're exactly right. That's why you're all nuts, you've all got a split bloody personality! You're just thugs and bloody gangsters, half of you don't even have powers, and the ones that do, you're still no different than a perfectly human ponce in a tank or with a big enough gun. You ain't monsters, I don't care how much you pretend to be, you're just maniacs with fuckin' guns." I flicked my silk-cut away, stomping it out on the floor.

Mirror Master took a step back from me, lips curling in disgust. "Well forgive me fer tryin' to give you a pep-talk then. An' I suppose you're so much better, such a decent bloke?"

"Oh, no." I laugh a deep, malicious laugh. "I'm John. And I'm a bastard. But that's the thing. I know I'm a bastard, I own it. I Know what I am and don't need to dress it up."

I stepped off the wall, going to leave him and stride up the stairs to the suite, to join the villains in their little debate. He scowled at me, calling back after me.

"And I'm going to go slay a monster… and damn well own it."