SBAT Chapter 5

Steph clears her throat. “I’m on the case. We’re on the case.” She grabs Constantine’s arm.

Constantine offers his hand and Selina. “John. Please.” Her only reaction is to wrinkle her nose. Her gaze toward Steph turns accusatory.

“He can help,” Steph insists.

“With what? Where is he?” Selina demands.

Constantine sucks his breath in through his teeth. “You aren’t gonna like this, luv.”

Selina grabs John’s wrist when he pulls out his lighter. “Talk.”

“We’re, uh, maybe going to hell,” Steph says, squeezing between them and pulling Selina’s hand free. “OK? And yeah, it seems scary when I say it out loud. Mr. Constantine says it’s not a big deal.”

“Didn’t,” Constantine says, indignant.

“Well, he made it sound like it’s not a big deal,” Steph insists desperately.

Selina stares at them both. People are crossing the street to avoid them. A police car lurks at the corner, and a few pedestrians are recording with their phones.

Selina looks pissed, but she moves closer and lowers her voice. “Hell? Like Dante’s Inferno?”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Constantine says.

“Oh, thank god,” Steph says, letting out her breath. “He’s not in hell?”

“Course he is. I meant it’s not as bad as Dante. Load of wank,” Constantine says, lighting another cigarette.

“Hell,” Selina repeats, clearly waiting for Steph to tell her that this is a joke.

“I guess,” Steph says apologetically, as though any of this is her fault.

“That’s real?” Selina looks disgusted. “But how? He’s a good guy. He’s the best guy.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment when she says it like that.

Steph self-consciously tugs at her hood. There’s a reason that people in costumes don’t usually stand around on the sidewalk. They need to hurry up and get out of here. “Mr. Constantine says he’s not supposed to be there.”

“Course he should be there,” Constantine says with a yawn. “Fascist prick.”

“Jesus.” Selina shakes her head.

“Not bloody likely,” Constantine says and Steph steps on his foot to shut him up.

“We’re gonna go get him,” she promises Selina.

“I’m coming too,” Selina announces.

“Yeah, all right,” Constantine says, looking her up and down for about the fourth time.

Steph and Selina turn matching looks of exhaustion on him.

“More the merrier,” he says innocently.

“How do we get there? We don’t have to die, do we?” Steph asks worriedly.

“We should be so lucky.” Constantine turns and starts off down the sidewalk.

“Should I get us a ride?” Steph asks, hurrying after him. Selina keeps up in silence, her face a picture of tightly controlled rage.

“No, luv. We’ll go the VIP way.”

Steph is confused. “I can’t imagine that anybody in hell cares about Spoiler and Catwoman. I’m not a famous hero, and she’s not really a serious criminal.”

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t exactly the Joker.”

Selina doesn’t argue with that.

“Not you lot,” Constantine says with a snort. “It’s me they’ll roll the red carpet out for. Down ‘ere.” He gestures with his cigarette and starts down the steps to the subway station at the corner.

Selina grabs Stephanie’s arm to stop her. “Hey!” she calls down.

Constantine looks over his shoulder. Selina has a wild look in her eyes. “This is Galant Street. There are no subway stations here.”

Steph feels a chill. Selina’s right.

“You catch on quick,” Constantine says, giving them a pitying look. “You coming or not?”

Steph and Selina exchange a glance. “Uh, you got it from here?” Steph says hopefully.

“Like hell.” Selina takes Steph’s hand and leads her down the steps after Constantine. “To be clear, this is hell? Like where bad people go for eternal punishment?”

“Depends who you ask,” Constantine replies.

The subway station below seems ordinary enough, except that it’s almost entirely empty. There’s a weird vibe in the air, like there’s something just out of reach that Steph can’t quite hear. There are walls and a ceiling, yet it feels like they’re in a vast, open space. Their footsteps sound wrong as they cross the tiles.

A single figure stands under a flickering light on the platform: a pale girl in black, wearing an Ankh around her neck. She has a cute little eye tattoo, and projects confidence in a way that Steph has **** but to envy. She looks on in silence.

Constantine hardly spares her a glance; all he does is show her his middle finger as they walk past.

“Uh, hi,” Steph says politely.

The girl’s only reply is a smile.

A train is coming in as they reach platform, and it looks and sounds like part of Gotham Metro, only the train numbers are all scratched out.

“What?” Selina snorts. “Not 666?”

Steph looks over her shoulder. The pale girl is gone.

“It is a bit dramatic, ennit?” Constantine says. “Here we go again.” He hesitates, then boards the train.

Selina follows without hesitation, and Steph is the last through. The train is empty, and the doors hiss shut behind her. The train lurches forward, and they enter a dark tunnel. Everything outside the windows is black.

“Well. This isn’t so bad,” Steph says, grabbing a pole. “Do we have a plan?”

“Always. For your part, you don’t agree to anything, don’t make any deals, yeah? You do that, and it’s on your head,” Constantine warns.

“What do we do, then?” Selina asks.

“Stay close to me and let me do the talking. We’ll find old bats and bring him home, like. Just no deals, right? Leave that bit to me.” As Constantine says it, the train emerges from the tunnel and comes to a halt. The windows are fogged; it’s not clear what’s outside.

Selina sighs deeply. “Sounds easy.”

“Luv, there’s an eternal army of otherworldly dickheads whose sole purpose in the universe is to convince you to come ‘ere and never leave,” Constantine says, putting a cigarette in his mouth and going to the doors. He takes out his lighter. “To come by choice? You’d have to be bloody mental. ‘Course I’d say the same about a bird what puts on cat ears to nick things, but what do I know?” He lights up and steps through.