DC Hellblazer: I'm Constantine

###### C20. I'm Constantine

Neron gets furious fast.

"And let's not forget you had the nerve to obliterate my vault using my very own power, Constantine!" Neron shouts angrily thrusting me up high with a claw on his hand.

In no time, he's above ground, propelled by his wings while I swing loosely and dangerously on his grip.

"Thought I was doing you a favour mate. Now you don't have to worry about vampires and damned logistics," I quip, looking down and trying to make some good judgement of the situation. Magic may not be sufficient in stopping him from throwing me in that pit of fire.

His grip tightens as he gets angrier. His voice cruel, Neron replies, "What say I repay you by reducing the burden on your shoulders? Your daft head for starters."

*There we go,* I smirk as I finally feel the tingling sensation of the Hellblazer mark lighting ablaze with Hellfire. I didn't feel it while in Mammon's lair, but chose not to panic about it. Later on, Neron confirmed that it was still on my back, even though I could barely feel it. It's why I didn't bother using Hellblazer power while fighting against Blight. But now, all of a sudden, it's waking up like it knows I need it.

"Think I'll pass for now," I say, tapping into my Hellblazer power and almost instantly, I summon the black dog with a whistle. It appears on Neron's shoulders, strapped between his still wings and immediately, it starts clawing and biting at Neron.

Startled and distressed, Neron loses his grip on me as he tries to fight against the violent curse. It growls and sinks it's claws on his back causing him to cry out in high pitched notes. I fall down, using magic for a more gentle landing. Neron follows behind, but he doesn't have the luxury of avoiding a hard crash as the dog bites harder than it barks.

Then, a stillness follows, with Neron's body looking petrified while dust settles on him. I don't stop holding my breath though, because the dog's energy doesn't come back as expected. Whispers spread among the demon crowd, and Neron's lackeys act as though they want to intervene, but they only hesitate, then look reassured.

"So you've got some new tricks, eh?" Nergal thinks that Neron's fallen, taking it as his cue to step up and dominate. "Is that why you think you can defeat us all?"

"Anything look familiar to you, Nergal?" the First inquires, throwing me a long, curious glance. "Those marks on his body. Don't they remind you of something?"

"Nothing more than scribbles to me," Nergal replies, arrogantly, without a thought on it. "But I'll be sure to skin my mark off of his body for safe measure."

"First Blight, the Neron," Mammon observes with the voice of a counsellor. "And he's done them in without showing the full extent of his power. Not even a snuff of Hell Fire. Just how daft can you get, Nergal? Testing him out on your own."

"You're not about to say we combine forces, are you? Mammon, Prince of Hell?" the First gives Mammon a hideous stare. He's an ugly, shrivelled, old-looking demon with charred angelic wings and countable long strands of white hair desperately clinging on his balding scalp. He is the first and oldest demon in existence.

"Like I would partner with a weakling such as him," Nergal burns with pride, summoning his axe and balancing it on his shoulders and black wings. He can take on many forms, from the shape of a double-horned centaur, to that of an ugly old man, but his primary colour is always red. In the presence of other demons, he's a towering figure with all the muscle to claim he's powerful too.

Size matters after all.

I'm the first to feel it, when I notice the red diamond mark on my abdomen disappear. Then comes the scared squeal of a dog, the kind it makes right before it's quick, sudden death. And finally an explosive amount of green energy surges outwards from where Neron's fallen body is lying.

*scoff!*

"Mh-Mh-Mh-Mhhh...," comes a chuckle from Neron's fallen body. Neron's body shifts slightly and the First looks disgruntled by this.

"Beat it already," the First yawns. "The Underworld won't miss you one bit."

Neron's body disappears, then he reappears behind the First, holding his fellow demon by the neck as if ready to snap it. The First doesn't flinch, but the demon crowd shifts and axes clank. Hellhounds growl, and Neron takes a calculated guess of what could happen next.

"Careful now," the First warns. "We are not at war just yet."

"Mfh," Neron scoffs, but lets go anyway.

Neron gives a daring glance at Nergal and darkens his aura such that the pressure gets suffocating for regular folks like me.

Nergal shows understanding by swinging his axe to rest back on his giant shoulder and taking a step back. Demons harbour pride and ego, but most importantly, they know their place in Hell's hierarchy. Nergal won't try to intervene in Neron's fight unless Neron wills it, or is defeated.

Turning his attention back to me, Neron holds up the black dog by it's hind legs. It looks lifeless and he's smiling about it. Somehow, that aggravates me. I didn't know I grew attached after the three summons I've made.

"The Dawn of Curses," he says as he throws the dog aside. It's energy vaporizes, but the red diamond mark doesn't reappear on my body. "The First and most terrible curse, forged by the deepest fires of Hell. It's capable of doing worse than simple petrification when well fed, but has been believed to be lost for ten billion years."

"I don't know how you came across such a favourite play-toy of Lucifer's, but it's clear you have no clue on how to use it," Neron closes in. "And my best bet is that it's the same for those other marks carved on your torso."

"What can I say? Improvising is where I've always shined best," I reply while managing to summon my lucky elbow to block out a punch that Neron throws my way. I survive it's effects by imbuing my elbow with magic, but let it send me flying anyway.

He may have superhuman strength and speed, but Neron's never the physical type. Always relies on power. So he must be testing my limits. Wondering if I have any more tricks up my sleeve.

On my own, I'm not physically inclined either; *gotta sign up for those League of Shadows classes first*. Which makes me completely vulnerable when he gets physical repeatedly, employing teleportation to come at me from all sides.

Frankly, it pisses me off! Negative emotions bite at my nerves and I spiral out of control, summoning external advantages while at it.

I blaze hot as Hellfire spirals around my body and eats into my eyes, manifesting the power the demons have so longed to see first hand. By the time Neron appears again with a fist to my face, he gets stopped promptly, like he's hit an unbreakable wall, his neck at my mercy-...

The mercy of Blight's physical strength manifested in just one hand, and a menacing grin on my face. I can feel it burning on my chest - a black, red-spotted circular mark representing Blight's demon sigil - as more and more Hellfire pours into it. And I can tell that the demons are watching closely, studying and speculating in silent awe.

But they haven't seen half of it, because I'm not about to go taking on Blight's whole incredible form when I know it could free him. I'm just tapping into a concentrated pint of his raw strength for now.

"So that's..." Neron starts, but his words feel like thorns to my ears.

"Be quiet, demon," I command while narrowing my grip on his neck. I feel a subtle resistance that falters when I squeeze even harder. I'm sure I'm about to crash his neck when he splatters into a green mass of flesh and tentacles that escapes my grip - his true demonic form.

Any quips I might harbour fade into oblivion and evil grips me. I feel the need to hurt Neron eternally, but take a moment to observe my abrupt personality change. I stop it before it consumes me.

It feels like ejecting a cassette, when I stop channelling Hellfire to a demon's sigil, and in a flash, I feel like myself again.

"Told you I'm good at improvising." My attempted jab at a quick quip, with an obvious miss at the intended, trademark charm.

Neron's taking his time to gather himself, staggering back as he tries recollecting his green mass. Must've been a long time since he manifested his true form.

"Now, now," Nergal chimes in, capitalizing on the moment like the opportunistic bastard he is. Before I can blink, he's on me, faster than he has any right to be. With one swing of his axe, precise and theatrical, he cleaves me clean down the middle, splitting me into two symmetrical halves.

"Show's over," he sneers, his grin wide and triumphant.

Bollocks! Words just won't flow, and these bloody paper cuts are doing me in. AI might be all the rage, but it don't speak my language - not properly, anyway. Feels like a load of phonies whenever I read 'em. Truth is, I've started preferin' the mistakes, the rough cuts - makes me use my brain proper. But blimey, it's no walk in the park, and let's face it, the comment section ain't enough. I need somethin' bigger, better - above and beyond.

Now, I could trick ya into it, but Zee reckons I should try honesty for once. So what d'ya think, mates? Care to give my [Patreon page](Patreon.com/mimiclord) a peek? Or do I need to drag ya kicking and screaming through Hell to get yer attention?