SBAT Chapter 3

Steph knows what to do in a lot of situations, but this is not one of them. Puzzled, curious, and more than a little apprehensive, she wades through the grass toward the rising commotion.

“Uh, Alfred?” she says, activating her communicator.

“Yes, Ms. Stephanie?”

“Where am I?”

“A little way north of Grantham, it would appear.” Wherever that is.

Steph frowns. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“Oh, I’ve seen locators pop up in stranger places.”

“Is this England?”

“It is.”

Zatanna had guessed right.

Alfred doesn’t sound like himself. It’s because of what Steph told him, and the fact that she is on Bruce’s trail. Alfred has emotions. He’s trying to hold it together. Steph understands; she’s been there.

“Alfred, can you get me on satellite?”

“Already have done, Ms. Stephanie.”

“OK, then don’t tell anyone that I had to ask this, but what the hell is going on here? Who are these people and what’s their deal?”

Nobody’s even noticed her in the gloom, but there’s a little crowd of somewhat scruffy-looking people facing off with a line of uniformed cops, and a lot of shouting. The cops are all holding sticks, and it all shows up harshly in the headlights of the police cars.

“I see what appears to be some travelers and the police.”

“Travelers? Who are they?”

There’s a hesitation. “Well, in the Yankee vernacular, homeless hippies,” Alfred says.

Steph scratches her head. “Zatanna brought me here to see a homeless hippie?”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

“I’m lost too, Alfred. Um, I guess I might need a way back to the states because Zatanna bailed on me.”

“I shall see to it.”

“Thank you. I guess I’ll go see what’s going on and find this Constantine guy.”

“Constantine? John Constantine?”

Stephanie stops short. “You know him?”

“He crossed paths with Master Bruce on occasion. He’s an occultist. Master Bruce trusted him, more or less.”

“That’s a relief. I’d have looked him up in the files, but Zatanna just brought me here. Zero warning. Magicked my costume onto me and everything.”

“She is a formidable woman.”

“She is! Makes me feel super inadequate. If I get arrested, will you bail me out?”

“Ms. Stephanie, you’re in England. It works rather differently.”

“Well, their criminal justice system can’t be worse than ours.”

There’s a pause.

“Right?” Stephanie says. “Right?”

“Best of luck, Ms. Stephanie.”

Steph ducks low and approaches swiftly and quietly. There’s a lot of swearing, and she doesn’t need Alfred’s help to interpret the situation: these police are trying to get these people to move, and the people don’t want to. Steph has no context for any of it, but she doesn’t love how the cops chose to show up at the crack of dawn like this.

She doesn’t see who throws the first punch, but suddenly the standoff is a melee.

“Oh, jeez.” She wants to stay out of it, but she also can’t have the guy that she needs getting arrested or put in a coma. The English cops are just as happy to hit people with sticks as American ones, it turns out.

Approaching a stranger is weird enough without having to break him out of jail first. Or maybe he’ll handle this. He’s a magician, right? “Hey, Alfred? What’s this guy look like?”

“Constantine? Blond. Loud. Not the tidiest sort of fellow.”

Oh. That’s the guy out front, swinging on the cops. He wears green sweatpants and a gray tee. He’s a mess, and the much older woman beside him throws better punches. Steph cringes as she watches him get thrown to the ground and kicked. Scowling, she primes a smoke grenade. She’ll put down some cover and get Constantine out of the melee before they can get cuffs on him. It’s the only play that she sees.

But there are kids with the travelers, and Steph sees a policeman crack one squarely on the head with one of those sticks. Steph’s eyes pop open.

“Seriously?” she says, indignant. She throws the smoke grenade and bursts out of cover, running up the front of a van and leaping off to kick the policeman in the chest, sending him flying into his friends. There’s a cheer as she lands, which is nice, but then there’s no time for talking; she blocks, throws, and kicks until the coughing police flee to their cars and retreat.

Breathing hard, she goes to the rather pitiful form on the ground. The blond guy lies there, coughing. One of his eyes is blackening and his lip is split. He’s pretty brave to be leading the charge like that when he’s such a terrible brawler. Maybe he likes getting beaten up.

The others are gathering around her.

“Don’t thank me,” she says, fending them off. “You’ll probably be in more trouble now. I need to talk to this guy. Back off. Yes, I’m American. You’re welcome. And I’m sorry. I don’t know. Please stay out of my bubble.” She offers a gloved hand to Constantine. He peers up at her blearily, then sits with a groan. He doesn’t reach for her hand.

“Who are you, then?” he asks, turning to look at the fading taillights of the police. “The, er, caped—purple whatsit? Or have they got a new Phantom Stranger with tits? ‘Bout time, really.”

Stephanie is momentarily thrown. “What? I’m a big deal in America. John Constantine?”

“Who’s asking?” It’s got to be him; he’s the only person here who isn’t even curious, let alone impressed, by her costume.

“I’m a friend of Batman.”

Constantine snorts. “Sod off.”

“Uh, I’m a friend of Zatanna.”

He gives her an unfriendly look, but she has his attention. “She said you’d help me.”

“Did she?” He stares up at her and moments go by. Steph vaguely hears the travelers packing up their things. They have to leave after what’s happened. Constantine just sits there in the wet grass. Finally, he shakes head. “Got a fag?”

“I’m sorry?”

“A smoke, luv.”

“Oh! Yeah.” Steph pats herself down and takes out the cigarettes that Zatanna gave her. She hands them over, and Constantine has the wrapper off in a heartbeat.

“Give us a light.”

“Um, OK.” Steph takes the cutting torch off her belt and leans down to light his cigarette. Constantine takes a powerful drag, then gazes about grumpily before picking himself up. He sucks in another heroic lungful, wincing and touching his tender eyes. Then he focuses on Steph. “Well?” he says.