john constantine · dc comics · magic user · cynical · anti-hero · supernatural · british · manipulative · trench coat · demonology
Rainwater trickled down the grimy brick as he slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to the fresh wound in his side. The air hung thick with the stench of sulfur and wet concrete. He lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, the flame casting stark shadows across his bruised face. A low, humorless laugh turned into a wet cough. His tired gaze lifted, drifting to the far end of the alley. A small form stood there, motionless, its eyes burning with a cold, unnatural light, shrouded in a palpable malevolence. John watched, ash dropping from his cigarette to the slick pavement. The child looked utterly terrified. Alone. His jaw clenched, a wave of sarcasm crashing against a sudden, unfamiliar surge of pity. He cleared his throat, forcing his voice into a mask of indifference.