Ordinal date: 1981-183

Six Years Later

"You gormless tosspots might want to start thinking about quitting," said a British blonde-haired man wearing a collared shirt, tie, and trench coat while sporting a five o'clock shadow and sucking on a cigarette that was almost down to the filter.

He looked at the two otherworldly creatures who sat across from him at a circular table and put down five cards: three aces and two jacks.

"Full house," he said with a grin.

One of the creatures on the other side of the table, a humanoid woman with long dark hair and fangs threw her cards down, cursed, got up and walked away. The other, a horned demon with wings, set his own cards down and grumbled watching the other man slide the pot over to him.

"You can't keep winning, John," the demon snarled. "You gotta lose some time."

"Aye, I might," John said, summoning a bottle of whiskey and drinking from it. "I'm having too much fun at the moment to quit though. Besides," he continued drawing attention to the lack of chips by the demon. "It looks like you're in no position to lecture me on losing."

"Just deal asshole," the demon said.

John finished his cigarette and squished the butt in an ashtray next to him while taking another drink. He then pulled out another cigarette and a lighter from his coat, put the first in his mouth and lit it.

"What're you gonna put up?" he asked, replacing the lighter and shuffling the cards. "I'm much to rich for your ass now."

The demon hemmed and hawed and huffed and puffed for a couple seconds before hovering over his seat.

"I got something better than money," he said, leaning toward John with a grin.

"Nothin's better than money," John said, setting down the cards and taking a drag.

"What if I told you it's got to do with Trigon's next herald?"

John took the cigarette out of his mouth and stared at the demon in front of him.

"Trigon's already making plans again?"

"Ah-ah-ah, John" the demon said, wagging a finger. "You gotta play for it."

"Fine, ya wanker," he replied, taking the cards and dealing "I'll take your wager."

# # #

A young black haired boy sat at the edge of a stone slab in a cramped, dark, and musty room. He fidgeted, having heard a noise somewhere clanging six times.

"He comes soon," he whispered shakily to the air. "He always comes between six and seven clangs. He's coming soon."

"You can be strong," came a voice by his ear. "Be strong again today."

The boy didn't look up at the voice speaking to him. He used to when it first started speaking to him. He'd look everywhere around the room but was never able to find anyone. What he did know was that when it spoke to him, he'd feel warm all around, like a blanket of comforting air. There were even times after it had stopped speaking when the feeling was still there. Sometimes the only way he'd be able to fall asleep that day was when he felt that feeling. The voice also only ever spoke to him when he was alone. Never when he was near. Never when the person who claimed they were his father was around.

"Father is coming," the boy said again.

"Remember, little firefly, he may have sired you, but you don't have to call him 'father," the voice responded. "Not when it's just the two of us."

"Will… will you ever tell me your name?" he asked as he heard stomping footsteps coming toward the room. "You said you would."

"I said I might," the voice said, moving away from his ear along with the warm feeling. "If you're strong today, I might tell you when he leaves."

"I'll… try," the boy said, visibly shaking and starting to tear up as the footsteps grew louder and louder.

"And remember, little firefly, your name isn't—"

"BOY!" came a roaring shout from behind the door. "OPEN THIS DOOR!"

The boy began to move but stopped almost as soon as he started.

No, he thought It's what he wants.

He stood and faced the door.

"Open… it… yourself," he choked loudly.

"OPEN THIS DOOR NOW, BOY!"

"No!" the boy yelled.

Whatever was behind the door made a thunderous noise and pushed the door open, swinging it wide and smacking the stone wall.

"NOT A WISE MOVE, BOY," replied the whoever was on the other side of the doorway: a tall and muscular red demon with three sets of glowing yellow eyes stacked on top of each other, flowing white hair, and horns. It wore black armor and gauntlets and had hooves instead of feet.

"NOW," Trigon said, walking into the room. "HOW SHALL I PUNISH YOU TODAY?"

# # #

John sat in a cushioned chair in the middle of a dimly-lit room in the House of Mystery, sucking out the last drag of a worn out cigarette. It burned out at the edge of the filter and he exhaled a final puff of smoke before throwing it in a nearby ashtray. He then picked up a bottle sitting on a table next to him, conjured up an empty glass full of perfect ice cubes and poured some in. He took a gulp before taking another cigarette out of his coat and putting it in his mouth. He then produced a lighter and lit it, taking a nice long drag before exhaling.

Before he could take second puff, a woman materialized out of thin air wearing what looked like the garb of a stage magician's assistant.

"Zatanna," the man said.

"John," she replied. "You interrupted a good bath. You better be sure about this."

John rose from his seat and walked over to a door.

"I'm sure as shit," he said, opening the door to reveal a demon cowering and writhing in fear and pain. "This one had no incentive to lie."

Zatanna looked at the demon then back at John.

"I feel like I know the answer," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But… why?"

"Bloody bugger cheated," John said with a puff on his cigarette as he closed the door. "I wanted what he wagered. S'not like he'd be missed."

"Because assumptions like that never screwed you over in the past," she said flatly, walking over to the chair John was in earlier and sat down. "But say you're right and it wasn't a lie, say Trigon really is trying to raise another herald, say it's not a badly thought-out ploy to get you to come knocking. Why call me? Surely you could take care of this by yourself."

John took a drag and blew out the smoke.

"More fun with you, Zee" he said with a grin.

"You're an ass."

"And don't you forget it," he replied with another drag.

"I keep trying to," she breathed. "Do you at least have an idea of how you want to go about doing this?"

"I figured," he started, taking another drink of his drink. "We'd just open a portal, walk in and ask. Figure out what comes next later."

"I hate you."

# # #

"You did good today, little firefly," the voice told the boy after Trigon had left the room with the warm feeling coming back.

"He seemed preoccupied near the end," the boy said. "Like something somewhere else was more important."

"And we're grateful for that aren't we? You didn't have to endure as much today."

The boy laid down on the slab. It was uncomfortable but he was used to its hard surfaces and edges. The warm feeling spread all over him.

"Will you tell me your name now?" the boy asked, closing his eyes.

"Not today. You need to sleep. Rest and regain your strength for tomorrow."

Shouts suddenly cut through the silence. The boy sat up.

"I don't know those voices," he said. "They aren't the voices of demons or him."

The shouts split into two different voices: a man's and a woman's.

"That one," said the woman's.

The door burst open with the boy flinching in response. A man with blonde hair stood in the doorway.

"Ah fuck, it's a kid," he said.

"Who?" the boy asked.

"I'm gonna ask you this once, kid," the man said. "Are you the spawn of Trigon?"

"He… he sired me, yes…" the boy answered meekly.

"I fuckin' hate kids," he replied conjuring a dagger out of thin air and walking toward the boy. "I gotta do this," he continued. "The world needs me to."

# # #

"You sure you made enough copies of us?" Zatanna asked as she and John ran through the dungeon-like halls of Trigon's castle located in his own pocket dimension within the bowels of hell itself.

"Don't seem to be too many of those gits following us," John replied conjuring offensive energy and throwing it at a demon following them. "Are you sure we're on the right path?"

Zatanna looked at her wand while running.

".yaw eht su wohS" she said with it pointing in the direction they were running and toward a door on their right.

"That one!" she yelled pointing to it.

John threw a spell and burst it open to find a young boy laying on a stone slab.

"Ah, fuck, it's a kid."

"Who?" the boy asked.

"I'm gonna ask you this once, kid," John said. "Are you the spawn of Trigon?"

"He… he sired me, yes…" the boy answered meekly.

"I fuckin' hate kids," John replied conjuring a dagger out of thin air and walking toward the boy. "I gotta do this," he continued. "The world needs me to."

"John Constantine!" Zatanna yelled as she made her way to the door. "What are you doing!?"

"Kid's the spawn of Trigon, Zee," John said. "You knew what we were doing when we started."

"When we thought we were dealing with someone older and he doesn't look like he's been corrupted yet."

"You and kids," he responded. "What is it with you and kids?"

"Please get me out of here!" the boy yelled. "I don't know how much longer I can resist my… my father."

"See?" Zatanna said walking toward the boy. "Do you have a name?"

"He… calls me boy. But… a voice once… told me my name was…. was Kazu."

"Well Kazu, let's get out of here," she said, turning to the one she called John. "Portal, Constantine."

"Whatever," he replied conjuring one. "He turns on us, you won't hear the end of it."

The three of them went through and immediately entered the library of the House of Mystery. John lit a cigarette and conjured up a drink.

"What now?" Kazu asked as the portal closed.

"peels uoy woN," Zatanna said, waving her wand over Kazu's face and lying him down on the floor as he passed out. John took a drag and a swig.

"He can't stay here, John."

"No shit."

"I mean it. Trigon's probably already figured out someone took him. It won't be long before he sends someone or something to bring him back."

"Why d'you think I wanted t'kill him in the first place," he asked, taking a drink. "So now you've got a problem of your own."

Zatanna closed her eyes and breathed deeply, thinking about what to do next. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and turned to John.

"I think I have an idea, but it means reversing his age, blocking any memory of Trigon or his dimension, sending him into the past and taking him to Skyriver."

"Convoluted," John said, taking a puff. "Who'll take him in over there?"

"Someone I know who owes me a favor."

John thought while taking a long drag, finishing off his cigarette.

"Fine by me," he said crouching down, speaking some unintelligible words and waving a handful of magic over Kazu. "I can block the memories of Trigon, but he has a massive hold on his memory already, some pretty strong magic I've never seen before. I'm not sure if it has to do with Trigon. Think you'll need to crack that," he added, turning his head toward Zatanna.

Zatanna waved her wand and concentrated.

"Seiromem …nettogrof ruoy …lla su wohS," she said, straining under the weight of the strength it was taking.

They both went quiet as John kept crouching with his magic.

"What do you see?"

"Another life… love and loss, princes and princesses and queens and kings, conspiracies and betrayal, war and peace, a marriage proposal and her death, a promise of vengeance, a promise to search… oh… I love a good defenestration…" He turned to Zatanna. "Whoever this boy is, Zee, he's been through much more than Trigon. Must be why he was able to resist his manipulations."

After a few more quiet minutes, he stood and took out another cigarette.

"Memories should be good now," John said, picking Kazu up and handing him over to Zatanna. "Your turn."

# # #

A baby boy lay swaddled in a crib somewhere on the planet Sorgan. He had just woken up from a long sleep and stared at the ceiling.

My name is Kazu, he thought. I am the last surviving member of the House of Sol, the former captain of the guards and spymaster of the Moon Kingdom. The fall of the Silver Millennium is… entirely my fault.