[center][i]When to this sense of fear and evil the inevitable fascination of wonder and curiosity is superadded, there is born a composite body of keen emotion and imaginative provocation whose vitality must of necessity endure as long as the human race itself. Children will always be afraid of the dark, and men with minds sensitive to hereditary impulse will always tremble at the thought of the hidden and fathomless worlds of strange life which may pulsate in the gulfs beyond the stars, or press hideously upon our own globe in unholy dimensions which only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse. [/i]
[b]~ H.P Lovecraft[/b] [/center]


[center][img]http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/marvel_dc/images/c/c6/Hellblazer_Logo.png/revision/latest?cb=20130221012543[/img][/center]
[hr]
[b]March 21[sup]st[/sup], 2005
Amsterdam, 4:44 PM[/b]

[s]It was a dark and stormy night.[/s]

It was a rather pleasant Monday afternoon in the Netherlands.The city of Amsterdam was showing the first signs of the retreat of Father Winter as the canals after being frozen for some time had finally begun to thaw letting the water run once more. Children flocked to the streets as School had let out hours ago while men and women dressed in business attire retreated from their cubicles to smell the fresh air and live a little. Everyone in the city seemed to be happy.... well almost everybody in the city seemed to be happy. A dark spot, an irregularity had drifted into the city not over a week ago. This irregularity went by many names but most knew him by one. Constantine.

John woke up in a very familiar state; hungover and smelling of a brilliantly noxious combination of smoke, vomit, piss and a large handful of regret. He had come to in a damp alleyway behind the bar he had drowned his troubles in the night before. The alcohol did not get rid of the ghosts but it dampened them for a spell. He let out something akin to a grumble as he unsteadily pushed himself to his feet, hands still slick in substances he would not like to think about. The world around him felt like it had started spinning the wrong way, the sunlight above a harsh glow that haunted him. One unsteady step and then another. Legs were wobbly but serviceable. The smell was rancid... before he did anything else he had to wash up.

To the people of the city John Constantine must have been quite the sight. A grumpy, half coherent englishmen past the far side of thirty dressed like he belonged in some Noir film with his grime stained trenchcoat and greasy blonde hair. Mothers crossed the street with their children to avoid walking past him, fine dressed businessmen looked upon him with curiosity and disdain, and even the tourists new their was something wrong about the man. The mage paid no attention to any of their looks of disdain or apprehension. John was never the type of man to care about others opinions of him. In a dog eat dog world, it's the mangy mutts that know how to survive.

He found his way to some fast food restaurant. Another chain store in a world that was slowly becoming exclusively populated by chains. Turned out though the bathroom was only for paying customers and so John had to cough up a few euros to buy some fries in exchange for a key. Once the key was in his possession he dropped the fries with a purpose upon the ground grinding their yellowish brown chunks of starch underneath his boot and then walked over to the bathroom. It was covered in graffiti and the floor was slick with a mixture of spilt water and whatever other mysterious liquids, but it had a sink and a serviceable soap dispenser. It was enough.

After spending as much time as John did as a vagabond you learned a few thing. One of those things was the pristine ability to fully wash one’s self using only a public bathroom sink and some soap. It took him some time but eventually he covered most of the major areas and was semi-presentable again. He checked himself over in the mirror his own tired eyes looking into their reflection, the dark circles underneath a sign of less than excellent sleep habits. All in all though John was still in reasonably good shape  especially for a man pushing fifty, demon blood did that for you. He slipped his clothes back on, nothing he could really do about the stains on them right now and donned his signature jacket. He pushed the door to the bathroom open and strode out with a new swagger in his step throwing the key over his shoulder and back onto the checkout counter before he waltzed out the door. 

Next he was to address the contracting feeling in his stomach that was the usual accompaniment of having had a diet of alcohol and more alcohol for the last three days. He found a small mom and pop restaurant down the street and stepped inside. A small number of individuals were at tables eating or drinking and talking in Dutch but in this middle period between the lunch rush and dinner the place was fairly empty. John sat down at the counter by the kitchen.On the other side of this counter was a heavyset woman probably in similar age to John with brown hair that stopped at the shoulders and with heavily applied makeup. At the sight of a new customer she smiled as she began to speak handing him a menu. “"Weet u misschien al wat u wil?”

“[i]Uhhh[/i]  whatever this place makes fucking good lady. And some water would be just great.” The woman scribbled down something on her notepad and nodded seemingly understanding John if not being a tad offended by his language. As she stepped into the kitchen, John fished in his coat for a cigarette pulling a misshapen white stick out of his coat pocket he popped it in his mouth and lit it moments later. The sound of the television above him drew his attention. It seemed to be a news broadcast of some sort. John’s Dutch wasn't the greatest in the world but he was able to pick up on most of it. They were talking about something happening in America he was able to pick up a few words like HYDRA, SHIELD and wait was that Nazis? 

Constantine would not be able to continue his meditations of geopolitics as the woman returned dropping a tall glass of water in front of him. As he reached for his glass he noticed that she was still looking at him with the all too familiar expression of anger upon her face, hands planted steadily on her hips. He cocked his head at her to no response until finally he just asked. “What’s your problem lady?”

She did not speak but only with old and worn hands pointed towards a sign hanging on the wall. John couldn't make out the words exactly but he knew well enough by the picture. It was a cigarette crossed out with some bold text underneath it. A no smoking sign of course. John looked to her and back to the sign and sighed taking the cigarette out of his mouth and dunking it into his glass of water extinguishing the flame. He then proceeded to take a big swig from the glass “You happy lady.... lady you having a stroke or something?”

The woman was frozen in front of him unmoving her eyes rolled back in her head. John had not noticed it until now but a cold chill had fallen over the establishment. Before our hero even had a chance to curse a liquid as black as pitch filled the woman's eyes as her body spasmed as something otherworldly grasped it firmly into its control. Constantine tensed ready to act at a moment’s notice but he let his curiosity get the better of him and did not silence whatever had come to address him just yet. The woman’s body stop spasming and out of a dark ooze filled mouth words began to spill out. 

[b]T̶̨́͟É̶̛͟͡I̡͢͢A̷̛T̴́͝G̨͏̷̧J̢͟͠Á͞A͘͡O̸̕J̷̸͢͠F͘͘
[/b]

“I can’t understand your fucking gibberish. Speak the God damn Queen’s English!” The women only made a choking noise as a hand flopped against the countertop. The hand jerked left and right as the spirit possessing the women tried to access its hosts fine motor control. Finally it was able to move as it pressed a finger against the countertop and began to write a similar black ooze being left in its wake spelling something out to John.

[B]H...E....L...P  U...S  P....A...S...S[/B]

“Help you pass? I don’t know if you heard about it bloke but I’m retired now! I don’t deal with this shit anymore! So why don’t you go and find somebody else to deal with your bullshit!” John explained as he began to get up to leave. Though before he could the hand jerked with a surprising amount of  speed latching onto the mage’s face and squeezing hard. Soon Constantine’s head felt like it was being split upon as memoires were getting forced into it. Flashes of decay and death coming by at a breakneck pace, bloodcurdling screams swarming around his head and finally one last image of a medallion of sorts of a tree being encircled by a large serpent. Then it was all over. 

John’s eyes opened with a start as he stumbled backward falling to the ground with a thud. The sudden chill left the room and the woman dropped to the ground unconscious. John got up to his feet shakily looking about as his heart felt like it was about to break through his chest, every hair on his body standing at attention. John looked around and all the other patrons in the restaurant were also slumped down unconscious, their untrained brains unable to deal with such a desperate and angry presence forcing its way into our world. He calmed his breathing down and made his way to the exit. As he did he realized that he had never gotten his food.

[i]Well that was okay... he really wasn't that hungry anymore anyway.[/i]