DC Hellblazer: I'm Constantine

##### C14. I'm Constantine

Note: Unedited

Visiting the Tower of Fate down in Salem, Massachusetts, feels like the right place to start if you're looking for someone like Doctor Fate. But something tells me I won't find him home. So? I don't bother making travel plans just yet. He'll show up when he's needed.

Instead, I decide to spare some me-time, figure out out a few things while at it.

I've gotten used to being in the House of Mystery like it's my home. More importantly, I've adjusted well enough to this body, especially since it's been customized just for me: the tattoos and the younger years, that is.

I've got a paying job as a consultant for the Justice League... Dark?

But I can't say I'm comfortable with how things are just yet.

Among many things I'd like to work on is my personal life. Which, let's be honest, it's not where Constantine has really ever shined in his entire existence. It'll be a hard task, but I'm confident I'll build just the right amount of charm to get away with burning down entire buildings of people, casually.

Yeah, I didn't just stop with the Demons Three's place in Vegas, Caesar's Clown. I might've gotten carried away after that. AND-

-before anyone goes out of their way judging me, calling me a bloody psychopath, there's a plan behind that inhuman behaviour of mine. One might not appreciate my motives though... but I gotta get that bloody pair of wings for everyone's sake!

Although, I'm not all "questionable bits". I still have room to do some good in this world. Case in point, today.

I'm still in Washington and I thought, well, since I'm in no rush to make an appointment with the Doctor, I'd hit a few clubs, play a couple rounds of pool, buy a few rounds for some hot chicks as they gawk on my tats, and let time slide by before I'm off to committing reasonable crimes.

But guess what? It doesn't all go down that way.

I'm in a hotel. In the middle of something tantric, suffocating in between two lovely doves, when a rampage starts somewhere not far away from the building I'm in. The ladies, of course, get rattled, worried that Darkseid has come to conquer Earth again.

Frankly, I find that amusing for a moment, but the fear in their eyes says it all. Maybe I'm taking lives in this world of existence a bit too lightly. Honestly, I've been perceiving them as just characters that weren't worthy to even appear in the comic panels, but the way their hands grip me tighter...

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, luvs" I say, suppressing my selfish side and leaving my trenchcoat with them as I leave the room.

They try to stop me, of course, their words gentle and the concern so genuine that I get that flicker of remorse about what I've been doing in my pass time. But I don't let it sink in. I assure them I'll be back in a gist, and walk outside, half wondering what I'll do if it really is Darkseid attacking.

I know, in the near future, the bloody New God ends up wiping the floor with the Justice League during the Apokolips War, part of the reason why I need to grow more powerful. I gotta admit though, I'm a bit scared... even terrified to imagine I'm in the same world as Darkseid and a couple other brutes: Vandal Savage, Braniac, and god forbid... &$^£*""!!!

I bite my lips and keep a move on.

There's a cold breeze. It's at night, I don't even have a T-shirt on, and yet... I wipe beads of sweat from my face.

I might have a level of dominion over demons, but it's like I'm starting to realize that not everything's under my control. And that thought is beginning to get scary, because, I've always understood: In this world - the DC world - the only thing that matters is power. The more unlimited you can have, the better your chances of survival.

Something about that thought is calming, because, a warm rush cruises through my body and I feel the butterflies starting to vaporize.

My nerves settle as I clench my jaw and flex my knuckles.

"I'm just getting started. It's too soon to worry," I remind myself, feeling that there's more power out there in the universe for me to collect. And there's no better way to gain it, if not as John Constantine.

I don't even realize how I get to the scene of the rampage. It's the sounds of people screaming and tyres screeching that snap me from thought. One spot of the figure causing it, and I realize just how fucking tense I had gotten, when I rule out that it's not Darkseid or any other gods of his caliber.

"Grundy," I smirk, believing that it's going to be one hell of an easy feat, and I'll be back to my ladies in no time before I miss out on that happy ending.

"Grew worse on a Friday," Grundy rumbles, spinning a car and crashing it violently against a building. He's always stuck on that endless rhyme of his, it's almost pitiful. But I admit, I always found him to be entertaining every time I watched his tantrums on grandpa's screen back when I was a kid, in a safer world-...

"For Christ's sake, Grundy!" I yelp, dodging, as a piece of rubble, casually kicked by Grundy, almost crashes me. "You're gonna hurt somebody like that mate!"

-and didn't know better.

"Died on a Saturday!" Grundy roars and I wish I had ear buds plugged to protect me from that primal voice of his. You wouldn't believe how much filtered it was on TV.

"Well mate, I believe it's time we ended this little show of yours before you go on taking more lives," I say, but I don't think he can hear or notice me. At least, not with what he's about to do to that traffic light... swung it right at... at his own face? Okay, it's clear he's a danger to everyone, including himself.

Now, Grundy is a bulking zombie, almost twice the size of an average human in height and breadth. His breath stinks of rot, by the way, and he's got that air about him that says he knows what he's doing, even if he doesn't look like it, or speak clearly about why he's causing this mayhem.

His stats aren't to ignore, either. Guy's got super-strength, can be pretty agile, immune to pain, regenerates, and let's not forget that he's potentially a good friend of the Lord of Chaos, Witch-boy. So yeah, he's powerful, and a couple of Hell flames and half-assed magic symbols won't do the trick.

That's why I choose to curse him, being the most logical approach into defeating him without so much sweat. Without further a do, just as he reminds everyone he was buried on a Sunday-

*Sharp, high-pitched bark.*

-I summon a recent acquaintance of mine by channelling hell fire to that little red diamond mark on my abdomen and whistle for flair. Truthfully, the black dog that appears - looking thin and malnutritioned - doesn't seem like much arsenal against the towering and increasingly violent Grundy. But that's only because you haven't been digging through occult books like I have to know exactly what type of curse it is.

As established, it seems to understand that I'm it's master and looks aware of why it's been summoned.

It takes only a growl and a leap, and Grundy, tough as he seemed is laid down on the tarmac looking more lifeless than he's been in forever.

Cursed!

The dog, it's task completed, it's energy vaporizes back into the diamond mark without as much as desire to be petted for the good job.

Curses might actually come handy in the long run, I figure, promising myself to look more into it.

For a stretching moment, I hold out, expecting the worse. You know, consequences of unleashing a curse, like last time when I went out for days and got judged by the Spectre. It's more daunting than thrilling, actually, but the moment only stretches with nothing significant occurring, except for the fact that I'm somehow feeling more alive, and the sirens are wailing, sign of the cops finally growing a pair.

"Well..." I breathe easy, presuming that if there are any consequences, it doesn't appear like they'll be showing up tonight.

I rest easy, and walk away. And, genuinely not feeling like it anymore, I don't intend on going back to the hotel, until I come across a pair of dogs shagging beneath a lamp post without as much as a care in the world. It's a totally gross sight. Potentially traumatizing. But there's something about that style that sends me back to the hotel to retrieve my coat.