Constantine's POV
I did not see the bloody boy move. One second, he was mouthing off; the next, he was being hurled across the room. He went through the brick wall like it was wet paper and came to a rolling stop on the street, screaming. The crucifix on the table began to glow.
It belonged to Saint Augustine—one of the most accomplished occult exorcists in history, though do not tell the Christians that.
Blondey's skin was covered in blisters that visibly healed even as I watched, and a deep scowl twisted his face. He darted back through the hole in the wall, flipping and spinning before landing lightly and preparing to throw himself at me again, when Gina's hand clamped down on his shoulder and drove him straight into the floor.
The floorboards cracked with a deep crunch, and Blondey let out a surprised yelp, casting an offended look at his minder. He struggled to free himself, but she kept him kneeling with almost comical ease.
I was beginning to feel bad for the kid, and that was when he made his first mistake.
"Get your hands off me!" he scowled.
"Only if you behave."
"The hell I do, you crazy—"
His neck twisted sharply, and he fell to the ground. Whatever sharp barb I had prepared died at the back of my throat. Seven hells. I had thought she might break his spine or knock him unconscious, not that.
"You have a shorter fuse than I remember," I said. "Is George still out there, enjoying the sweet life?"
Her jaw tightened. "How did you do it?"
"Is this Artisan asking, or you?"
Her face revealed nothing, but there was the faintest flutter in her energy.
"So both?" I mused. This time, there were no fluctuations. "Let's just say I was in the right place at the right time."
She narrowed her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with my answer, but I was not about to monologue my brilliant plan like some two-bit villain.
I had laid the right breadcrumbs and allowed the Justice League to discover the cleansing spell on their own. It was an Augustine original, designed to purge the possessed and strip black sorcerers of their demonic powers, at least temporarily.
When cast by someone wielding enough order magic—someone like Dr. Fate—the effects became permanent. The hardest part, honestly, had been surviving the New York fight unnoticed and hoping my wager paid off.
"I suppose I will just have to beat the truth out of you if you," she said, stepping over her partner's body. It was twitching now, which surprised me. I plucked the silver cross from the table and placed it between us.
"So that is how you did it," paused. "The Crucifix of Retribution. It repels all things impure." She narrowed her single, impossibly blue eyes. "How are you holding it?"
"As I said before," I replied with a smirk, "right place, right time."
She tilted her head thoughtfully and glanced around the room, as though briefly considering wholesale murder, before discarding the idea. "You obviously lured us here. Why?"
"To deliver a message for me," I said slowly as the Cross began to glow brighter, filling with power. She took several steps back, wincing as her clothes began to smoke. A flicker of fear passed through her face as she started to gather energy.
The building shook.
"Tell her that she is not half as clever as she believes she is," I said. "Tell her that I am coming for her. Tell her that her puppets and sycophants cannot keep her safe."
Light exploded from the Cross, bathing the bar and the street outside in blinding white. Gina let out a muffled scream and vanished along with everything else. Three long seconds passed before the light receded. They were gone. Blondey and Gina had fled with their tails tucked between their legs, hopefully back to Artisan.
I huffed as a bead of sweat dripped from my brow, and I settled onto my stool. The Cross was slightly warped, and the gemstones adorning it had dulled. Reaching behind the bar, I selected a fine bottle of whiskey, poured myself a glass, and drained it.
"Now the bait is set," I muttered under my breath. It was time to plan a proper ambush, and I knew a few people who would be more than eager to help.
–
Batman's POV
"What do you mean, turn them over?" Green Arrow pounded the table. His costume looked rougher than I had ever seen it. Artemis told me it was his third consecutive day of patrol. He should not be here right now. He should be with—
"We can't let the government take point on this. Not after Godfrey's broadcast. The public is against us. The Feds will cut us out. We've… sacrificed too much." He struggled with the last words, fighting off the surge of emotion threatening to break through.
I wanted to say something—anything—but I could not find the words.
Canary was dead.
"What choice do we have?" Captain Atom said, leaning forward in his seat, the overhead light bouncing off his metallic body. "The President's message was very clear. He wants everything we have on the Crucible, or he'll be exploring all of his options."
"Meaning?" Barry asked.
"He will use his considerable political capital to crush us," Wonder Woman said flatly in her off-kilter Amazonian accent.
Barry looked genuinely startled. "They can't—he can't be that shortsighted. Can he? I mean, after everything…"
"It is not a question of trust," Martian Manhunter said. "It is about perception. We made the President of the United States look incompetent on the global stage. Even if we succeed, he will not forget this."
"President Chandler does not strike me as a prideful man," Red Tornado said. A few scientists and Green Arrow had banded together to repair him after the blast he took from Shelim.
"He probably isn't," Superman said, "but we are all like that sometimes."
"Yeah," Hal Jordan chimed in, leaning back in his seat. "Part of the human condition."
"Uh, but Superman is not really human," Flash pointed out. "Actually, nearly half the people at this table aren't."
Hal waved a hand. "You catch my meaning."
"We have heard every side of the debate," Wonder Woman said, bringing the conversation back on course. Her gaze shifted toward me. "Batman. Any words before we put the matter to a vote?"
What could I say? Apologize for my various miscalculations and for underestimating Artisan?
At first, it had been a mystery how she learned of our attack so quickly. The answer became obvious once I allowed myself to examine it without ego.
Alex was beyond valuable. She would never have been satisfied with only one or two sets of eyes on him. She must have planted spies in his orbit. Spies with satellite phones. Spies who might've called the second we cut off communications to the outside, or even earlier. They might've known since Times Square or the park.
No. She would not have allowed events to spiral that far out of control if that were the case.
I looked up at the room. It had gone quiet. They were waiting for my answer.
"Realistically, we owe the government some concessions," I said. "If we refuse outright, New York will only be the beginning. They will investigate the teen team, and that investigation will cascade into consequences we cannot fully control."
Several members nodded in agreement. Others did not. Green Arrow's reaction was the most animated.
"You can't seriously be trying to logic your way out of this."
"We stand to lose much more if we give in to their demands," Wonder Woman countered. "Arrow is right. They will cut us out at the first opportunity, and the world will smell weakness. We will lose the trust of the member states of the United Nations before any vote is ever cast on continuing their support of this organization."
"And we have all read the briefings on Task Force X," Green Lantern added. "The government is hungry for its own super-team. They will tear those kids apart and weaponize them as soon as the interrogations are finished."
"There is also the matter of Julius Spencer," Doctor Fate spoke up for the first time that meeting.
It was painful seeing him here, wearing Zatara's body. He had managed to delay the man's death, but not for long. Fate had already informed us he would require a new host before the year's end. Zatara was fading quickly.
"He is nearly without equal in his generation and has demonstrated a willingness to use extreme violence to achieve his ends. He will butcher any agents the government sends after him. Is it not better to leave them in the dark?"
Perhaps," I admitted. "But I want everyone here to understand what resisting the government will entail. Some part of me suspects Artisan may even have a hand in the political pressure building against us. However, I will be the first to acknowledge that I made mistakes."
I noticed Wonder Woman staring at the seat Shazam once occupied. She did not raise her voice when she found out about Billy Batson's age, but the look she gave me made me wish she had. The rest of the League was just as upset, though they had supported the formation of the Young Justice team.
"We will lose access to most of our Zeta-Tube network in America," I continued, "and we will effectively give our enemies carte blanche to operate. We will lose the support of local law enforcement. Nations will begin to doubt us. Some might even refuse our protection. We would be forfeiting nearly a decade of goodwill to protect criminals."
"Kids," Flash corrected.
"The point still stands."
"So we put it to a vote?" Wonder Woman asked.
Every member present nodded.
The motion passed. We would insist on retaining operational control. The government would be permitted to interrogate the detainees alongside League representatives and observe future operations—if they could keep pace—but we would see this through ourselves. As for Julius, we agreed to categorically deny any significant involvement.
Our cooperation had been coerced through the threat of mass murder, and he broke faith, not us.
The decision was necessary. It did not sit well with me.
They could pursue him if they chose. We had been unable to locate him despite exhaustive efforts. I doubted they would fare better.
Before the session closed, Wonder Woman proposed a new motion—one I had anticipated, though hoped it would come much later.
My comment about trust had not referred solely to the League's standing with governments. It had also referred to me.
"I move that Batman be removed as Lead Strategist for any operation concerning the sorcerers," she said.
The members exchanged glances. Surprisingly, Hal Jordan was the first to speak in my defense.
"Look, I know he messed up," Hal said, "badly. But we can't just bench our star athlete in the second quarter. He's the only one who knows magic, aside from the yellow helmet over there." He nodded toward Doctor Fate. "And he has the most technical skill and experience leading this team. He made mistakes, sure, but at least let him try to fix it."
"And just how is he supposed to do that?" Arrow demanded. His eyes looked sunken beneath his mask, and his frame seemed smaller somehow.
Hal hesitated. "That came out wrong, but you get what I mean. He's our best shot at stopping Artisan before she pulls off whatever doomsday nonsense she's planning."
No one refuted that.
"Am I the only one who remembers that we are short a League member?" Wonder Woman asked. "I do not doubt Batman's abilities. His counsel will remain invaluable to whoever assumes strategic command. However, I question his methods. We cannot afford maneuvers that verge on reckless brilliance while we are under this level of scrutiny." Her green eyes fixed on me. "As he said, I simply want everyone to understand the full ramifications of this choice."
The vote followed, and I was unsurprisingly removed. I did not contest it. In some ways, it felt lighter, easier on my conscience.
Canary's funeral was the next day.
I was uncertain whether I should attend.
Read up to Chapter 141 on Patreon.com/artandcreativewriting