Chapter Text
The air was cold and the street was filled with puddles. The orange light from the lamp post shone on the man walking down the street. The smoke from his cigarette follows him dutifully. His steps are soft and his heels click-clack on the sidewalk.
It was late night and the area seemed deserted.
He raises the coat flap to protect his face from the cold wind. Then the man stops suddenly. The air stalls and the city falls into supernatural silence.
“John. It's been a while,” The gargoyle says.
“Hello, mate. How's it been?”
“Same old. Same old. But things are heating up down here. I've been hearing about apparitions from my pals.”
“And that's my business why?”
“Don't play. Ya know I'm too old for this. My patience has long gone.”
“Fine. What can I do then?”
“I think things that weren't supposed to leave their bounds are spreading through the countryside.”
“Things? Better be more specific, mate.”
“I'm not sure. That's your specialty anyway, not mine.”
“Great.”
“They are fucking with the balance, ya know? Nobody is happy when that happens. It messes with their business, attracts attention from the mortals, and brings forth those who should lay dormant.”
“Demons?”
“Don't think so.”
“Brilliant. I love walking into a fight blind.”
“I think whatever it is has a natural predator, or something. They have been disappearing as fast as they've been appearing.”
“So something bad brought something worse?”
The gargoyle nods. “I don't know what it is. Never seen things like this before, nor have my pals.”
“Great. Amazing. Even better.” He throws the bud of a cigarette on the floor and pops another one out. “Want some?”
“Nah, I don't fuck with addictive substances. That shit can kill ya, ya know?”
“Suit yourself,” He says. The flame illuminates his face, bright blue eyes, stubble and soft lips, and then it's gone.
“Ya know ya gotta look into it, John.”
“I don't got to do nothing, Barnaby.”
“But ya will.”
The man doesn't answer. “Bye, Barnaby.”
He turns and leaves. The night hugs him, completely engulfing his form, until the only thing that is visible is the ember and smoke.
“We are fucked,” Barnaby says to the darkness.
The darkness does not answer.
At home, John Constantine flips open a newspaper.