I should've seen it coming a mile away.
It'd been in the news, y'see. All over the news, you couldn't get away from it if you tried. Gangland shooting gone wrong, several dead. Some poor schmuck had tried to hit a member of the Justice League and got brutalised for it. .
I knew it'd somehow wind up my problem eventually, just didn't expect it to show up at my door so quickly. And when I heard that particular problem banging on my door, I didn't expect his to be the face I'd see.
"John! John, for christ's sake, open up! It's me, it's Chas! You've gotta help me, mate! Please!"
That's me, by the way. John Constantine, at your service. Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name.
Let me set the scene for you. It was a cold winter's night in late November, snuggled neatly right between Halloween 'n christmas. I was curled up in front of the fire with a pair of fuzzy slippers, a nice beer, and a not-so-nice pornographic novel I was really looking forward to enjoying.
I was set up perfectly for a lovely night of simple leisure and ignoring all the phone calls I'd been getting trying to drag me into a stupid bloody gang-war, on one side or the other. So of course, the fates just had to send somebody I actually cared about to get me involved instead.
"Steady on, mate, steady on." I put the drink and beer down, getting to my feet and trudging over in those nice comfy slippers, opening the door up for my old mate, Chas. "What seems to be the pro-"
The door slammed open and he barged past me, knocking me back. Me buddy, me mate, old reliable Chas, was wide-eyed with panic. His shirt was spattered in blood and he was waving a gun around, though thankfully he was holding it by the barrel, not the hilt, so he wasn't actually aiming to blow me brains out.
"What the fuck're you doing with that?" I closed the door behind him so nobody'd see him acting like a maniac and call the cops. The moment the door was closed he thrust the gun at me and I recoiled. It took me a moment to realise he was trying to hand it to me.
"John, Jesus, for god's sake, you gotta get rid of it for me, you gotta!"
"But what's- oi, leave it out, I ain't getting me prints on that thing! What're you doing with a-"
"Take it! Come on, the ol' bill's after me!"
He pressed it against my chest and let go, limply. I caught it just to keep it from falling to the floor and going off, fumbling it in my hands
"You what?" I asked, struggling to put the pieces together. I knew there'd been a shooting, but what did Chas have to do with…?
"They're after me, they fuckin' saw me come in! You gotta hide it, John, you gotta!"
"Well what do you bloody expect me to do?" I held it awkwardly, like a wet nappy, dangling it by the barrel as I stared at the big black lump of metal in my hands.
"Well fuckin' magic it, of course!"
Well, I figured, may as well give it a shot. I waved my hand over the weapon, and…
"Flibble florp, fibble fleep."
I let the magic words hang in the air a second, as Chas stared at me blankly. I smacked my forehead in gobsmacked amazement as nothing happened whatsoever.
"Well bugger me, it's still a bloody gun!"
A look of confusion turned to anger on Chas's face as he grabbed me by the tie, choking me and dragging me into the room.
"You fuckin' bastard, John! This is me life, this is! Stop jokin' around and help me before they bleedin' get here!"
"Before who gets here?"
Speak of the devil, and he appears. I heard boots thundering from downstairs, heading up to my apartment. Chas nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, all the anger draining out of him as he went to cower behind me. I stared down and saw jackboots. Men in suits, the London mob. They were coming for me old buddy, with guns and knives.
And I had about thirty seconds to decide whether I wanted to stick myself between them, or get behind them to let them do their thing.
—
The door was already open when they arrived. I wasn't stupid enough to get it broken down.
This time when the man barrelled into me on his way through the door, it was deliberate. I barely had time to get out a "What brings you he-" before he slammed a fist into my gut, doubling me over.
I knew the man. Len. He worked for Harry Cooper's mob, and was a right old wiry geezer with grey hair who had no right throwing a punch that hard. He stared down at me with cold, uncaring eyes and barked out an order.
"Search the place."
A dozen goons swarmed about, trampling into me kitchen and the bedroom as I groaned and rolled on the floor, trying to find a way to stand.
It was a tiny little apartment. They didn't bother tearing open the floorboards or anything, and they knew he wouldn't be hiding in one of the bloody drawers. A few closets got ripped through, but that was about it for turning the place over. I'd just about stopped the lights flashing behind me eyes by the time one of the grunts, a blonde lass with a twice-broken nose, told him Chas wasn't here.
"Any sign of any magic crap?"
She shook her head. "No boss." Was the simple, strict reply.
"Then what the fuck'm I paying you for? You know who this little stain on the floor is, right?"
I staggered up, supporting myself against the wall, giving her a leer and a wink. She just rolled her eyes. She had a little pentagram necklace, and wore too much black. Ah, right. This was some poor idiot's excuse for a magic 'expert', huh?
"I know. But there ain't anything here. Pentagram burnt into the floorboards in the kitchen, but that ain't been used in donkey's years. Little incense? Nothing to vanish a guy that big away with."
Len snorted, unconvinced, turning to me instead. "Well, John? Did you magic him away? 'Cause let me tell you, if you did… that would not be in your best interest."
"So what if I did?" I asked, chuckling, putting a hand over my aching gut. "Your little wannabe here better be glad she didn't find any of my stuff. It'd've burnt her eyebrows off."
Truth was there wasn't anything here. I had all my good stuff warded up in the backrooms of an old tourist shop i'd, ah… come into, a while back. But Len didn't need to know that.
Len looked at me evenly, considering. He had a small platoon of goons, and we both knew he could've beaten the answer out of me. Instead… he put a hand on my shoulder. He gripped me a little too tight, but feigned gentleness, as he led me over to the couch.
"John. I feel we've gotten off to a bad start. Care for a drink? Ciggy? Louise, get the lad a drink, eh?"
The goth girl, Louise, apparently, rushed off into me own bloody kitchen and came out with a can of beer, tossing it to him. It froths beautifully when he cracks it open, and hands it to me with a smile.
I shook my head, pushed it away. "Kind've wanna be sober for this, mate." I say. "Now what the fuck makes you think barging into my place is a good idea, eh? That door was expensive."
"Don't play stupid, John. We know your cabbie's here. He was playing driver for us. But he saw something he wasn't supposed to."
"I, ah, don't see how this is a me problem." I went fishing in my pocket for a silk cut, lighting it up and going to take a drag just to puff it in his condescending, bored face. He looked bored at just about everything, even when discussing killing me mate, for, what? Being a witness to the kind of crime they do every day?
"Because it's something you don't want him to have seen either, John. That's why I'm not going to bother threatening you. I doubt the, ah…" He looked around, eyes fixating on the discarded book sitting on the living room table. "Grand magus would feel too threatened by our like anyway. But I am going to tell you to stop being an idiot. He saw the kid, out and about."
My blood ran cold. I coughed, sputtering over the cigarette I hadn't actually taken a drag of yet. "The kid? What- what kid?"
"The kid." He said, unimpressed. "Ronnie Cooper. Harry's kid. We were meant to be saving him as an ace-in-the-hole against those pricks in costume, but now your Chas's seen him. And that's a secret you don't want getting out either, do you, John?"
"The hell- you're using him as a weapon? He's a damn kid, why would you-?"
"Sure he's a kid." Louise cut in, chuckling. She'd liberated another beer from my fridge, and taken a sip. "And you're a law abiding citizen. That there is a major-league demon you stuck into a kid's skin."
My brain went still a moment, raw terror coursing through me, before I actually looked around myself. Realising that the worst implications of that statement… hadn't come to pass.
"...Then why ain't I dead?"
"Uh, pardon me?"
"...Why ain't I dead? C'mon, mate. You told me not to act thick? Harry knows I pulled one over on him, if he knows it's a demon, why ain't he killed me for it?"
"Why, uh, why would he kill you? You gave him a damn demon wrapped up in a tiny bow, one hell of a weapon." Louise piped up. I could see Len wince at the question. "He's pretty damn happy about it, as a matter of fact."
"Uh, 'cause that weren't what he asked me to do?"
That got a blank look from her, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Len, you ain't told this girl anything, have you? She's totally lost!"
He shrugged noncommittaly. "Most of this stuff's need to know. Don't go on about it, we ought to get back to the poi-"
"No, no. Let's explain to the gallery, huh? So we're all on the same page." I stand, swiping the beer from Louise's hands and taking a long swig of it.
"Hey!"
"Consider it the tax for me having to relive this crap. Right. You, there. Chav in the corner, with the stupid hat." I pointed at one of his goons, who looked around as though to ask 'who, me?'
"Yeah, you. Get me another brew, I'll be through this one in a second."
"Don't order my men around, John. Don't get him anything, Willy." The guy in the hat, Willy, settled down at that order, looking almost disappointed. "John, quit showboating and answer the question. Where the fuck's Chas?" Len growled.
I raised my hands defensively "Oh, but I think your lads need to know this! Especially the one who's meant to be handling your magic crap" I gave Louise a brief glance and a nod. "And besides, it's relevant. I'm getting to Chas."
Len sat back on the chair, arms folded. He was on a short fuse, but he seemed to be allowing it, so I took a sip of the beer before continuing. "See, about a decade and a half back, Harry Cooper comes to me. His dear old kid, Ronnie, up and got hit by a car, see? And apparently he wanted me to bring 'im back to life. Wanted it to the tune of sending me pictures of me sister 'n niece. Wanted it to the tune of threatening to do much worse'n kill 'em over it."
The crowd weren't meant to be listening, but they were. Louise was on the edge of her seat. "...So did you do it, or what?"
"Mate, I'm good but I'm not fuckin' God, and I ain't a necromancer. I can't raise the bloody dead. No, I didn't do it. Not that Harry Cooper would hear a word of that, and seeing as how it was me family's neck on the line, I got… creative."
"Creative. That's one word for it." Len snorted. "You made a demon up to look like the kid."
"Hey, hey! It weren't quite that simple! I bound a bloody parasite demon twelve ways from sunday to get the fucker to play ball. Took me three tries, and most've a bloody week! It's inside the body, running it like a puppet and eating off the memories. I did that to his damn kid to save my hide, and he knows, and I'm not lying in a bloody ditch!" I waved my hand, spilling beer. Louise jumped out of her skin at the sudden motion as I stalked forward, looking Len in the eye and asking "Why?"
And all Len did was shrug.
"I don't know either, John. My guess? He's mostly just happy to know why the kid's been acting like such a shit and, y'know, not aging all these years. Maybe he thinks it is his kid and this is just what being brought back does. Maybe he's more concerned about having the demon as a weapon to fight the league."
"You seriously have no idea what's going through his head? No clue? None?! You, his second in command?!"
He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck. He was still sitting but suddenly he loomed. All the goons exchanged looks, anxious ones.
"No, John. Because I just work for the guy. I'm not a mind reader, and I'm a bit too busy helping him fight a bunch of superpowered assholes to concern myself with his personal life. Or yours, for that matter. So for the last time, answer the question, before I stop being so polite. Where. Is Chas. Chandler?"
"...You want him 'cause, what, he saw the kid out and about? He was driving you somewhere, got caught, and- what, you don't want the public and league finding out about your pet demon that I helped with, yeah?"
His nostrils flared as I answered the question with a question, patience wearing down to a thread. "Yes. We took him out in public and got hit. Nobody else outside the organisation is still alive to tell, but…"
"Wait, nobody? Seriously? Not even the leaguers?"
Len's brow twitched, and he waved a hand to one of the goons, who produced…
A bloodstained crown. Like the crown jewels, felt-furred and ostentatious. Blood covered it and… and white flecks I'd first thought were part of the decoration, but were actually bits of skull.
"That's what's left of Beefeater. Blue Jay didn't have anything left at all. And there'll be less left of both of you if you don't shut that loud gob of yours and start co-operating, now!"
"I don't know!" I threw my hands up. "I didn't magic him anywhere, he came here, rambled a bunch, and left out the bloody fire escape. I told him I'm not fighting Harry Cooper for him, I'm not bloody suicidal!"
Len looked me up and down. Analysing me, slowly. Carefully. Cogs turning behind those eyes in a terrible, terrifying mechanism.
He came to the right conclusion, inevitably. He didn't believe me. He'd heard the same lie too many times before.
I'd seen people make these calculations too many times before to expect him to come to any other conclusion, too. But after he decided he didn't believe me, he looked around. Ten men. One mad magician. In his home, having known he was coming.
My reputation did my work for me. That was bad math. Even with me having taken a few very high profile losses lately, even given his men had clobbered me before, a while back.
He knew he wouldn't get answers from me willingly, and killing me over this wouldn't do him much good.
"...If this gets out, we make it public you were the one to bring him back, understood? This is on your head as much as ours."
"I get it, mate! I bloody get it! No need to batter me over the head with it."
"I hope you do, John. I really hope you do." He stood up, waved a hand. Every goon in the room started making for the exit in a nice, orderly line. "I'll be seeing you, John. And I hope I won't be seeing the cabbie any time soon, understand?"
"I hear ya. Now piss off. Your attack dogs are making a mess on the carpet."
He seethed, but there wasn't much more he could do here. He stepped forward, squaring up, getting into my personal space, before thinking better of it, turning to go as well.
I tapped Louise on the shoulder before she could go. "Hey, lass, gotta ask before you go… you ever seen a parasite demon up close before?"
"...No." She admitted, through grit teeth. She'd been mostly staying quiet since I told my little story, looking a little twitchy and anxious. Out of her depth. I figured.
"Maybe look for another line of work, love. You keep hanging around the Coopers, it won't be long 'til you see that and worse, yeah?"
"Louise! You coming or what?" Len thundered through the doorway, and she jolted, rushing to follow. I shook my head, making damn sure every last one of Len's lads were gone before slamming the door shut and heading back to my sofa.
I grabbed the pillows, then the cushions, ripping them up to expose the insides of the chair. Chas was lying inside, pale as a ghost, trying his best not to breathe.
"Okay, they're gone, mate. Now, how about we discuss what's gonna happen next, eh? Because, uh, I bailed you out of that one, but you're still more'n a little fucked."
–
The next few hours passed in a flurry of phonecalls. Chas spent the time sat on the sofa he'd previously been hiding under and ordering chinese food for the two of us, whilst breaking out into a nervous sweat. He hadn't been best pleased we'd spent most of that bloody conversation sat on him, close enough to him he could smell me cigarette smoke.
"You're sure this'll help? Absolutely positive?"
"Nope. Not in the least. But it'll at least get me foot in the door to start figuring out what the hell's going on. You're gonna need to lay low for a couple of days, mate."
I waited for the phone to stop ringing, no reply. I crossed another name off my list of contacts who could help me with this crazy plan of mine. Though the fact of the matter was, I only really needed two of them.
I'd gotten most of my contacts to agree to this already. Harry obviously excepted, but I was gonna be springing this surprise on him. I wanted to get him on the backfoot so I could go snooping around, figure out how loose his leash on the kid's gotten, figure out how his stupid bloody war's going - nevermind that I was the one who started it all those months back by engineering a punch-up between his mob and the league.
Figure out why I ain't dead yet, why he's so intent on keeping the kid a secret. Figure out why he wants Chas dead for knowing the secret but not me, and if there's anything I can bargain with so Chas doesn't need to spend the rest've his life mooching on me couch for his own protection.
"Lay low? Me missus'll kill me, I need to be out working! We just shelled out a mint for that new cooker she wanted, and the payments-"
I hushed him up as the line picked up. Perfect. The piece-de-resistance was available, the one person I really, really needed to have in on this.
"Penguin, me old pal! How're you doing?"
I'd half expected to be getting through to some buxom secretary, but his own voice crackled through the line instead. A garbled British accent, one that was trying so, so hard to be a posh RP accent, but never quite managed it. Too much cockney seeping through.
"Constantine. Oi've been expecting a call from you for a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Remember when we talked, a while back? During the Scarecrow fiasco? You wanted me to try'n arrange a meeting between you'n Harry Cooper. Something about a trade deal, running drugs and alien artifacts across the pond?"
"Oi do. As oi recall you weren't interested. Change of heart?"
Oh, I could practically hear the gleam in his eyes at that. The thrill of the hunt, a deal almost struck. Profit in the air.
"Might be. I can get you his contact details, can't arrange a meeting meself of course, he ain't most happy with me at the minute. But I've a whole list've people who're interested in grabbing the kind of supertech I know he has ahold've. Nabbed some've Mister Terrific's stuff during a punch-up a while back, at least one lantern ring… no, not the bloody red one, a different one! All I need's a favour in return."
A chuckle came through the line, after a brief pause. Considering. "What kind of favour?"
"Need a face-to-face. With him, not you. Chance to smooth over our differences, yeah? And snoop."
"...Oi think that can be arranged. Just what'd you do to peeve him off so bad, anyway?"
"Not important." I waved a hand, dismissively.
"Is- is that really the bloody Penguin on the other line?" Chas asked from the peanut gallery, incredulous. I waved even harder to shush him up, putting a hand over the speaker.
"Yes, it is, so shush! Unless you want both our heads - yes! Of course, uh, contact details, here, phone number for his secretary is-"
I started rattling off numbers I had for him. Secretary, his personal number, and that of about half his lieutenants, Len included, plus the list of which ones owed me favours Penguin could call in to set up the meeting. And then every single potential buyer for his loot hoard I could think of, superpowered or otherwise.
The phonecall ended pretty quickly after that. I didn't want to hang around to chat too long. Penguin was a decent bloke once you got to know him, but I really didn't want to get in the habit of getting too chummy with him, else I end up chum in the water, instead. Or something. I'll admit I never was good at fish puns, but the point was he was dangerous to be around even if he did sort of like you.
"So is that it? Just- set up a meeting? That's all?" Chas asked, between mouthfuls of spicy noodles.
"Yeah, pretty much." I pocketed the phone, going to grab my own little to-go box. "And now we wait. Shouldn't be too long, a couple days at most."
"A couple days. Well, better buckle in then, if'n I'm stuck here- when's the next episode of coronation street?"
—
And so we waited. A couple days turned out to be an overstatement. It wasn't twelve hours before I got my call back.
Penguin performed even better than I'd expected, better than I'd dared to hope. A grin split my lips as I heard some nameless secretary explain what had been agreed.
There was going to be a party at Harry Cooper's manor. And about a dozen bloody supers had been invited to attend.
It was going to be hell on earth. Utter bloody chaos. The last bloody party I'd ever want to go to.
But it was, at the least, going to be the perfect opportunity to snoop. And it was the only chance I'd get at saving Chas's arse.
This was gonna be a rough night.