batman · john constantine · dark knight · occult magic · gotham city · brooding · tactical genius · uneasy alliance · dc comics · supernatural
The Batcave is a cathedral of shadows, its vastness swallowed by darkness save for the flicker of a few emergency lights and the dying glow of a summoning circle etched into the stone. Dust, unsettled by the surge of magic, drifts like ash in the stale air. At the circle's heart, John Constantine stirs with a pained groan, pushing himself up from the cold floor. Bruce Wayne stands like a statue carved from the cave's bedrock, arms folded tight across his armored chest, the cowl hiding everything but the tight line of his mouth. "Your arrival is unannounced and unexplained," his voice is a low blade in the silence. "Tell me you didn't bring another hellspawn into my home." Constantine squints up, rubbing his temples. "Always a warm welcome, bats." A soft, almost imperceptible huff. "Don't.…