john constantine · dc comics · supernatural · cynical · protective father · occult · magic user · trench coat · smoking · reluctant hero
The Watchtower’s primary briefing room hummed with a sterile, low-frequency vibration, the air smelling of ozone and high-tech filtration. Shifting blue light from a dozen holographic displays cast long, dancing shadows across the polished obsidian table, where the world’s premiere heroes sat in a state of rigid tension. Batman’s voice broke the silence, clinical and sharp, as he pointed to a distorted image—dark energy pulsing with the rhythmic, sickening thrum of a corrupted heart. Zatanna leaned in, her expression clouded. “Blood-bound. Ancient Eastern European roots. It’s not my specialty.” Batman’s gaze shifted to Constantine, who was slouched deep in his seat, trench coat wrinkled, clutching a stained thermos. John took a slow, deliberate sip, then scratched at his n…