The floor erupted with flames. It wasn't a big explosion—one could even call it a small one—but there were several of them all over the place. It was like being in the middle of artillery fire, where the big guns were just unloading everything, and the poor bastards on the other end were scrambling around for cover.

That's what Zatanna felt like as she dipped, ducked, dove, and dodged to avoid these little, annoying explosions. She stumbled out of the last one, one arm shielding her face, her clothes a little worse for wear.

She hadn't expected Reaper to just start blasting away on her. She had dodged the first couple of spells alright, but the next thing she knew, the floor was just blowing up around her. Teleporting hadn't seemed to work as the moment she tried, the force of one of those explosions would knock her off of her feet and she'd lose her concentration. So she had resorted to just running around to avoid taking a shot head on.

That was when she felt something dark and foreboding—Reaper was up to something. She knew that feeling because she felt it when the old guy first launched a spell at her. It practically screamed ominousness and oppression.

Tilting her head up, the dark-haired woman watched as a hole opened up in the ceiling. A dark, swirling vortex began to roar before it started lowering itself down to the floor.

Oh hell no!

"Tropelet em!" she chanted, and her world changed to a different view of the room. She could clearly see a dark column lowering itself down to the floor, looking much like a tornado funnel. She didn't feel any strong wind oddly enough, but she wasn't going to question it. The last thing she wanted was to get sucked in.

"I see you don't care for oblivion," Reaper's voice suddenly said next to her, causing the magician to jump. Spinning around, she saw no sign of the old man near her, even if his voice seemed to be right next to her. "How about falling into my Well of Despair?"

In response, the floor beneath Zatanna disappeared, the dark-haired woman finding herself falling down. She only just shot her arms up so that she could grab onto the side of the hole, finding it was made of old stones like you saw from an ancient well. Pulling herself up, she rose until her forearms were pressed on the ground, even as her legs dangled below her. Looking down, she only saw endless darkness, which gave her a sense of despair.

So that's how it got its name.

A foot landed right in front of her, causing Zatanna to jerk her head back. She stared at the rather nice-looking shoe before she followed up the leg until she saw Reaper staring down on her. "I suppose I should close this well up," he remarked. "It appears dry."

"Think fast!" Zatanna shot back as she held a hand up towards the man. "Ylf sevod, ylf!"

Out of her sleeve came a rush of feathers. Several doves burst out of thin air, flying right into Reaper's face. The old man jerked back, swatting at the white birds as they flapped around him.

Seeing the guy distracted, Zatanna willed her teleportation spell, the woman disappearing and reappearing right behind her opponent. Not bothering to use magic now, the dark-haired magician just lunged forward, leading with her shoulder. She rammed into Reaper's back, who cried out with surprise as he was shoved forward.

And then promptly fell into his own Well of Despair spell.

Zatanna watched as Reaper fell into the darkness below, losing sight of him in the process. She just stared into the bottomless well, stony faced, just waiting for Reaper's next move. No way did their little fight ends this way—

Something moved within the well. That immediately got Zatanna's attention, right before a giant spike came rushing out. It had the same diameter as the floor hole, so it only stopped when its base completely filled the hole. The spike damn near reached the ceiling, not doing so as it stood up at an angle. The reason for this was because its point had been aimed right at the dark-haired woman. She had jumped out of its way, avoiding getting skewered.

That's when several more spikes began erupting out of the floor, each one closer than the last to the woman. Zatanna backpedaled, which caused more spikes to fill the distance between her and the much larger spike.

"Hguone fo taht," Zatanna said and the latest spike suddenly burst into pieces. No more spikes appeared after that one, much to her relief.

That was until an incredible force rammed into her from the side, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

"Ow," she groaned as she laid there before she pressed her hands onto the floor, pushing herself up. She twisted her body so that she could look behind her, making certain Reaper wasn't just staring down at her. He wasn't, just for the record—at least not just standing there like a creep. He was probably doing it off-stage somewhere.

That was when the floor beneath Zatanna lost its solidity, right before she was suddenly forced upward as a column of water erupted. She tried to cry out, but water literally drowned her out as it got into her mouth and throat. She gagged on the water up until she slammed into the ceiling, which knocked the wind out of her lungs. Just great, she was breathless and she couldn't breathe either. That was a very bad combination.

The next thing Zatanna knew, she was falling back down, landing hard on the floor again. It seemed the geyser she had been hit with had vanished, thankfully. Imagine falling into the source of erupting water—that wasn't as fun as that sounded, especially since it had magically appeared out of nowhere.

Water rained down around her, further soaking her. It was only then that she could attempt to catch her breath, gasping loudly over and over as she tried to suck in as much air as she could. Her dark hair was a curtain around her face, long strands sticking to her cheeks as the rest of it clutched at her neck. Almost frantically, she looked around, trying to find Reaper, and failing to do so.

So she gathered her magical energies and unleashed them all around her. "Laever flesruoy!" she commanded.

Reaper suddenly appeared in the middle of the room, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets. That was just how she wanted it, to see the asshole that was starting to kick her ass.

However, it seemed her spell hadn't just pulled him into view. The old man's face began to melt off right then and there, skin and flesh dripping off until only a skull was left. Red specks of light glowed from the eye sockets, giving the impression of eyes. He stared at her with a skull head's grin.

Zatanna blinked her eyes, droplets of water running down her face. "Don't tell me that you're not human," she said.

"Well, I do call myself Reaper," the skull replied nonchalantly. It was as if he hadn't been bothered by having his face melt right off of him. You would have thought that hurt, but apparently not.

"Your first name wouldn't happen to be Grim, would it?"

Somehow, the skull showed mirth. Don't tell her how a literal casement of bone did that, but it did. "You're quite close to what I am," he responded. "I am an entity of Death after all."

Oh, you had to be kidding! She was facing the Grim Reaper! Literally! "What's something like you doing with Brother Night?!" she couldn't help but exclaim.

"The same reason any of you mortals would: he offered me a rare opportunity."

"I hope you wouldn't mind sharing what that is with the rest of the class."

Reaper shook his head. "Not at this moment, no. In fact, it is time that you finally went to sleep."

In response, a wave of exhaustion flowed throughout Zatanna. Her eyelids became heavy, and she felt her head nodding downward as she began to drift to sleep. Never mind that annoying alarm going off in her head that this wasn't right. All she really wanted to do was….

No. NO! Do NOT fall asleep!

Somehow, she wasn't quite sure how she did it, but the magician flooded her body with magic. The mystical energies energized her, burning its way through the heavy drowsiness she had been feeling. Zatanna's eyes flew open, her—

Suddenly, a force rammed into her guts, knocking the wind out of her yet again. "You should have done things the easy way," Reaper said reproachfully. "Now I have to get my hands…dirty."

The same force slammed down on top of her then, pinning her face down on the floor. Her arms and legs were spread out, as if gravity were forcing them to stay there. The dark-haired woman tried to move, she really did, but she couldn't find the strength to literally move a finger.

That…that wasn't a good thing.

Then she felt that same force hit her on the back of her head, and all she knew was darkness.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised. There was an ominous feeling in the air. It was really telling that someone like him was starting to feel uneasy.

The feeling had gotten worse after Constantine had killed Jyzyl. It had been getting steadily worse with every passing minute. A rational person would have chosen to get the hell out of there. He considered himself a rational person.

So why was he going towards the creepy feeling?

It felt too much like a demon, so he was wagering that was what was going on. On general principle, he tried to avoid demons, but for whatever reason lately, he had them left, right, and center. Only idiots try to get a leg-up on one. The number of people that were successful was very scant.

As he crept down the hallway, Constantine could feel he was getting closer and closer. One glance to the walls showed the wallpaper was peeling off. The colors looked sickly and unattractive.

And then the blond man came to a set of doors. He stared at it, wondering what he was about to get himself into. Nothing good, no doubt about that. Still, he was here, so he might as well get it over with.

Raising up his hands, he grabbed onto the handles of the double doors. He then opened them, shoving them wide open.

That creepy, ominous feeling was overwhelming now. It was as if a wave of death just washed over him. Constantine blinked his eyes, feeling them water up from the rotten smell.

Though his vision became blurry, he could make out things still. Like he saw Brother Night standing before a portal, one that was swirling hypnotically. That seemed to be the source of the wrongness he felt. There was also another fellow, one that had a skull for a face, and an expensive suit on. Nearby Skull Face was a tied-up Zatanna.

Ugh, great, now he was on a rescue mission.

"John Constantine!" Brother Night exclaimed. "It seems you have finally found me. What a shame."

Constantine glanced between the portal and the creepy man. "I get that a lot," he grunted. "Mind tellin' me why you wanted to open a portal? For a demon? That just seems like asking for bad health, which you ain't a beacon of."

Something moved within the portal, drawing the Brit's attention to it. What was on the other side of that? It couldn't be good

"You would be surprised at the current state of my health," Brother Night responded. "All of the preparations are nearly complete. You're too late to reverse anything."

"Eh, I wouldn't know anything about that," he shrugged as he took a step into the room, and then another. The further he came in, the more he recognized that portal to be a rift between worlds. That seriously wasn't a good thing. He didn't reach out with his magical senses because Brother Night would no doubt detect it and take steps to prevent him from trying something.

There was also Skull Face over there as well. Constantine could sense that there was something off about 'em, so he wasn't going to press his luck just yet. "While I'm sure you know what you're doin', it never hurts to ask ya to stop."

"I'm afraid it is too late for turning back, even if I did want to, though I in fact don't." Brother Night regarded him for a moment. "It has long been a dream of mine to be a broker of sorts, specifically with the supernatural and otherworldly. Just imagine it: when a demon desires possession, I can give it to them. If a witch desires demonic familiars, I can give them an army should I wish it. I would be the one that anything and everything seeks out to get what they desire, for an appropriate price of course."

Now that was a steamin' pile of crap. A power broker of the worst kind, that's what this bloke was after. No doubt he wanted to start with Nebiros, and work his way through all levels of darkness. All of his plans with Rajir and Johnathan were just to get him into position to make this a reality."

"We are on relatively cordial terms, Constantine," Brother Night continued. "Not many can say that in regard to you, I believe. Why don't you turn around and leave? No harm will come to you if you make the safe, logical choice."

"That's a tempting offer," he admitted. Then he nodded his head towards Zatanna, who hadn't so much as twitched during the conversation. Either she was knocked out or paralyzed. Maybe both if she had been as big of a nuisance as he thought she would be. "I gotta ask about the girl, though. I've grown attached to that one."

Brother Night glanced at her. "I'm afraid she has stuck her nose into my business too much to simply let her leave. An offering is needed to complete the pact, and the daughter of John Zatara would more than suffice."

Constantine sighed. Perhaps he should have expected that. "Then I'm afraid I'm gonna have to make a nuisance of myself. I can't imagine the girl has agreed to become demon bait, and I know that ain't a good time."

"Pity. Just know that what comes to you was completely and utterly needless."

There was a single look shared between Brother Night and Skull Face, and the suit of bones held a hand up. There was an incredible rush of magical energies being collected before darkness erupted from a hand covered in flesh. A wave of dark magic closed in Constantine, all manner of internal alarms going off in his head.

Pulling out the Black Sword of Mordred from beneath his coat, he swung it at the incoming tidal wave. Just like with Jyzyl, the sword cut right through the magic, parting it right down the middle as the rest of it rushed by on either side of Constantine. Not one iota of magic touched him, the enchanted sword protecting him as expected.

The moment he saw through the other side of the spell, he saw both Brother Night and the talking skull staring at him bewilderedly. Standing up straight, Constantine lowered the sword to one side, its tip touching the floor. "What can I say other than 'beginner's luck'?"

Brother Night's eyes flickered to the sword. "I do believe that is mine," he said after a moment.

"Was yours, the way I see it." Constantine had the hankering for a cigarette, but he wasn't in the position to dig into his pocket and light one up. "I got this through a mutual acquaintance of ours. Seein' as he doesn't have much of a use for it anymore, figured I'd hang onto it. Hoped it'd bring me better luck than the previous guy."

A smirk appeared on the man's face. "You are one sly bastard, I must say." He then looked over to Skull Face. "Reaper, tear that sly bastard apart. He's all yours."

"With pleasure," Reaper murmured as a black aura began to envelop him.

Well, Zee, the blond man thought, shifting himself back a step as he held up the black sword. I really hope you're worth this trouble.

Ugh, she had a migraine forming, she could just feel it. Her head was throbbing with no end in sight. A spell to put it to an end was just what the doctor ordered.

However, when Zatanna heard herself speak in utter gibberish, she knew there was a bigger problem. Also, the gag that was in her mouth. That was kinda her big tipoff.

Opening her eyes, the dark-haired woman found herself laying on her side. Her hands were in front of her, wrapped in glowing chains—think of regular chains, but with a dark glow around them. The same chains were around her legs, keeping her restrained. Then there was the gag; it was a ball gag and it was pretty tight. She could feel the cord digging into the corners of her mouth and the ball itself damn near sitting on her tongue.

Looking around herself, she saw what appeared to be some sort of portal in the room, with something crawling around on the other side. She wasn't certain what it was, but she knew she didn't like it. Brother Night was nearby, his creepy face just staring as bursts of magic went off. Following his gaze, she saw the Grim Reaper was unleashing his power, which was currently being hacked at by Constantine and that black sword of whoever's.

"You're awake," she heard a voice say, causing the magician to look to Brother Night. He was gazing down at her coolly. "I would ask you if you're comfortable, but I feel that is an unnecessary question."

Yep, that totally was. She had a pounding headache and Constantine was fighting for his life against a creature of literal death. Whether it was actually Death, she didn't know, but she didn't really care about the semantics of it all. Zatanna tried to say something, but the ball gag made understanding her utterly pointless.

"No need to talk," Brother Night told her, his tone soothing. Well, at least his approximation of soothing; Zatanna just felt more on edge than comforted. "In fact, I rather you'd not. I'm familiar with your oral enchantments and their potency, so you'll be unable to talk for the rest of the night's festivities. I recommend you sit back and watch. It shouldn't be much longer now."

Zatanna just glared at the creep before returning her attention to the fight. Reaper was snapping his fingers, which caused a wall of black magic to appear behind Constantine, then on either side of him, and then finally in front of him, literally boxing him in. A few seconds passed before something flickered on the dark, magical wall and then it began to dissolve. There were more flickers, which turned out to be the black sword being used to hack and slash at the black magic until Constantine could step out of the box. He was panting from the physical exertion.

That didn't look good, especially since Reaper didn't look the least bit tired. Either the Brit was out of shape, or his smoking habit was catching up with him at the worst possible time. There wasn't a preferred option since each one ended up in the same place, with Constantine on the losing end of a magic duel.

She had to help him.

She had to help him without being able to speak.

That meant she had to help without using magic.

You can see where the problem with that was.

Well, if there was one bad trait she had, it was that she could be as stubborn as a mule. Her father had made mention of that from time to time; she had learned what real stubbornness was from her ex. If there was ever a time to make use of it, the time was now.

Zatanna began calling upon her magic, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to move the ball gag around with her tongue. It didn't really move, even as she tried to get some kind of leverage on it. When that wasn't forthcoming, she decided to hell with it and tried for a garbled spell. "Ggggalllarrlaaaghhh—"

Something struck her hard, which cut her off. Zatanna flipped over onto her back, feeling a throbbing on her check now, not just her head. Blinking her eyes, she tried to look over the corner of her eyes to see what had hit her.

There she saw a polished shoe, which belonged on the foot of Brother Night. "Enough of that," he said warningly. "While I prefer not to dirty my hands, if you attempt to resist, I will show you the error of your ways."

Oh, kick her when she was down. That was just another reason to not like this guy. Zatanna just glared at him before she began to say…well, something at the guy. It was just garbled because of the gag.

Brother Night didn't pause as he pulled his foot back and then kicked her against her side. That knocked the wind out of her, cutting her off again. However, this time Brother Night just kept kicking her, even stomping on her stomach for added measure. He did this with a stoic look, not the least bit pissed or heated. It was as if he were doing a chore rather than getting any sort of enjoyment out of it.

This left the magician to roll over onto her side, coughing and gagging hard. Eventually, something wet filled her mouth, which creped around the ball gag before leaking past her lips. Her blue eyes saw drops of red drip onto the floor. Oh God, she was spitting up blood. Just what had been injured?

"Try anything like that again, and I'll do worse," the freaky guy warned her. "Now be good while I finish with the rift. Then all of your worries and concerns will be over."

That didn't sound pleasant, not at all. Yet, she couldn't really do anything to stop it, not in her current situation. She had to help Constantine and stop the rift from fully opening. Without her magic, there wasn't much she could do. Constantine might be able to pull something off, but he had his hands full with Reaper, and she knew from experience he was not an easy guy to fight.

What could she do? What can she do?

Staring at the floor, she noticed the gathering of blood there. Yeah, it was just droplets, not like the wad she swore was stuck in the back of her throat, damn near choking her. Man, that was nasty stuff. If only she could get it all out.

Something nagged at her though. She wasn't certain, but she felt there was something relevant about this, about the blood. It was normally something that did stuff in the body because of science. Bruce would know exactly what, but she kinda skipped those classes. Yet, she felt there was some other use, some other magic use…

Like magic that used blood. Blood magic.

There was something revolting about that thought. She had fought her share of Blood Mages, and all of them were creeps and egomaniacs. Maybe not on the level of Brother Night here, but they had done horrible things to people with their own blood, all for the sake of power.

Zatanna glanced over to the fight in progress. She had to help somehow. Her normal way of using magic had just given her an ass beating. But if she used her own blood as a median…

Well, first thing was first, she was going to need a lot more blood than what she had at present.

Zatanna began to gag again, coughing, trying to force the wetness he felt in her mouth around her gag and out. At the very least, Brother Night would just see her trying to spit shit out and perhaps not give her a second thought. Wishful thinking, but it was all she had at the moment.

More droplets slid around the ball gag, dripping out of her mouth and landing on the floor, connecting other blood droplets to make a small pool. She kept up her coughing to get as much out as she could. She really only had one shot at this, so she was going to make it count.

Alright, this was becoming a workout that Constantine didn't really care for. Don't get him wrong, he preferred waving an enchanted sword that was protecting him from some nasty spells over being torn into pieces by those spells. Thing was, he wasn't on the offensive and hadn't had a chance to do so. If it was part of his plan, sure, whatever, but this wasn't a plan he had come up with.

"Wherever did you find this sword?" he heard Reaper ask as he swept a hand from one side to the other. There was yet another tidal wave of dark magic rushing towards the blond man, which he cut through again with Mordred's sword. Constantine had to pant after that one. He was getting tired in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Would you believe…it was in…safe keeping?" he replied, gasping every so often. Perhaps if he got this guy talking, he could catch his breath and finally get a couple licks in.

"Before that, though," the man pressed. "I highly doubt you've had it all of this time and just suddenly blew dust off of it."

Well, that was true. "Can't say," he shrugged as he began to build up his magic. He just needed a few more seconds. "Cain was the one who had it…and there's no telling where he found it. Big ol' question mark between him…and when Mordred had it."

That caused Reaper's eyes to narrow. "Now that is a name I have not heard of in some time. I had expected to meet with him centuries ago; yet here we are."

"Yeah, here we are."

Constantine's face hardened, a couple veins bulging out of his forehead. Small orange seals faded into existence around Reaper, surrounding him from all sides, up and down, left to right, front and back. The seals then grew brighter, becoming floating squares before they fired small blasts of magic. They went off over a few seconds, some firing first, others firing next, and others last.

There wasn't much of an explosion, just a cloud of dark smoke that rose into the air at the impact site. Constantine then began running, holding the black sword over his head. He jumped at the end, flying towards the cloud.

Just as he jumped, the smoke was suddenly burned away as a dark aura erupted, revealing Reaper at its center. A purple orb of magic was glowing from his hand and he looked ready to use it.

Then the blond man swung his sword down. The moment the edge of the blade touched the aura, it cut right through it as expected. It kept coming down, heading right for—

And then the skull face was gone. Just right up and vanished. That left Constantine landing where the guy stood, his sword striking the floor. Oh, bollocks! The bastard teleported!

Jerking his head up, he looked all around him before he spotted Reaper again. He was swinging his left arm up, which caused a purple portal to open behind him. Out of the portal came a dark chain burning with purple fire. It snaked through the air until it reached Constantine, wrapping around him and pinning his arms to his sides.

And then the chain began to dissolve, falling apart before the blond man could even chafe at the chains. Bless Arther's bastard's mom and her foresight. Constantine straightened himself up before he turned to face Reaper, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Now that is annoying," he said. "I can't enjoy my work if you make it too difficult now."

"Every party needs a pooper," the British man quipped.

"All it means is I need to get creative, not that that will be difficult."

Reaper never got the chance to show what he meant by that, not that it was all that difficult to figure out. If you couldn't use magic directly on someone, then you used it indirectly, namely enchanting your environment to attack on your behalf.

The reason why Reaper didn't get to show this came right after a massive surge of magic. Suddenly, a dark portal ripped into existence over Reaper's head, looking much like the proverbial dark cloud. The man just looked up in time for insanely large arms to pass through the portal, hands with jagged nails grabbing onto him. The skin was leathery, like it had seen too much sun in too short of a time period.

Reaper cried out as he was pulled up into the portal, struggling against the hands grabbing onto him. He couldn't fight it though as he disappeared into the portal, which then promptly shut.

Constantine stared at the now empty space, questioning if he had seen what he saw. Slowly, he turned around, seeing Brother Night looking just as surprised as he was. The blond man then glanced to Zee, who did not look the least bit surprised.

Had…had she done all of that?

For a moment, Constantine wondered just how much power the lass had, that was until he found himself looking down to the floor in front of the dark-haired woman. He saw what looked like letters, which had been drawn by one of her fingers. More alarming was that those letters looked like they had been drawn with blood.

Blood magic…she had actually used blood magic.

The restraints around Zee began to fade away then, which she noticed a second later. She then reached up and pulled off the gag she had been wearing, throwing it away immediately.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting that," Brother Night said, seemingly putting himself back together. "But it's a little too late for you."

Oh, those were words Constantine didn't care to hear. His eyes darted over to the rift and he knew what the old bastard was talking about. The rift had grown taller from when he had first entered the room, wider too. The swirling was fading away, revealing some strange and twisted world beyond it.

And then a large, green, leathery arm passed through the rift and slammed down on the floor.

Oh, this was going to get much, much worse.