The Aftermath at Constantine's Pub
The atmosphere inside John Constantine's pub was thick with unspoken words. The
usual haze of cigarette smoke felt heavier tonight, clinging to the silence like an omen.
Zatanna sat stiffly, arms crossed, her mind replaying the battle over and over. The sheer
destruction. The power Liam had unleashed. The moment he had absorbed Blaze and
Satanus into that damned sword.
John wanted answers—needed them. But looking at Zatanna, still visibly shaken, he
held his tongue. Pushing her now wouldn't get him anywhere. Instead, he sighed, taking
a sip of his whiskey before speaking in his signature way.
"You can go now, Z. You've done enough. Deserve some rest. I'll take care of him from
here."
Zatanna looked at him, her brows furrowing. Then, to his surprise, she shook her head.
"No. I want to stay… just in case." Her voice was quiet but firm. Then, after a brief
pause, she added, "And can I have the room next to his?"
John blinked. He hadn't expected that. He could tell she wasn't just staying for practical
reasons—there was something else. Something about what she had witnessed had
changed the way she looked at Liam.
He didn't argue. He just nodded.
Etrigan, standing nearby, grinned, his voice carrying its usual poetic flair. "Both Liam
and Zatanna have fought great foes this night, for such valor, they deserve prizes bright.
But I, a demon, have none to bestow—so I lay this warrior to his rest below." With that,
he carried Liam's unconscious body upstairs, placing him gently onto the bed.
Zatanna followed, stepping inside Liam's room. She hesitated, watching him sleep, his
breathing steady, his face now free of the torment he had endured. Something inside
her softened. After a moment, she turned and walked to her own room, shutting the
door behind her.
Downstairs, John sat at the bar, staring into his glass with furrowed brows. He was
rarely one to sit in silence, but tonight, he felt the weight of too many unknowns.
Etrigan returned, standing beside him. "From what I heard from Lucy, those two are
tough cookies."
John let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah. And that's the bloody problem."
Etrigan's expression darkened. "Even I, with fire and might, could not defeat them in a
fair fight."
John took another sip of his drink before muttering, "They're immortal, Etrigan. And I'm
sure as hell they didn't just die. That portal shut before their energy disappeared."
Etrigan's eyes narrowed. "Then you think they remain… in some wicked domain?"
John rubbed his temples, exhaling sharply. "Worse, mate. If those two are still around,
they're gonna come back for round two."
A heavy silence settled between them before Etrigan spoke again. "Do you think Lucifer
will go after Liam for this?"
John didn't answer right away. But deep inside, he already knew the truth.
Lucifer Morningstar didn't take threats lightly. And Liam… Liam had just become
something that even the Devil himself couldn't ignore.
Nightmares did not stop
Darkness. Fire. The scent of burning flesh. Liam's dreams were plagued with the same
visions—hell itself swallowing everything in its path. His body burned as if he were still
trapped in the battle, flames licking at his skin. His breath came out in ragged gasps,
and sweat poured down his face.
Outside his mind, in the waking world, his body temperature spiked dangerously high.
Zatanna, who had been resting in the room next to his, felt something was off. The
moment she entered, she saw him drenched in sweat, his face twisted in discomfort.
"Liam!" she called, rushing to his side. She placed a hand on his arm—burning. Without
thinking, she whispered a spell, conjuring a gentle snowfall that spread across the room,
lowering the temperature. The cool air did its job, and Liam's breathing stabilized.
Relieved, Zatanna let out a shaky breath, exhaustion taking over. She rested her head
on the edge of his bed and drifted into unconsciousness.
Hours Later…
Liam stirred. A voice rang in his head, sharp and sarcastic as ever.
"How the hell can you sleep this long after giving a performance worse than Barcelona
in 2022? Or Madrid currently? Get your bitch-ass up right now!"
His eyes snapped open, and he shot up with a gasp. "Zatanna!"
His sudden movement startled her awake. Without hesitation, she lunged forward and
wrapped her arms around him.
"You're awake," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Liam blinked, stunned by the sudden embrace. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her
in return. "Thank God you're okay."
In his mind, Sparda chuckled. "Damn, she pulled a complete 180 thanks to me.
Greatest wingman of all time."
Tears welled in Zatanna's eyes as she held onto him. "Thank you," she murmured, still
shaken from the night before.
Liam gently rubbed her back. "It's okay. As long as you're not hurt, it was worth it."
The door burst open, and John strolled in. His eyes flicked between them, and a smirk
played at his lips.
"Sorry for interrupting, lovebirds."
Zatanna turned bright red and quickly pulled away.
Liam groaned, leaning back against the bed. "I need a damn minute to breathe, man."
John chuckled and gave a mock salute. "Right, right. Take your time, Romeo."
As John and Zatanna left the room, Liam sighed and called out to Sparda.
"Alright, what the hell happened back there?"
Sparda wasted no time in roasting him. "What happened? You choked, kid. I had to step
in 'cause you almost got yourself killed. Face it—you're not ready to wield my full power
yet."
Liam clenched his fists. "So I'm that useless, huh?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
Liam groaned, rubbing his temple.
"Look," Sparda continued, "you're not completely hopeless. You just need weapons that
won't burn you out every time you swing. So, I did you a favor—I turned those demons
we absorbed into something more manageable."
Liam blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Check under your bed, genius."
Liam reached down and pulled out two sleek, demonic-looking pistols—one black, one
crimson.
"These babies won't put a strain on your body. Think of 'em as your training wheels.
Until you can handle the real deal, we'll just collect more weapons from powerful
demons. That's the plan."
Liam inspected the pistols, feeling their weight. "They feel powerful… What are they
called?"
Sparda snickered. "Oh, I kept their names. The black one is Satanus, and the red one is
Blaze."
Liam froze. "Wait… WHAT?!"
He gripped the guns tighter, his mind racing. He knew those names. He had read about
them in DC comics—two of the most powerful demon siblings in hell.
"You're telling me… I just turned two major DC villains into GUNS?!"
Sparda laughed. "Yup. And let me tell you, they're a lot more useful this way. No more
monologues, no more evil plans—just raw firepower in your hands. Enjoy."
Liam stared at the pistols, still processing. "…Holy shit."
Downstairs…
John leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Alright, kid. Spill it. What the hell
happened with those twins?"
Liam exhaled and explained everything—how Sparda took over, how he cut down Blaze
and Satanus, and how the sword absorbed them.
John took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "That's a lot of bullshit, mate.
But honestly… it's still more believable than that journalist story you gave me before."
Liam chuckled, shaking his head.
Across the room, Zatanna sat at the bar, watching him. The moment Liam met her gaze,
she quickly turned away, cheeks flushed.
John smirked. "Lucky bastard."
Liam stretched. "Anyway, I need some air."
John nodded. "Take your time. You won't be taking any more jobs for a while, anyway."
As Liam headed toward the door, Zatanna stood up and approached him. "Mind if I join
you?"
Liam hesitated, then gave her a small smile. "As much as I'd love to, I need to clear my
head alone. But how about tonight, Lady Zatanna?"
She smiled softly. "I'd like that."
Liam gave her a nod before stepping out into the cool night air.
"Alright, Sparda. Time to test these new bad boys."
"Finally!" Sparda howled. "You're starting to act like a man. Keep this up instead of
screaming like a little bitch while getting mogged."
The Knights of Gotham
The rooftops of Gotham were shrouded in mist, the skyline barely visible through the
thick veil of darkness. The city below pulsed with life, but up here, two warriors stood
face to face—two knights of different creeds.
One clad in black, a shadow against the night. The other in white and crimson, his
armor gleaming under the faint glow of the city lights.
A tense silence lingered before the red-cloaked knight finally spoke.
"What's all this about, Batman?" Azrael's voice was sharp, unwavering. His glowing
eyes locked onto the Dark Knight.
Batman's gaze remained impassive. "There's talk of a human wielding the power of a
devil. Someone not born a demon, but something… else."
Azrael scoffed, his grip tightening on the hilt of his flaming sword. "God and the Order
cannot allow such an abomination to exist."
Batman's voice was calm, but firm. "Your target is in London. If you go after him, you
need to understand—this isn't something you can take lightly."
A brief pause.
Then, Azrael sheathed his blade. "That's all I needed to know."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, his red cape
billowing behind him.
A moment later, another voice broke the silence.
"Was that a good idea?"
Nightwing landed on the rooftop beside Batman, arms crossed. His blue emblem
glowed faintly in the dark.
Batman didn't answer immediately. His fingers tapped against the chain in his
hand—the same one he had recovered from a certain crime scene.
Finally, he spoke. "We'll find out soon enough."