John Constantine was usually on the other side of a Summons. He was the one usually drawing the circle, chanting the chant, dribbling the blood over the runes.
John Constantine was usually the Summoner. He had never, in his very long life, ever been the Summonee. Hell, he hadn’t even thought he could be Summoned. Yet, here he was, in the middle of what was obviously a throne room with bright green walls, eerie blue-flamed torches, and a huge black knight with purple hair-like flames around his head standing at the foot of a dais, hand on the pommel of his giant black sword.
“Yo, Frighty, the dude here yet?” A tall black kid strode into the hall, head down as he messed around on a tablet. The ankh pectoral over his shirt glinted eerily in the strange light.
“Yes, Lord Foley,” boomed the black knight, “the renegade John Constantine has arrived!”
The kid, Lord Foley, looked up and, seeing John, grinned. “Sweet! I’ll get Danny.” Then, without so much as hello, Foley turned on his heel and trotted right back out.
John eyed the knight. “Wanna tell me what I’m doing here?”
“His Majesty Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, Lord Commander of the Dead, Protector of the Grave, has Summoned you.”
“Yeah, got that. Why?” John desperately wished he had a cigarette. If he’d been summoned by the High bloody King of the Infinite bloody Realms, he was fucked. Sure, he knew a new king took over from Pariah Dark—thank you Etrigan and Boston Deadman for that update—but he had never actually wanted to meet the guy.
“Hey, Frights, thanks for watching him.” A new kid, silver haired and wearing a black bodysuit, floated through the door.
John stared at the kid. And stared. And stared. Because what he was seeing wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. There was absolutely no way some string bean high school-looking kid had the Crown of Fire floating above his head. Absolutely not.
The kid stopped midair, floating in front of John, peering at him with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child. “So, you’re the off-brand Voldemort.”
John had absolutely no response to that.
The knight’s purple fire hair flared. “Answer His Majesty!”
“I’m John Constantine,” he said because, shit, what else was he going to do? If he really was in the Infinite Realms, he was so screwed. Magic didn’t work in the Infinite Realms. The whole dimension existed outside of time and space, connected to every-where, every-when, all at once. Hell, this was the place actual gods went to retire and this kid wearing the Crown of Fire—and, yep, that was the Ring of Rage right there on his hand—was the bloody High King. John Constantine may be careless but he wasn’t suicidal.
The kid beamed. “Great! I’m Danny Phantom and I wanna make a deal.”
“I wanna make a deal,” repeated Danny.
The neon green eyes and guileless smile set John on edge. “What kind of deal?”
“I own every piece of your soul and I’ll give it all back if you do one teeny tiny favor for me.”
That uneasy, spine tingling, something-bad-is-definitely-about-to-happen feeling crawling up John’s spine and writhing in his gut? Yeah, John wished he had spent more time listening to that feeling because now he was stuck. Still, he’d spent way too much time making deals. He wasn’t going to commit until he knew all the details. “What kind of favor?”
“Get rid of the Ecto-Acts and Guys in White.”
John blinked. “The what?”
“The Ecto-Acts and the Guys in White,” Danny repeated. “Seriously messed up laws and even more messed up government agency. My hometown is so contaminated with ectoplasm we don’t even register as human anymore. We’re all liminal. I had to pull us all into the GZ to keep people from getting vivisected. So, you and the Justice League need to get rid of the Acts and the GIW.”
John considered Danny. “What if I say no?”
The friendly smile dropped. Danny fixed John with a centuries-old stare of stars and cold and infinite darkness.
“Ị̴̮͐̏̔ ̛̪͎̤̺ͨͮͦ̇o͓̦̰̩̘͎̓͒ͫ͞w̱̲̻ͣ͌̕n̠͖̋̉̆̋͘ ̨͎̺̤̩ͨ͐y͆̉ͦ̎҉̦̬̞̮͈͈͖̮ợ̩͇ͣ̈́͛u̵͍̺̯̻̿r̛̺̹̳̠̫̼̩̺ͩͭ ̷̘̙̮̼̤͉̻̑s͕̝̓̈́͆͜o̵̪̜͔̙̔ṷ̦̩̻̳͂͂͢ͅl̶̯̦̺̼ͨ,̨͎͓͖̥͔̤͐̏ͯ ̺̯̬͎̑́ͯͤ̕J̱͎̜̭̰̍͡o͈̠̘̜ͭ̋ͧ͜h̗͍̖͑͒ͣ̚͘n͚̖̳̗̩͔ͥ̎͗͞ ̷̼̫͙̟ͨC͋͂͋̽҉̞̬̞̜͕̳o̪͎͈̤͚͍̦͖͂͋͟n̡̹̜͚̗͒ͅs̡̰̼̮̲͙̜͓̩ͮ͐t̶̪̻̝̙̯̞ͦ͂ͧa̗̞̹̒̌̕n̨̳͉̱̺̦ͨͨ͛t̻͙͎̖̲̦̗̺̆̀ȉ̥̲̦ͣ͌̀n̺̱̘̜̓̊͡e͐҉̟̘̜̘͉̱,” said the High King of the Infinite Realms, voice echoing in the massive hall and, somehow, inside John’s head. “B̡̳̱͎͎͕̭̖ͤͮͅy̠͖̝͓̣̯͚̓͊̒̀ ̧͍͕͎͈̈́ͅR̷̩̟̘̩̲̖̙̲̽ͥͫi͍̘ͫ̏̈́̔͝g̀͏̪̙͇̫̬h̖̜͚͎̩̖́̏́ṭ̥̳̤͈̚͟ ̸̰̣͓̪̰̙̋͗̈͑o̶̫͓ͬ͊͗f̞͍̰ͭ̒̔̐͡ ̭̟̯ͦ͜ͅYͩ͆̒ͮ͏͈̝o̡̖̖̱͌u̸̥͍͙̮̞͕ͯͣ̅r̵̪͚͉̯̺ͯ ̨̜͕̪͒͊̈́̉O̭͍͔̪̥̞ͬ͜w̠̘̾̈͡n̸͓̣̳̑͒̓ ̝͚̼̻̝̭͚̊ͦ͝ͅC̪̪̦̭͚͋͢o͍̞̅ͧ͝n̦̪͍̜̞ͦͭ͌͑́s̛͖̙̜̱͍̩͕̝̓e̯̲̝͇̭̝ͥͦ̽ͫ́nͧ͏̞̞͍̦̰͉̪̘t͆̆̂͏̙̫ ̅ͣ҉̦͉̗̦͚͙͕̺y̩̹̬̙ͣͯ̊͜ỏ̯̪̦̇ͯͤ͡u̞̝̗̱̿̃͢ ̭̜̊̃ͤ̀ͅa͇̰͚̻ͬͩ̋̏́ṟ̡͕̞͙͓̾̀̀e̢͖͚͈ͯͧ̀̈́ ̢̮̣̭͚̜̏ͥb̢̖͍ͪ͒̑͊o̶͖͓̓̈́̚ͅų̜̝̈́̋n̨̖̫͈͎̱̱̜̔̏̀d̛̬̩̱͉̻̣ͦ͂ ̴͍͈̝͈̥̙̩͎̔̒ͫt̺̞͑͞o͙̬̮̿͌͒ͦ͞ ͖̳̦̫ͣ̀m̪̹̫̟̫̘̪̿ͤ́̚ͅỵ̡͕̣̳̃ ̷̹̳ͦͤ̄̄w̴̱̱̤̙̔͌̒i̖̦̮͙̭̫͙̠͒̊͐ͦ͝l̂҉̯̱͇̘l̵͇͙̮̻̙̦̄̈̑ͣͅ.̴̟̟̮̂ͤ ̷̼̬͌͂̅A̰̦̝̬͌́n̋ͫ̓҉̳̗̦͖̺͖̖d͐҉̬̞͕̪̤̼,̳͔͌͌̒̃̕ ̛̗͕̩̺̯̹̠̘ͪ̓į͈̲̈́f̣͚̭̖͚́̊̊͢ͅ ̶̳̗͎͉̓̉y̠̪͙̯̮̙͗͊̋̀ö̴̦̝͈̣́ͫų͓̜̭̥̙ͮ̿̓͆ͅ ̿͏̝͇ͅͅḏ̢͎̩̬̯̤͛ͨo̹̙͙̱ͫ̃ͯͯ͢ ̮̯̂͟n͔̹̘̝͔̭ͫ͋̓͡o̪͙͚̭̳͛́ẗ̘̭́̀ͬ̈́͡ ̹̭͚͖͎ͨ̆͡s̺̜̟̖̬̝̤̬ͪ͟ü̴̜̫̟͙̘̣̟̚ĉ̡̹̺͚c̗̜̝̹̫ͮ̊͒̀e̖̺͚̩͐͡ȩ̦̪̫̦̠̬̥͐̌d̰͉̘̲̒̀̑͋͠,̺̩͓̻̗̰͎̑͝ ̢͖͓̼̦ͣ̈̔̽i̭̬͓̙̼̟̓̚͡f͖͓̲͋͠ ̴͓̭̦͎̓͂͊͆y̸͔̺̤̯͙̽o̫̻ͯ̉̾͂̕u̧̫͇̮̝͔̠͒ͅ ̳͉͉͔̀̍͑͟a̙̞ͫ̆͞n̮͇̯̆͟d̴̠̰̘́ͥ̑ͅ ̛̬͎̩̻̞͈̟̘̿t̴̲͈̤̱͍̊̚h̜̣̺̯̯̫͒͘e̸̮̻͎͂̅̏͊ ̡͈̱̹̲͔̳̉J̧̼̭̦̼̹ͦͪͤͩù̢̠̟͚̤̯̥̊̈ŝ̬͇͋́t̻̰̤̘̘ͧ͡į͓̦̪ͦ̀͗ͣc̵̭̣̹̜͉̪̔̓ẽ̥̮͡ ̵̜͙͖̘ͭͥL̛̫͈̜͓̰͓̮̒͋̑ͅe͔̲͗ͯ͢a̴̫̞͈͚̲͒̓̊̑ǧ̦͓̝͕ͭ͂̀ù̸̜̰͙͔̟̥ȩ̹̺̭ͭ̈́ͥ̇ ̯̺̖͇͔̐̾͜f͕̺̓͘ͅa̍̎̓̓҉̜͚͕̪̣͍̜̳ĩ̡͎̘̹͙͇̮ͦ͊l̸̞̬͒,̛̙̻͖̱̤̒́ ̢̥̱̄ͅt̴̮͖͎͖̫͓͎ͥ̈h̜̰̝̦͙̫̩̱ͥ̀͑ͮ͘ẻ̵͔̣̼͕̰̲̟ ̵̫͓̤͉̞̲̓̆ͪ͌H̨͕̼̘̮̋ü̝̹͇̤̫͓͋̀m̵̲͓̱̰̼ͫͫͯ̀a̧̙̮̬̭͛n̲̙̝̞̟̦͇̒̾͟ ̶̘̘̺̍̎̈́̇W̛̹̻̫̜̃̄̑o̝̼͛͟r̴̗͚͕͈̗̟̒̿ͥ̚ͅl̸̠̤͙͈͖̩̙̹̔̓̚d̲̩̼͙̩͓͊̉͡ ̞̱͂͑͗͡ẅ̻̟̦͖̹͓̖́ͨ͞i̶̠͕ͯ̿͌ͭl̝̹͕̱͈̟͔̙ͩͣͥ̕ḷ̢̱̖̠̙ͣͅ ̸̮̹̘̱̖̯̣̦̓ͣ͗h̶̠̦̆ͅa̻̘̙̦̥̝̻̒͛͞v̵͖̩ͯ̈ͫě̛̫͎̳͓̙͔ͥͥ̇ ͓̟̗̜̪́͢d̘̻̹̺̳̫̣̬ͤ̋̾ͭ̕e̸̖̬͛ͮc̷͈͇̜̪̬̔ļ̞̤̱͍͈̥̎ͮͩa͔͔͖̣͇͎̺̅̔̕r͔̻͎̭̟̟̙̙ͤ͡ẹ̶͓̗͑̌d̻̯̠̩̝̳́̈̑̀ ̦͓̝͔̼̊̓̕W̬̠̙ͩ̆ͤ̽͟ä̹̯́ͪ̑͡r̢͚̙̘͖͙̽ͪ ̧̳̘̣̿͌ͣo͒͒͏̗̺n̝̯̟ͦ͌͐̕ ̖̫̾̽͐͋͜t̰̮̤̮̣͉̅̔̄͡h̜͇̟̠ͮ͜êͤ҉̤̜̮̯̪͉̮ͅ ̵̻͓ͧ̌͐̏Ĭ̷̲͉̟̩̓̂n̢͎̯̿ͧf̛̦̠͙̖͎̊ͥ̄̌ͅį̘̦͉̫̓̿ͨn̢̼̖͉͕̣̦̗̽i̺̮͍̩̭͐ͫ͠t͋҉͙͇̬̤e̳͓̎͂̀ ̶͍̞̗͖̻̥͔̤͌̎ͫR͚͓͌̐́ḛ̛̤͈̻̩͓̼̲ͤa̟͔̠̝̺̦ͧͥ͟l͉̹̼̈́́m̹̖̿̓͞s̢̭̬͍̙͈̖͓̔̾̿.̬̰͚̖̯ͮ͘ͅ”
“Right,” John managed to drawl even as he desperately wanted to scream and run, maybe crawl out of his own skin, whatever got him away from the High King. “War bad. Got it.”
The High King of the Infinite Realms held out his hand, infinity stare still fixed firmly on John. “D̨͉͇̦͊̆̅o̮̬͓̯̦̒̓͋͐͢ ̤̥̓ͪ̕w̴͉̩̰̰̐̍̾e̸̩ͮ͆̅̏ͅ ̬͖̦̻̥͋͜h̾͒̔͏͎̮͈͓̰͕ȧ̴̭̳͓͙̖v̢̠̮͍̫̓ͨ͑ę͕̘̘̰̯͒ ̴̥̮̟̝͒̆̂ͥa̭̳̼͉̬̟̺̫̎͠ ͍̞̼̍͆ͧ̅͝ḑ͕͉͕̫̫͙̮̈̓ͅe̛͉̻̣̋̊̓̈́ͅȃ̌҉͉͕̟͍̘l͎͓͙̼̏̆ͮ̂͠?̩͔͇̮͇̮̄ͨ̎̕”
John swallowed. He took the High King’s hand with a confidence he definitely did not feel. “Deal.”
