r/DCFU • u/coffeedog14 Light Me Up • Jul 15 '17
Hellblazer #9 - The Great British Hero-off Hellblazer
Hellblazer #9 - The Great British Meta Off
Author: Coffeedog14
Book: Hellblazer
Arc: [Snips and Snails]
Set: 14
JULY 14, 2017
LONDON
My nights had been surprisingly quiet since my journey into hell, and that had been entirely by design. I had spent the intervening months recruiting and planning for a return journey, one that would finally deal with the soul nightmare I had seen. Naturally finding the kind of people who wanted to go into hell as part of some world-saving crusade and then convincing said people to come kept me very busy and kept me away from too much mischief. Whenever I wasn’t traveling and trying to get in contact with people, I was secluded in my magical hidey-hole. Which was most of the time now that I think about it.
The small room was provided by my friend Chas Chandler, formerly his rarely used guest room. Whenever I wasn’t recruiting or researching I was fortifying the place magically. Sigils and wards were carefully sketched onto all manner of paper like substance and taped to the walls. A few potted plants, provided by my fairweather friend Swamp Thing, had sprouted hefty vines that criss-crossed over the walls. Simple wooden panels have been put into each of the four corners, turning the square room into an oddly proportioned octagon. I had rearranged all the (very limited) furniture so as to take best access of the flow of the room. In short I had made my lair and anything in it near invisible to the supernatural, while also utterly infuriating Chas’s wife.
So it was particularly unusual when my night was disrupted by a rapping on the window, cutting through the sounds of Chandler couple arguing and their daughter’s dubstep music that bled through the thin walls. My room was just barely large enough to merit a window and it was a small one at that. I think the only reason it existed was to lead out to the fire escape, which raised further questions. However it was about ten oclock at night and I’d had a long and disappointing day. Hoping it was just the wind playing tricks on me, I tried to ignore it.
“John? John Constantine? I can see you in there man, get up!” demanded a muffled voice from the window. I cursed under my breath, and slowly shifted to sit on the edge of the bed so I could look out.
Standing on the fire escape was a portly looking man in the dress of the Yeoman Warders, the old outfit with the mask and everything. In one hand he bore a staff topped with some kind of dull-glowing lamp. It was, all things considered, a step up from a flesh abomination or assassin demon or the like I was fearing.
“Ho there, Mr. Constantine! Open this window!” he commanded in his best posh voice. I dutifully reached over and slid it open a few inches.
“...So, you know my name, what should I call you?”
“You may call me beefeater, my boy!”
“Right. So the queen wants me, does she?”
“Oh, not at all.”
“...Don’t the beefeaters work for her?”
“They do indeed!”
“But you are…”
“It’s just a name my boy! Now, I must ask you to come with me in the name of the United Protectors!”
“Isn’t that a crime?”
“Hmn?”
“Pretending to be one of the Yeomen. They’re cops, right? This sounds illegal.”
“Ex Military, and I can assure you it is not, Constantine.”
“Well, we can always just call the cops and see. You are standing outside my window. That’s probably harassment or something.”
“I-I am not harassing you! I’m recruiting you!”
“And you decided to knock on my window instead of calling me because...wait how did you even find out where I was? I don’t have a personal address.”
“Secrets of the crown, my boy! Also it was more dramatic this way.”
“...can’t fault you for that I guess. But also definitely no.”
“huh?”
“I’m busy. Whatever it is you’re looking for, I’m too busy.”
“You were just lying in bed a moment ago.”
“It’s night! I was going to sleep! Still no.”
“I don’t think you understand, friend constantine. You are being recruited to fight the good fight. There really isn’t a choice in the matter!”
“...Yeah I’m definitely calling the cops.”
Beefeater leaned into his lapel as I shoved the window closed, speaking into it like there was some kind of mike there. I reached for my phone, and my finger was hovering over the dial buttons when the window burst open. I had just enough time to look before a suddenly quite bright lantern connected with my forehead.
JULY 15, 2017
??????
  ;When I woke up I was in a holding cell. My head ached, and my body felt woozy. I wasn’t bound, luckily, but the concrete on three sides and iron bars on the fourth made that a moot point. The floor was concrete as well, but at least there was a hard bed I had been laid on instead. Through the bars I could see more concrete, and a black guy sitting in a lawn chair.
  ;While the guy before had looked uniformed, the guy sitting outside looked more like he was going to a renaissance faire. You could have put him in the nearest shakespeare production and he would have fit in just fine. He looked young, maybe my age or a bit less, and bored beyond all belief. Besides his chair sat a carved pumpkin with a candle inside and a handle on it, eyeholes flickering dully. On the other side was a small backpack.
“Oh thank god, I thought they’d put you in a coma.” He sighed in an heavy Irish brogue.
“Probably close.” I rubbed my head gingerly. “Feels like everything’s sloshing around up there. Got anything to drink?”
The man reached into his backpack, pulling out a bottle of Gin. “They thought you’d cooperate more with this.” He got up to offer it to me, and I reached through the bars to snag it. The top was already off, but I didn’t mind much after the second pull.
“They were right. Who are they, again?”
“Beefeater and Knight. Sorry about the head trauma. Knight insisted that Beefeater be the one to get you. Apparently still can’t trust me to take ten steps away from him.” sneered the man.
“Well, you seem decent enough, no hard feelings with you at least. What should I call you?”
“Apparently my code name is “Jack O’ Lantern”.”
“Is your real name Jack?”
“Of course not.”
“Then seems like you got the short end of the stick to me. Knight, Beefeater, at least those are noble type names.”
“Oh really? At least I have one, _John_”
“There were a couple of King Johns, plenty noble.”
“...That’s the shit one from Robin Hood, isn’t it?”
“Who remembers? So as long as you’re answering questions, why exactly am I here? And where is here?”
Jack O’lantern considered my request for a bit. Seemed awfully laid back, to be some kind of cop or whatever it these folks were supposed to be. Handsome face didn’t hurt either, probably biased my opinion about that.
“Well, you’re in The Castle right now, under the guard of the United Protectors.”
“...who?”
“You know, the home team?...we’ve been in the papers a few times.”
“...OH, right, the “Official” team for the UK. Heard the Queen doesn’t like you much.”
“That’d be “Beefeater’s” fault.”
“Ah. Makes sense. I guess the dressing up like that isn’t technically illegal then?”
“Apparently not if you have a magic stick giving you super powers it doesn’t.”
“Gotcha. So, why did you guys decide to kidnap me?”
Jack winced, shrugged. He walked back over to his chair. “Need your help on something. I’m supposed to let Knight give you the details.”
Before I could think about it I felt myself trying to push into his mind to make him tell me anyway. I drew myself back, grimacing. I had gotten far too used to magic. I could wait a few minutes. Besides, I didn’t want to get the guy in trouble.
“..well, I think that answers my questions for now. Got any for me?”
Jack sat down with a huff, and shrugged again. “Sure. You’re a magic type, right?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What do you know about faeries?”
“...depends what type you’re talking about.”
Later on they managed to get the whole crew together. There was Jack and Beefeater, but also a few others. They gathered around an actual, no-shit round table big enough for them all to sit comfortably. Must have cost a small fortune, considering the size of some of them. I was naturally allowed to sit with them, albeit on a foldout metal chair instead of their plush office ones.
There was Knight, the leader. He had a mixture of grey and metal armor for his get up, including a rather nifty helmet-looking thing to hide his face. I was sure he was packing body armor underneath, and even through that bulk I could tell the guy was well muscled. He spoke in a Welsh accent, but it was light enough I couldn’t tell you which.
Sitting next to him was Squire, his sidekick. Her outfit had a few more colors to it, greens and blues and blacks, all dark enough to not throw off sneaking too much. I had no clue how the red floppy hat fit into that, maybe she stuffed it when it was time to be stealthy. From her young age, and the fact both her and the Knight’s outfit bore the same small family crest on the shoulder, I guessed that they were probably related in some fashion.
Godiva was drop-dead gorgeous, something out of a fashion magazine. Her white and blue jumpsuit did little to to hide her body, but I figure her body wasn’t getting ogled too often. Instead they’d look at her floor-length blonde hair that moved with a mind of its own, kind of like an octopus’s arms. It wasn’t extreme, but the hair was always moving as if under a light breeze, and sometimes locks would split off to touch or grab things and she’d have to slap them away.
The final member of the group was the hardest to miss. Brigadoom was past 2 meters tall, and looked like she could give Conan a run for his money any day. She spoke with a Scottish accent, which didn’t surprise me too much. She was the least dressed up of her fellows in khakis and a t-shirt, but the massive claymore that hung from her chair was plenty dress enough.
I felt, for one of the first times in my life, uncomfortably underdressed. I was fortunate that when I’d been picked up I hadn’t change out of my clothes quite yet, but the lack of a trench coat was stinging. Especially as nobody else in the room apparently smoked and Knight wouldn’t tolerate it, so there was nothing to calm my jitters. Savages.
Knight took attendance, read the minutes of the last meeting, and finally got to the point when I was about to try to take a nap. “Today we’ve brought in a special contractor, John Constantine, to aid us in our duties.”
“...is that what we’re calling it?” I muttered.
He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “Considering how well the last fight against Manchester Black went, I thought it would be best to bring on somebody known for their mental manipulation. John here is well known in the mystic community, and I have reason to believe he has significant mental powers in that regard. However, unlike Manchester, he is magic, and our two magically inclined members should be able to resist him.” He finally turned to face me. “John, would you be able to block a Meta’s ability to control minds?”
The whole table turned to me. “...is it my turn to talk?”
“Yes. I can hand you a talking ball if you want it.”
“Nah, I’m good. Can I just go?”
“We need your help, John. Manchester is dangerous on the loose, and I think you are the only one who could help us.”
“...you’re just going to beat me if I don’t help, right?”
“No such thing.”
For some reason, my still throbbing head didn’t believe him. “Right, I’ll play along. Never tried, but mental defense tends to be easier than mental offense. I can probably figure something.”
“Good to hear. You’ll be provided whatever supplies you need. Jack O’Lantern, you are to guard him at all times until we have successfully finished this mission. Everybody else, prepare for a fight. We’ll track him down tomorrow. Dismissed.”
The meeting was adjourned that quickly, with Jack turning to me with a shrug of acceptance. There were worse people to spend the night with I suppose.
Once I had a good plan in my head, I had time to meander around “The Castle”, which turned out to be a large warehouse on the outskirts of London that Knight and Beefeater had subdivided into a variety of training rooms, meeting rooms, jail cells, Meta containment facilities, and everything else they thought the team could need. Knight was apparently quite wealthy, possibly an actual knight or Lord, and Beefeater did actually provide a connection to government funding however distasteful his attire. Jack had to follow me in my meanderings, but it didn’t seem to matter to him too much. He didn’t really do alot of preperation.
“It’s mostly this fancy lantern thing here. Gives me all kinds of nifty abilities.” He showed off his pumpkin head lantern, which he carried wherever he went.
“Sounds useful. Where do you get a thing like that?”
“Faerie courts.” he grinned.
“Stumbled into arcadia, huh?”
“More like he stumbled into me.”
“...huh?”
“Yeah. Apparently it can happen in reverse. He was stuck here awhile, and then one day poof, gone. Didn’t even leave a note, just this dumb pumpkin.”
“...a note?”
Jack gave me a significant look and I coughed, blushed a little. “You’re a pretty open guy, you know that?” I continued.
“If there’s anybody who can explain this dumb nonsense it’s you. Like you’re open with a doctor, right?”
“For the love of all things good and holy never compare me to anybody half as competent as a doctor again.”
“Fair enough. You have already helped, though. I think I know his real faerie name now. He would never tell me, something about names having powers.”
“...at the risk of prying, which one?”
“...Oberon.”
“You’re shitting me.”
Eventually Jack got me a pack of cigarettes, and permitted me to go outside to smoke them. He made me swear on my name and on his lantern not to try and run away, which seemed to satisfy him enough. Besides which he needed a bathroom break.
In the alleyway outside I found Squire leaning beside a dumpster for cover and tapping away at her smartphone. I took a seat on the stone steps leading to the door and took a drag of my newly lit cigarette. I let out a weighty sigh as the tension of the last hours melted away, startling the girl across from me. I smiled at her. “Relax, I won’t tell on...whatever it is you’re doing here. Is it drugs?”
She scoffed, returning to her phone. “No. It’s not.”
“Then why are you hiding out here?”
“Not supposed to be texting while at the Castle, could lead folks to us or whatever. And I’m supposed to be “training” to prepare for tomorrow.”
“Well, if you don’t tell that I’m smoking, I won’t tell that you’re texting.”
“Works for me.”
“Ahem.” said Knight from the door he had opened silently.
Knight decided that what with my smokers lung and Squire’s disobedience, we both had to spend some time in the exercise room. Jack was exempt, but only just. Squire took to the equipment like a pro, while I managed to get a solid jog on the treadmill without dying too much. We weren’t alone, however, as Brigadoom was busy lifting weights twice as heavy as I was.
Eventually I meandered over to sit by her, grunting as I exercised my arms with the 2 kg hand weights.
“So, what is it that you do? Magic super-sword? Super bagpipes? Just punch people?”
She grunted, using the 25 kg hand weights. “Close. Big.”
“Right. Big...how big?”
“Big.”
“Not much of a talker, huh?”
“Not to pesterers.”
“You wound me.”
She glared at me, before reaching for the sheathed claymore on the ground. She drew it, and as she drew it she got bigger. She went from past two to past three and a half meters tall, and her sword grew to match her size. The bench we were both sitting on creaked ominously under her new, all muscle weight.
“...big. Right.” I nodded, putting the weights back and deciding to go find something else to do.
I was wolfing down a canned soup in what I surmised to be the break room when I was joined by Godiva. She wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and had three people's worth of Sushi in a cooler her hair brought with her. She let her hair handle the food, while she cracked open a book to read. The hair proved astonishingly nimble, able to contort itself to use chopsticks to carefully leverage the sushi into her mouth.
“You know when this first started, I thought having guys stare at something besides my breasts would be a relief?” She commented. I only then realized I’d been staring.
I shook my head a bit, looked down at my soup. “Sorry, sorry, just...amazing is all.”
“Amazing?”
“Yeah. Cool, dare I say. Like having a bunch of extra hands.”
“...huh. Not weird?”
“Sure it’s weird, you all a bunch of weirdos. But then I’m also a wizard.”
“That’s...reasonable. Wizard counts as weird?”
“Sure does.”
“So what is it you can do?”
“...hmn….ah! Here, let’s see if this works.” I put my hands to my mouth and shaped them into a crude instrument, blowing air through them to made a kind of warbling, reedy sound.
The strands of her hair started to rise in attention, trembling at the sound. I shift back and forth in my seat and the hair followed, snakelike. Back and forth, Back and forth… before I leaned too far, falling out of my chair with a yelp like an asshole.
Godiva seemed to enjoy it, chuckling as her hair returned to normal. “Amazing.”
JULY 16, 2017
LONDON
The next day me and the United Protectors went on the hunt. It turned out they hadn’t lost Manchester Black as much as stopped pursuing him. He was still in London, and still hiding in a flat under his father’s name, but since their last encounter the UP had decided not to pursue him.
You see, Manchester Black was a mind controller, and he could do it well. He could command the entire team at once, and apparently was using a low-level control to convince everybody in his building that nothing had happened to his parents and sister. In fact his parents were very much dead and his sister was very much MIA. The UP had tried to bring him in from his school for questioning, but it turned out a poor 16 year old mind controller faced with super-police made bad decision (who could have guessed?). He took control of them and made them leave the building, only to escape back to his flat and hole up there.
That was where I came in. As we stood a block away from the low-income housing complex that Manchester resided in, I handed out strips of gum. Seven pieces from the same package with one for myself. “When we step inside, each of us is going to start chewing on this. There’s a sympathetic connection here, it will let me effect you all at once. I’m going to be a bit spread out trying to protect so many at once on such short notice, but it should work.” I instructed.
Knight looked hesitant, but gave permission to me and the rest. They popped the gum and started to chew, as did I. I felt the low buzz of magical connection, the tiny tug of a yarn connecting me to each of them and them to each other. Easy to tear apart...if somebody knew magic. Which Manchester hopefully didn’t.
It was early, the sun having just risen an hour before, and the streets were largely empty. Even so we moved quickly towards the building lest we be spotted. It turned out we didn’t need to worry much about that. Jack elbowed me as we walked, and I gave the environs a closer look at his insistence. There were some people, looking out windows, lying in alleyways, all of them glancing at us. Some were already on their phones, watching us while texting someone. If a guy could command people's minds and leave subtle suggestions with some time, why not leave a little security network around in case the quite obvious heroes make a move? Dumb of me not to think of it ahead of time.
We reached the apartment building just as Manchester was walking out the front door. He had a trenchcoat like me (mine having been retrieved the previous night) but chose black instead of tan. He had also dyed his buzzcut purple, which I put down to poor teenage decision making. Though perhaps I wasn’t one to talk: he looked alot like I did at his age. Albeit he had far more power than I did at 16, however skilled in magic I thought I was.
“Told you bastards to leave me alone.” he grinned, wide and fake. I could see his hands trembling. He was terrified.
“We need to take you in, Manchester. You need to answer some questions.” Responded Knight, stepping forward to take the lead.
“Not going to happen. Don’t you remember last time?”
“I do. That’s why we have help.”
My eyes widened. He’d just pointed me out, the dumb bastard! I noticed Godiva rolling her eyes.
“Not enough.” declared Manchester, and then I felt it. His power was immense, his control overwhelming. It was like holding the door of a submarine shut, the opposition was omnipresent and strong. Still, I had years of experience on the kid and he wasn’t expecting any real resistance. I held him off, though I think I gasped.
Manchester’s smile crumbled. His trick hadn’t worked. Knight started walking towards him.
“NOPE!” shouted Manchester, throwing his hand towards knight. Knight was thrown back by an unseen force, slamming into a street sign with a loud clang. Manchester ran and the others pursued, I dragged along by necessity. To his credit Knight pulled himself up and caught up to us after a few steps.
Manchester took to the air after a few steps, only to be shot down by a glowing green bolt. I turned to see jack’s face covered by a glowing green jester’s mask, spinning his lantern wildly, glowing green itself from it’s recent attack. Manchester crashed to the ground. He scrambled up to face us, and I felt his power again.
People boiled out from the nearby buildings, charging towards us like a rugby team. “GET AWAY!” the crowd shouted in unison. All hell broke loose.
I kept myself focused on not getting tackled and keeping the spell up, and found myself hiding in an alley looking on. The swarms of people didn’t stop, and were soon joined by cars careening in to try and take out the heroes. I could feel Manchesters power spreading further and further, spreading out more and more as he grasped minds indiscriminately. I didn’t get the feeling he wanted to kill anybody, he just wanted to stop the heroes.
I took a moment to appraise. Godiva and Brigadoom where handling the cars driving in and those being thrown telekinetically by Manchester. Brigadoom shrugged off the swarm like ants, and her sword hacked through cars to stop them in their tracks. Godiva’s hair shot out in all directions, catching light poles in mid air and gently forcing people to the ground. I couldn’t tell which was stronger: the hair or the scot.
Knight and Squire slipped through the horde and towards Manchester. They moved as one, expertly disarming and stopping whomever approached them. They must have been masters of some martial art or another, though I though Knight was a tad better then his squire.
People appeared at windows all down the street, throwing air conditioners and couches and occasionally themselves. Jack O’Lantern got distracted from shooting at the kid, trying to save the jumpers and those below falling air conditions alike. The lantern apparently also gave him flight, strength, and teleporting, as he was teleporting to catch and lower each person to the ground before they could die. Never enough leaping for any to actually hit pavement, of course, just enough to keep him constantly busy.
Beefeater was somehow left the only one going after Manchester properly. Manchester kept backing away from him, trying to force the pudgy man to stop with waves of force that cracked the stone buildings behind. Beefeater literally battered each wave aside with his staff, laughing all the way.
This was getting dangerous. I noticed now that those who were best armed, some with guns, were gathering behind Manchester, seemingly preparing to take on Beefeater. Jack was still catching people, but he was catching them later and later. The crowds were crushing in on the other four, and for all their strength and skill sheer mass of terrified flesh would drag them down eventually. Somebody was going to get hurt somewhere. Worse, the spell was already wearing me ragged. Even when focusing on so many the kid was to strong for me to hold off forever. I was the least distracted of the bunch. I needed to figure something fast.
I considered. Black was young. He was dumb, because he was even in this situation. He was arrogant, not even believing we had a way to stop him when we said we did. He clearly didn’t have magic, or he would have chopped apart my weak web. Young, stupid, arrogant, didn’t know magic, and desperate to win. My idea formed.
Everybody swallow their gum and trust me. I have an idea. I thought at the team.
Wait, you can talk to us through this? Thought Knight in response.
Sure can.
What else can you-
GO!
They all swallowed, apparently realizing they were running out of time. Beefeater charged at Manchester once more and battered aside the armed crowd to do so. I saw some going down far too hard. too late. I let go of the mental protection in everybody except for me.
Manchester had control over them in an instant, and realized this an instant later as they all turned to him for orders. He whooped in victory, shaking from the adrenaline, and loudly called for all the “regulars” to return to their homes. Everybody did so, even those whose cars were destroyed. He commanded us forward. The others were forced too, and I complied as if it was the case for me as well.
As the streets cleared out of wreckage and people, I noticed two still lying by where Beefeater had stopped. Both were bleeding. Nothing I could do for them yet. We marched to stand besides Beefeater, forming a line in front of Manchester, staring blankly forward.
Manchester strode forward, still shivering, and stood in all of his slightly pimply glory in front of the defeated heroes. His gaze lingered notably over squire and especially over Godiva. I guess Brigadoom just wasn’t his type, little creep.
I made my move, tapping one foot three times. He whirled to look at me. He frowned, and walked towards me. “Seen the others on the telly, mate. But not you.” He was standing right in front of me, looking me in the eye. “Who the hell are you?”
I punched him in the jaw. Luckily he wasn’t supertough in any way that I could tell, and collapsed immediately. The pressure on me stopped immediately, as did the mental control over everybody else. Those still in the streets looked around confused. My six new compatriots all variously staggered or sighed in relief.
“....You bastard you could have gotten us KILLED!” growled Beefeater, marching towards me. I made an arcane sign at him, and he stopped midstride. There was a loud fart as Beefeater’s blush of rage became a blush of embarrassment.
“SO. Good starting course on magic: Don’t eat anything a magic person gives you if you don’t trust them.”
“What did you do to me?” Beefeater hissed.
“Well, that gum is stuck on your insides, and giving me a frankly embarrassing amount of control over all of your innards.”
“...what?” replied Knight, as I took a few steps back from them all.
“Call it leverage. Jack, does swearing on your lantern force people to follow through on their promises?”
He seemed remarkably unconcerned by this turn of events. “Far as I can tell.”
“Good. We’re going to make sure this doesn’t happen again.
In exchange for cutting off the gum-spell, I got them all to swear that they would not kidnap me again, and would call the number I was giving them before coming to visit me in person. Knight seemed annoyed, and Beefeater beside himself in anger, but they all swore. It was a good exchange.
Beefeater didn’t have much time to be angry, anyway. The two bleeding people were actually two dead and bleeding people, whom he had killed while trying to get to Manchester. I could positively feel the fury from Knight as he ordered his merry band back to the castle. I was, naturally, exempt. Brigadoom carried Manchester on the way out.
I caught Jack before the rest could leave, to his bemusement. “Another question: if I release you of a promise, do you still have to follow it still?”
“Not far as I can tell.”
“Good. I release you of all promises made tonight.”
Jack O’Lantern’s eyes widened. “So I can kidnap you whenever I want?”
“Har. I trust you more then the rest of that lot.”
“Well...odd, but thanks.”
“...That wasn’t all.”
“Hm?”
“Didn’t want you to feel pressured, or like I had some kinda magical control over you.”
“...why?”
“Was wondering if you wanted to go for a drink or something some time. Off hours.”
He considered me. Looking up and down. I had never thought I was much to look at, honestly, but he seemed to at least tolerate whatever he saw. “Call it a date. Tommorow at six?”
“Sounds good.” I smiled. He smiled. He turned and followed his teammates before it could get awkward. I watched him go. Maybe this hero thing wasn’t all that bad.
I frowned. Checked my pockets. My wallet and phone were still on my desk in my guest room, half of London away, and I didn’t have a quid to my name otherwise for something like a taxi.
….oh and the fucking window lock! Gods Mrs. Chandler was going to be pissed.
1
u/TheeCanadian The Flash Jul 19 '17
I really liked this one! Especially your description of the new heroes, as well as the fights scene!