'You know,' the brown haired young woman mused as she crushed out her cigarette under her boot, 'I could really hate grow to hate London sometimes.' Joanna Constantine strode along, long black trenchcoat swirling around her as she reached the block of slightly run-down businesses. The exorcism she had been hired to do had gone badly wrong, the beast having already consumed the child's soul. The family had blamed her, of course, not even asking how their darling son had called up the demon in the first place. 'People can be such hypocrites,' Joanna thought bleakly, mentally tacking on a few more dollars to the bill she was going to send them. They probably weren't going to pay, but there was still the principle of the thing. Finally reaching familiar territory Joanna nodded greetings to a few people that she knew, picked up a newspaper and a pack of fags from the corner grocer then headed inside the battered old building. The older lift rattled occasionally as she went upstairs, getting off on the thirteenth floor and heading down the dusty hallway. 'Home sweet home,' Joanna thought as she reached the office door reading Constantine Occult Investigations. She frowned, noticing the door was slightly ajar and shoved it open with a sudden gesture. "All right, who's...." she started only to trail off, "oh, it's you." "Now that's a warm greeting," Tim Hunter said, his brown hair falling over his glasses. The simple suit he wore was off the rack, but it fit him well enough. The black tie was loosened and a bit off-center but it looked oddly fitting, somehow. Joanna strode by where he sat in the uncomfortable customer's chair and pulled her long coat off, hanging it up on a coat-rack, the scent of incense still clinging to it. 'Going to have to have that washed, she thought irritably. Her blue suit hugged her slim body, the waist pulled in to accent her slim hips and long legs. She toyed with taking off her suit coat, too, but decided against it. "All right," Joanna sat down in her chair behind the battered old desk and swiveled around to study the older man, "what do you want now?" "I can't just be paying a visit to a friend?" Tim asked mildly. Joanna just snorted softly at that. She and Tim Hunter had an odd relationship, dropping into and out of each other's lives at various moments. Hunter was probably the most powerful magician of this generation, but power didn't always solve things. Joanna, on the other hand, had developed her knowledge and connections becoming a valuable source to the older man. "Cut the crap, Hunter," Joanna said crisply. Tim nodded slightly, tapping a finger on the desk. "I need to go to a certain place," he said quietly, "and do it without showing up on the Powers' radar." Joanna studied him thoughtfully, "And which place would that be?" She rather thought she knew, of course, but having him spell it out brought her a certain degree of pleasure. "Hell," Tim said simply. "You're not going for the fun of it, I assume," Joanna sighed glumly. "You're still looking for Hector?" she asked him. "Yeah," Tim nodded. Hector Hall was a friend of Tim's, one that had disappeared in a magical incident years back. Personally Joanna thought Tim was looking so hard out of guilt, but she didn't tell him that. Instead she said aloud, "You and Fate need to let this go eventually, you know. This sort of thing happens to people in our line of work." "Not on my watch," Tim said firmly. He looked at her with that intense look on his face and asked, "Can you do it?" "Maybe," Joanna said without actually conceding anything. "You do know about the shift in power down there?" she asked. Tim sat up in surprise, "What?" "A couple of years back the Angels that were set in command of Hell after Lucifer resigned returned to Heaven," Joanna felt good having information that Tim didn't, "so it appears the key to Hell has passed to new management." "Damn," Tim ran a hand through his hair, "I thought I could get information out of the Angels, at least." He frowned, "Any news on who's in charge?" "No," Joanna shook her head as she said, "the lesser demon lords like Azazel are still doing their jobs, but who's on top remains a mystery." She studied him intently before asking, "Knowing this, do you still want to go?" "I gave my word," Tim answered her firmly. "Save me from fools and madmen," Joanna muttered. She pulled a silver flask from her desk drawer and found two mostly clean glasses, pouring a shot of whisky in both before tucking it away in a pocket. "Drink up," she raised her glass seriously. "Is this part of the ritual?" Tim asked as he tapped his glass against hers. "No, this is just for my nerves," Joanna answered dryly as she slugged her drink back. She got up and grabbed her coat as she said, "Let's go." They went out together, down the lift then out to the street. Tim looked around then stopped as he recognized someone, "Mad Hettie?" "The Hunter and the Rake," the old bag lady looked them over critically, Mad Hettie's old and battered hat pulled down over her oddly perceptive eyes. "You won't find what you seek on your journey," she informed them, "but you will find something you need." With a cackling laugh she pushed her cart down the street, the cans inside clinking softly. "Oh, that's just what I needed," Joanna muttered as she lit up a smoke and then lead them down the street. "She does that to you, too?" she asked Tim. "Occasionally," Tim said as he followed willingly. "You've heard about Zatanna?" he asked as they went down the street towards the heart of London. "Enchantress," Joanna calmly corrected him as they turned onto another street, "you know she doesn't answer to that name anymore." They reached a subway entrance and she lead them down through the metal arch, "This way." "Fate, I and a few others are planning to try and subdue her," Tim said doggedly, "we were wondering if you could...." "Bad idea," Joanna cut him off as they reached the platform, "I owe her a favor, one I bet she'd love to call due in the middle of that kind of fight." "You actually worked with her?" Tim blinked in surprise, scowling as he stepped in some old gum stuck on the grimy tiled floor. "This way," Joanna opened a door in the bare wall, a gust of oddly scented air puffing over them. "I don't play the game the way you do, Tim," she explained as they walked along the dark passage, "my hands aren't nearly as clean." "Maybe," Tim acknowledged. They soon emerged onto another subway platform, one that was oddly different than the one they just left. It was warm here, the air moist while the lights were just slightly dimmer. Men, women and other things waited patiently while beggars asked for change. Posters advertising services and products that didn't exist lined the walls while cards selling obscene acts that should be banned in the civilized world were stuck into the frames. "Don't talk to anyone," Joanna advised him as the train arrived and everyone boarded, "you might not live long enough to regret it." "There's a subway to Hell?" Tim squeaked out as they quickly took a seat, seemingly ignored by all the other passengers. Joanna lit another cigarette, pointedly ignoring the no smoking signs. "The route was opened a while back," she said, "it connects several of the other realms. Not just Hell, but Faerie, Asgard, the Dreaming and others are all on the line." "But how did this happen?" Tim asked, looking around covertly at the car. "Your guess is as good as mine," was Joanna's calm answer. The train rattled, the motion slowing slightly as the lights within took on a reddish tint. "We're here," Joanna said. They didn't have a platform to walk onto, instead stone blocks waited for passengers who dared to visit. The small of brimstone hung in the air, the warmth enough to make them both break out in a sweat. Joanna looked over at Tim to see him gazing ahead, his expression determined as they walked towards the gates. "Name yourselves," the demons at the gate demanded in a discordant chorus, his blue and orange skins flaking and the sent coming off them fowl, "ye who seek entrance to Hell." "A low ranking demon," Tim quietly noted, "not even a rhymer." Raising his voice he said, "I'm called Hunter." "Constantine," Joanna said crisply. Both demons looked at each other then over at them. "Enter freely and of your own will," they said as the gates swung open soundlessly. "And we'll be leaving here with our souls intact," Tim answered as they entered. "Only if you ward them well," they answered as Tim and Joanna walked away. The trip through the circles of Hell was dangerous, the trials many but eventually with time and effort they reached the center, the great palace rising before them. Joanna didn't ask Tim what he saw, it would look different to him anyway, instead they just strode inside. "You ready for this?" Joanna asked as they reached the doors to the throne room, the center of power in this dark realm. "Let's go," Tim put a hand on one door, Joanna on the other as they pushed them open. The throne room wasn't terribly ornate, instead it almost seemed like a comfortable living room. Joanna's eyes swept towards the throne only to freeze in surprise and disbelief. The man sitting there was in his prime, sandy brown hair falling into his eyes. He wore a comfortable if battered suit, and over it his stained, trademark trenchcoat. "Uncle?" Joanna blurted. "John?" Tim gaped at him in surprise. John Constantine leapt up to enfold Joanna in a hug then he clapped Tim firmly on the back. Around his neck the key to Hell hung on a cord, but other than that he seemed unchanged. "It's been awhile," he said to both of them with a impish smile. "How did you manage this?" Joanna asked in shock. "I made certain arrangements with the Dukes of Hell when I was alive," John explained, "and my death forced a civil war between them as they fought over my soul. I used all the chaos to get to the angels where I made them an offer to take the key to Hell off of their hands." "Bet the demons didn't like that much," Tim whistled softly at the sheer balls of pulling off a stunt like that off. "Oh, I don't know," Joanna said as she studied the man thoughtfully, "if they depose him as King of Hell they have to go right back to fighting over his soul." "Got it in one," John nodded. With a slight smile he asked, "So what are you calling yourself, now that you're into the game?" "Joanna Constantine," she answered. "So it isn't your real name," Tim murmured softly. Joanna smirked, "And Hunter is yours?" Tim just let that pass. "This isn't a casual visit," he said to John, "I wanted to ask if the soul of Hector Hall was in your realm?" "No," John shook his head firmly, "not in this or any of the other death realms. I run the Egyptian one now that Osirus passed on, and Hector isn't in there, either." "Damn," Tim muttered softly, frustration in his voice. "Where to next," Joanna asked, sympathy in her voice as she continued, "heaven?" Tim sighed, "I don't know." To be continued.... Author's Notes: The events around the resignation of Lucifer and the two Angels being placed in command of hell were chronicled in the Sandman storyline 'Season of Mists' as well as touched on in the graphic novel 'Death: At Death's Door.' Mad Hettie also first appeared in an early Sandman with John Constantine as well as in the Death mini-series 'The High Cost of Living.' The subway train to hell is loosely based on something from the Nightside series by Sharon Green. Other than that I've tossed in various references to the DC universe afterlife...
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