Fishnets and British accents [Zee]

[Red Hood]

Players: John Constantine and Zatanna Zatara
Location(s): Liverpool, England
Plot Summary: Zatanna thinks its a good idea to bug Constantine. SPOILER: It's not!

John was glad to be back in the UK. It was his home and lately he'd been traveling too far away from it; be it when traveling to the States or completely other dimensions (which was less rare than the former incidentally). However, John may have been happy to be in the UK but the UK was apparently not so happy to have Constantine back. His arrival stirred up the magical and occult, and on top of that the weather had been nonstop dreary. "Sodding rain." Constantine mumbled with a cigarette flapping between his lips.

The blond haired Brit snapped his coat to free it of access rain as he slipped his feet out of his shoes and kicked them into a corner. The home he was in was dimly lit by candles, some of them scented judging by the odor clinging in the air and clashing with John's nicotine. He frowned slightly, who used scented candles during an exorcism? Lazily the Hellblazer climbed a winding stairwell to the second floor where the alleged possessed was kept. The home in was in belonged to an asian family, apparently new to the UK and even newer to dark magic.

The son - Constantine didn't care to remember his name - had apparently be goaded by friends into putting their souls on the market to become rich and powerful. It was such a cliche it was almost insulting and laughable at the same time. Deals with demons rarely go as planned, as the young asian boy could now attest to, and now he was possessed. Cue Constantine and his supreme knowledge of the occult.

Voices echoed from one room, underneath the door John could make out various moving shadows. There was chanting and screaming and demonic growls, that mashed up with the hard hitting rain drops pounding against the house walls and windows, all mingling with the shouting voice of Chef Ramsay on the telly downstairs. It made for an eerie and depreciative soundtrack.

Constantine took a drag of his cigarette and pushed the door to the possessed's room open. He was glad to see that the family had followed his instructions about chaining the boy to the bed and filling the room with as much religious paraphernalia as possible. Most people cut corners by using rope instead of chains, or placing one cross in the room instead of hundreds. Those differences usually meant the difference between life and death.

John exhaled smoke and nodded to the boy's mother, though the room was filled with relatives so he was unsure of that. John slipped out of his wet trench, passed it off to one of the family members, and proceeded to take another drag from his cig. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt before dropping his cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out. "Let's begin."

[Zatanna]

Maybe this isn't a good idea. Who the hell was Zatanna kidding? Of course it wasn't. Turning up on John uninvited was bad enough. Then, when no one answered his apartment door, letting herself in via magic was an even worse decision, technically. Who knew what Constantine had chained up in his broom cupboard, or clogging his drains? Then, after Zee did a bit of snooping (not too much - she didn't want him to know she had), the sorceress had grown weary of lounging on his worn couch feeling the smell of cigarette smoke seeping into her leather jacket.

Finally Zatanna acknowledged the odds that John wouldn't be turning up miraculously. However, the premonition that she'd had which led her to seek him for company - nothing in the doomsday category, just a kind of sixth sense/urge - spurred her on. Zee could have drawn up a scrying spell to find him. She knew for a fact that beneath the ratty carpet under the ash-covered coffee table were the remnants of past drawn diagrams, and that charcoal and chalks were in a tin on top of the fridge... The reason for that knowledge wasn't relevant.

That would have been rude, though, so Zatanna did the most logical thing to do... She checked his answering machine. There were a few peculiar fractured conversation, including one that Zee could only guess was John calling himself - drunk, of course - reminding him to pick up milk... and booze. "Charming," the magician said sarcastically. Finally, after a demon using it's native tongue to cuss John out and threaten everything he cared for - Zatanna skipped that one with a bored sigh - she found what she had been searching for.

Confirmation from a worrisome woman's voice, making sure that Constantine would be able to make it to an exorcism for her son that day. In five minutes. And she gave an address. Zatanna gave a sinister smile. "Who's the 'world's greatest detective' now, eh?"

. . . . . . .

Five minutes and thirty-six seconds later, Zatanna stood in the doorway behind John, eyeing the method he used to do away with his cigarette. She gave the back of his head a dry look, and mouthed an apology to the woman who had caught sight of the Mistress of Magic. "I've missed your charm, Constantine," Zee said, striding into the room more openly. "Hello, Mrs Boot, I'm Mr Constantine's associate."

She knew John well enough to stay - at least partially - out of his way. If anyone could handle an exorcism by themselves, he could. Meanwhile, Zatanna moved in with a professionalism and an empathetic charisma to soothe the terrified relatives. She even plucked the trench coat that Constantine tried to push on someone else in the room and folded it over one arm. No one was very conversational given the climate, and Zee looked on to the writhing youth shackled to the bed.

[Red Hood]

Constantine had a type of sixth sense about magical things, often that worked in attracting the dark aspects of magic to him, but today it didn't have that usual feeling. Like any other day John ignored that feeling and continued on with the situation at hand. Some sort of demon was festering inside this young kid and it was only a matter of time before it could take full control and manifest its true form. John neared the bed and stooped down, drawing a small block of chalk from his pocket. Symbols were quickly scribbled onto the hardwood floor but John suddenly froze in mid-writing.

"And I've missed your punctuality." John stood and turned to face the raven haired beauty that was Zatanna Zatara. She was interfering with a delicate ritual and what was really worse, her unannounced arrival annoyed the hell out of Constantine. Ordinarily he'd rip her a new one, in his usual charming way of course, but the man decided this family was worried about enough; they didn't need their exorcist flying off the handle. John cut his eyes at his associate and gave her a look that said "we'll discuss this later". "My lovely assistant Zatanna." He introduced the woman to the confused family, playing along with her story for the moment, before going back to what he was doing.

Occult symbols were drawn along the floor around the bed and as John stood he dusted his hands free of the chalk dust. Striding across the room John went to one of the lit candles and put his finger in the flame. He glanced at Zatanna briefly while chanting a few words, and then removed his finger from the candle carrying its flame on his tip. John appreciated the silence of the room deeply, while the possessed boy kicked and screamed and growled it was a lot less distracting than if the family had been crying or trying to talk with him as Constantine made his preparations. In front of the boy's bed John moved his flaming finger in the air, leaving a spell burning in the very air. "Speak your name."

The boy suddenly stopped fighting against his chains and his pitch black eyes directed toward Constantine. "THIS ENTIRE FAMILY WILL BURN IN HELL! AND IT'LL BE ON YOUR HANDS, HELLBLAZER!" It was nothing John hadn't heard before. He could see a few of the boy's relatives getting nervous and looking around as if asking if they should really trust him. It didn't bother John any. "Yada yada. I said whats your name!" "AND HER BEHIND YOU, I'LL RIP HER TO PIECES AND FORCE FEED HER TO YOU!" Somewhere behind him John heard the distinctive sound of vomit hitting the floor. The demon inside of the little boy smirked. "No thanks, I've had enough of eating that one, yeah?" He glanced back at Zatanna and winked.

The demon hurled out more threatens, some even good enough to get John to smirk involuntarily, but John largely ignored it as he addressed Zatanna, "In my coat pocket there's a notepad. Hand it to me, luv?" While Zatanna found that, John turned back to the possessed child with a cheeky grin on his face. "Llet em ruoy eman, ay ydoolb tig!" Stealing Zatanna's shtick required a lot of power but the upside was, "AAAAHH...BHUSHMALT!" it always worked. John stumbled slightly from the loss of energy but he now had the demon's name and at least it was still bo - suddenly chain ripped from the bed and a few links shattered. "GRAAAHH!!" Just one limb free was a disaster, lives would be lost if John didn't act fast enough. "The notepad!" He shouted to Zatanna as wind began rushing through the room like a hurricane had just been pulled from underneath the bed.

[Zatanna]

Zatanna realized just how far she'd overstepped her bounds. She could tell from the tensity that made John's shoulders stand out rigid against his suit coat. Just from seeing his backside - not that backside, though she glanced it over, too - she could tell that he had lost weight since the last time they'd seen one another. Zee tried not to feel overly smug at the flare of angered annoyance that she caught wind, seeping off of the Brit kneeling with the chalk. She'd behave herself, though.

John might have been known for combating the nastier side of magic, but Zatanna wasn't new to the horrific scene that was taking place inside the bedroom. This was far from the worst possession that she'd seen, in fact. Even so, Zee felt for the family watching their beloved son, brother, cousin, nephew and so on going through something so terrible. None of them would be able to leave the room without a vastly altered view on life. That was the worst part about situations like these. Ever after those people involved would live with a haunted look in their eyes.

While Constantine finished his diagram and moved toward a solitary candle nearby, Zatanna tilted her head while she scrutinized the symbols. Perfectly scrawled in the right sequence to fit the situation, with just a shred of unorthodox embellishments from the normal that made something as standard and universal as the symbols on the floor unique to John. Zee looked up in time to share a brief glance with the man she'd come there to see as he muttered something to the wick rising from the wax of the candle.

Zatanna moved beyond the crowd of relatives pressed against the walls and in corners to stand closer to John in the clear openness around the bed, and its occupant. The Mistress of Magic's features were cast in a grim light, just like everything else, due to the candles and the atmosphere that clung like the plague in the air. Zee watched the runes that John etched in the air with fire momentarily, then her focus shifted to the young man who contorted on the sweat-soaked sheets.

The first threat cut into everyone watching with a varied affect. Many jumped, several people twitched, there was a small scream stifled with a hand. The only two people who didn't start were Constantine and Zatanna - the latter who had only narrowed her gaze more in response. "How rude," Zee mumbled when the demon's focus shifted to her. Only natural, really. She and John posed the biggest threats for the creature squatting in the youth's body. When Constantine replied in turn to the threat, and offered her his signature wink, Zatanna flicked her eyes in a half-roll.

She knew he wouldn't be able to stay mad at her. Zee wasn't surprised to be called upon by John, either. She wasn't slow to respond to his request, the simple fact was that there were so many damned pockets in the accursed trench coat of his. Zatanna grasped the notepad just as John gave the backwards order. Typical, she thought in what was actual humor, though she tried to be annoyed about it. Zatanna crinkled her nose in disgust when the demon bellowed it's name in a tortured, vicious snarl.

And the chain snapped. "Lovely," Zee commented, tossing the notepad - which she had only just found - to the hassled Brit. Zatanna swept her arms out at the few relatives who were curious or stupid enough to drift nearer. "Get back!" The hand that was now free lashed at the air, actually ripping it to pieces while a gale force wind was loosed in the room. There were open shouts, exclamations and shrieks now, but Zee kept anyone from fleeing the room. "You're all part of this now," she instructed, "you cannot leave."

The sorceress's tone was powerful enough to stop the uncle and cousin who had their meaty hands on the doorknob.

[Red Hood]

They were still in the UK, still in the home of the happy family of the possessed, but it felt like they had just stepped right smack in the middle of the world's worst recorded tornado. Not to mention the degrees in the room were sky rocketing. Sweat poured from Constantine's head but the man did his damnedest to ignore it. Everything that was happening now was to provide discomfort and a distraction all at the behest of Bhushmalt. John Constantine was dangerously close to exorcising him and the demon was not very thrilled about that. Panic became thick in the close quarters; the wind and the heat on its own was enough to send this family running for the hills. The fact that one of the demon's binds was now free was all the more incentive they needed to try for a way out of the room.

John dragged the back of his sweaty forearm across his brow trying to keep the sweat out of his eyes, luckily he had Zatanna there crashing this exorcism so that he himself did not have to waste any breath, energy, or time on telling the family to not yet disperse. Once an exorcism had begun, all parties partaking in the ritual needed to remain committed. Shook faith made for easy targets and they were either used as the demon's new vessel, or they were instantly hollowed and reduced to ash. Those who shut their eyes and/or tried to flee the scene of a demon revealing itself and being cursed back to the land of the damned were almost always prosecuted along with the demon. Constantine did not intend to lose this possessed child and he did not intend to lose any of the immediate family either.

John ducked to the floor, pushing one of the cousins down with him in the process as thick chains batted at the air. Another limb of the demon's was loose; both it's arms now. "TREMBLE BEFORE ME, JOHN CONSTANTINE. YOU CANNOT SAVE THIS BOY. YOU CANNOT SAVE THIS FAMILY. AND YOU CANNOT SAVE YOURSELF!" The wind in the room grew stronger and blew one of the ladies of the family across the room. "Keep them bolted down, Zee!" John shouted to his on again off again friend just as she tossed his sacred notepad to him. The candles in the room flared up intensely, casting an orange glare over the entire room, then quickly they were snuffed out.

The only lighting that thus remained in the room was the flame-writing Constantine had left in the air. The possessed boy on the bed contorted and ripped the chains from his feet, all the while laughing maniacally in a deep and evil tone. Quickly John got back to his feet, ripped a page from his pad, and stuffed the leftover into his pants pocket. "Bhushmalt of Hell I reject your presence as I reject your existence. You are an abomination of the land, of humanity, and of the Lord. I hereby yada yada yada." Constantine spewed the cliff note version of a spell and using a pen fished from a pocket he crudely scribbled the beast's name onto the sheet of notepad paper. "YOU'LL DIE BEFORE YOU'RE EXORCISM COMPLETES!" The possessed child yelled in a voice not his own as he was finally free, standing on his torn mattress now and launched himself at the Brit.

"I command thee: Go the sod to hell!" As the demon pounced John flung the paper bearing it's name in the air, where it sizzled and was reduced to ash in the words of fire Constantine had written in mid-air. Immediately the strong winds ceased, the lights came back on, and the words in the air vanished. The boy who had jumped at him landed in Constantine's arms, "Demon free." He reassured the shaken Boot family with a cocky grin that would have them believe absolutely nothing had gone wrong.

As if by magic when John turned to face Zatanna he already had another cigarette balanced perfectly upon the edge of his pursed lips. Behind him the family rejoiced, tears and emotions and hugs and all that. "You alright, luv?" John kept his eyes locked on on Zatanna while lowering his head to catch the butt of his cigarette in the small orange fire of his lighter. "Couldn't have done it without my lovely assistant."

[Zatanna]

The exorcism was going from bad to worse, and quickly. I wonder if this is usually how Johnny works, or if he's just showing off because I'm here, Zatanna thought with surprisingly mildness considering the situation. Any magician worth anything was good at working under pressure, and this was definitely a high-pressure situation. While the demon started to unshackle itself all the more, the lights vanished, and wind raged enough so that it began tossing around the relatives present.

Zee widened her stance to compensate, and even as Constantine instructed her - very loudly, by the way - to protect the onlookers, her lips were pursing to turn a backwards phrase. Zatanna's power-laced syllables rang through the air calmly in the face of such turmoil, and her power manifested, and expanded as an invisible veil to ward against the demonic influence trying to poison the souls of the possessed's loved ones.

Altogether, John was phenomenal. Actually inspiring to watch work. Zatanna was supremely impressed, and so, logically, she concealed that fact as best she could. The moment after the demon was officially banished, there rang a silence, and then came the sentimental reunion that played out. The family converged like a flood on the youth that John had just saved, and the two mystics moved to the empty edge of the room to allow for a little more privacy. Zee never know how Constantine conjured his cigarettes so flawlessly. As a stage magician, she was envious that she couldn't unearth his secret.

"You bet your British ass," Zatanna said without an ounce of guilt at his compliment. Or banter. Or flirtation. Probably all of them together, or maybe none of the above. Even for the Mistress of Magic, John Constantine wasn't an open book all of the time. He was full of surprises. But so am I, Zatanna thought mischievously. The sorceress paused, then bit her bottom lip. "Good job, Constantine." Zee gave him a meaningful look, and then smiled.

[Red Hood]

Both John and Zatanna had a knack for getting under the other's skin, but there was a lot more to them than simply annoying the other when they felt like it. There was a deep and lengthy history between the two; they had toed the lines of being friends, lovers, and enemies and the secrets they kept from others the two of them knew very well. They were as close as two people could possibly be while also being as distant as they could muster. And yet they were always stepping into the other's life at some point. John was connected to Zee and she was connected to him, no matter what brand of relationship they went through that would always be a fact.

John had done his good deed for the day and now he desperately wanted out of that house. Of course the Hellblazer was thrilled to stick to yet another hellspawn but he was never the type to broadcast his emotions; unless they were cheeky and used to get on other people's nerves. John nodded to Zee's 'good job' and casually exited the room of the formerly possessed. Insults were far more common for Constantine but when it came to his work compliments were always given. Constantine was not necessarily a homo magi, but he was one hell of a magic user. Once out of earshot of the family he'd just freed of demonic influences, and once out of their home, John stopped and turned with his blue eyes settling on Zatanna's soft yet stern face.

"So then, what'd you really show up here for? I doubt you want to grab a pint and as much as I'd be for it, I doubt you're after a little fun in the sack as well." John blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth and passed a hand through his short blonde hair. "Spill it, luv." The rain had slacked now, there was only a spotty bit of drizzle left in its wake and oddly enough John felt like it was enjoyable weather. Perhaps in another time Zatanna really would have joined him for a drink. Back when they were younger they would have had a good laugh in a crowded pub, practiced a few spells they'd seen Zatara pull off, and even get into their own special sort of trouble along the way in England. That was a different time however, a whole 'nother life. Constantine had seen and done far too many dark things to be that happy go-lucky person ever again and Zee blamed him for too much to allow herself to ever get too comfortable around him.

It was just how things happened to work out, the workings of the world and magic. John didn't blame Zatanna, he didn't blame himself either; he didn't blame anyone. The world was just a crappy place and john Constantine was a pretty good example of that. That didn't mean he didn't still enjoy every minute of it though.

[Zatanna]

Apparently, now that things had moved from involving bloodthirsty demons into a more sentimental vein, Constantine wanted to ditch. He nearly ignored all that Zatanna said - a wry twitch in his eye the only indicator that he even heard her - and pushed on into the hall, headed towards the front door of the house. The Mistress of Magic's expression was dry enough that it threatened to crack from brittleness. Zee followed suit, however much she didn't want John to take the lead.

Magical or not, Zatanna and the Hellblazer's minds seemed to be acting together as they descended the narrow stairs and moved into the rain. At least it wasn't as torrential a downpour as when Zee had arrived. Both at the same time, though neither knew that the other was thinking likewise, were lost in reveries of their pasts together. Zatanna's relationship with John Constantine was complicated, to say the least. Whenever Bruce had confided in the Princess of Prestidigitation about Catwoman (as much 'confiding' as he could, which is to say a few brief grunting sentences), Zee had been able to listen with genuine understanding.

Really, Zatanna's paradigm with John was just that chaotic. Just that enticing, and just that dangerous. They had been allies throughout the years, but not without a fair share of loathing, betrayal, lust... and maybe even a little love between them. Zee thought of Constantine in a way that she thought about no other man. He had a way of getting under her skin with just a wink, or a syllable that made Zatanna's blood boil and froth in her veins. How could someone make you want to slap them, and kiss them at the same time?

Like now, when John's only attempt to rationalize Zatanna's visit was getting drunk, sleeping together - though those two were said with sarcasm - or the Mistress of Magic heralding some kind of problem that he'd have to solve. Zee's expression slackened, showing how little amusement she had at the joke - if it even was one. She tossed Constantine his trench coat through the rain, and distantly marveled at how his smoke always seemed to stay lit, even in the rain. Zatanna stepped closer to John, and muttered a reversed spell. Multicolored light spread from the woman's skin and enveloped the two in a small sphere of energy that kept the rain at bay.

Zatanna pressed her lips together. Now that the Hellblazer had taken that attitude, she didn't want to admit that she'd come to see him because she missed him. John always seemed to dim their relationship down to a few sentences of explanation that made Zee feel petty, and shallow. After he'd described them so callously, Zatanna felt like admitting to more sincere justification for her actions would just be cause for him to poke fun at her soft spots. The Mistress of Magic was many things, but she was not a liar. She decided to go with the truth. Let Constantine make fun of her sentimentality. At least then Zee would find solace in the fact that it wasn't her who was a dick.

"I missed you," she said simply.