JLA Watchtower (Archive)

The Robin that comes swinging in is almost a shadow of himself.

His facemask is askew, his cape missing altogether, and his expression is dazed, as if swinging through the city in his sleep.

He doesn't look particularly surprised to see Shiva and her guest. Or particularly bothered. Or particularly anything. He doesn't blink or gesture, he just drops in front of the pair in a crouch, pulling himself up slowly, as if on puppet strings.

"Weird..." he murmurs, almost to himself. "I don't usually dream about John Constantine..."

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Shiva glances toward John for a moment before she closes the distance between herself and Robin. Her hands are tasked with making him a bit more tidy, an unusual pursuit for her to say the least. "This is not a dream, Little Bird."

There is a tenor to her voice - she is ruffled by his appearance - unsettled, perhaps.

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Constantine doesn't know Robin, of course. But you don't have to know anything about a person to see just how wrong this is.

He nods to Shiva, silently asking her to continue. If he wants to do anything here, he's going to need a bridge, and she just might have to be it.

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Robin stands still as Lady Shiva smooths his appearance, still unreacting. He looks up at Shiva slowly, without blinking.

"Gotta be.... there's no way I'd meet a demon if I was awake. Demons don't exist..."

The Boy Wonder seems to be somewhere else right now. Constantine might recognize the signs.

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"There are many things which exist without our knowledge."

John likely cannot appreciate the fact that something has cracked Shiva's mask of indiference but she is more than ruffled at the moment. It might be simply anger at someone attempting to claim something she has claimed for her own or it might be something more than that. Either way, there is an almost physical presence growing around her.

She isn't angry yet but she's heading that direction.

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The boy practically reeks of Hell, though it isn't a being with which John is personally familiar.

What's more interesting is that, especially together, these two have the same taint. Though Robin's is much stronger than Shiva's.

Whatever is after one is after the other as well.

"I need you to tell us everything about your 'dream,' if you can."

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A hand slowly is raised to his forehead. It's not immediately clear if Robin's trying to remember, or trying to forget.

"On patrol... then he appeared. Walking in midair beside me. Asked for my time. I got to a rooftop, asked him who he was. Then he showed me..."

They say the mind automatically raises defenses against memories to horrible to remember. Certainly Tim Drake's mind has been trying to do just that. But the memories bloom like hellish blossoms just the same. A place Tim hadn't believed existed since childhood, a place of brimstone and damnation. Cackling and screaming merging seamlessly into one terrible cacophony. And there in the midst of it, a person Tim cared deeply for, held in agony before the very king of demons. Held and...

He won't remember that. He can't remember that.

"He wanted to make a deal..."

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His soul. Of course. Though how much of the boy's behaviour is trauma and how much is due to the loss of said soul is uncertain. Faustus kept his conscience, after all. No two people react the same way.

"What did he promise you?"

Mephistopheles, perhaps, or Neron. Those two are the usual suspects when it comes to the souls of mortals, though Mephistopheles MO is usually much more subtle. This has to be Neron's work.

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It's clear that, even in his muddled state, Tim would like nothing more than to forget whatever he went through last night. The words seem to come with incredible effort.

"Stephanie. He said that... if I agreed to the deal... he'd resurrect her, and only... only if Bruce loses his trust in me..."

A sign of how shaken up from his ordeal he is; Robin just let Batman's identity slip to a complete stranger. It seems, though, that for everything else, his soul hasn't completely found its way into Neron's clutches.

Yet.

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"Ah, Mr Vandemar." Seemingly slipping out of a shadow, the squat and plump Mr. Croup, complete with transparent plastic mac (it does get wet in Gotham) takes a few strides across the rooftop towards the cluster of assorted breathing bodies. That would be Tim Drake, Lady Shiva and John Constantine.

Breathing bodies is a much more realistic description than "living beings".

"It appears our quest in Gotham City has been expedited, and the object that we seek stares us straight in the face."

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Mr. Vandemar steps out of a similar shadow, only needing to take one stride to his colleague's three.

"The boy's right in front of us, Mr. Croup."

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"Indeed, Mr. V. And he has brought friends, perhaps to accompany him on his journey. For truly, a journey alone can be quite torturous, and 'tis always pleasing to share one's travels with fellows of like-mind." He turns to his taller companion.

"Maybe he intends to trade something of theirs for his own freedom, which dare I say it, hangs rather dangerously on our side of the scales at this very moment." Croup grins, and puts his hands in his pockets. He begins to rock on his feet.

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Mr. Vandemar sniffs the air.

"Not him." Vandemar nods at Constantine. "Yellow, and tainted."

"And not her." Vandemar gestures at Shiva. "Far too soiled."

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"Looks like you're coming with us then, my laddo. We can do it in the nice, but ultimately boring way that involves you casting your gaze in a southward trajetory, with your arms outstretched so that we may clamp our version of cuffs upon them..." Mr. Croup briefly resembles a slavering fox in a suit.

"... Or we can have some fun." Mr. Vandemar cracks his joints. And for a millisecond resembles a starved wolf.

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Just two men, perhaps. Two very bizarre men. As most would see them, anyways.

But not John. The look on John's face can be seen as one thing and one thing only: fear.

"Get him out of here, as far away as possible."

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There is something about them that is familiar - and it isn't just the lethality that slides across them like air. It reminds her of Dragon for some reason that she cannot place. Looking at the different components of the situation, she realizes she needs to render Robin unconcious to move more quickly.

She closes the distance between them with the thought to do just that.

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Mr. Vandemar can move quickly too, and proves it by moving between Shiva and her target. "I prefer targets to be dragged off kicking and screaming. Sorry."

He doesn't raise his fists, or make any kind of movement to show he's ready to fight or even defend himself.

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His mind is running faster than it ever has. A new plan every second, with a new reason why it will fail. There has to be something he can do to stop them. Something brilliant.

But something stupid will have to do, and so he flings himself at Vandemar's back.

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Vandemar is a little surprised by the man who just leapt onto his lumbering frame. He breaks away from Robin, and starts to swing Constantine violently like a wildebeest trying to remove a lion from his back.

He begins to spin, laughing a very deep-throated laugh, as he gets closer and closer to the edge of the roof.

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As Vandemar is preoccupied, Shiva again attempts to close the distance between her and Robin. She's going to get him out of here. Hopefully Constantine can avoid being splattered upon the ground. He's been the only useful ally she's ever had in matters such as these.

Still, that isn't saying much.

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"Now, now, young lady." Mr. Croup stands his ground in the centre of the rooftop, holding out his hand.

"It would not be beneficial to your good self to interfere in our dutiful works. The boy made a deal, and we're here to collect. To cross us would be to cross Neron, although between you and I, you should be more afraid of Mr. V and myself." Croup smiles as Vandemar continues to spin with Constantine on his back, the tall man laughing like a jackal.

"Not that it is any skin off of my nose if you decide to pose an obstable to our collecting of a certain debt owed. Mr. Vandemar and I would have much fun with you, although I do not believe you would necessarily enjoy it." Croup keeps his grin fixed, and his arm outstretched. "Give us the boy."

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Sure, the edge of the roof is terrifying. But it can work in his favour, too. There's gotta be some spell, some thing he can use to make this beast fall off. Who knows, it might even be a big enough fall to hurt him.

So he starts buckling and holding on as hard as he can to try and pull Vandemar down instead.

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Vandemar is inhumanly strong. Probably because he's not quite human. But Constantine is proving surprisingly tactile, and Mr. V begins to feel ever-so-slightly dizzy.

With a grunt, Vandemar stops spinning, and then one of his knees gives way as Constantine tries to force him down.

"Do you want me to eat you, little man?" He swats behind him with the back of his hand.

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