Blood was splashed all over, a nasty crowbar in hand. White shirt ruined and dripping wet and sticky. Blue eyes looked up, unreadable under the tangle of blonde hair contaminated with god knows what. The body underneath was sprawled out, face nearly unrecognizable. It hadnāt been human, it really hadnāt, it was a fae trying to take a child, but it didnāt look that way. It looked like John Constantine had beat a woman beyond recognition and was now kneeling over the pulped remains to examine his handiwork.Ā It was not what it looked like. ....Alright, fine, this was exactly what it looked like.