Metropolis – After the Battle
The city still smoldered from the chaos of battle. Smoke curled into the sky, illuminated
by the flickering fires that clung stubbornly to the ruins. The streets of Metropolis,
usually bustling with life, were now filled with the wounded, the shaken, and the
victorious. The Justice League worked tirelessly to assist civilians, their presence a
beacon of hope amidst the devastation.
Near the Daily Planet, a different group of heroes was tending to the last remnants of
the invasion. The Titans had spent the final moments of the battle mopping up the
remaining Parademons, their teamwork fluid and precise. But while the others moved
with determination, one among them seemed… distracted.
Raven stood slightly apart from her team, her midnight cloak fluttering in the ash-laden
wind. Her violet eyes were distant, unfocused, her mind reaching into the unseen. Her
fingers briefly touched the blood-red gemstone embedded in her forehead, the shard of
her father's power—Trigon's mark. It pulsed faintly, an ache behind her skull that had
been bothering her since the fight began. Something was wrong. Something beyond
Darkseid's invasion.
"Raven?" A voice as warm as a summer breeze cut through her thoughts.
Starfire floated down beside her, her fiery hair glowing against the ruined backdrop. "Are
you well?"
Raven blinked, her gaze shifting to her friend. "Yeah…" she said, though the uncertainty
in her voice was evident. "It's just… I felt something during the battle. An ache. But not
from exhaustion something else. My father's crystal reacted to it."
Starfire's brows furrowed. "You believe this is significant?"
Raven exhaled, crossing her arms. "Trigon's power only responds to things of great
demonic presence. Something was here, Star. Something wrong."
Before Starfire could respond, the air shook—a deafening explosion erupted from the
southern part of the city. A tower of fire and smoke spiraled into the sky as a building
collapsed in on itself, the impact so strong that the streets trembled beneath them.
The Titans whipped around as the sickening pulse of dark energy washed over them,
thick and suffocating, as if the air itself had curdled.
Raven's stomach dropped. Her breath hitched. This wasn't just destruction—it was
something else. Something hungry.
"Come on!" she commanded, already lifting into the air.
Starfire followed without hesitation, the two soaring through the battered skyline towards
the explosion's epicenter.
The Ruins An Ominous Discovery
The destruction was worse up close. A deep gash had been carved through the street,
as if something had plowed through buildings with unnatural precision. Metal beams
jutted out at odd angles, slick with fresh blood. And in the center of the devastation, a
single, massive slash was carved into the side of a skyscraper, its edges burned black
with raw energy.
Raven landed lightly, her boots crunching against shattered glass. Starfire hovered
beside her, her green eyes glowing as she scanned the area.
"This is… unlike the Parademons' destruction," Starfire observed, her voice tinged with
concern.
Raven knelt, fingers grazing a twisted metal rod stained crimson. "A Parademon didn't
do this," she murmured. "They don't have magic like this. And they don't just…
disappear."
She reached out with her senses, trying to trace the presence that had left this carnage
behind. But there was nothing—just the lingering, oppressive weight of something dark
and powerful. Something that had vanished as quickly as it had struck.
Her fingers curled Into a fist.
"This isn't good," she said grimly. "I can't track it anymore, but… whatever did this, it
was powerful enough that even Trigon took notice."
Starfire's expression darkened. "Then what do we do?"
Raven stood, turning towards a long, eerily cleared path amidst the destruction—like a
road intentionally left untouched. A direction. A message.
She exhaled. "We follow it."
Without another word, she strode forward, stepping into the unknown. Starfire followed
close behind, the uneasy feeling in their chests growing heavier with every step.
Something had arrived in Metropolis. And whatever it was, it wasn't finished yet.
The Bar – A Dangerous Conversation
The dimly lit bar reeked of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey, a haven for the damned
and the desperate. A single flickering bulb swayed lazily above the round wooden table
where four figures sat, tension thick in the air.
Liam sat across from John Constantine, his expression unreadable as he swirled the
cheap liquor in his glass. Beside Constantine, Etrigan the demon loomed, his monstrous
form barely fitting in the tight space, glowing yellow eyes fixated on the newcomer with
silent scrutiny.
Then, a voice echoed in Liam's mind, smooth yet edged with wisdom and experience.
"Let's play along with them for now," Sparda murmured from within. "From what I can
tell, these two are well-prepared. If they wanted you dead, they would have taken your
head the moment you walked in."
Liam subtly nodded, his fingers tapping the side of his glass.
"And that Etrigan fellow… I think I know him. We can trust them for now. Just make sure
to ask about Raven's location—she can't sense me unless I get too close."
Liam exhaled, then turned to Constantine. "Alright, mate. I'll do as you say," he
conceded, leaning back in his chair. "But in exchange, I want information about
Raven—and a few drinks."
John snorted, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray. "Can't promise you the drinks with
him around," he said, jerking his thumb toward Etrigan, "but I'll do my best, yeah?"
The room settled into a brief silence, the distant hum of a jukebox the only sound. Then
Constantine leaned forward, curiosity flashing in his eyes.
"Now, tell me…" he mused, voice laced with intrigue. "What kind of magic was that back
there? I don't think I've ever felt anything like it before. And I managed to get a CCTV
camera running for a bit—saw you running around with a sword."
He smirked, but there was an edge to it. "Care to explain that, mate?"
Liam sighed, reaching into his shirt and pulling out the chain around his neck. He held it
for a moment, then placed it on the table.
The Instant the necklace touched the wood, it pulsed with an eerie glow—then, in a
flash of red energy, it shifted. The table creaked under the sudden weight of the Sparda
sword, Its wickedly curved edge gleaming under the dim light.
A suffocating presence filled the room, dark and ancient.
Etrigan stiffened, his clawed fingers twitching toward his blade. Constantine's casual
demeanor faltered, his free hand instinctively reaching for the pack of enchanted cards
in his coat.
Liam raised a brow. "I thought we were on good terms," he said, voice calm but firm. "I
put my weapon on the table as a sign of trust, and this is how you react?" He shook his
head. "You know better."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then, after an exhale, Constantine relaxed, sinking back
into his chair with a dry chuckle. He gestured for Etrigan to stand down.
"Didn't know we were playin' with big guns," he muttered, running a hand through his
messy blond hair. "Even old Luci himself might feel threatened by your little friend
there."
Etrigan rumbled in agreement, his voice taking on its usual poetic cadence:
"Even in Hell's most wretched pit,
Never have I felt power like this…"
Liam scoffed. "You two have nothing to be afraid of," he assured them, reclaiming the
sword and allowing it to revert to its necklace form. The oppressive energy dissipated,
but the tension in the room remained.
Constantine eyed him. "Alright, so—your powers. Your affiliation. What's your deal?"
Liam hesitated. For a moment, words failed him.
He had spent two lifetimes dreaming of power, of becoming a hero. And now, he had
it—strength beyond anything he could have imagined. But there was no fulfillment. No
joy. Only the bitter memory of how he had died, betrayed by the very heroes he once
idolized.
The scene played In his head: the pain, the confusion, the casual dismissal of his life by
someone he had worshipped.
Something cold settled in his chest.
"I don't know, mate," Liam muttered finally, his voice low. "I truly don't."
Constantine studied him for a long moment. Then, a slow smirk stretched across his
face.
"Well," he said, flicking open his lighter. "I've got a proposition for ya."
Liam arched a brow.
"There's a little demon problem I need handled. Nasty bastards—real pieces of work.
You help me clean up the mess, and in exchange, I'll get you the information you're
after. And," he added with a sly grin, "you'll have a bit of… coverage from the other
heroes. For the time being, anyway."
Liam leaned forward, considering. The deal was reasonable, and right now, he needed
information.
"Fine," he said with a nod. "I'll do it. After things settle in Metropolis and I check on my
girlfriend."
The moment he said it, he noticed Constantine's smirk fade.
John exhaled, rubbing his temples before fixing Liam with an uneasy look. His next
words came slow, careful—almost reluctant.
"She's dead, mate."
Silence.
Liam's breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists beneath the table.
Sparda, deep within his mind, remained silent.
The bar suddenly felt much colder.