"You… giant… fucking wanker," John said, lying prone with his head hanging over a trash can full of black gunk. "I'm gonna…"
He failed to finish the sentence as he retched more black goo into the can.
"Note: if the patient's body has too much foreign or toxic substance to heal, it will instead forcefully expel said substance…" I scribbled onto my notepad. "You're doing the world a service, Joh."
The man weakly flipped me off without lifting his head from the trash can.
I might've felt a bit bad for anybody else, but this was John Constantine. I'd known the man for less than a month, and that was already enough. Besides, it wasn't like he wasn't benefitting from this playtesting anyway.
The bin he'd spent the last few minutes puking into was filled to the brim with rancid black sludge. It was genuinely impressive that John had been living with all that crap inside his body. Those anti-smoking ads with tar-blackened lung X-rays looked tame by comparison.
"See?" I poked John with my pen. "Don't you feel better after getting all that out?"
John groaned.
"I feel like I gargled a demon's arse…" John struggled upright and glared at me. "Goddammit, are you happy, you smug little prick? We're even."
"Even?" I tilted my head. "Who said anything about that?"
I pulled out the dozen more potions I still needed to test.
"Don't worry." I grinned. "You'll be as healthy as a horse once I'm through with you."
John paled as I approached.
—
A resounding success!
I couldn't help but grin ear to ear as I reviewed the test results. The boosts had pushed nearly every potion's effectiveness up by at least fifty percent! These newly dubbed mid-grade potions opened an entirely new avenue of development.
Healing more serious wounds and diseases was finally on the table, never mind the countless other possibilities. Regenerating limbs was still beyond reach for now, but with a little more experimentation, I didn't think it would stay that way for long.
A long groan came from my couch.
John Constantine sat there, looking nothing like his usual grimy self. His skin had lost that sickly nicotine-gray tint, his hair actually looked washed, and every line on his face seemed just a little softer. After all my potion testing, he looked almost five years younger.
Despite all that, his eyes were empty and dead.
Honestly… if there was a record for how much weird stuff a man could puke up in an hour, John Constantine would've shattered it.
"Cheer up, would ya?" I said. "Look on the bright side. You helped a lot of people today! A true hero of the masses."
That earned me a baleful glare from John. "Go shag a cactus…"
I rolled my eyes and opened one of my desk drawers. One of my last bottles of the good vintage flew across the room.
Like a dog after a bone, John snatched the bottle out of the air. He muttered a word, the cork popped free, and the very alcoholic bastard didn't hesitate to down it.
"Kah! That's the stuff." John slapped his knee. "I'm alive again."
"I know I asked before, but genuinely, how the hell did you burn through a year's supply?" I leaned back in my chair and stared at him with open exasperation.
"Lost it in a bet." John burped. "Bloody bastards definitely cheated. Fucking never play cards with the Fae."
"There are places where you can bet hundreds of bottles of magical booze?"
"Oh, right." John scratched his chin. "You were a normie… Hmm, you wanna see it? The Oblivion Bar's a place loads of practitioners frequent." He leaned forward, grin sharpening. "Good old John can show you the ropes."
I almost denied him on instinct.
Going anywhere with John Constantine sounded like a freaking terrible idea.
But, well… I eyed my phone. My schedule was pretty clear. Plus, I knew magicians seemed to love my stuff. Maybe this would be a good chance to see if I could recruit some magical people, too.
Ultimately, though, I had to admit I was curious.
Would my luck beat John's bad luck?
—
The Oblivion Bar was a dim, smoke-filled room with dark wooden floors, brass fixtures, and shelves packed with bottles ranging from the strange to the mundane. Wards, sigils, and old carvings covered the walls, giving the place a strange mystique that clashed with the otherwise ordinary tables and bar counter.
I'd expected more of a magical bar, if I was being honest. Halfway through the door, I was still pretty sure John was fucking with me.
"Bobo!" John spread his hands wide. "Ain't ya happy to see me?"
A chimpanzee standing behind the bar shot John a disdainful glare. He wore a rumpled green trench coat, a small deerstalker-style cap, and a loosened tie that made him look like one of those old-style detectives.
"Finally gonna pay your tab this time, John?" Bobo asked dryly.
I'd seen a lot of weird shit recently, but I'll admit a talking chimpanzee was a first even for me.
John perked up instantly. "Actually, yeah."
That caught both of us off guard.
Then John slapped a hand on my back. "This here's my mate. He's rich."
I slowly turned and shot John a dirty look.
Ah, so that was why the bastard had brought me here.
Bobo and I shared a look. Neither of us said anything, but the mutual understanding passed between us easily enough.
John Constantine was, indeed, a bastard.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," John complained. "It's not like you're poor."
I kept staring.
John stared back.
Bobo kept staring, too.
I sighed, pulled out my wallet, and paid the damn tab.
A few minutes later, I was sitting at the bar with a drink in front of me while John wandered off to find some "old friends" he supposedly wanted to introduce me to. Which, coming from him, could've meant anything from a homeless man to a demon.
I took another look around the bar, trying to get a better sense of the place.
Then I heard someone slide into the seat beside me.
I turned and found a boy in a strange black suit sitting there. His black hair curled upward in two sharp points, and he held an orange cat tucked under one arm.
"You're new," the boy said.
"Yeah." I glanced at him, then at the cat. "That obvious?"
"You smell like Gotham," he said cheerfully.
"I'll try not to take that personally."
"You should. I like Gotham." The boy smiled wider. "It has such wonderful chaos."
I snorted. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
"How do you handle it?" the boy asked, tilting his head.
I leaned forward and grinned. "Personally, I've got nine lives."
The boy's eyes lit up.
"Oh!" he said brightly. "Let's test that, then."
There was a flash.
For a second, I didn't understand what had happened.
Then I looked down and realized there was a hole in my chest.
Huh.
So that was what that felt like.
As I fell backward off the stool, one thought quickly became clear.
Man, I was never following John anywhere ever again.
***
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