“You’re losing your edge, John,” he said, grin spreading across his lips. “Finding yourself like this, but you can’t stop it now.” Maybe he could and while Ky almost wanted John to fix this mess… there was a part of him that didn’t care either way. That was how detached from reality he was these days. “Soon enough someone will figure out the gate’s open and when they do? Let’s just say… things are going to get very interesting around here.”
Ky should have known better than to actually trust Constantine, but he thought the benefits out weighed the risk.
Now, it didn’t look like he’d be able to wiggle his way out of this one. Not entirely at least. Given enough time, he may have been able to, but it even so it would have to bee a feat.
“Was it now?“ His lips pursed into a thin-line. “I sure hope the reward is worth it.”
Old enough and brazen enough to rebuke youngsters like Ky’lar with ease, John spurned any benefits of old age, despite rapidly approaching his seventh decade of life and yet not showing his age at all. Any protests faced he diffused with practised charm and manipulative ploys, preying on moods, perceptions, conditions. Anything that may grant him an edge. “’Course you don’t, old son. So why don’t ya start proving to me, an’ maybe I’ll let ya be.”
While Ky didn’t feel he needed to prove anything – let alone to John – there was no doubt other eyes on him. They may not have always been present, but they were there; watching and waiting for him to fuck up. It was to that reason he believed they had someone watch over him… so they wouldn’t have to or perhaps it was spite. “Or maybe you should step aside.” He knew John wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean Ky couldn’t request such a thing. “I don’t need anyone keeping me on a leash; let alone someone like you.”
This was the last time he would ever trust John to get him out of a rough spot. While Ky thought things were going well… he ended up falling right for this trap. Maybe his actions had been a little too erratic these days, but it didn’t justify being stuck in a cell like this… right smack in the middle of nowhere.
“Fuck you.” While Ky could have said more, he was going to be more direct as he leaned his back against a wall; if he couldn’t break through whatever was hold him in? He’d have to wait it out, but that could be impossible given his choice. “Can’t even face me yourself; you have to hide behind,” he gave a gesture to place he was in. “this.” A grin soon spread across his lips. “Growing weak on me, Johnny?”
“Thanking you?” He couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips. “At best you’ve only caused more damage.” Ky didn’t think anyone could blind them for long. Sure, it might last a short while, but eventually someone would track him down again. It was how it always happened; he didn’t expect this little bit with John to be any different. “At worst? Well, there is no full solution.” Well, there were a few, but even Ky knew that the risks far out-weighed the benefits. “When they find me – not if,” he said, moving to poke John right in the chest. “It won’t be pretty.” In truth he could have added on he wasn’t going back, but even Ky knew it was only a matter of time before that happened. With or with out John’s help.
Ky couldn’t help, but roll his eyes at that comment. If it was up to him, John wouldn’t have even been near him – not now and not ever-, but that hope diminished at their final words. It caused his fingers to dig into the palms of his hands as he sucked in a deep breath. A few moments passed before he let it out slowly. “I don’t need a baby sitter, Constantine.”
Not believing Ky’lar’s claim one bit, a grin tears his weathered features apart like a gash upon his face, thoroughly entertained by the idiot’s stubbornness if nothing else. Failing to admit their weaknesses was a trait John noticed all beings born of the inferno had in common, and he often suspected that pride was a major component in why it never happened.
“And I think the queen o’ england’s a fit bird– like hell are ya fine.” Shaking his head, he watched the other settle in a new position, wondering idly what he was going to do with him. As the minutes rolled past, a compulsion began to rise within him that bid him to grant the man, out of sheer pity, some form of aid, or at least enough that he could get back onto his feet. Thus, without asking permission first, he takes the cigarette from his mouth and quenches it within the other’s exposed viscera. Paying no mind to the yells that the feeling of burnt flesh would extract from Ky’lar, he concentrates on reciting a healing chant, wetting the tips of his fingers with the man’s own blood.
Moving his hand to a flat area of Ky’s flesh, he draws out a sigil there that symbolised restoration whilst at the same time reciting a few words of power in a dead language. After a few seconds of this, he presses down on the marking with all of his fingers, filling it with his intent to activate it. Immediately, what meat and sinew was formally ripped apart began to knit itself back together without the aid of any surgeon in sight. The process would take a few moments to complete, but it was still faster than relying on a healing factor to mend the damage sustained.
“We don’t ‘ave the luxury of time. So you just sit here a bit, and let me clear up the mess you’ve caused, as per fucking usual.”
Failing to admit his own weakness was done not exactly out of necessity, but out of self preservation. To admit he failed was one thing, but to admit he wasn’t up for the task (by not being strong enough) was another. His family (not to mention other demon’s) already had it out for him. They wanted to see – not to mention know what he was capable of. Most of the time he exceed their expectations. Other-times… he did not. He got beaten back, slammed into walls, and even left with him being ripped open. Just like this time. Ky didn’t feel like he needed John’s help. No, he’d just sit against the wall waiting to feel slightly better to move. If he was in his more demonic form, maybe he wouldn’t have been in this bad of shape, but that was only reserved for when he was in a desperate situation.
He didn’t believe the situation he was in a few moments ago to be that desperate but before his mind could wonder too far he let out a demonic screech. Pain was one thing – this was another. If he an once of more energy, he’d have tried to rip John apart, but luckily for the both of them… he did not. In truth, all Ky could do was lean his head back as his hands formed into fists. Whatever John did or said for that matter was ignored. Even as his flesh started to repair itself, Ky’s focus was on the pain, and not the words of the other.
Still, Ky did catch the last bit of what John said… even if he’d deny it later on. “— yeah, you do that. i’ll be here.”
Although the time was ripe for gloating and vocalisations of ‘I told you so’ would not be frowned upon, John refrains from accosting the poor bastard, concluding that the silence that prevailed between them was the superior judge. He had appeared at the exact same time recorded in his previous encounters with the half-breed– showing his scruffy mug during a crucial hour for Ky’lar, only to see the man flop and fail quite spectacularly. It came as a relief to know of his mixed heritage, for if the male was one hundred percent human, John had concluded he would’ve perished after the first fuck up happened. As it happened, he had noted that Ky’lar was on a losing streak when it came to his schemes, paying a particularly hefty price this go around in the liberation of his intestines from his abdomen area. He unfortunately didn’t get to see the gouging blow that inflicted such terrible damage, but judging from the results, he was of the mind that it had been caused by a demon – and a large one at that.
In no position to criticise Ky over his failures, the blond retrieves a cancer stick from his box of Silk Cuts and places one in his mouth, keen to to tend to his own detrimental habits before passing comment on this mess. With a lighter he produces from a pocket of his coat, the tip of his cig is ignited, which is soon followed a a slow exhale as he draws carcinogenic fumes into his lungs. Filled with a sufficient amount of his favourite poison, John lowers himself to a crouch next to Ky’lar’s head, taking care to exhale a mouthful of smoke into his face as he speaks for the first time since the violence here had ended.
“Wakey-wakey, sunshine. You and I ‘ave quite a bit totalkabout.”
This latest string of failures wasn’t the first – nor would it be the last. Alliances made with Demons never lasted. Especially when it came to Ky’s family; always digging their fingers into his games.
This time, he got burned pretty badly. Only surviving thanks to his demonic heritage; if he would have been human, he’d have died long before John even showed up. Thankfully… he survived, but it still would be a long road. Even Ky had limits on how much his body could take… even if he’d never admit it.
“I’m fine,” he managed to get out as he spit up a large amount of blood. Of course, the reality of the situation was he vastly different. He wasn’t fine – not even close to it, but admitting such a thing around John wasn’t something he could do. Not now and not ever.
“Just give me a …moment.” He started to grip his side, but then he moved to push himself up to a sitting position; the wall behind him being used to keep him up after what seemed like a good few minutes. “or… twenty.”
“Jus’ because I said I got a season ticket when it comes to comin’ and goin’ from ‘ell doesn’t mean I can take passengers with me. If ya want the same luxury, kid, try makin’ more’n a few terrible mistakes in yer life, first.”
Of course he’d get that sort of response. Ky didn’t even see how it was that big of deal. All he wanted was to get back to earth and out of there, but it seemed even John wasn’t going to allow him out of this one easily. “Or,” he said, poking John square in the chest. “You can do as I command.”
On instinct, he reaches for a ceremonial dagger, left atop a nearby chest of drawers for a rather easy to understand reason; cut down every nasty bastards that makes a break for freedom from the chalk circle he’s carefully drawn. But, at this moment in time, the circle remains inactive, the candles placed at each point of the star drawn within its circumference unlit. No, the threat that closes in on the foul mouthed brit would approach from behind, a man he knew well enough to fill it within himself to relax to some degree. Exhaling an exasperated sigh, John leaves the dagger where it sits, grumbling expletive nothings to himself before half-turning, looking behind himself. Only to spy Blackheart’s scheming son filling the doorway, noting, rather pensively, that he appeared to be more at home in the darkness of his electricity depraved apartment than he himself was.
“Christ, Ky. Don’t ya ever think of knockin’ first?”
Ky’s orginal plan was to go undetected until he was able to fully explain why he was here. Of course, that was thrown out the window, and all due to the fact John had detected him long before he was ready. It was something that more than likely wasn’t going to help his case in all reality. Oh, well, it wasn’t the first time Ky managed to get himself caught up in a bind like this. Nor would it be the last, but the problem was he this wasn’t just a chat. No, that would have been done in a far more public place, but Ky had been known to this before… showing up at random hours to request something. “You wouldn’t… have answered,” he said, leaning on the doorway, and grasping a quite open wound on his side. “…. Especially not now.”
Hellfirebound 