After her laughter subsided, Selina's expression grew serious as she looked at Bruce with genuine concern.
"Even though that guy has a habit of using the people around him as expendable resources," she said carefully, "I have to admit his professional abilities as an exorcist are genuinely impressive."
Bruce immediately understood the implications. Constantine wouldn't appear in Gotham without good reason—he must be pursuing something specific, most likely demonic activity.
While other cities might dismiss such concerns as superstition, Bruce and Selina had lived through the demonic invasion twenty years ago. They'd witnessed firsthand what would have happened to Gotham if Marcus hadn't sealed the portal. Their current strength, impressive as it was, would have been utterly inadequate against that level of supernatural threat.
"Has another demon appeared in Gotham?" Bruce asked quietly.
"It's very likely," Selina replied, her voice carrying an edge of worry. "The Scarecrow and Joker have been creating more chaos than usual lately. All that negative energy and suffering might have attracted something from the other side. If they manage to break the seal on the demon passage..."
"It would be a disaster for the entire city," Bruce finished grimly. "I'll have Alfred monitor the situation. Hopefully Constantine will handle this professionally."
They let the conversation drop, turning their attention back to the illuminated statue in the distance. The figure of Harrow the Exorcist stood proudly against the night sky, the Soma Incinerator raised high in his stone grip like a beacon of protection.
What they didn't know was that the exorcist they'd been discussing was, at that very moment, studying the same statue with professional interest.
"I have to say," Constantine murmured to himself, "whoever sealed that demon passage really knew what they were doing."
Through his supernatural sight, Constantine could see the incredible power radiating from the statue's weapon. The Incinerator created a unique energy field that extended throughout the surrounding area, forming an invisible barrier against dark forces.
But the weapon wasn't the only source of protection. The same power emanated from the church next to the statue, where Constantine knew the sealed demon portal lay buried beneath the foundation. According to his research, this location had been the site of a massive supernatural battle more than two decades ago.
"This might be the most interesting thing I've ever encountered," Constantine said with genuine appreciation.
As an exorcist, he'd dealt with both demonic and angelic forces throughout his career. But the power protecting Gotham was unlike anything he'd experienced—it belonged to neither Heaven nor Hell, existing as something entirely independent yet incredibly effective.
Constantine settled into the back pew of the church, looking around the sacred space with calculating eyes.
"If I can lure the demon here," he mused, "this should be relatively straightforward."
Despite his mastery of numerous forms of black magic, Constantine genuinely disliked using supernatural powers. Every spell came with a price, and he'd learned through bitter experience that the cost was often higher than the benefit. Whenever possible, he preferred to rely on strategy, preparation, and the exploitation of existing supernatural resources.
"Finally, an easy job," he said with satisfaction.
Constantine's approach to exorcism had earned him a reputation for ruthlessness among his peers. He was willing to sacrifice allies, manipulate innocents, and exploit any advantage to achieve his goals. But in this case, the church's inherent power meant he wouldn't need to resort to such extreme measures.
He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed one of his associates.
"It's me," he said when the call connected. "Bind the subject with blessed chains, press a consecrated cross to his forehead, and bring him to the central church in Gotham. Make sure you use the heavy restraints—we can't afford any mistakes."
Constantine ended the call and took another appreciative look around the church. The ambient power here was so strong that even the most resilient demon would be forced back to Hell simply by proximity to the building's influence.
"I should also consider my own situation while I'm here," he reflected.
Constantine had been marked by Satan years ago, which meant his soul was destined for eternal torment upon his death. His career as an exorcist was partly motivated by a desperate attempt to accumulate enough good deeds to secure a place in Heaven instead.
But now he'd discovered something potentially even better—a powerful protector who operated outside the traditional Heaven-Hell paradigm. If he could establish a positive relationship with this mysterious figure, he might be able to avoid damnation entirely.
Twenty minutes later, his associate arrived with a van containing their target: a middle-aged man bound in blessed chains who struggled against his restraints with inhuman strength. The possessed individual's eyes glowed with malevolent intelligence as he stared at Constantine like a predator sizing up prey.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to perform the exorcism here?" his partner asked nervously, scanning the sparse church interior. "We don't have our usual equipment setup. If something goes wrong..."
"Relax," Constantine interrupted with confidence. "This place is safer than anywhere we've ever worked. Much safer than you realize."
He began unpacking his portable exorcism kit, arranging holy water, blessed salt, consecrated mirrors, and various protective talismans around the bound subject. While he intended to rely primarily on the church's inherent power, Constantine believed in thorough preparation.
"I'm pretty sure the priest didn't give you permission to use this church," came a new voice from the entrance.
Constantine looked up to see two figures in form-fitting black combat suits approaching down the center aisle. Both wore pointed ears on their cowls—one designed to resemble a cat, the other styled after a bat with folded wings.
"Catwoman and Batman, I presume?" Constantine said after a moment of recognition.
He'd heard rumors about Gotham's vigilante protectors, though seeing them in person was still somewhat surreal.
"Look, I don't have any malicious intentions," Constantine explained, gesturing toward the struggling possessed man. "I'm just here to exorcise a demon. This man has been taken over by a particularly nasty entity, and I need somewhere safe to extract it."
He met their masked gazes with sincere eyes. "My partner and I can handle the exorcism itself, but we can't guarantee containment if the demon breaks free during the process."
Bruce studied the exorcist for several seconds before nodding slowly.
"We'll provide backup," he decided. "If you successfully separate the demon from its host, we'll ensure it's destroyed immediately."
While Bruce had adopted a strict no-kill policy regarding human criminals, supernatural entities fell outside those moral boundaries. Demons were alien invaders with no right to exist in their reality.
Constantine and his partner exchanged relieved glances. With two experienced vigilantes providing security, they could focus entirely on the exorcism itself.
Constantine lifted a large mirror—nearly as tall as himself—and angled it to reflect the bound subject. Through the supernatural glass, the demon's true form became visible: a writhing mass of shadow and malice that had wrapped itself around the man's soul like a parasitic infection.
The moment the entity appeared in the reflection, Constantine scattered blessed salt across its image. The white crystals, harmless to humans, struck the demon like concentrated acid.
Hissssss!
Green smoke rose from the creature's form as the salt burned away pieces of its essence, leaving permanent scars that would never heal. The demon's agonized shrieks echoed through both the mirror realm and the physical church.
Constantine continued his methodical assault, using various blessed implements to systematically weaken the connection between demon and host. Holy water created new wounds, while iron filings disrupted the entity's ability to maintain cohesion.
After nearly an hour of careful work, Constantine finally severed the last psychic link binding the demon to its human victim.
The moment it gained freedom, the entity erupted from the mirror with explosive force.
CRASH!
Glass shards scattered across the church floor as the demon materialized in physical reality, its form a writhing mass of darkness and hunger as it lunged toward the now-unconscious man.
Bruce and Selina moved to intercept, but before their attacks could land, they heard a distinctive sound they hadn't experienced in twenty years.
RATTLE-CLANK!
Glowing blue chains erupted from the church floor with perfect timing, piercing the demon's form and lifting it high into the air before it could reach its intended target.
"This..." Constantine stared in amazement as the supernatural restraints held the struggling entity completely motionless.
Bruce and Selina felt their hearts racing with emotion they hadn't experienced since their youth. They recognized those chains immediately—the same power that had protected Gotham during the demon invasion decades ago.
"After all this time," Bruce said softly, "we finally see this sight again."
He and Selina had witnessed these chains in action during their most desperate hour, when the fate of their entire city had hung in the balance. The style was unmistakable, and the precision of their deployment spoke to an intelligence that had been watching and waiting.
"Even after twenty years," Selina added with wonder, "his power is still protecting us."
The suspended demon writhed helplessly in its ethereal bonds for several seconds before the chains began to constrict. With a final, echoing shriek, the entity was crushed out of existence.
Constantine released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Well," he said, mopping sweat from his forehead, "that was significantly easier than usual."
He retrieved a bottle of holy water and began sprinkling it over the area where the demon had been destroyed, ensuring no trace of its corrupting influence remained.
"You were fortunate," Constantine told Bruce and Selina as he packed up his equipment. "Whoever left that protection obviously cares deeply about this city."
"Of course," Bruce replied with quiet pride. "We never doubted that."
Despite Marcus's long absence, Bruce and Selina had maintained complete faith in their mentor's commitment to protecting them. The power that had just saved them was proof that their trust had been justified.
"If you don't mind," Bruce continued, "I'd like to discuss your work in more detail. I don't encounter many genuine exorcists."
Over the years, Bruce had met numerous individuals claiming supernatural expertise, but most had been fraudsters seeking easy money from desperate clients. Constantine's obvious competence made him a valuable contact for future supernatural threats.
Constantine considered the invitation briefly before nodding.
"I'm certainly curious about the power protecting this church," he admitted. "A mutual exchange of information could benefit us both."
The group made their way to Bruce's car—a sleek vehicle that perfectly matched his public persona as a wealthy playboy with expensive tastes.
"I like this ride," Constantine said appreciatively as he settled into the passenger seat. The car's advanced comfort systems immediately began adjusting to provide optimal support and even gentle massage functions.
"If our conversation proves productive," Bruce replied, "I might consider it a parting gift."
"Now that's an incentive I can appreciate."
Meanwhile, in Earth's orbit...
"Finally here," Marcus said with satisfaction as he gazed through the Rail Jack's viewports at the familiar blue planet below.
The journey through the Void had provided an excellent opportunity to test all of the Dark Aster's upgraded systems. Under Will's expert control, the massive ship had navigated interdimensional space with remarkable smoothness—so stable that future passengers would barely notice they were traveling between realities.
"Will, open the landing bay," Marcus commanded. "I'll take a shuttle down."
The ship's interior reconfigured itself with mechanical precision, bulkheads retracting and passages realigning to provide clear access to the hangar bay where Marcus's personal landing craft waited.
The sleek fighter-like vessel was perfectly designed for atmospheric entry and surface operations, far more practical than trying to land the massive Rail Jack itself.
[Landing craft prepared for launch...] Will announced as Marcus settled into the pilot's seat.
[Launch sequence initiated... 3... 2... 1... Launch!]
The small craft shot out of the Railjack Dark Aster's bay like a bullet, rapidly accelerating toward Earth's atmosphere while the larger ship maintained its orbital position.
"I wonder how much they've all changed," Marcus mused as he guided the landing craft toward Kansas.
One of his first priorities was always determining the current timeline when visiting a world he'd been away from. The rate of temporal flow could vary significantly between dimensions, and he needed to understand how much time had passed locally.
The landing craft touched down in a secluded area near Smallville, automatically engaging its stealth systems to become invisible to both visual and electronic detection.
Marcus made his way to the town center, where he found a public television displaying the local news. While he wasn't particularly interested in current events, the broadcast would provide valuable contextual information about the time period.
After studying various details—technology levels, cultural references, fashion styles—Marcus was able to establish that more than twenty years had passed since his last visit.
"Twenty years..." he said to himself with some surprise. "That's longer than I expected."
The timeline placed current events very close to a pivotal moment in this world's history. If his calculations were correct, Jonathan Kent might be approaching his fateful encounter with the tornado that would claim his life in many versions of Superman's origin story.
"I should check on the Kents," Marcus decided, his pace quickening as he headed toward the family farm.
At the Kent Farm...
Jonathan and Martha Kent sat at their kitchen table, watching their adopted son Clark with expressions of love mixed with concern. They'd always known their boy was special, but recent revelations had recontextualized everything they thought they understood about his origins.