The Graveyard Shift [Open]

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It was a late evening in Gotham City as a not yet fully healed John Constantine headed out to work once again. The rain had payed a visit to the grim city for most of the night and was still overstaying its welcome. The smell of wet concrete and diesel fumes filled the nostrils of any passerby still wandering the streets at the time. The tramps huddled in what shelter they could, cowering in alleyways like wretched dogs whining at the sound of a vacuum cleaner in a living room. Vast puddles gathered on the asphalt and sidewalk creating a urban swamp within the many potholes covering Gotham's chipped and cracked exterior. Even the moon seemed grey in its comparison to its usually blinding white light as gloomy clouds enveloped its rays and tainted them with possessed rays of light. The burning embers of a cigarette clung to the moist lips of the Englishman as he traversed the rivers and torrents gushing across the roadways. His hair was sodden and matted atop his head and looked as if it had just given up and surrendered to the moisture that bombarded it. A damp white shirt clung to a pale frame of a man with nothing to lose, his muscles covered in a thin layer of flabby skin developed from one too many kebabs and pints in its time. Shoulders raised up to almost ear level, two scarred hands stuffed into pockets on a beaten and worn trenchcoat, looking like it had seen better days. Scuffed and scraped leather shoes splashed along the ford across a running river of water that was originally a road as John crossed, the pale orange light of the street lamps caressing his face as he wandered over to opposing side of the street. The drug pushers and prostitutes of the decrepit streets were still performing their nightly business as the heaving breaths of overpaid and under working entrepreneurs echoed with forced moans of pleasure from the sprawling alleyways of the city. Ladies of the night jostled for his attention, expressing their love for his anatomy and their desire for it to be theirs for a reasonable price accompanied by a flash of skin were ignored as the wanderer continued on his path.

Rounding the corner, John continued to wander on his course. Rummaging around in his pocket, his fingers coiled around a long gold chain and drew it from its moist holdings. The chain dangled down from his gruff hands as the cradle for a large stone sat in the palm, a cleaved iolite held in white gold on a chain encompassed by claws. On the central strand, carved into the very metal was the Christian fish, it's tale crossing out wards towards the scarred hands of John. He was making his way to a small cemetery in the more desolate part of Gotham City, as rumours had arisen of a mysterious figure retreating inside the chapel that stood there late at night. After admiring the necklace for a short while, Constantine stuffed the jewellery back into his pocket and continued on his route. Raising his other hand, John drew the cigarette from his lips and tossed it down onto the ground. A small puff of smoke arose from the wet concrete as the stub somersaulted down from the hight of the man's hand down into the ground below. Sailing slowly with the currents of the falling rains, the stub bobbed down into the gutter and disappeared from view.

Disappearing into the alley, John wandered down the narrow passageway until he reached the near middle. Finding a small piece of cover via an overhanging fire escape, he stopped and turned himself left, facing the wall. He shuffle his feet side wards so that his legs were shoulder with apart, reached down and unzipped his fly. John had a quick glance first to his left and then his right before he began to urinate on the wall infront of him. Letting his head fall back in relief and keeping one hand firmly concentrated on the task at hand, he delved his other into his jacket pocket and pulled out his box of cigarettes. Sliding open the lid with his finger, he pushed up a stick and places it between his teeth. Removing the packet and leaving the cigarette firmly in place, flicked his finger on the box lid and replaced it back into his pocket. Pulling his lighter, John struggled for a light as droplets of water persistently landed on the spark of the lighter. After a few attempts, John gave up on the lighter and replaced that back into his jacket. Clasping his hand into a fist except his index finger and thumb, he pointed his finger tip at the end of the cig and muttered an incantation.

"Incendera"

A small jet of flame shot from his finger tip, scorching the end of the smoke causing it to light. Shaking the flame from his hand, John chuckled a throaty laugh to himself as he placed the cigarette between his index and middle finger and drew it from his mouth. Zipping himself back up, John straightened out and continued back out to the street. A small mob of hookers, wasters and gangbangers had formed outside the alleyway in the arch of an old apartment building. The gangs combined age was no more than about 200 as the teenagers mocked John.

"Hey man! A young black man called out to him. "Is your junk so goddamn small. That you gotta piss in an alleyway to stop yourself from getting embarrassed?" The mob laughed heartily at their apparent leaders japes, with the young ladies who were with them caressing their apparent partners for the night, while looking John up and down. John laughed to himself as he walked over to the youth, plucking his cigarette once again from his lips.

"Actually" He began " I felt it necessary to scuttle of down there as if I had taken a leak right here on the pavement, I may have unfortunately frightened your charming lady friends away"

The girls gave amusing chuckles and made noises of musing by placing their bottom lips in their teeth and biting. This obviously embarrassed the young chap as he retort was not the witty pun everyone had been waiting for.

"Are you trying to disrespect me infront of the girls?" John simply raised his eyebrows as he replaced the cigarette in his mouth. The young males then stood and attempted to encircle and threaten him, a technique that needless to say, did not work.

"Maybe an old timer like you needs a lesson on how the street works now, huh old man?"

John simply smiled as the boys began to crack their knuckles and slap them against their palms. Taking a longer puff, John slowed down. He felt the rush of air come from his left shoulder as the first young punk attempted to strike him on the back of the head with his fist, which he easily avoided. Dodging to the right, John swung his fist round connecting with the man's stomach. He then retracted it sharply and forced his elbow into the face of the second punk, who had charged on him also. Grasping the white t-shirt of his first attacker, he threw him into the third who had originally insulted him who quickly dodged and lunged at John with a raised fist. Jutting his hand diagonally upward, John managed to block the oncoming assault and punched with his left hand into the mans side and followed it with a swift knee to the ribs. Bringing him down, he swiftly spun to face the second attacker who after recoiling from the elbow and leaped forward with jab. Kicking him directly in the chest, John brought him down, leaving the charging final punk. Running full speed into him, John leant down and catapulted the man over his body and into the ground. And putting all the boys down, John dusted his arms. He spoke to both himself and the girls that were say on the steps in shock.

"Old man? Is he taking the piss?"

Turning away from the scene of the fight, John continued walking down the maze of streets until the rain finally began to let up and he reached the tiny cemetery and chapel within.

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Alison’s black boots thumped across the concrete and stirred up amounts of water as she ran through the city. She had just caught sight of John turning a corner and was desperate to keep up with him. She tried to keep the air in her lungs flowing easily instead of rapidly, by drawing in air slower while jogging. The toxins in the air did not make this easy on her already some what burning lungs, nor did the stench trail of John’s cigarette. Still, she wanted to see what it was that he did on a daily basis and was eager to find out. She kept an easy pace on him and glanced at something that had shifted to her left under a soggy box. She had seen homeless people on occasion while visiting a friend in California, but never to this extent. Their smell caught her off guard like a fish market as well as the state of them. Some mumbled in their state of madness while others held out a trembling gloved hand with holes near the fingertips. She felt horrible for ignoring them but it was most likely that half of them were not actually homeless. And back home, you could get fined for giving money out to pan handlers.

She focused her attention on the target up ahead instead, for she did not want to lose sight of the detective who just so happened to look like a British celebrity chef. She felt like a child out on her own for the first time, trying to catch up to an uncle or a distant father. She knew she was out in the open and that anyone looking her way would definitely notice her. She did not mind as long as the one looking was not Dinah Laurel Lance or Oliver Queen. She did not think she could withstand the scolding or lengthy lectures on how dangerous Gotham City was for she already knew. What either hero failed to notice was her ability to get along with just about everyone due to her open-mind and sense of humor. At least with the ones who aren’t completely heartless.

Rain drizzled off of her black, Old English Bond cap with it’s round, flat top and deep sides, keeping her eyes free from any wayward water droplets. Her hair was pulled back into a short pony tail for she had short hair to begin with. Her mahogany leather jacket kept the rain from soaking her white, skin tight top but as for her navy blue Levi jeans, they were utterly soaked. Her neck was adorned with a black choker collar, one she often swapped with Cu for when she needed to be brave. And tonight was one of those nights she could use her corgi’s luck.

She came to a halt the moment a man turned out of an alleyway with his long business coat open, exposing a bare chest and belly while holding onto a worn down cigarette. He pressed his elbow against the brick wall of a building and leaned into it to make a relaxed pose. “Looks like you came to the right place and in remarkable time too. I was just about to get cold.” The man said with a glance in her direction. He placed his hand on his stomach and drew the fingertips across to show her his wares. “Do you like what you see? Fifty dollars for a first time.”

Alison blinked in confusion and looked past the man as John started to create an even wider gap between them. She looked back at the man before her and scoffed. “Are you crazy? Who knows where you’ve been!” She sidestepped him but he grabbed her wrist. “Let go of me.” She bared her teeth and looked him straight in the eye with one fist raised. She had to catch up with John and she was not going to let some over confident flesh bag lure her into anything she wasn’t going to give.

“Easy girly. I’ll be here if you change your mind.” The man released her and leaned against the building to draw on the cancer stick.

Alison’s hair rose the moment he had touched her wrist, but she ignored her body’s cry for warning and continued to move on. At the next corner she ignored the cat calls coming from the street-walkers John had passed by. Some offered her companionship while the others simply taunted her for not being one of them. It was disgusting to be called out like that. No respect whatsoever from those who chose such a life for themselves. They could spend as much dough on drugs and alcohol as much as they wanted, but neither would ever make them truly happy. Alison could feel their self-despising eyes watching her go as she continued onward, and luckily their attention was caught by another person walking the streets late at night. Sadly for him, he was not lucky to escape the clutches of the sirens.

“And this is why I don’t go to the dark areas of Gotham.” Alison said under her breath to shake off the sleazy atmosphere she had just come from and smirked as she thought about the surprised look on Victor’s face if he happened to run into her. She could imagine him straightening his glasses and asking with a surprised look on his face, “Alison! What are you doing out here?” She could ask him the same thing since the man was more shy than she was. He would probably be out prowling, looking for trouble and attempting to put a stop to it. Hopefully he was getting better at fighting crime and putting himself in less of danger than she was.

Alison’s eyes widened when she failed to see that John had disappeared around a corner. She stopped and looked in every which direction but could not find hide nor hair of the man. At last, she closed her eyes and turned her ears toward any sound she could pick up beyond the falling rain. She could barely hear his footfalls come to a stop and something else. A dog’s chain? She opened her eyes and ran in the direction of the faint sounds that most people would ignore. She had learned long ago to pay attention to her surroundings, at every sight, sound, and smell in case some one was following her, would jump out at her, or in case she needed to get her bearings. In this case, it was all three. Now, only the sounds of her heart pounding within her ears and what little breath escaped her lips to trail off into the night air were what she could hear.

The young woman approached the alley’s corner and remained five feet away from the edge in case someone was waiting on the other side for her. She cautiously peered around the corner and saw John walking close to the opposite end. A confident grin spread across her lips as she waited for a few seconds before walking in step behind him, at least fifty yards behind. Her heart was pounding not only because of the light run she had earlier, but also because she felt like she was stalking someone dangerous and that luck was in her favor. To her, it was a simple game and nothing more. If he turned to face her, so what? He would recognize her at once and question why she was there. Or so she imagined. When he had stopped, she quickly dove for cover behind a garbage can and peered over the top to see what he was doing. She made a face of shock and then disgust when she heard the zipper slide down over the row of teeth, then ducked down again. “Oh come on!” She uttered under her breath and blushed. She thought that only drunks would do that within the cities. …Then again John did drink. A lot. He didn’t move like a drunk. She exhaled under her breath and listened for the yellow stream to come to a stop and wondered if relieving oneself in alleys were a popular thing to do in England. Or maybe it was just a single man used to poor circumstances back home who brought those old habits to Gotham.

She rest the back of her head against the wall and stared up at the night sky. Drops of rain collected onto her cheeks and slide down the sides and onto her choker. It was impossible to see the stars in this area of the city, but at least the lights that dimly glowed from the buildings were something to look at when searching for beauty.

Her ears picked up a new sound as John spoke. She was about to look around the rubbish bin when she caught herself from doing so. She did not dare look at John until he would begin walking again, just to save both of them any embarrassment. Her ears picked up the sound of a second zip and she blew out air in relief that the moment was over.

Now slowly rising to her feet, she stopped halfway when a second voice rang out. She winced at the wordage being used and clenched her jaw. No respect for anyone, almighty or casual. Raised with both manners and morals, she recognized trouble when she heard it. The voice was full of pride and mockery, probably from someone who had a rough start in life and was trying to make a name for himself by taking what he sees. That path never worked to make oneself happy. Giving to others did, not taking.

She was surprised to hear a chorus of laughter erupt and knew John was in trouble, and so was she if they caught her. Well, maybe. They could be like the smaller dogs that ran in packs. All bark and no bite. Just annoying little ankle-biters that feel tougher than they should with other members around. She could handle them. She was the dog trainer after all. But from the sound of it, there wasn’t any need for John’s natural charm seemed to have beat her to it. The young punk however, was not amused from the tone in his voice. She glanced around the can and saw that they were beginning to encircle John. Now what? She didn’t carry anything on her other than her house and car keys with Cu’s dog tag on them, suggesting where she lived in case her keys became lost. And a black Celtic knot attached to the keychain that was given to her as a gift by an ex-boyfriend. Then there was the gum in her jacket pocket, but that wasn’t much of a defense, was it? Not unless she planned on chewing it and spitting it into someone’s eye. Whether she could or not actually project something from her mouth and onto her opponent’s eye, she did not know if it was possible. Still, she would have to find another way around the crowd of unruly street vermin.

What were they talking about, calling John an “old man?” He was not in his eighties, for that is what Alison thought of as old. The body definitely slowed down at that age and creaked and moaned louder than it would at her age or John’s. She curved both of her lips into her mouth between her teeth as she thought. Did she dare go out there and support him or… no, call for help. Go get help. But the police here were just as corrupted as the filth talking to John. She could call Dinah… had she not forgotten her cell phone at home. “Some hero you are, girl.” Alison mumbled and watched helplessly as she silently prayed for John’s safety. It didn’t matter why she cared about him, for she cared about everyone she came across. To her it came as naturally as flight to a bird. And from the last state John was in, he could use a little extra help. She remembered seeing his insides exposed, his body burned and the stench of iron that filled the air due to his blood staining anything that it touched. How he was even walking baffled her but to ward off the younger crowd was suicidal. She had to do something. Just as she had finished swallowing her heart, she slowly rose and took a step or two forward. What she had not expected to see what that John had taught them all a lesson. She released a slight laugh as he knocked the pride out of every one of those jerks and walked off with the last say.

Once again her feet picked up a rhythmic jog as she hurried toward the end of the alley, making certain that she did not step in John’s spreading puddle that was beginning to mix with the rain. She paused just short of the either groaning or unconscious group of scallywags to observe the damage that had been unleashed upon them, then nodded her cap to the women and continued on with her following after John. At last she had caught up with him and slowed her pace to a quick walk. She was growing tired of having ran most of the way and at this point she could use something to moisten her mouth. She removed the gum from it’s wrapper while walking and keeping her eyes and ears open for any other trouble. She placed the watermelon-flavored cube into her mouth, bit down on half of it, and placed the rest back into its wrapper and then into the inside of her jacket pocket. She felt relieved to see John enter a church but hung back in case he needed alone time with his thoughts. Troubled men usually preferred to think things through without minor annoyances such as companionship, and she respected that.

Maybe she could slip in unnoticed and hide out behind a pew or in the shadows some where near a corner? She wasn’t used to churches outside of her own religion so to hide any where would have to take some time observing first and then hoping she did not look too out of place. Then again she could just sit in plain view with her head down and cap covering her face too. It wasn’t much of a disguise but it certainly was better than nothing. Deciding just that, she opened the door and stepped inside.

[Deleted]

Constantine stood at the doors of the church, cigarette still smoking in his mouth, staring up at the concrete arches that made up the entrance. Old and decrepit gargoyles with horns, wings and grotesque faces guarded the old stone and lead of the the rather shambled house of worship. Pieces of cracked stone tumbled down from the higher blocks as the rain lapped against the sides of the building. The wind whipped and wrapped itself around the small bell tower that sat at the chapel's front creating a loud rippling and whistling noise. The sounds darted in and out of John's ears, dancing along his ear canal and down into his brain. Sliding his hand out of his pockets and up into the inside pocket of his trenchcoat, the handgun was slid out of its temporary holster. Sliding out the cartridge, a full rack of bullets greeted him, glinting in the pale light from the surrounding street lamps and moonlight from above. Replacing the gun into the pocket from whence it came, Constantine took one last long puff on the cigarette who's ashes had grown far longer than its original intact size, before plucking from his lips as if it were a fresh rose, and casting it aside into the pitiful courtyard behind him.

"Lets 'ave him then"

Pressing his hands against the giant wooden doors, John thrust the gates open to enter into an echoing cavern. Pews were scattered and cobwebs littered the rafters as the spiders scurried back into the darkness. The little chapel was long abandoned and desolate. Darkness swallowed it and one could only about 50 cm in front as the moonlight shone through the open archway. Reaching into his pocket, John flicked his cigarette pack up and slid another up and out. Snapping his hand back down and into his pocket, and swiftly brought his golden Zippo lighter to his face, gently puffing on the cigarette and then holding the flame in place for light. He placed one foot in front of the other, walking across cracked glass and broken wood as they creaked on the cold stone floor. Continuing forward holding the lighter to his face, The Hellblazer searched the gloom for a light source or somewhere he could create more light. Looking up in the centre of the old building, a rusting old black chandelier hung from a low hanging with burned down candles. Holding the lighter to his lips, John lifted his head towards the fixture and blew fiercely on the flame in the lighter, using his magic to create an arc of fire that lit the candles on the large fitting. As the gloom began to light up, John noticed a line of unused candelabras on a broken and rotting alter covered in a soiled cloth. Pushing his hand through the flame in the lighter, John splayed his palm and brushed the air in front of the candles, lighting them all in one fell swoop. Inspecting the area once again, the same conclusion were to be drawn. The chapel was certainly aged and worn as the stone it was built from were beginning to crack and decay from the outside in. The many idols of The Lord lay scattered on the floor and the the red carpet runners soiled an torn. Stain glass windows that were covered by meshing had been broken and glass covered what patches of floor that had not grown moss or damp. This truly was a desolate place but that was the entire reason he had come. It was an ideal spot, a building not touched or gone near for decades with certain spiritual connections. It was perfect for any cultist worshippers looking for a hang out, let alone those who worshipped the Anti-Christ. Closing his eyes and raising his hands outwards to the side, John scanned the area for signatures of magical conduct in the immediate area. It had been said that multiple persons had been seen sneaking into the building in the dead of night, bringing many strange objects with them. John was aware of a ring of Anti-Christian worshippers operating in Gotham City and attempting to summon daemons from the depths of Hell and wreak havoc upon the world of the living. However, the world had a secret weapon in the form of John Constantine. He had been tracking one of the Satanists to this remote location in East Gotham. This was it. This was were he would take them down, dead or alive.

Beginning to levitate off the ground, the mystical auras of the place began to fill his veins, pulsating through him and linking directly to his brain. He could feel every spell, incantation, charm, hex or curse ever cast in the vicinity around him. He could see in his minds eye, footsteps of the magus, darting and weaving like beetles along the sacred ground. He focused his mind. He needed to find the source. The images blurred and flashed in his mind's eye but suddenly they all slowly became clearer. Like a heat sensor, people in the area began to glow orange and purple and green and blue and a variety of colours. He saw faint outlines of the people he was tailing, deep below him, down in the ground. They were very far from him, in what potentially looked like some kind of sanctum beneath the church. However, in the hall, no other doors could be found. There must be a passageway, an entrance hidden somewhere. John began to scour the area around him, the blackness could hold no secret from him. Circling the air and trenchcoat flapping in the wind he was creating, Constantine rotated on the spot, his eyes know wide open and glowing purple. His vision was a mass of colours until he noticed something. Something crouching, huddled in a corner behind one of the pews. Cutting the magic off immediately and landing heavily on his feet, he stopped. Drawing the gun from his trenchcoat, John began to step slowly sideways towards the pew. Slinging the mechanism slowly back, the gun drew level with John's head in height. He was ready, he would pounce up and on to the bench, pin his target to the ground and find out who they were. He stalked the gloom, slowly drawing nearer. The glass crunched under his feet. He drew slower. Heart beating fast. He swallowed. Leaping across the pew, John grabbed the scruff of the jacket his target was wearing and dived with them to the alter which stood the candelabras. Crashing on to it and into the light, John's teeth were gritted with anger to intimidate. He raised the gun to his eyeline and drew it directly up. He pressed his elbow into the ribcage of the victim. The candles flickered to reveal the face. With a sigh of relief, John closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Fuck sake Alison! Nearly gimme heart attack."

Setting his lady friend back to her feet he slid the gun back into his pocket. He held her arms as he lifter her from the altar to a spot in front of him. His initially anger turned to sympathy as he was concerned for her. He held held her tightly. Bending his knees slightly so that he was the same hight, he looked into her face.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright? I didn't mean to hurt you."

[Deleted]

Alison made a tiny squeak of a sound when some rubble broke off and landed on her shoulder before bouncing off of her and rolled some where out of sight. She shielded her eyes against the rain and saw that the building was falling apart. Such a shame really, for she always liked old buildings. It did not matter what they were used for as long as they looked ancient and beautiful. She smiled as she imagined the gargoyles coming to life and opening their jaws wide to protect her from the evil that could be lurking nearby.

The young woman pushed upon the gates the same way that John had in order to enter and stayed back in the shadows to keep from being seen. She frowned and furrowed her brows when she saw the broken glass and felt a desolate chill in the air as emptiness cried out in the atmosphere. This building that was once alive was now abandoned, old and worthless to the living. She felt a slight sadness for even though the building was crumbling and dangerous in the sense of collapsing, she felt that it was built by someone who loved this structure many years ago and possibly adored by many worshipers who sought hope and peace within the quiet walls with this hands pressed together in a triangular shape and heads bent forward.

The scent of mold was in the air as well as dust. It was enough to make her allergies go on a rampage if she had not had drank her peppermint tea that day. That was powerful stuff that kept the sinuses clear and allergies back. She took a step forward and heard a crunch beneath her foot. She lift it and discovered some glass that had shattered possibly by a rock being thrown by either an earthquake, young people or anti-religious others.

Her eyes adjusted quickly and she could see John moving about ahead of her, lighting the candles resting in a candelabra with… his hand? She watched in awe and wonder at the sight for she had not expected him to be the type of man who could produce fire like magic. Perhaps she has seen too many detective movies of which the characters give a logical explanation for what they see and interpret by using science and reason. But John was giving off and Angels and Demon’s vibe thanks to the place he had lead her to and the mysticism he was portraying mixed with a little Adrian Monk as he stretched out his hands as he searched for details.

Alison ducked behind a pew and kept off to the side of it to stay out sight. Her eyes peered around the side to keep her eyes on John and did not see his feet lift off the ground due to her angle. Instead, she felt a change of energy within the air and the hair on the her arms began to rise and react to what ever it was that John was sensing. There was something strange about the way that he was standing for he seemed to be getting taller without having to climb on a bench. Something was different and her instincts were going crazy. She licked her lips and felt air escape from her lips in short breaths as her heart rhythm picked up. Every inch of her was still except for the rising and falling of her chest and her blue eyes that watched John’s every movement to interpret what it was he seemed to be doing. And at that moment, she could clearly see that he was indeed hovering above the ground as if the very air was lifting him and accepting his weightlessness. She blinked rapidly as the air swirled around him and kicked up the dust surrounding them while disturbing the many cobwebs and gathered leaves.

What was he and how was he doing this? Alison’s thoughts were trying to comprehend this while her heart raced the moment his eyes began to glow. Was he a metahuman? An alien? Was she in danger in knowing his secret? Would he show her mercy if he did discover her?

She inched away from the pew and had no where to hide since he was standing and she was not. She could go under the pew and roll out under the back but… no, it was too late. He had jumped across the pew and snatched her up. Alison blinked and was suddenly pressed against the alter. Her body quivered and felt cold wash over her starting from within her mind, paralyzing her with fear. His elbow would no doubt leave a brush as it pressed against the flesh on her bones. She had learned from martial arts that that was a tender spot and John was certainly using her pain against her to keep her pinned. Her body was shutting down no doubt, but her mind was as active as ever; telling her to knee him in the ribs, stomp his foot, strike him in the jaw, anything to escape. But she hesitated for this was John, not her enemy. His voice echoed in her ears but her heart was racing so loudly he may as well have whispered. Adrenaline was forcing it’s way through her veins and it would take a while for her to calm down after this. She could see and feel John adjusting her back onto her feet but she had not forgotten what she had seen or felt. Her lips were parted as her breathing increased and her heart protested in strong thumps that he had startled her. She blinked thrice and began to feel more at ease as his arms enclosed around her the way her father had when she was in need of some emotional comforting. Her rigid body began to ease the more her thoughts began to tell her to relax but thinking and doing were two different things. She was on edge and her inner black belt was ready to attack whether she wanted to or not.

His eyes met with hers and his voice came out a second time. He did not seem mad and his expression seemed sincere enough for her to believe him. She slowly nodded and stared into his eyes as she remembered how they were purple only moments ago. Was he… was he an angel? No of course not, angels don’t smoke, relieve themselves in an alley or curse. Sure there was a movie staring John Travolta where he was a little like John but… no, what is she saying? This isn’t a movie. Her thoughts were spinning out of control in trying to make sense of everything, thus drowning out her real emotions and the words she wanted to ask him. She went with her first instinct to hug him back and tried to regain control of her bravery. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… I didn’t… I…” What she had wanted to say was that she didn’t mean to be there, to scare him, to see what she had seen. “I'm okay.” She uttered more to convince herself. Yes such moments were always a shock to the system when one wasn’t used to them but Alison would not refuse a moment to try and understand when she had an opportunity to learn. Her hands were pressed against his back during the embrace, despite how badly her body was shaking.

At last she drew back and kept her hands upon his shoulders while she began to feel uncomfortable by being so close to someone who was not Victor nor her cousin. She stepped back and bumped into the alter, now looking for a way out of the awkward closeness. “I just wanted to see what it is you do.” Her voice sounded worried from having stumbled upon something she should not have seen and after what she had just been through. She still wasn't able to think straight with her mind so heightened with the flight and fight response.

[Deleted]

Alison slowly released John from the embrace, calming herself and breathing for a moment. He looked into her eyes and did his casual half smirk to make her feel at ease. He liked Alison. A lot. She was a gentle soul who was kindly to anyone she met, even if that person was a beaten and bloodied Liverpudlian that her cousin had dragged in from a bar. She smiled as she moved her golden hair from her eyes. Their eyes locked again and John smiled once more. The situation the pair found themselves in was slowly descending into the uncomfortable and awkward. John dove his hands into the pocket of his trenchcoat, he knew that Alison was rarely this close to anyone except Dinah and this Vic fella she kept talking about and John hadn't even so much ad shook somebody's hand since...well, since Epiphany died.

Standing idly for a second, John reached for another one of his cigarettes. Alison responded to his queries as he sparked up once again. Before hastily hiding his bad habit back within the delves of his pockets, John broke his natural character for a second and offered Alison a cigarette. Anyone who knew John knew that he loved his cigarettes like a mother loves a child and if someone else were to smoke them he would flip his lid, yet something about Alison brought out the best in John as his wife had done before her and for some strange reason, he enjoyed it. Stuffing the lighter back into his pocket, Constantine puffed on the nicotine fuel for a few moments before responding to his companion's questions.

"There's easier ways than nearly getting yourself killed..."

Constantine spoke in a jovial nature but spoke words of sincere severity. John hated being spied on and especially followed. Being followed to him was synonymous with his father-in-law, always thinking he was never good enough for his little princess and constantly having him under surveillance. He even surprised the pair of them whilst they were taking a romantic shower together, which the thought of made John shudder.

Returning to reality, John blew the smoke contained in his mouth out through his nose, letting the cigarette dangle idly between his lips. He scratched the left part of his temple and massaged his scar. Rubbing his eyes then his entire face, he spoke to Alison once again.

"Are you out for the night then or are you off back now?"

[Deleted]

Seeing him smile set her fears to ease until he brought out a packet of cigarettes. She stepped aside and backed up so that she would not breathe in the hazardous smoke by pretending she simply wanted to give him space. Her eyes softened when he offered her a stick and she shook her head gently. “No thank you, I’m allergic. But I appreciate the gester.” The truth of the matter was that she never did like the smell of cigarettes and that her grandfather had smoked. He had claimed to be as healthy as a horse one day then died of lung cancer the next. Being quick to learn from other’s mistakes, smoking was a lesson she clearly knew to stay away from. She also knew better than to try and talk people out of changing their bad habits for she had yet to meet anyone who would heed her words of warning. People were stubborn, no doubt about it. And others simply had to learn from their own mistakes, no matter how bad it was hurting them or hurting Alison to see them suffer. She closed her mouth and glanced down in an attempt to push aside her care of John ruining his health and slowly breathed in then exhaled to move on. Her eyes were hidden under her cap during the sigh but once she raised her glance back at him, they were once again merry with the sides of her mouth turned up into a close-lipped smile. She had decided that no matter what John did with his life, she would make life more cheerful for him while around him. That was how it usually went, and he deserved some happiness.

“So what’s your superhero name?” She asked and tested a pew’s strength and stability with her foot before slowly climbing onto it. Her arms came out to her sides as her balance wobbled. She corrected herself quickly thanks to her training with Dinah and she placed one foot in front of the other to keep moving along the bench. Her voice filled the chapel by echoing off of the walls and ringing through the dusty atmosphere. “Did you come up with one or were you given one as a code name?“ She figured that he was most likely working under cover for the Gotham Police Department or possibly the FBI.

She turned on the ball of her foot and rose her foot in the air, posing without moving with her arms stretched out to the side once she reached the end of the bench. She looked over at John and caught his shudder in wondering if he sensed something she was unaware of. Either that or he was reacting to something else. She tried not to smile as she watched the smoke stretch from his nostrils like an angry bull from a cartoon. She watched him curiously before setting her foot back down and placed her hands into her jacket pockets. He looked distracted by something, perhaps his own thoughts or a change in the atmosphere; although she felt nothing. Maybe he was tired?

“Out for the night, I suppose. I left Dinah a note saying that I would be home later.” She replied to his question after giving it some thought. “I’ll give her a call later on to let her know I haven’t been kidnapped by a man with two faces or a bloke with a top hat claiming madness.” She lift her foot, pushing off with the other and landed on the ground before looking around.

“What did you see?” She asked and glanced at the floor and back at the areas he was scanning earlier. Her feet carried her over to where her eyes were looking and crouched down to touch the floor in case she could feel energy or heat or something that John had sensed. Still, she felt nothing. She looked up at the ceiling and then closed her eyes to listen carefully. What was it that he was doing earlier? With a short sigh, she glanced back at him with her hands in her lap. "I've got nothing." She admitted and looked at him with a teachable expression.

Normally Dinah would tell her that she had missed the most important clues, the tiny ones that most people tend to overlook. But Alison's eye for detail had still let her come up with nothing. Nothing but dust and leaves collected from years of abandonment mixed with spider webs, dead bug carcasses and now their footprints in the dust.

"You were searching for something, right?" Her voice was soft and questionable like a child's asking for answers, for she did not want him to think that she had already passed judgement upon him and his gifts from what she had witnessed earlier, and was even willing to help him find what he was looking for.

[Deleted]

"Superhero name?" John gave a hearty chuckle. "I'm no hero Darling, believe me. And my name's my name. John Constantine. That's all I've ever been and always will been. The Devil himself gave me a name once. But I told him to go and shove it."

Wandering around the lonely chapel, John began inspecting the areas of stone brickwork he had been looking at previous. Flattening his hand against a large fireplace that sat against one of the church's supporting walls. He slid his hand down, inspected in an analysed the dust on in by rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Magical Signatures. It's like a gas that every magic user leaves behind. And I have reason to believe that the people I've been tailing for the last week are holed up in here somewhere.

Sweeping round in an arc, the trenchcoat wrapped itself around John's legs as he turned. Returning to the spot where Alison stood he chuckled at the comment about Dinah.

"Aye, don't let the canary know you flew the coop. Don't worry, I won't break you" He winked "Did you bring anything to protect yourself with? No? Here, take this"

Retrieving the handgun from his trenchcoat, he threw it towards Alison. Reaching around the back of the coat, John retrieved a Smith and Wesson Remington .35 magnum revolver and checked its contents. Replacing the ammo pack into the chamber, he placed it into his pocket. He took Alison's hand in his and spoke a few words of incantation. A pale blew light shone from the back of her hand as the Occult star appeared on the woman's hand, glowing pale blue with symbols all around it.

"The seal will protect you from any evil incantations or spells that may be cast while we're here. Also, I must ask you at all times to call me by my chosen name, Constantine. The magic in this place operates around words and names can be some of the most powerful magic. Every person in born with 3 names. Their real name, their given name and their chosen name. Your real name nobody can really ever know. It's the source of your original power, your energy. Your given name is the name your parents chose for you at birth. In your case, Alison Bell. And your chosen name is a name you choose yourself, it acts as like a shield so the magic can't take a hold of you. Mine is a combination of my given and chosen. Just the one word, Constantine. Everyone has one, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman. All chosen. Do you have a name you use for yourself at all. It'll protect you"

[Deleted]

Alison looked a little confused when he denied the title of a hero. He had all the right qualities according to her opinion. He was willing to protect others, had a certain charm about him and powers. What more could you ask for? Certainly the same could be said for villains but she did not see John as one of the bad guys. Besides, she could see John‘s potential in paying attention to detail. If he wanted to, he could help the FBI track down others that could be dangerous to the public. “Anyone can be a hero when they apply their actions to good deeds, no matter how small the act of service.”

She followed behind him out of curiosity to see what he would find next. She tried to keep as quiet as possible, testing her footfalls against the floor in an attempt not to disturb John’s search. She tried glancing over his shoulder by standing on her tiptoes but John was too tall for her to see much. She then leaned off to the side to see around him when he laid his hand against the fireplace. She remained balanced upon one leg while the other was straight and thrust out to the side. Her eyes watched closely as John felt the dust and she half-expected him to taste it. When he mentioned magical signatures, she walked over to the fireplace and held her hand out close to it. She could feel the energy between her hand and the stone due to sensing how close she was to that object, but that was all. Obviously John either had a gift at sensing energy greater than she or he had practiced some ancient art at sensing left over energy. Alison figured that the chi energy flowing through one’s body would be close to magical energy. Both could be sensed when a person was aware of them, but how does one sense magic?

She rolled her eyes and grinned when he mentioned gas. He was worse than Oliver, surely! She could not help but chuckle and shake her head at John’s seriousness then out of the blue comments, for she was a fan of unexpected and well-timed humor. She placed her hand near the entrance of the fireplace in attempting to sense any air flow through there. If there was, then there would be a door leading further into the church. However, she wasn’t sure if the place had an alarm system and decided it best to back up and let John figure things out. After all, he was more experienced in this matter than she was.

“Protect myself? I’m a second degree black belt if that counts.” She shrugged and placed her hands in her jacket pockets. Her eyes moved down to his hand when he pulled out a gun. “What are you nuts? I’ve never shot anyone before! I can’t imagine killing any…” She was surprised when he suddenly tossed the gun at her. Her eyes went large as she instantly retracted her hands into her jacket sleeves and caught it, as not to leave fingerprints on it. Beneath her sleeve appeared a blue glowing light that lit her face up with its essence. “John, what are you…?”

He had already began to explain what the seal would do for her and that caused her to listen. She had been in enough scenarios with Dinah to know that when a leader speaks, it’s usually important information. She nodded, still uncertain of what origin the mark on her hand came from. Was it good or evil? Perhaps the symbol itself was not evil but the magical influences behind it would determine it’s use. At least the color was a light and cheerful color, rather than miserable black. She tried not to become too distracted by her glowing skin and peeled her eyes up from it to look at him as he talked. Her brow creased when she considered a name for herself. She needed something more fitting for the occasion. Let’s see, Constantine… he was a Roman Emperor wasn’t he? One who converted to Christianity and was someone who proclaimed tolerance of all religions. The man was a controversial figure. Perhaps that’s another reason why John chose that last name for himself? He did not believe he was a good man although Alison thought differently of him. Hm… How about a name that has something to do with magic? Or religion? She needed a good side kick name, or a cheesy one that would some what work. “What about Angel?” She asked in remembering her conversation with him when they first met. She had, after all, referred to herself as an Angel of Peace and Dinah as the Angel of Wrath.

She felt the weight of the gun in her hand and remembered that she was holding it. “Seriously though, I’ve never shot anyone. I-I don’t think that I can use it if it means extinguishing a life. Besides, that’s a line I never want to cross for my conscious won’t be at ease after having killed someone.” Sure she can hold it as a warning for others to give up or use it to fire at objects to distract others, but to actually harm another? It was simply unthinkable.

[Deleted]

"Who said anything about killing anybody?" John relit a cigarette after stubbing out the first. "Check the cartridge". Smirking to himself, John knew the rubber bullets would calm his companions nerves. When she remarked that John was a good man, he froze. A good man? John hadn't been called anything close to a human being in years. He smiled to himself without her seeing. His stone heart seemed to melt a little more in Alison's presence. He heard the words of Ms Bell questioning who he was. He thought to himself. She protested about the gun. She needed, he wasn't prepared to lose another friend.

"Alsion, I'm a terrible man. I've murdered Gods, fought demons and butchered angels. I'm the man who looked The Angel of Death in those pale blue eyes of hers and told her to stick it up her perfectly rounded arse. Gabriel is permanently grounded because of me and when the old Reaper comes a'knockin', he's gonna have a list as long as his arm of names of the poor bastards who have died because of me. Now, maybe, in a past life I was, hell Jack The Ripper or somebody and by thunder, I'm paying for it now. I've lost my sister, my niece, my missus, my best friend, I hardly see my real daughter now. So please, take the gun, put it in your jacket and follow my lead. Because let me tell you, when old Grim comes for me, I ain't seein' Alsion Bell on that list of names, alright Angel?"

John placed his thumb an forefinger under the blonde's pale chin and lifted her eyes towards his. He had stared death in the face often enough to tell if someone had the smell of it on them. Alison smelt as fresh as morning daisies and John could relax knowing that she was safe. He smiled as there pale faces stared at each other for a few moments before the silence was broken with the clashing of steel and breaking of wood. Immediately whipping the revolver from his pocket, John lunged forward, grabbing Alison's wrist as he passed. The sound came bellowing out of the doors that lead to the crypt. John placed is forefinger in front of his lips, motioning silence to his companion. The seal on Alison's hand glowed red with negative energy. He gestured for Alison to open the door as he shuffled to the other side. Mouthing the words one, two, three, he slid the hammer back on the revolver and dashed into the open door frame infront of them.

"Jesus Christ!"

[Deleted]

Alison looked down at the cartridge and tried peeling it back with her finger then slapped the side of the gun in an attempt to open it. Maybe the top would slide back to expose a bullet? No, it was not that type of gun. The chamber was definitely on the side. She felt foolish for not being able to figure out the gun in front of John for certainly he knew how to work a gun whereas she was more familiar with a bo staff or a katana machete, but even then she was no expert.

Her eyes widened when he spoke of all the wrongs he has created and it was hard for her to understand how any man could do as much damage as he had. In fact it was downright unbelievable. However, he spoke with so much conviction that she thought maybe it was possible. Butchered angels? But why? As far as her knowledge goes, they were there to help mankind. And what was this about Jack the Ripper? He was a nobleman part of a cult trying to keep the world from knowing about a prince who was going to marry a hooker, or so a certain movie had taught her. Maybe John spoke metaphorically? Her brows knit together as she tried to think over his words. What gods? Norse? Egyptian? Greek?

Her thoughts were diluted once her chin was being raised to see through John’s eyes. How could anyone be dangerous when she trusted them and felt the urge to help him in becoming a better person? Everyone has a second chance, no matter how horrible their mistakes. Before she could say anything, a sudden noise had started her jumping and freeing herself from John’s touch. She spun around and aimed the gun at the area from whence the sound had stirred. John’s hand had grabbed her wrist and lead her toward the door. Her heart was pounding and she was a little shaken from not knowing what would happen next. Still, he was in charge and giving out silent orders. She nodded, able to follow orders due to her obedient and willing to please nature as she also took her place at the door and held onto the handle. In a readied stance, she watched his lips as she mentally counted with him and pulled on the doors.

She has had some training before, knowing to get into a front stance with her arms held straight in front of her while the gun is aiming at their opponent. “Set your sights between the focal point to the bump on the end, exhale right as you pull the trigger.” Alison's instructions played throughout her mind as a quick memory recalled a scene at the gun range, having to aim at a target yards away from where she stood. Perhaps this won’t be so different?