Heavy breathing filled the kitchen as Jason and Roy pulled away from each other after their steamy makeout session. Jason smirked, noticing how swollen Roy's lips were and the rosy blush staining his face. He looked positively delectable.

"You just love being taken advantage of, don't you?" Jason teased, caressing Roy's pink-stained cheek.

Roy rolled his eyes but gave a small smile. "I have no idea what you mean," he teased, trailing a finger up and down Jason's cheek.

Jason raised an eyebrow, then turned his face to pull Roy's finger into his mouth, causing Roy's eyes to widen comically. He stared into Jason's eyes as he sucked and teased his finger until satisfied with the dazed expression on Roy's face. Roy's lower lip trembled as Jason pulled his finger from his mouth with a lewd 'pop' before reconnecting their lips.

Moaning into Jason's mouth, Roy buried his hands in Jason's hair, trying to keep their lips connected longer. He allowed Jason's tongue access into his mouth and began playing with the wet muscle, earning pleased groans from Jason, whose hands were now cupping Roy's arse cheeks.

Finally, a cough broke them apart. Roy's lips were shiny with saliva, and a thin trail connected him and Jason, which Jason broke when he turned around to look at who interrupted them. Jason rolled his eyes upon seeing John Constantine by the kitchen door, laughing at their behavior.

"Having fun, luvs?" John asked, his English accent thick with amusement.

Roy laughed, then slapped Jason on the chest. "Go, you need to apparate Billy and Damian to Metropolis for their skateboarding and art competition. I'll see what this imbecile needs."

"Imbecile? You've been spending too much time with Damian," Jason laughed before magically popping away from the kitchen.

Roy looked at John uncomfortably. He had never been alone in a room with the drunkard warlock. Constantine usually talked business with Red Ghoul and Nightwing regarding Titans matters. "Would you like something to drink?"

"A pint," John grunted, stomping towards the living room and slumping into the leather armchair.

Roy sighed, grabbed two cold beers from the fridge, and followed John to the living room. He handed John his pint and sat on the sofa. The two of them sat in silence, waiting for Jason to return from Metropolis. Roy noticed John glancing at him from time to time, which was starting to unnerve him. Constantine usually didn't care about anyone or anything that didn't involve magic, so why was he suddenly interested in Roy?

"Ever helped him during his missions?" John asked, catching Roy off guard.

Roy cautiously nodded. "Yeah, Arsenal and Red Ghoul often team up on missions worldwide. It's pretty handy having someone who can heal with a wave of his wand. I can also boost his energy when he's low, helping him cast spells to get us out of tight spots."

Roy is enveloped in Jason's magic, a subtle red glow weaving around him in intricate patterns, gently touching his skin and illuminating him from within. The magic moves with fluid grace, showing a deep connection between Roy and Jason, where Roy has willingly shared his power and energy. Jason's magic has thoroughly infused Roy, yet their companions haven't seemed to notice. John wonders if Jason himself is aware of how deeply his magic has intertwined with Roy's, subtly transferring with every spell, lingering with every night spent under Jason's protection, and leaving an indelible mark with each healing touch. It seems Roy has opened himself so completely to Jason that their magic is now inextricably bound.

John Constantine observed Roy, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he processed the depth of the connection between Roy and Jason. It was unusual for non-magical humans to willingly immerse themselves in such intimate magical bonds, especially with warlocks like Jason. John couldn't help but feel astonished at Roy's level of trust and openness.

"Blimey," John muttered, his eyes lingering on Roy. "You've really let him get under your skin, haven't you?"

Roy met John's gaze, a mix of defiance and vulnerability in his eyes. "It's... complicated," he said, his voice carrying a blend of resignation and determination. "Jason and I, we've been through a lot. Sometimes you have to take risks, even if it involves magic."

John nodded slowly, grasping the weight of Roy's words. Despite the risks, there was a bond between them that transcended ordinary understanding—a connection forged through shared experiences and mutual trust.

"Just be careful, mate," John cautioned, his tone serious. "Magic's tricky, and it's easy to get in over your head."

Roy offered a small, grateful smile. "I'll keep that in mind, John. Thanks."

As Jason stormed into the living room, his expression a mix of anger and frustration, John sensed the tension. Jason's gaze locked onto him with a fierce intensity, a silent warning not to meddle too deeply.

John raised an eyebrow, unfazed by Jason's glare. "Easy there, mate," he said, his tone light but with a hint of amusement. "Just having a chat with our friend Roy here."

Jason's scowl deepened, but before he could retort, John continued more seriously. "Speaking of which, maybe we should chat about boundaries and disclosures."

Jason's expression shifted to discomfort. He glanced at Roy, then back at John, his demeanor tense but attentive.

"As warlocks," John said, "we need to inform non-magical beings before getting involved with them. Saves a lot of heartbreak down the road."

There was a moment of silence as Jason processed John's words, the weight of their implications sinking in. Finally, he nodded reluctantly, acknowledging John's point.

"You're right," Jason conceded, his voice subdued. "I should've been more upfront with Roy about the risks."

Roy, who had been listening quietly, offered a small nod. "It's okay, Jason," he said, his voice understanding. "We'll figure it out together."

John's brow furrowed with curiosity as he addressed the elephant in the room. "What brings you to Fawcett City? Last I heard, you were dealing with some cursed pyramid in Egypt."

Jason's inquiry drew a heavy sigh from John. "Ah, well, seems like there's never a dull moment in my line of work," John remarked with a wry smile. "Got a call from Oracle; seemed urgent."

Jason's concern spiked at the mention of Oracle, his expression shifting to one of heightened attention. "What's going on? Is something wrong with my family back in Gotham?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

"It's not your family directly, but there's trouble brewing between Gotham and Metropolis," Constantine explained. "Someone's been conducting sacrificial rituals along the ley lines connecting the two cities."

Roy, looking puzzled, chimed in. "Why didn't anyone reach out to you about this, Jason? You're the Red Ghoul, the expert in these matters."

Jason's expression darkened, his jaw tensing with barely contained fury. "Because Batman's too damn stubborn to ask for help when he needs it," he growled, his voice laced with resentment.

Roy let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head. "Classic Bruce move," he remarked, exasperated. "Refusing to call Jason is 100% in character. That being said, it's a stupid-ass decision."

He paused, frustration evident. "Jason was bound to find out, the rumor mill in the magical community is on another level. The supernatural community learned long ago to always have each other's back." Roy turned to his boyfriend, who had a look of cold rage on his face, and sighed. "Jason's clearly pissed about being left out of the loop. And honestly, who can blame him? Jason's practically an expert in this type of magic. He could probably teach Bruce a thing or two. But Bruce is too stubborn to admit he needs help, even if it means putting more lives at risk."

As Roy spoke, John could sense the underlying tension in the room. The rift between Jason and Bruce ran deep, fueled by years of misunderstandings and unspoken grievances. But amidst the frustration and anger, there was also a shared determination to do what was right and protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

"Well, looks like we've got our work cut out for us," John said, breaking the silence. "Time to show Batman what happens when you make an enemy of the supernatural community."

With a nod of agreement from Roy and a determined glint in Jason's eyes, the trio set off, united in their resolve to confront the darkness lurking between Gotham and Metropolis.

As another day of investigation dragged on, Dick's worry gnawed at him. Something felt off about the whole situation, and when he saw Bruce alone, he knew he had to bring it up.

"B," Dick said, his concern clear as he approached his adoptive father. "We need to talk."

Bruce looked up, exhaustion written all over his face. "Dick," he replied wearily, bracing himself for the inevitable conversation.

Dick hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts before diving in. "I couldn't help but notice that the crime scene reminded you of one of Jason's novels," he began, his tone cautious. "I hope you're not considering Jason as a suspect because of that."

Bruce's expression darkened at the implication, a flash of hurt crossing his face. "Of course not, Dick," he replied, frustration in his voice. "I may not always see eye-to-eye with Jason, but I would never suspect him of something like this."

Dick felt a pang of guilt for causing Bruce more pain. "I didn't mean to imply that, Bruce," he said quickly. "It's just... with everything going on, I couldn't help but worry."

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I understand, Dick," he said, his tone softening a bit. "But you have to trust me. I only mentioned the similarities in my report because I believe there's a connection to the magical world, nothing more."

Dick nodded, relieved by Bruce's reassurance. "I trust you, B," he said earnestly. "I just worry sometimes, you know?"

Bruce placed a reassuring hand on Dick's shoulder, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I know, Dick," he said gently. "But we'll get through this together, like we always do."

Just then, a magical portal sparked to life in the middle of the Batcave, putting everyone on edge. The tension eased slightly when John Constantine stepped through, but it shot back up when Jason and Roy followed, suited up and looking ready for a fight. Jason's glare could melt steel, and we all felt a bit guilty under his stare. We might not have agreed with Bruce keeping Jason out of the loop, but we didn't exactly put up a fight either.

Bruce, sensing the awkwardness, stepped forward, trying to keep his cool. "Jason, Roy," he started, sounding all serious. "I know you're mad, and I get it. But you gotta trust me. There's something dangerous happening here—"

Jason cut him off, dripping with sarcasm. "Something dangerous? Really, Bruce?" he shot back, bitterness in every word. "You kept us in the dark about it all. Being Batman doesn't give you a free pass to play god with our lives."

Bruce's jaw clenched, feeling the weight of Jason's words. He thought he was doing right by his family, but now, with Jason's anger staring him down, he couldn't help but question himself.

Dick stepped in, his face pleading for understanding. "Jason, we didn't mean to leave you out," he said, genuine as ever. "We just didn't know how to help without putting you at risk."

Jason's expression softened slightly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I hear you, Dick," he said, his tone softer now. "But next time, just give me a chance to decide for myself, okay?"

"Listen up, everyone," Jason's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "I need to make something crystal clear. When it comes to this kind of situation, I'm the lead expert, got it? And I'm not just talking about within the superhero community. People from all over the world come to me with questions about curses, necromancy, sacrificial rituals—you name it. So, the fact that you lot thought you could keep this from me? Not cool. Not cool at all."

He paused, his gaze piercing through each member of the Colony. "You had no right to sideline me," he continued, his tone unyielding. "From now on, I expect to be included in every step of the process. Understood?"

Jason's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of his expertise in matters that extended far beyond the realm of capes and cowls. He wasn't just talking about the superhero gig—he was the go-to guy for all things supernatural, from curses to necromancy to sacrificial rituals. People from all over the world sought him out for answers, trusting in his knowledge and experience.

The Colony shifted uncomfortably under Jason's gaze, feeling the weight of his admonishment. They had no right to keep him out of the loop, especially when his skills were precisely what the situation called for.

Jason's gaze then shifted to Alfred, his demand clear. "Alfred," he said, his voice commanding. "What intel do we have?"

Alfred met Jason's gaze with a mixture of respect and concern. "Master Jason," he began, his voice steady. "We've gathered some information about the ritualistic activity occurring between Gotham and Metropolis. It appears to be connected to the ley lines that run through both cities, drawing on their magical energies."

Jason's jaw tightened at the news, his mind already formulating a plan of action. "Any leads on who might be behind it?" he asked, his voice edged with urgency.

Alfred hesitated for a moment before responding. "Not yet, Master Jason," he admitted. "But we're working on it. With your expertise, I have no doubt we'll get to the bottom of this."

Jason nodded, his expression resolute. "Good," he said firmly. "Because whoever's behind this is playing with fire, and they're about to get burned."

As Red Ghoul and John Constantine visited the sites of the sacrificial rituals, their expressions grew grim. The air in those cabins felt downright vile, thick with the stench of twisted, corrupted magic. Sacrificial magic was the worst kind—they hated it with a passion. It was like someone had taken the natural flow of magic in nature and twisted it into something dark and foul.

The very thought of it made Red Ghoul's skin crawl. Sacrifices done over magical ley lines? That was a whole new level of messed up. Ley lines were like the veins of the earth, channels of raw magic that crisscrossed the world. Messing with them was like tampering with the lifeblood of the planet.

John Constantine shared Red Ghoul's sentiments, his face twisted in disgust as they surveyed the scene. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. "This is worse than I thought."

Red Ghoul nodded grimly in agreement. "Aye, mate," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "It's like someone's taken a wrecking ball to the natural order of things."

Red Ghoul's keen eye caught something amidst the twisted sigils etched into the floor. He pointed it out to John, who cursed under his breath as realization dawned. The symbol they were looking at wasn't just any old rune—it was the mark of something far more sinister.

"Damn," John muttered, his brows furrowing in concern.

Red Ghoul shook his head in frustration, a low growl rumbling in his throat. John muttered curses, his English accent thick with anger.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice strained with tension.

"Son of a—"

"Chorozon," John interrupted, horror creeping into his tone.

As they pieced together the clues, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of Red Ghoul's stomach. "Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice strained with tension. "They're trying to summon Chorozon."

John's eyes widened in horror at the mention of the name.

"F*ck," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Red Ghoul's hands clenched into fists, his frustration boiling over. "This ain't just any demonic summoning," he spat out, his voice tight with anger. "They're trying to give Chorozon a true body to possess. Once he's here, he'll be able to walk the Earth without fear of being exorcised."

Now both of them were cursing, their anger and fear mingling together in a storm of emotions.

"Damn it all!" Red Ghoul exclaimed, his voice filled with frustration.

"Sh*t!" John cursed, his tone tinged with desperation.

The stakes had just been raised, and they were running out of time to stop whatever dark forces were at play. John turned to Jason with a wary look, his expression grave as he delivered the news. "Jason, we can't involve the Colony in this anymore," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "It's gotten too dangerous for non-magical beings."

Jason sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He knew John was right—it wasn't safe for the Colony to be mixed up in this mess. "Yeah, I get it," he replied, his tone heavy with regret. "We can't risk anyone getting hurt."

John nodded in agreement, a somber look in his eyes. "Some of them won't be happy about it," he admitted, his voice tinged with sadness. "But they trust you, Jason. They know you'll do what's best."

Jason's brow furrowed in frustration as he processed the situation. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "This complicates things. Batman won't just let this go, especially since he didn't want Red Ghoul and Constantine involved in the first place."

The realization hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their plans. Batman's stubbornness was legendary, and he wouldn't take kindly to being sidelined, especially in a situation as dire as this.

Jason clenched his jaw, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Let him come," he said, his voice firm. "I'll deal with him if I have to."

As John and Jason had deduced, most of the Colony members stepped back from this investigation, trusting Red Ghoul to have everything under control. It was a tough decision, but they knew it was for the best, given the dangerous stakes involved. However, there were a couple of holdouts—Robin and Batman.

Despite the warnings and concerns, Robin and Batman were determined to do their own research. They delved deeper into the case, uncovering similar power readings in Metropolis to those found at the sites of the sacrificial rituals. It was a troubling discovery, one that only fueled their sense of urgency.

Without so much as a word to the others, Robin and Batman sprang into action. They hopped into the Batmobile and raced towards Metropolis, their determination driving them forward. It was a risky move, one that went against the collective decision of the Colony, but they couldn't sit idly by while the city was in danger.

John and Jason exchanged worried glances as they realized what had happened. "Damn it," Jason muttered, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "They should have listened to us."

John's jaw tightened, his expression grim. "We need to find them before they get themselves into trouble," he said, his voice laced with concern.

In the bustling streets of Metropolis, Batman and Robin moved like shadows, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Robin couldn't shake a nagging doubt. "Batman," he whispered amidst the city's noise, "maybe we should've listened to Red Ghoul and backed off."

Batman's jaw tightened at the mention of Red Ghoul's warning. "This is our investigation, Robin," he growled, his voice determined. "We won't let anyone dictate our actions."

Robin wasn't convinced, his footsteps faltering as doubt clouded his thoughts. "But Batman," he protested, "we're not equipped to deal with this kind of threat. The Colony handles serial killers and the like, not demonic summonings."

Batman halted, turning to face his young companion with frustration and exasperation. "Robin, we can't afford to back down now," he insisted, his voice stern. "We have a responsibility, and we will not let anyone run us off, no matter the cost."

Robin's eyes widened in shock. "You're putting us in danger because of your pride," he accused, his voice trembling with emotion. "Red Ghoul was right—you're acting more out of stubbornness than logic."

The tension between them crackled like lightning. Standing on that rooftop, with the city sprawled out beneath them, Batman and Robin faced a decision—one that could make or break their partnership.

Before they could decide, they were attacked by Dementors. It was like they had bitten off more than they could chew. They tried to fight back, but these Dementors weren't messing around.

No matter how hard they swung, the Dementors didn't flinch. It was like trying to punch a ghost—completely useless. Dementors were some seriously messed up creatures, the kind that made your skin crawl just thinking about them. They sucked out all the joy and happiness from the air, leaving nothing but darkness and despair in their wake.

As they closed in on Batman and Robin, the air grew colder, the city's sounds drowned out by the chilling rattling of their breath. It was like the world was closing in around them, suffocating them in darkness.

Batman and Robin fought with everything they had, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with a broomstick. The Dementors just kept coming, relentless in their pursuit. With each passing moment, the darkness closed in a little tighter, squeezing the hope out of them like a vice.

In the midst of the chaos, Batman and Robin realized they were in way over their heads. They needed help, and fast. But with the Dementors bearing down on them, the odds were looking pretty damn grim.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Damian and Billy swooped in to save the day. It was like a scene straight out of a comic book—there they were, Zamurad and Leukós, ready to kick some Dementor butt. With a quick flick of their wands, they summoned their patronuses, calling forth their shimmering guardians.

In a burst of radiant silver light, the patronuses appeared. Zamurad's patronus was a sleek fox, its silver fur gleaming as it moved gracefully, eyes alive with intelligence. Leukós' patronus was a magnificent St. Bernard, its silver coat glistening, exuding strength and steadfastness.

Batman didn't waste a second. "Get out of here, now!" he barked, his voice urgent. But Robin couldn't help but be grateful for the timely rescue.

"Thanks for the save, guys," Robin said, his voice filled with relief. But Leukós and Zamurad weren't letting Batman off that easy.

"If we hadn't stepped in, you'd be toast," Leukós declared with a smirk. "Dementors don't mess around—they'd have sucked the life right out of you."

And they knew all too well about the Dementor's Kiss—a horrifying ability that could literally suck the soul right out of a person.

As the situation grew more intense, it became clear that even Damian and Billy's powerful patronuses were struggling to hold back the darkness. The Dementors pressed in relentlessly, their chilling presence threatening to overwhelm them all.

Just when it seemed like they were about to be engulfed by despair, a brilliant light pierced through the gloom. It was Jason's Stag, appearing out of nowhere with its radiant glow. The majestic creature stood tall and proud, driving the Dementors back with its sheer presence. With a flick of its antlers, the Stag unleashed a wave of light that washed over the rooftop, banishing the Dementors and their oppressive aura. It was like a beacon of hope in the midst of the darkness, guiding them toward safety.

With the Dementors vanquished, Red Ghoul, Zamurad, and Leukós sprang into action. Drawing on their magical abilities, they worked together to exorcise the lingering spirits of the Dementors, helping them find peace in the afterlife.

It was a solemn task, but one they approached with determination and compassion. As they guided the broken souls of the Dementors toward the light, they couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. These weren't just mindless creatures of darkness—they were once human, souls tormented by tragic deaths. As the last of the Dementors faded into the ether, a sense of relief washed over them.

As the chaos began to subside, a hushed silence settled over the rooftop. The air crackled with residual magic, a reminder of the fierce battle that had just taken place. But amidst the stillness, there was a sudden burst of energy—a swirling vortex of light that materialized into a magical circle. Before Batman and Robin could even react, Red Ghoul was practically shoving them through the portal. With a jolt, they found themselves on the other side, blinking in surprise as they took in their new surroundings.

But their moment of disorientation was short-lived. They were met with the sight of a furious John Constantine, eyes blazing with anger, posture tense with barely-contained fury. Batman and Robin exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what had transpired in their absence. They knew they had a lot of explaining to do, but facing John's wrath was not exactly high on their list of priorities.

"What the bloody hell were you two thinking?" John demanded, frustration clear in his voice. "Running off on your own like that—you could've gotten yourselves killed!"

His voice echoed across the Batcave, words a torrent of frustration and anger aimed squarely at Batman and Robin. He paced back and forth, eyes flashing with intensity.

"Lucky for you two idiots that Damian and Billy were in town for their competitions," John seethed, dripping with sarcasm. "Dementors are the nastiest pieces of work you'll ever come across. They thrive on darkness and despair, sucking the joy and happiness out of everything they touch."

He paused, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with Batman and Robin. "Get too close to a Dementor, and it'll strip you bare," he warned, voice grave. "It'll feed on your happiest memories, leaving you with nothing but pain and suffering. You'll be a hollow shell of your former self, devoid of hope or humanity."

The gravity of John's words hung heavy in the air, sinking into Batman and Robin like a weight. They had underestimated the danger they faced and now were facing the harsh reality of their recklessness.

Batman opened his mouth to speak, but John held up a hand to silence him. "Don't even bother," he snapped, tone sharp with disappointment. "We'll deal with this later. Right now, we've got bigger things to worry about."

As Batman and Robin stood there, chastened by John's scolding, they couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. They had acted recklessly, and now they were facing the consequences of their actions.