C1. I'm Constantine
The Lucky Devil Casino in Las Vegas had its usual crowd today. In a secluded room, five supernaturals sat around a poker table, cards sprawled before them.
One among them held nearly all the chips and stacks of cash, his ongoing victory cheered on by his two associates. Opposite this "lucky devil" sat a man in a brown trench coat, a white shirt underneath, and a maroon tie hanging loosely around his collar. His blonde hair and light skin complemented his thematic features, and his unkempt beard spoke volumes of his laid-back personality.
Throwing his cards carelessly on the table, he lamented, though not without a hint of irony, "In what bloody plane of existence does four of a kind lose?"
He had just lost again to the self-declared winner who had rigged the game with his own rules, making it impossible to beat him. One might wonder why anyone would participate in such a rigged contest, but the man in the trench coat had an ulterior motive. He was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to make a bargain with his opponents—the Demons Three, with the winner being one of them.
The fifth player was a neutral party in the game, as neutral as his soul— part man, part demon. As a man, he was known as Jason Blood; as a demon, he was Etrigan. Today, he was Jason Blood. Relentlessly, the man in the coat kept trying to coax Etrigan to the surface, hoping the demon would play in his favor. But Jason Blood shot him down every time.
"John Constantine—the man who perfected bad ideas," Blood remarked. He reminded Constantine how dangerous Etrigan was, and how he had devoted his his life to keeping the demon locked away.
Abnegazar, the grossing winner and one of the Demons Three, interrupted as he shuffled more cards. "Boys, boys, you're boring me. Let's play, shall we?"
Abnegazar hovered his selected cards above the table, dealing each player a hand. After carefully considering his cards, Constantine went all in with his remaining chips, while Abnegazar used his demon magic to modify his hand to the unbeatable '10, J, Q, K, A.'
Chuckling mischievously, Abnegazar declared his victory, his fellow demons nodding in agreement. "By my rules, you lose."
As Abnegazar reached out to claim the mountain of chips, Constantine's hand shot out to stop him. "I raise," Constantine declared.
Abnegazar looked surprised. "With what? Your ratty soul isn't worth two bits."
John Constantine's soul was famously bound to countless demons, the result of numerous deals that he had masterfully double-crossed. His soul's ledger was a two-sided affair; while it brought him endless trouble, it was also one of the reasons he was still alive. Any demon attempting to claim his soul would trigger a war with all the others who held a stake in it.
"I'm betting the House—the House of Mystery," Constantine declared boldly, gesturing toward the windows. Outside, he unveiled a hovering house over Las Vegas. On the outside, the House of Mystery appeared unremarkable, but within, it was an infinite space filled with arcane artifacts, spells, and relics— many of which even Constantine hadn't fully explored.
The House of Mystery was a treasure trove of mystical power, and the Demons Three couldn't argue otherwise. They called his wager with something of their own, a relic known only by whispered legend.
Raising a treasure box from Hell through a portal, the Demons Three revealed their counter-wager.
Constantine observed the contents. "Really? A chipped Dream Stone? Broken knick-knacks for the House of Mystery and everything in it?" Constantine's dry tone belied his inner ambition. Jason's face also remained impassive, betraying no recognition of the crude, dark-maroon relic Constantine retrieved from the Demons Three's box.
Abnegazar defended the relic, saying that even if its magic was broken, it was still a massive ruby. "If you don't value it, walk away a loser."
Constantine accepted their wager, revealing his hand—a pair of twos, the lowest winning hand in poker. The Demons Three laughed, certain they had won, as Abnegazar smugly prepared to display his Full House: '10, J, Q, K, A.' How lucky!
But Constantine had played coy with them long enough. Despite his reckless bet, he wasn't about to lose the House of Mystery just yet. This was his moment to outwit the demons once again.
As Abnegazar revealed his hand, Constantine discreetly used his more advanced magic to dispel Abnegazar's illusion, shifting the cards from the winning Full House to a baffling (and original) '2, 4, 7, 9, A.'
Before the Demons Three could process the change, Constantine was already trying to pocket the Dream Stone. Enraged, Abnegazar smashed the poker table into dust, accusing Constantine of cheating.
"Technically, we both cheated. I just did it better," Constantine replied boldly, as Abnegazar threatened to rip out his heart.
The ensuing clash saw Constantine battling the Demons Three, using an ice-crafted magic wand that gave him an edge—until it began consuming him, freezing him from within as the price for wielding foreign magic.
Desperate, Constantine made another attempt to call forth Etrigan, but Jason Blood resisted once more. Ill-equipped to withstand the demonic weapons of the Demons Three, Constantine was left with no choice but to resort to--... the Constantine way.
Without hesitation, Constantine cast a spell on Jason Blood, forcing him to summon the ancient demon Etrigan, effectively betraying a potential ally. But this was hardly a first for Constantine—just another addition to his long list of self-righteous deeds.
"Gone, gone, the form of man. Arise, the demon Etrigan," Jason Blood was compelled to chant.
In a fiery transformation, Etrigan emerged. Wasting no time, Etrigan the Slayer summoned his broad, sharp demon blade, standing against the Demons Three with incredible reflexes and strength.
Breathing hellfire upon them, Etrigan swiftly decapitated two of the Demons Three, leaving only Abnegazar. The severed heads bounced across the floor toward Constantine, who was meanwhile inspecting and double-checking the Dream Stone.
"You'll pay, Constantine. Your soul will be ours!" the severed heads of the Demons threatened, despite their separation from their bodies.
In response, Constantine wanted to retort, "Get in line, you prats," but only managed to say, "Get in line—" before clutching his chest in agony.
A searing pain shot from his heart to his spine and up into his brain.
"Aaahhh…"
The pain forced him to scream as his spine arched, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. A white light surged through his body, burning through his eyes and fingertips. The light became blinding as it filled the room, only to ominously vanish moments later.
Meanwhile, Etrigan plunged his sword into Abnegazar's chest, sending the demon—and his decapitated allies—hurtling back to the pits of hell through a hellish portal.
As the portal closed, Etrigan did the unexpected. "Since the battle is fought and won, Jason Blood with me is done," the rhyming demon intoned, allowing Jason Blood to regain control.
Etrigan ignored Constantine's shocked expression. Constantine watched in disbelief as the fiery demon transformed back into a stoically angry Jason Blood.
Before he could fully process the situation, the now-human Jason began marching toward him, his face contorted with anger. Sensing danger, Constantine scrambled to his feet, only to trip over a box he hadn't noticed.
Jason Blood, still furious, grabbed Constantine by the collar with surprising strength. Before Constantine could react, a fist flew at him, connecting squarely with his jaw and sending waves of pain through his face.
The moment was disorienting, but Constantine wasn't about to let another punch land. He clenched his fists, ready to defend himself, but the man suddenly let go and shoved him back.
"For five hundred years, I've been bound to Etrigan, fighting to keep him at bay, and you forced me to summon him!" the man shouted, confusing Constantine even further.
Constantine stared at the man, his brows furrowing in a mix of anger and bewilderment. He tried to process what the man was saying, but the words only made things more jarring.
'Five hundred years? Etrigan? Summon?' Constantine couldn't recall anyone he knew stringing those words together. And he certainly didn't know anyone who could transform from a fiery demon into a man.
Recalling the bizarre transformation he had just witnessed, Constantine took a cautious step back. He looked at the man, then glanced around the room, wondering, 'How in the world did I get here? Who is this guy, and what's he talking about? And that transformation--...'
The last thing he remembered was grabbing popcorn for a movie, then a blinding white light engulfing him. Now he found himself kneeling on the floor, watching as a demonic figure rhymed and was engulfed in flames.
"Stop acting innocent, Constantine!" the man snapped, looking even angrier. The man's tone grew harsher. "Etrigan could have gone on a killing spree. You don't think! You don't consider the cost!"
But Constantine was stuck on one word he had heard. 'Did he just call me Constantine?' That wasn't his name. His name was Mark—not Constantine.
Mark—now apparently Constantine—looked around, searching for anyone else in the room he might have missed. But there was no one else, and... His clothes had changed too. His comfortable white T-shirt was now a dump brown overcoat, and he was wearing a shirt and tie.
He hadn't worn a tie since dropping out of school. Jason watched as Constantine stared at himself in confusion, seemingly ignoring him.
Jason was a patient man, but Constantine had constantly tested his limits. For centuries, Jason had lived among men, but he had never met anyone like Constantine. Constantine was a screw-up, a man who never learned.
"You are a world-class bastard, John," Jason muttered, giving up on trying to instil guilt in Constantine, and walked away.
Constantine watched as Jason left. He had so many questions but didn't know where to start. All he could do was watch as Jason walked out the door.
"Constantine?" The name echoed in his mind as he surveyed the mess in the room. 'Am I really John Constantine?' The name 'Etrigan' started to make sense, as did the man who had both punched and lectured him.
How had he ended up in this situation? An ominous energy behind him made him turn around, and he saw a house hovering in midair. As far as he was concerned, magic only existed in fiction— but seeing this left him questioning reality itself.
As the house loomed closer, he realized that magic was very real. But that still didn't explain anything. When the door to the mysterious house opened, a feminine figure stood in the entrance, her expression a mix of mystery and curiosity.
It wasn't the purple hue of her skin or her apparent nakedness that unnerved him the most— it was the fact that he knew who she was. She was the Magic of the House of Mystery, embodied in human form.
When she spoke, it wasn't with words but directly into his mind. "Bring the chest inside."
Constantine looked at her in confusion, but she calmly gestured toward the treasure box he had stumbled over earlier. With a vague understanding, he bent to pick it up. Then, an inner voice reminded him that magic was real—and that he could wield it like no one else, because...
He was John 'bloody' Constantine.
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