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John Constantine knows something bad is happening when the Justice League asks him for help.
Not just because the Justice League is a formidable group of heroes that have taken down many large threats in the past, but because he knows Batman hates asking him for help. Given the scale of the situation, he can see why they’ve requested his assistance. Just 36 hours before, the League had received an incoming message from an approaching group of alien spaceships, giving them the option of accepting their new alien overlords or facing annihilation. He supposes he should just be grateful they were given three days to make their decision, allowing the heroes time to plan their point of attack.
The problem is that even with the Justice League and with other heroes the League may be able to call upon, they aren’t sure it’s going to be enough—at least, not without costing them a lot in terms of civilian casualties. This is where Constantine comes in.
He stares out at the intruding vessels that idle seemingly harmlessly in space outside the Watchtower’s windows and sighs. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “I know someone who can help us.”
He doesn’t relish calling Phantom for help and tries to avoid doing it often, even if it’s partly just to avoid the teasing. He also doesn’t want to bother the King of the Infinite Realms too much—he’s busy keeping peace between realities and dealing with the Observants. To be fair, Phantom probably wouldn’t mind an excuse away from them, though.
“I can summon him and see what he can do to help us, but there are a few rules.” He glances around at the gathered members of the League, hoping to convey how serious he is. No one is in the mood to be joking around anyway. “The being I am going to summon is not a demon but could be described as a budding god. He is extremely powerful and needs to be treated with the utmost respect, despite how he may look or act.”
“We are well aware of the protocols for interacting with foreign entities, Constantine.” Batman growls, obviously impatient due to the threat lingering overhead.
Constantine rolls his eyes. “Okay, but don’t come to me if you mess up the balance between worlds.” He digs around in the pocket of his coat, pulling out a bright green sticky note and mumbles a few words. The note bursts into flames as bright and vibrant green as the paper itself and falls to ashes on the floor.
For a few moments nothing happens, but then an inky black void starts to seep into the air, like some of the space from outside decided to leak in through the windows. The black void starts as a wiggling line that grows and stretches until it forms a gaping maw, stars twinkling from its depths. Two bright green lights appear, glancing around the room and blinking like eyes until they land on Constantine. A sound like the birth of a new star explodes into the room in what Constantine knows to be laughter. The void grows larger before condensing heavily like the weight of a black hole, starting to take the form of something human.
The blob sprouts arms and legs as it shrinks, the stars drifting to the ends of the limbs and the darkness coalescing in the middle. A black and green crown appears above what is starting to resemble the figure’s head, burning with that same bright green flame. As the figure solidifies, a cape appears at their back, a beautiful night sky trapped in its depth. Finally, with a sound like the ringing of bells, the figure reveals to be Phantom, looking like the young teenager he usually presents himself as.
“Constantine!” The young ancient crows, looking far too delightfully mischievous to see him again. “It’s been too long. How’s the soul holding up? Made any more sketchy deals recently?”
“Not since last time, Your Majesty.” He drawls dryly.
“How many times do I have to tell you to quit it with the honorifics?” Phantom huffs, waving his hand at the crown dismissively until it and the cape fade out of sight. “I get it enough in the Zone.”
“As many times as it takes for the Observants to get off my ass about it.”
Phantom huffs out a laugh, looking amused even as he commiserates. “Tell me about it.” He half whines. “So, if not your soul, why have you called me here today?”
“We’ve got a problem that even the Justice League can’t handle.”
Phantom glances around the room as if seeing the gathered crowd for the first time. His bright green eyes land on Superman and light up—literally. He zooms closer, floating in the air in front of him in something like giddy excitement. “Constantine,” he cries, throwing a quick glance back to the man in question. “You didn’t tell me there were others.” His hair and skin take on an iridescent shine as he continues to stare at Superman in something like awe. “I haven’t had a chance to meet a real-life alien before.” He exclaims in obvious delight, circling around in the hero as if to fully take him in.
Constantine tries to shoot Superman a reassuring but apologetic look as the hero looks over at him, slightly uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. Constantine knew there was a possibility for Phantom getting distracted—given his obsession with space—but it was a risk he was willing to take. The little king will wear himself out soon enough, and they will have plenty of time to deal with the threat while still allowing him some time to enjoy the experience. It’s good to have him excited and on their side when they ask him for help, after all.
“Most people don’t like their otherness being pointed out, you know.” Constantine chastizes gently, more so for Superman’s sake than anyone else's.
“Oh right,” Phantom says, looking apologetic. “It’s just so cool.” He says by way of explanation. “I’m Phantom, by the way. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds out his hand to shake, which Superman takes with a small grin of his own.
“Princess Diana of Themyscira,” Phantom says, moving away to greet her. He inclines his head in a show of respect. “Pandora has many great things to say about you and the work your team does.”
Wonder Woman looks a little stunned by this information but recovers well. “Send her my regards.”
“Perhaps if there is time later,” Phantom offers, “We can trade stories. I am sure there is much you would like to hear and even more you have to tell.”
“I would like that.”
“Are you going to be able to help us with this threat?” Batman breaks in, and Constantine could kill him for his blunt impatience.
Phantom looks over at him, seeming amused. “Well then, I suppose there is no time for pleasantries.”
“No, there is not. There is an alien army threatening to take over the Earth or attack it if we refuse to submit to them.”
Phantom continues to be unimpressed. “Isn’t this something you would normally handle?”
“We would, but they are—“
“They’ll knock Mars out of orbit.” Constantine interrupts.
Phantom stills where he floats, suspended in the air. The room gets cold, the temperature dropping as icicles form, hanging from the ceiling, and frost crawls along the glass. Phantom turns to look at him slowly, and the room seems to darken as his eyes burn a brighter green.
“What?” Phantom asks, his voice a distorted growl, an unfriendly smile on his face. He stares at Constantine like he might have misheard him, like he’s giving him a chance to repent for his mistakes, to say he was wrong. It’s what Constantine was hoping to avoid but knew he could count on.
“Their ships draw power by draining nearby stars. They’ll destroy the Earth’s sun billions of years early if left to drain its energy.”
Phantom laughs, but it’s dark and unpleasant, almost mocking and incredulous. He speaks in a voice different from before, almost unlike his own. It overlaps, like he’s speaking with multiple voices at the same time. Some are light and melodic, others are smoky and grating, but all of them are equally haunting. They chitter in the air, like taunting, like a dare, like a threat, even as he promises, “I’ll be right back.”
The ice recedes as Phantom phases through the side of the Watchtower, the frost fading from the windows. It provides the team with a perfect view as he single-handedly rips the fleet apart. He goes methodically from ship to ship even as the space around him is filled with an array of lasers, gleaming harmlessly in the inky blackness. One by one, the ships fall, disintegrating into nothingness.
Constantine suspects that at one point they try to contact the Watchtower to ask them to stop, to plead for mercy, to beg for forgiveness, but all that comes through is sounds of static. Ghosts and technology don’t mix that well, after all. It feels like it takes hours but also as if it’s over before he blinks, and they watch the last ship fall. Even still, it takes a little while longer for Phantom to return, likely checking up on the nearby celestial bodies to see if there were any adverse effects.
“Well,” Constantine says to a quiet and stunned room as they lose sight of the young king. “I did warn you.”
“And you’re sure he’s not a threat?” Batman questions, seeming unnerved.
“Not unless you’re planning on blowing up the moon.” He says, somewhat teasingly. “But, seriously, no. He’s too busy and generally uninterested in wreaking havoc. In fact, he probably spends most of his time preventing people from causing problems. Space is just sort of a weak spot for him.”
Batman seems at least a little reassured at that, and Constantine takes it for the win it is. The bat doesn’t like magic all that much to begin with, so with the knowledge that Phantom has no foul intentions, he should keep his nose out of places it doesn’t belong.
When Phantom comes back, he looks much like the excited kid that first appeared, and the sudden change leaves the team reeling with emotional whiplash. He floats back towards them casually, like he hasn’t a care in the world, munching on something in his hands. It’s only when he gets inside the Watchtower and notices Superman staring at the kid with wide eyes that Constantine realizes what Phantom found.
The League looks ready to defend Superman from the pile of bright green, glowing kryptonite that Phantom holds in his grasp, and watches in shock as he takes a bite out of one of the crystals instead. He crunches on the radioactive gem like one might eat a piece of candy before noticing the team’s tense behavior and putting the pieces together.
“Oh, right. Sorry, Superman,” he says, shoving the rest of the crystal in his mouth and phasing the other pieces into his chest. “They must’ve known about you to have all this on their ship, but I’ll just take it back with me if that’s all right.”
“That’s fine.” Superman manages to say, still stunned at the sight of Phantom phasing things into his own body to store them.
“Great.” Phantom chirps. “It’s a shame it hurts you,” He comments with a small frown. “It’s such a good snack.”
“Most entities can’t eat ectoplasm,” Constantine says, as if he might have forgotten. “And none of the Justice League are liminals.”
Phantom squints at some of the heroes, as if he would disagree with that, but doesn’t say anything.
"That was all we needed you for," Constantine continues, trying not to think about the implications too much, "I'd give you a gift as a token of our thanks but you've found one already."
Phantom nods in agreement, unbothered by the break in traditional summoning etiquette. "If you find anymore that you don't want," He says, in reference to the kryptonite, "let me know. I'll always be glad to snack on something so pure. And I'll be around anyway. That offer is still on," He glances at Wonder Woman, "and it'd be nice to talk with everyone under less dire circumstances."
"I'm sure something can be arranged," Constantine says congenially. He doesn't love the idea of Phantom hanging around, but he isn't going to say that to the young Ancient's face. He did just save their asses, after all.
"Thank you for your help, Phantom," Batman says, startling both Constantine and Phantom himself. "We appreciate the assistance you've provided today. You would make a fine hero."
Phantom eyes Batman appraisingly. "Maybe you're not so bad," he hums in consideration. "I guess Robin was wrong."
Constantine watches as shock splays itself across Batman's face, but Phantom disappears in a burst of green light before anyone can say anything else. The League members mutter to themselves, discussing the day's events in low voices, and Constantine can feel a headache forming as Batman remains too stunned to move.
He needs a drink.