Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Wanna go ghost hunting?” Tim smiled broadly despite the pouring rain.

Red Hood checked his watch, droplets spilling off of the watch face. “You brought us out here for this?”

Nightwing didn’t say anything, but looked both unamused and drowned with his uncovered hair plastered to the sides of his head and face.

“You both have seen stuff way more insane than ghosts, dead man.” Tim huffed to Jason, producing a tablet from his cape.

A quick swipe of his gloved hand brought the tablet to life. A shakey, annoyingly vertical, poor quality video played. A line of 8 men of differing sizes, dressed in clothes of different periods, crossed a paved city street, their legs partially hidden inside the concrete. The camera panned to show the line of men walking straight into the brick facade of a small, boarded up storefront. The men appeared to simply melt into the brickwork, leaving nothing behind them.

“Spectral album cover?” Nightwing’s curiosity was piqued and his good humor was back.

“This was filmed in 1999. Though there are pictures of some of these men in the database -” Tim made some taps on his screen to open some bookmarks -“From 1976 and 1953.”

Tim opened images to show a discolored series of photos that depicted the same specters, on the same street, crossing into the same store front, that was not boarded up. He opened a second set of photos, these black and white. Thanks to poor development, shapes were harder to make out, but they did appear to have vaguely human features.

“There have been sightings as far back as the late 1800s. Wanna know the weird thing?”

“Now you’re getting to the weird stuff?” Jason struggled to see the images on the tablet through the torrent streaming from the men’s heads and clothing.

“The ‘choir’ - that’s what the internet conspiracists call it - the ‘choir’ is seen for a week every 23 years and every time it’s seen, it gains a new member. See this guy?”

Tim backtracked to the grainy, ugly, first generation cell phone video, and pointed to a person in the video. With two fingers he isolated the man, blowing up the image. A vaguely translucent man with shoulder length hair and stringy mustache. With a few inputs, the batcomputer began running it’s state-of-the-art identification program. Within a few seconds, the program paralleled the blown up video frame with a decades old NJ state driver’s license.

“Brian Cortez.” Tim elucidated the other men. “He owned the camera that produced the 1976 photos. The camera was found discarded on the street. The G.C.P.D. found it while working on Cortez’s missing person case. He was listed as missing on October 23, 1976.”

Nightwing and Red Hood exchanged cynical and skeptical looks.

“You’re messing with us.” Red Hood concluded.

“If I were messing with you, I’d be doing it in front of a warm fireplace at Wayne Manor,” Red Robin insisted. “The choir is due tonight, in about an hour.”

“Bullshit.” Nightwing sounded snarky, but he practically vibrated with interest. “Fine. I’m in. Don’t care if I regret it later.”

…

The three Robins booked it across town. They had to take to the rooftops due to traffic reroutes and closures. Tim suggested this was part of the conspiracy, the city reroutes traffic and does everything possible to keep people away from the street where the choir appears on the night it happens. There wasn’t really anything to keep people away from. The whole block was largely derelict and the buildings were crumbling.

Tim was practically giddy as he dutifully took measurements of the distances between the buildings on the street. The storm drains were full and debris was beginning to collect on the cracked pavement.

“This block and the next two on either side was originally part of the Cathedral of Our Grace complex. I think that’s the first building that was ever here.” Red Robin swept back his hood to get a better look at some data on his tablet.

“We know.” Red Hood rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t know.” Nightwing whispered self-consciously..

“The point of origin is that building on the end,” Tim pointed to a small, rectangular shaped shop front on his left. “That used to be the general area of where the monks lived. Now, the whole street has been raised by about 30 cm, around a foot, by modern construction. So the choir starts where the monks lived and then they cross this street to where the c-.”

“Cathedral used to stand.” Nightwing answered and nodded authoritatively.

Red Hood smacked Nightwing on the shoulder, managing only to splatter more rain on the two of them. “Stop acting like you know shit.”

“Where the cathedral used to stand.” Tim confirmed, having to wipe his soaked hair out of his eyes. “For a while it was various shop fronts and now, well you can see, it's just an empty lot.”

Nightwing frowned. Empty lot appeared to be a very generous description, the whole place was filled with dumped garbage bags and destroyed furniture. “Then they just disappear?”

“Yup.” Tim actually bounced, splashing in the now ankle deep water. “They’re never seen coming out the other side.

“Well, bring on the spooks before we all drown.” Red Hood complained just as Nightwing shook his wet hair like a dog, splashing him in the mouth. “Or I drown him.”

“Curb the understandable homicidal ideation for another six minutes,” Tim advised.

“So, do people just…show up to this thing?” Nightwing looked around him for other spectators.

“There are some big talkers online, but they’d practically have to be a Bat to make it out here tonight.” Tim was positively gleeful. “I am going to have soooo much footage to upload to the Discord channel.”

“You’ll be king of the conspiracy nerds.” Jason agreed unenthusiastically.

“Where do we want to watch from?” Nightwing wondered, evaluating the view of surrounding rooftops.

“Pick wherever you want, I’m staying right here.”

“Hey, maybe you ought not get too close to the ghoulies, yeah?” Red Hood suggested carefully. “You don’t know what this is. Maybe maintain a respectful distance.”

Tim frowned. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

“You’ll stay on that damn street corner is what you’ll do.” Nightwing grabbed Red Robin around his chest and bodily moved the young man back onto the curb.

“Fiiine. Last time I bring the two of you on an adventure.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” Red Hood swiped at the back of Red Robin’s head affectionately.

The men fell into silence as they waited. The only sound became the rain pelting them and streaming from their armor. There were no other environmental sounds and that set Nightwing on edge, he stood with both hands on the sticks held to his back. Red Hood was just annoyed it was too wet for a cigarette. Tim checked his watch every few seconds.

“Okay. One minute!” Tim began to bounce again. He held one wrist out to watch the time and the other hand held an obscenely high definition video camera that was likely a loaner from one of Bruce’s development projects. He spun, taking footage of all corners of the street, Nightwing and Red Hood bounced into each other trying to get out of the way.

“Five…four…three…two…o-”

There was light and dark. Day and night - physically, the sun came and went. The men’s vision became confused because the street changed, but too quickly for their brains to process the information that was being forced into them. A sound, a whine. The whine vibrated the street. So much light.

Suddenly they were there. Nine men, walking a foot too low inside the flooded pavement. They had expressions of complete ecstasy on their faces, full of reverence and awe. Nine men who looked like they were from different eras, walking in a flooding street who the rain didn’t touch and who made no sound.

“Holy shiiiit!” Nightwing exclaimed. Red Hood and Red Robin didn’t say anything at all, but the youngest held his camera with trembling hands.

The nine men moved slowly, but purposefully across the street. Suddenly the world jumbled again. It seemed like the ground bounced and rolled and the sky changed. The whine was back.

There was a scream of physical agony. A boy’s scream. Red Robin was screaming like he was on fire. Nightwing instinctively dove to cover the boy and take him to ground and protect him from whatever was happening. The vigilante made contact with the young man, but then fell, his face landing in water. He got on his knees, shaking his vision clear of the dirty water and trying to figure out what happened. Ambient and background sound had returned.

“RED ROBIN???” Red Hood yelled, spinning on his heels. “RED??? TIIIIIM???”

Nightwing sprang to his feet, vision cleared. Red Robin was nowhere to be seen. “RED ROBIN??”

“REEEED?” Hood cupped his hands around his mouth and ran out into the street, desperately searching in all directions.

“He’s gone. We’ve lost him.”

Chapter Text

If the whole city block wasn’t being psychically masked from prying eyes, the people of Gotham would be especially unnerved by the sheer number of costumed crime fighters filling the street where Red Robin disappeared. Batman asked for help to look for Red Robin and he got it. Whoever didn’t respond to Batman, responded to pleas from Nightwing and Red Hood. The rain hadn’t quit and puddles quickly filled everyone’s footsteps.

“HOW?!” Batman snarled, both hands on Nightwing’s shoulders. Nightwing himself suspected this was Batman’s way of keeping himself from lashing out.

“Red was there and then he wasn’t.” Red Hood explained, pointing to the empty lot. “Those ghosts or whatever got to the empty lot, there was light, a scream, and then he was just gone. Nightwing couldn’t do anything, Batman, let him go.”

“Got his camera, I’ll run it.” The Batgirl with red hair waved the pricey piece of equipment. “Heading back.”

The other two Batgirls descended from the rooftops with soggy plops.

“Nothing?” Batman frowned at Nightwing, but he was talking to the Batgirls.

“Nothing.” The blonde Batgirl answered and the Batgirl with the full face mask shook her head. With a finger motion, the blonde Batgirl indicated the other should investigate the empty lot again and she went the opposite direction.

“I always knew ya’ reminded me of someone.” John Constantine frowned at Batman, raising the collar of his long overcoat. “Spittin’ image of my own dad, yeah?”

“Is there anything here or not?” Batman snapped over his shoulder.

“Depends on your definition.” Constantine waved his palm in the air, seeing something no one else could. He tried to grab at something invisible with his thumb and forefinger, but pulled his hand back and shook it as if he got burned. “Fucking hell! You gotta expect all kinds of magical bullshite on old holy sites and Gotham is weird, just on it’s own. There is something…else at play here, mate. Something twisted.”

Superman landed next to Batman and worriedly darted his eyes between Batman and Nightwing. “We’ve photographed every angle, if not every inch of this block, Batman. There is nothing else here. There’s no technology here that we haven’t brought.”

Batman didn’t respond, but Nightwing slowly and carefully put his hands over Batman’s fists. “That’s okay Superman, thank you for your help and thank everyone for us. The family will take it from here.”

Superman nodded grimly. He used a bit of his Kryptonian powers to amplify his voice. “Okay everyone, we’ve done what we can. Let’s head out!”

As the dozen or so Justice Leaguers backed off, Red Hood’s Outlaws gathered around him waiting for further instructions.

“I think that’s us done too.” Red Hood exchanged handshakes with his people. “Get something to eat, I’ll catch up.”

“Don’t take too long.” Artemis winked and led Bizarro, Starfire, and Arsenal away in a different direction than the Justice Leaguers.

“Go ahead and go, Hood.” Nightwing spoke carefully. “Take the girls with you.”

Hood looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but thought better of it. “Right, I’ll be back by sundown.” He whistled a Robin’s call to get the Batgirls’ attention and waved them over before running to catch up with his teammates.

Nightwing was glad that Constantine had his back turned to them and was pretending to focus on something else. He spoke quietly. “Alright, Batman, it’s just you and me. I get it, okay? Finding Red Robin is my new full time job. So, hit me or have a breakdown, either way, you need to get your hands off me before I move them myself.”

Batman nodded, withdrawing his arms stiffly. “I-”

“I said I get it.”

The Dark Knight nodded again and stepped back. “I’ll be reviewing our data from today.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Nightwing was already talking to Batman’s back as his kevlar cape was gaining air.

“Wouldn’t want to be you, friend.” Constantine spoke over his shoulder.

“Someone’s gotta be me.” Nightwing shrugged. “Red Robin's special. He’s the son Batman always really wanted.”

“You won’t mind if I keep you boys company tonight, will you? I’d like to see this thing for myself.”

“The more the merrier.”

…

“All magic has its price, yeah?” Constantine had a small flame dancing on one end of an index finger. It wasn’t affected by the pouring rain, even the streams pouring directly from the man’s dirty blond hair. “Sometimes, creature comforts are worth any price.” He used the flame to light his and Red Hood’s cigarettes.

Hood muttered thanks as he quickly covered the cigarette with his hand and took a greedy drag from it. “I feel like I haven’t been dry in days.”

“It’s London weather for sure.”

“Five minutes.” Nightwing called over his shoulder. He was standing in the middle of the road, back to the others, arms crossed.

“He does know it’s not his fault?” Constantine blew smoke out of the side of his mouth.

“He and Bats aren’t good when they can’t assign blame. It’s not Batman’s fault so it must be his.” Jason shrugged. “It’s a them thing. We all stay out of it, you should too.”

“Oh? My dad is looking better and better in comparison.”

“Here’s to abusive dads that are still better than Batman.” Red Hood lifted his cigarette like a wine glass in a toast.

“Tell me more about what you’re sensing.” Nightwing interrupted them deliberately.

“Can’t say exactly.” Constantine flicked ash. “It’s a crack of something. Not even as big as a crack. A thread almost. What it’s tied to, I can’t say.”

“I’ll call in Zatanna and Raven then. They’ll figure it out.”

“Ouch. Where’s the faith, friend?”

“Hood’s the one with religion. I’ve got no time for it and I don’t think Red Robin does either.”

“Well, alright then, guess I’m on notice.” Constantine made a show of outing his cigarette under his heel and straightening his perpetually crooked tie.

Red Hood and Nightwing took their places on the street corner from the night before and Constantine joined them.

“Hear that?” Nightwing asked the men, his hands flew to the sticks on his back. “The background noise is gone again.”

“Just the rain,” Constantine acknowledged thoughtfully. He flipped his gold coin against his thumb and it created no sound at all. “From one right bastard to another, friend, you may want to find time for one of the holy books. Hell is real and your soul is marked for it as much as mine is. Your whole family is marked.”

“Then Hell has no idea what’s coming for it.”

“That’s the spirit.” Constantine smiled. The coin in his hand began to vibrate.

Light burst from everywhere and nowhere, the dark chasing its heels. The world warped and so did their senses. Constantine’s coin floated out of his hand and he tried to grab it, but everytime he tried, his hand just didn’t seem to make contact. A loud hum pierced the air and the world began to shake. The light became overwhelming.

“There they are!” Nightwing called.

Hood retched and dry heaved loudly. “It’s worse tonight.”

The line of men began their slow, reverent walk a foot inside of the cracked, flooded pavement.

Red Hood grabbed roughly onto one of Nightwing’s shoulders. “Dick!”

“I see.”

At the very end of the line, there was a new man. Red Robin walked behind the rest, cape and cowl hanging limply in the rain that passed through him. The young man’s eyes were fixed adoringly at the sky and his lips moved as if in prayer.

“RED!!” Hood shouted, of course to no avail.

Constantine held out his arms widely and began to chant. “In nomine dei misericors, quod latet, videatur. Reddatur quod ablatum est. In nomine dei misericors, quod latet, videatur. Reddatur quod ablatum est. REDDATUR QUOD ABLATUM EST, you fucker!”

Nightwing dropped from the curb with a splash and ran to his brother.

“Don’t do that, friend!” Constantine warned, using a pocket knife to cut the skin on his right forefinger. He quickly began drawing in the air with the bloody fingertip and a glowing, floating sigil burned into existence. “Yr wyf yn eich ceryddu a'r cyfan yr ydych yn ei greu. Rwy'n bwrw i chi- Ah, bugger - ” The wizard dropped his Welsh and shot out one palm. “YAWA!”

Just as Nightwing was about to wrap Red Robin with both arms, invisible energy hit Nightwing, knocking him back and into the air. The vigilante landed hard on his back and rolled away from the line of spectral men.

“Sorry!!” Constantine called over the rain from the opposite side of the road. “Can’t risk it.”

Nightwing flipped to his feet, but did not pursue the line. Instead he jogged back to the other men on the curb. Within moments the world jumbled and rolled again. The whine was unbearable in the men’s ears and then just stopped. The noises inherent in Gotham city returned. Red Hood began dry heaving again.

“It’s spell sickness,” Constantine explained with a sympathetic hand on Red Hood’s shoulder. “Non-magical folks connecting with powerful magic for too long or too often. Only cure I’ve ever seen is whatever number of pints it takes to get you too sloshed to care.” The wizard eyeballed Nightwing critically.

“So it is magic? Red’s not dead?” Nightwing used both hands to self-consciously wipe his long, wet hair back and out of his eyes.

“Of a fashion. We’re talking Creation magic, the old stuff.”

“Like making things out of thin air?”

“No, friend, like the ‘And then he said, let there be light’ kind of creation. God stuff, but twisted and vile.”

“Before we get too far,” Red Hood paused to retch again, “We should get Batman in on this.”

“More importantly, lads, you said this hauntin’ lasts for a week. Now is that a seven day week or something else?”

Nightwing shrugged. “Red was the one who followed the damn thing. We’ll have to check his notes. Most importantly though, do you already know Batman’s civilian identity?”

Chapter Text

“Bruce Wayne.” Constantine shook his head at the batsuit in the glass display case in a long line of suits. “Bruce bloody Wayne.”

“Indeed.” Alfred frowned disapprovingly at the water accumulating at the warlock’s feet.

“Sorry, mate.” Constantine shrugged out of his coat self-consciously, handing it off to the butler.

“I’ll run it through the dryer.” Alfred said simply, taking the coat and nodding his head stiffly before making his way to the cave entrance.

Nightwing was working on a small laptop, at an empty counter, ignoring the puddle forming around him. He pounded angrily on the keyboard, compiling notes on Tim’s notes about the phenomenon currently imprisoning the fledgling superhero. Jason, now dry and in casual clothes, led Bruce Wayne and Barbara into the batcave.

“Status report.” Bruce was all business, contrary to his injudicious public persona.

“Same as last night.” Jason still looked pale and queasy, even if he had stopped retching. “Except now Tim is a part of the group.”

“Which is better than not, I’d presume.” Constantine stood casually, with his hands in his soggy pants pockets. He frowned as Damian also trailed into the cave. “Start ‘em young, eh?”

“Mmm.” Wayne kept walking to a conference table at which he sat in the head seat. Everyone but Nightwing followed behind and also took a seat.

Barbara took over the main batcomputer and, using a remote control, began playing a video for the group. “This is everything Tim’s camera caught.” The shaky footage captured the whole phenomenon from the light changes to the street vibrating and the spectral figures in high definition.

“Wanna see what’s cool?” Barbara restarted the video, paused it and began playing it frame by frame. It wasn’t just the light that changed while the men walked, the street changed as well. Each frame showed a different set of buildings springing up around the men, some recent and some much older. Other people were in the footage as well, sometimes standing in a crowd with the vigilantes, sometimes there were just one or two figures on an empty street. All of that went away when the choir started walking and it appeared that the group existed only in a black void.

“That’s not what we see.” Red Hood looked at Nightwing for confirmation, but the other man was still angrily punching away on the laptop’s keyboard.

“I think you’ve physically been traveling through time,” Barbara took a seat at the table. “Too fast for you to really understand, too fast for you to even be noticed by anyone else. Fortunately, Tim got his hands on a camera that can film and display fast enough to catch it all.”

“Time travel. Pocket dimension, by the looks of it.” Jason shrugged. “Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

Constantine blinked. “I cannot stress hard enough to you how wrong you are. This is not technological, this isn’t even your friend Flash running too fast and bending the time stream. This is old Magick - with a ‘k’. A bit of reality carved out of the big bang where your boy now exists omnipresently, in all times and dimensions, in service to -” The man trailed off.

“To whom?” Bruce asked, steepling his fingers.

“That I’ll have to consult some colleagues on.” The warlock tilted his head. “The human brain isn’t meant for all of that. All that is, was, or ever will be. Say you were to get to him and snatch him back, he cannot be the same kid who left.”

“What do you think the point of it all is?” Barbara asked Constintine. “The specters and collecting people.”

“I think that was an accident, love, but a welcome one. The Power That Is sees no reason to stop the harmless ‘collection’, as you say. I cannot even fathom what purpose they serve. Play things, probably.”

Bruce’s expression showed obvious distaste for that theory and his voice was angry. “Nightwing.”

“Yeah?” The young man didn’t even look up from his notes.

“Report.”

“Uhhh, in a second.”

Wayne frowned, not expecting and not sure what to do with that response.

“Why Tim?” Jason wondered. “Dick and I have been through twice. Constantine tonight. Why only one of us?”

Constantine shrugged.

“I’ll get in touch with Superman. Maybe the League has something or has heard of something that can punch through or pause the phenomenon.” Wayne stared at the computer monitor. “Magic can often be a crude manipulation of forces better handled by technology.”

Constantine looked scandalized. “I think you’ve got it the wrong way around, mate.”

“Nightwing!” Bruce called again, clearly losing patience.

“Sorry.” The young man walked over to the table, eyes still reading his screen. “The conspiracy around this thing is insane - trying to separate speculation from observation. Similar incidents in other places…”

Constantine perked up at that.

“Basically, according to Tim, the window for this thing is getting smaller every cycle. We’ve probably got one more night.”

“You said we had a week!” John protested.

“I didn’t know what I didn’t know.” Nightwing shrugged at Constantine apologetically and wandered away again.

“Right. I need to start ‘making calls’.” The warlock frowned. “If you’re sure you want whatever it is you might get back.”

“I’m sure.” Bruce’s expression might as well have been carved out of stone.

Constantine frowned, looking across the table at Damian and then at Nightwing’s back. “Might I have a word in private?”

Bruce nodded and the others stood from the table.

“Noitalosi.” Constantine touched his hand to the table, creating a soundproof bubble around the two men. “I like your boy in the black and the young one seems okay too. If you ever let either of them start dabbling in magic, even just a little bit, I’ll have to come kill them both.”

Bruce didn’t say anything and his expression didn’t change.

“I know what I’m talking about and I’m fairly sure you know what I’m talking about too. Now, if you’ll kindly direct me to your laundry, I’ll be on my way.”

Wayne nodded. “Second floor, utility hall. One of the kids can take you.”

“Thank you.” Constantine smiled and with a wave of his hand, released the spell around the table. He ran to catch up to Damian for directions.

“Put it down and go home.” Jason stood, annoyingly, reading Dick’s notes on the laptop over Grayson’s shoulders.

“Can’t.” Dick shook his head. “We might only have one more chance.”

“I know you didn’t sleep last night, you won’t be able to function if you don’t get some sleep tonight.”

Dick sighed and, laptop in hand, walked over to the conference table. He picked up the remote left by Barbara and fast-forwarded to the end of the clip. He played the part at the end where Tim started screaming and dropped the camera. He played it again and again.

“Alright, I get it.” Jason took the remote out of Grayson’s hand. “I’m going home. I’m going to bed. I’ll be able to help tomorrow night, spell sick or not. If you’re not able to contribute, you know you’ll kick yourself forever.”

Grayson frowned, ignoring Todd’s argument and returning his attention to the laptop. On a hunch, he’d uploaded the video footage to the conspiracy group’s Discord server. Right away replies started coming in.

Choirboy2021: Fake. Come on! The shaky cam and dropping it at the end? Too theatrical.

Truther_now: Deep Fake.

Xxlordez: I think it’s legit. Choir seems to match.

Isthisnametakentoo: OP, who took this?

Joannajj: Who is screaming?

420-24-7-4ev: LOL, Red Hood / Nightwing cosplay? Lame!

Grayson wanted so badly to just lay the whole story out. He’d read about cold cases solved by internet communities, maybe, together, they could sort it out. Of course the conspiracists didn’t know part of it was magic or time travel.

“What’s wrong with me?” Dick sighed, ready to pack up for the night, but he continued to watch comments trickle in, most of them unfavorable.

dangerdoe: Anyone else see the reflection in the rain? That’s scary. 2min 34.

“Reflection?” Dick rewound the footage to the timestamp. It was blurry, the camera had fallen to the ground and a splash of water covered the camera’s lens. Inside the splash of water there was something. Dick zoomed in. There was a very distorted oval face, leathery, haggard, its eyes were black voids.

Maybe that’s our culprit. Grayson snatched the laptop and made a break for the exit hoping to catch up to Constantine.

He found the warlock casually chatting with Alfred in the main hall.

“Uh, hi, I’m sorry, do you have a second?”

“Always.” Constantine smiled tiredly. He turned back to Alfred. “Thanks for the insight.”

Once Alfred stepped away, Dick held out the laptop for Constantine. “This was found in Red Robin’s footage. Does it mean anything to you?”

“Ugh.” He frowned at Nightwing and considered him for a moment. “What price would you pay to get your mate back? Even knowing that he’ll be hopelessly broken if you do.”

“For that one? Anything.”

“Damn it, I was worried you’d say that. That image you’ve captured is the true form of Perpetua. I suspected her earlier, but I didn’t want to say it.”

That name rang something in the back of Grayson’s mind. “I remember her! She was destroyed, wasn’t she? By one of the corrupted Batmen.”

“A being of pure creation magic cannot be destroyed, friend. Consider that magic lesson number one. If you come out for a pint, I’ll teach you lessons two and three.”

The young vigilante frowned. “I’ve really got to work on this.”

“Bring your computer, we’ll call it a working…whatever’s after dinner and before breakfast.”

…

“Batman doesn’t care for magic does he?” Constantine peered dubiously into the foam of his beer.

“He hates what he can’t control or plan for.” Dick was glad to finally be mostly dry and in normal clothes. He had the laptop open on the table, letting theories from the Discord chat scroll down the screen.

John took a deep sip of the beer. “That’s where he’s wrong. Magic lesson number two. Spells are like any other weapon; there's a best and preferred one for any situation. If you know what you’re looking at, you can predict what’s coming.”

“If magic’s involved, how do you really know what you’re looking at? Half the time magic seems like it's meant to be something else.”

Constantine fished in his pocket for his gold coin. “That’s where it helps to have a little luck. Magic lesson number three: there are different types and strains of magic. Being the sorry lot that humans are, we can never really get access to all of it, but we can have affinity for some of it. Mine is luck, damned unreliable as it is. Well, technically, it’s synchronicity - making connections between unrelated things and showing up at the right place at the right time with the right weapon in hand.”

The magician held out the coin and it began to quake and jump in his open palm. He handed it off to Grayson who took it and examined its markings.

“I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s going to help us get Red Robin back and I’ll explain it to you if you agree to two conditions.”

“Oh?” Grayson took his first sip of beer and Constantine motioned for two more from the bar’s server.

“You’ll work with me. An apprentice of sorts.”

Grayson handed the coin back and laughed into his beer. “I’m sorry?”

“Friend, I don’t know you from Adam, but I’ve heard stories from Zee and I’ve seen ya’ on the news. All the flips, spins, and death defying leaps from buildings? Those mid-air acrobatics? All those falls that should’ve killed you but didn’t? In your heart of hearts do you really think that’s all due to your abs?”

“I’ve trained all my life to do what I do.” Dick pushed away the beer as two more were delivered to the table. Doubt bloomed in his head as he stared at the screen cap from Tim’s video, those dead eyes reflected in the water. “Okay, say you’re not full of shit. What is the second condition?”

“You can never, ever tell your dad that you’re learning magic. You can never let him see what you’ll be able to do.”

“So I can learn it, but never use it?”

“You’re already using it. Poorly. But no one knows and no one has to. You’re curious, right?”

Grayson drained about half his beer in several long swallows. He sighed. “If it gets Tim back.”

“I knew we were going to be great friends.”

…

“The rain is magical! Of course the rain in Gotham is bloody magical!” Constantine swore loudly and gave up on drawing the large, smeared golden sigil on the flooded streets. “How are things higher up, Zee?”

Zatanna floated above the men’s heads, eyes white with magic. “The wards are in place. Nothing should get out once it gets in.”

“You ready too, love?” John asked the small, purple cloaked woman beside him.

Raven had her hood up, for all the good it could do in the rain, and no one could see her face. The purple hood nodded. “It is a small ask.”

“We’re more or less set on our end.” Constantine crossed the street to where Red Hood, Robin, and Batman stood. “Zatanna’s going to trap the men, Raven’s going to try and rebend the dimension around them so they’re in one place and time, and I’m going to break them free.”

The Bat nodded but said nothing. He did, however, spare a frown for Nightwing, who stood between the two groups, hands on his weapons, staring up into the rain.

“Now we wait,” Constantine spoke just to fill the awkward silence.

Red Hood caught Constantine’s gaze and just shook his head. John got the meaning, shut up, and tucked his hand in his pocket, retrieving the gold coin. It buzzed loudly in his fist, drawing some looks.

“Shhhh,” John quietly chastised the small, inanimate coin. “Don’t want to give away the surprise.” The coin quieted for a bit as John walked away from the Bats, but it grew restless and agitated again as John approached Nightwing.

“Penny for your thoughts, friend?” Constantine held up the coin and smiled at the young man.

Even with a mask covering his discernible features, Nightwing looked bone weary exhausted. A two day stubble darkened his already muted emotions. “This has got to work, John.”

“We’ll do our level best.” Constantine dropped his voice so that Nightwing was the only one who could hear. “Remember what I told you. No matter what you do, do not move when the men walk towards you. You have to grab Red Robin.”

“The devil himself couldn’t move me.”

“I’ve met the devil. Unfortunately, he’s far more reasonable than Perpetua. Or Batman, I suspect.”

“Two minutes.” Hood called out from the street corner.

Raven began chanting her meditation - “Azerath, Metrion, Zinthos.” An impossibly large, dark shadow rose out of the woman, her nexus self.

“Showtime.” Constantine smiled a smile he didn’t feel. “I’m sorry.”

Nightwing tilted his head, he either hadn't heard what Constantine said or didn’t understand his meaning. It made no difference either way and Constantine didn’t bother repeating himself. He pulled a small, handwritten tome out of his coat pocket and turned to the relevant passage.

All sound, save for the voices and the rain had fallen away. There was the surge of light. At that moment, Zatana wove invisible forces to create visible light surrounding everyone. Just a moment or two later, the line of men appeared.

“Red Robin!” Robin called to his brother as he tightly and impotently clutched his drawn sword.

Raven’s shadow form began swirling and surrounding everyone. Soon it expanded into Zatanna’s light and the whole street began to shake violently, throwing everyone off balance.

“Oh she doesn’t like that!” Constantine’s smile was genuine as he began reading from his tome. “'iilahat alzaman aghfir li tajawuzati. akhadh ma hu li wa'uqdam -”

The men in the reverent line stumbled. Several fell to their knees. Red Robin covered his face with both hands and began violently shaking his head.

“hadhih alruwh fi almuqabil.” Constantine closed his book grimly. “You’re on, friend.”

Nightwing nodded and made a running break for Red Robin. He would have made it if not for the grappling hook snatching his leg out from under him and dropping him on his face.

“What are you doing?!” Constantine snapped and turned to the Batfamily.

Robin had an angry snarl on his face as he reversed the grappler in his hands, pulling Nightwing away from the men. “I speak Arabic.”

The visible magic energy began to waver and shake. The street curled and bounced beneath everyone’s feet so violently, most couldn’t keep their footing. Constantine was dropped to his knees before the street snapped and bounced him into the air. He landed on his back. A dark void squeezed in on the sides of his perception and there was a deafening roar.

Then everything was completely normal. Normal street. Normal sounds. It appeared to be a normal rainless night. Batman did a quick head count, everyone was there. Except for the ten men that made up the choir.

John Constantine swore a long string of vicious expletives as he got to his feet and shook out his coat. “We almost had them!” He felt for the crack in reality - the thread that tethered this realm to the one outside of time. There was nothing. Time and space appeared whole again. “And now we’ve lost our chance.” The warlock turned angrily on Robin. “Everyone you love will spend the next twenty three years regretting your choice.”

Chapter Text

“Dick? You alive?” Jason didn’t know if he was being facetious or not. He tucked away his lock picks and shut the apartment’s front door behind him. He flicked on the light and didn’t spot Grayson anywhere in the apartment’s living room or kitchen. There was an uncharacteristic stack of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.

Jason quickly moved towards the apartment’s closed bedroom. “Come on man!” Todd called loudly outside the bedroom door as he knocked. “Tell me you’ve just been holed up with some supermodel for the last few weeks, huh? Something?”

“Go away!” Grayson sounded annoyed and this was music to Jason’s ears.

“Nope! This is your five second warning to cover yourself.” Jay counted to five and opened the door. He found Grayson sitting on his bed surrounded by dozens of books in all shapes and sizes. Some of the books were open on top of each other, some were closed and it looked like Dick was in the process of transcribing notes onto his laptop.

“Aww come on, man. This is probably the lamest possible thing I could’ve found in here. You haven’t been seen in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.” Grayson had developed a respectable layer of stubble and his dirty, oily hair hung limply in his face. He continued typing without looking up at Jason.

“WEEKS!” Jason reiterated loudly. “No annoying texts. No nightly Nightwing stories on the news. Damian said you’ve even stopped taking his calls. People are starting to say you’re dead, man!”

“Not dead, just reading.” Grayson turned to another dusty book tucked close to his body and flipped through some pages.

“What is all this?” Todd turned his head to read the spines of some of the books. “Romani Magic. Traveler Curses and Fables. That sounds racist, is that racist?”

“Depends on how accurate it is.” Grayson muttered, typing again. The heavy bags under his eyes had bags and both eyes were strained and bloodshot.

“Dick! Look. at. me. What is this?”

Grayson sighed and it looked like it was physically painful to set the laptop aside. “What does it look like? They’re books on magic and folklore and any and everything I could find that sort of relates to magical history. Some are from Constantine and some are from -”

“This is about Tim.” Jason frowned sadly.

“Yeah, this is about Tim.” Dick slapped his bed, sending some books tumbling to the floor.

“Tim is gone, man.” Jason shook his head sadly. “This isn’t going to bring him back.”

“YOU don’t know that!” Dick tried to sweep his greasy hair out of his eyes. “Maybe there is something, somewhere. We won’t know unless we look.”

“We do. Even Constantine agrees.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t have the training or focus we have.”

“He doesn’t have the guilt you have and he was the one who tried to trade you for Tim. Dick! There is a documented time and place we can see Tim again, but, in the meantime, life goes on.”

“And you’re okay with THAT?” Dick was that type of passionately angry that is insensible and comes with complete exhaustion. Tears streamed down his face, but Grayson didn’t seem to notice.

“No! None of us are okay with that. You’d know that if you bothered to pick up the phone. We need you right now. The family needs you. BRUCE needs you right now. Fuck. Bludhaven needs you right now. And you obviously need us.”

“Jason, if you’re not going to help…if you’re just going to stand there and tell me to stop looking, I need you to leave. I, I need to, uh,” Grayson’s eyes lit up and he turned back to one of the books. “Get this transcribed.”

“Is that book in Sanskrit? Since when can you read Sanskrit? Take a break man. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Can’t.” Dick shook his head stubbornly.

“You know what? Fine! Bruce asked me to come make sure you’re alive and I did. When you’re ready? When you’re done with whatever obsession-grief-bullshit this is, you know where to find us.”

“Uh-huh.” Grayson was already lost in his typing.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this right now, but Barbara thinks it was the camera. Something about refracting the light from the void through the camera lens knocked Tim out of phase. It’s supposition she’s reverse engineering from Tim’s research, but it’s what we’ve got. It’s why it took Tim and not us. Tell me you heard that?”

“Heard that.” Dick acknowledged as he flipped through some pages.

“Fine.” Jason repeated flatly. “Don’t forget to eat.”
….

October 23rd 2046

The young driver pulled the limousine through the automatic chain link gate. One of the first things Bruce did after the dimensional rift closed all those years ago was buy up the ‘incident site’ and the surrounding blocks. He promptly chained them off from the world under the guise of environmental research. Mostly the space was used by family, over the years, when they were trying to remember or forget the Last Good Night. The luxury vehicle smoothed to a stop and Wayne waited for his young butler to open the door to open the door and hand him an umbrella and camera. Batman exited the car after his father.

“‘Bout time you showed.” Jason was already in form tonight and probably more than a little drunk. Damian judged that Jay must age at about a third of the speed as non-pit revived people and, in Batman’s mind, his brother still looked basically identical to the last time they were all here together.

“Patience, little one.” Batman smirked a little and reached out an arm to pat Jay’s head.

The shorter man ducked and snarled up at Batman. “You get a few inches on you and think you can crack jokes like that.” Todd rounded on Bruce. “Your plan is shit.”

Bruce’s face had long-since become cemented in a permanent frown, but there was some humor in his voice. “I think that was the last thing you ever said to me. I wasn’t sure you would be here.”

“Where else was I going to be tonight, Bruce?” Jason turned up the collar of his antique leather jacket in a meaningless attempt to protect himself from the pouring rain.

The three men fell into a deep silence and ticked down the minutes. Lightning cracked a few feet away from the men and a dark circle opened. Through this dark circle stepped High Sorceress Zatanna and John Constantine leading a small, emaciated old man in front of them. The old man was dressed in a black prison jumpsuit and shackled at the wrists and ankles.

“You got some nerve bringing him here!” Jay shouted at the pair, hands on the guns on his belt.

Batman stepped defensively in front of his father. “You’re going to get us killed.”

Constantine shook head, sending rain drops flying from his long silver ponytail. “I’m here to do what you should have let me do twenty years ago. I trust you’ll have no objections now.”

Bruce stepped around Batman and peered critically at the small old man. Batman reached for his arm and physically pulled Bruce back a few feet.

“Come on, let dad get in one last disapproving stare.” The old man laughed.

“It weirds me out how you do that.” Red Hood still had his hands on his weapons. “You’ve been blind for a decade.”

“I just see the world differently.” The old man smiled a dangerous smile that caused Red Hood to step back.

“One son for another,” Constantine spoke to Bruce. “He agreed to pay the price twenty three years ago when he was still your boy.”

“To be fair,” the shackled old man sounded like this was the greatest joke he had ever heard. “You weren’t exactly clear on the terms of the agreement, Johnnie.”

Constantine fished in his pocket for the gold coin. The coin floated out of his hands and spun in the air like a top.

“Do you regret it?” Bruce asked the old man. “Any of it?”

The old man laughed. “No. Not one bit. I used the gifts I was born with and I saved lives just like you taught me.”

The aged billionaire frowned even more deeply. “Is that what you think you did? We make the exchange.”

“That was your plan all along, huh, Constantine?” Batman spoke through gritted teeth. “It was always going to come down to an exchange. Bruce wouldn’t let you use one of us so you led Grayson into becoming something Bruce could let go.”

“All magic has a price!” Constantine was infuriated by the innumerable times he’d shouted that at the Batfamily over the last two decades. “He paid it all on his own and with delight. We wouldn’t have had to pay it with him if you’d let me take care of him back then. All I did was let him become who I knew he would be if he got a taste of his magic.”

“None of this is constructive.” Zatanna frowned at the men. “You’re sure, Bruce?”

“Yes.” Bruce nodded and held up his camera. “Either my son comes home or I join him.”

“Very well. I’ll prepare.” The sorceress closed her eyes and began to chant “Azerath, Metrion, Zinthos.”

Against his best judgment, Constantine also closed his eyes and began to chant.

Red Hood drew one of his guns on the old man, the one with real bullets, and clicked the safety off. “Don’t move.”

“I don’t want to.” The old man shook his head. “I want to bring Tim home. If you don’t believe another word out of my mouth, believe that.”

“Don’t you dare pull any last minute redemption bullshit.” Batman wasn’t sure how he’d back up his threat, but he’d try something.

Two impossibly large shadows emerged from the chanting magicians. The shadows merged and spread into a large dome over the area of the street.

Red Hood eyed the coin, still spinning in the air, and checked his watch. “Two minutes.”

About a minute later, the old man began to giggle, first quietly to himself and then his laughter became the only sound aside from the rain as all background noise went quiet. “I feel it.” The old man laughed again. “She’s close.”

“If this doesn’t work, I’m shooting you on principle.” Hood frowned, not wanting to admit that the man’s delight sent chills down Jay’s spine.

There was light and dark. Day and night - physically, the sun came and went. There was the noise, the whine like nundreds of shards of metal scratching on glass. Batman closed his eyes so that he wouldn’t see the jumble. The whine vibrated the street and the light was bright enough to sting the Caped Crusader’s eyes behind his mask and eyelids.

Suddenly they were there. The ten men walking in single file, all of them with upturned eyes and enraptured expressions.

“If there is any of my son left in you, you’ll do it now.” Bruce challenged the old man.

The man smiled. “It was either me or Damian, Bruce. Tell me I made the wrong choice.”

When the billionaire said nothing, the man laughed again. “Thought not.” He closed his eyes and began speaking in an ancient language none of the other men could place. The old man lifted into the air and the shackles on his wrists and ankles broke away. The next time the man spoke, his voice boomed over every other sound in the void.

“Perpetua, hear me. I was offered for trade twenty three years ago. Forgive me for not keeping my word. Let them go and take me instead. You know my name. You feel me the way I feel you. Awake. In my dreams. I’ll spend eternity with you. I am worthy.”

The void seemed to physically protest the plea, the street shaking as if rocked by an unprecedented earthquake. The crime fighters fought to keep their balance.

“What is ten of them to one of me?” The old man called out again. “You know me.”

The line of men stopped walking, some of them falling to their knees. Red Robin fell onto his backside and began sobbing. Then screaming.

That made the floating man laugh. “Good girl.”

All at once the void seemed entirely focused on the floating man, spinning him and pulling at his limbs.

“You don’t wanna see this part, mate.”

Bruce hadn’t noticed the warlock had come out of his trance. He took the man’s advice, closed his eyes, and let John pull him a few steps backwards.

There was an overwhelming light. And a piercing scream. Then it was over. There were fifteen people standing on an abandoned, derelict, and gated city street. The flooded streets were dry like it hadn’t rained all season. The ten men were out of their place in time and they began to feel every possible interpretation of that at the same time. Most of the men screamed. Red Robin began clawing at his face.

“Hey! Hey!” Red Hood charged forward, pulling his brother’s hands away. He eventually pinned Tim’s hands behind his back while Batman swooped in to unmask the young man.

“Tim! Come on Drake! Look at me.” Batman pleaded and tried to sound soothing.

“Do they get better?” Bruce Wayne frowned, considering for the first time what to do with the nine other wailing men, many of whom should have lived and died over a hundred years ago.

Constantine shrugged and Zatanna frowned.

“Perhaps.” The sorceress sounded like she wasn’t even sure she believed her cautious optimism.

“He held out for as long as he could, Bruce.” Constantine spoke quietly. “I don’t know any man alive who could have held out even half as long. Mortal men just aren’t built to house that much darkness and sin for that long. It really wasn’t his fault. Remember that about him.”

Wayne frowned, closing his umbrella. “I won’t remember him at all.”

Constantine nodded. “You’re still just like my dad.” Then he held out his hand and whistled. The coin floating in the air stopped spinning and floated gracefully into the warlock’s outstretched palm.

“Hey Batman!” Constantine held up the coin. “Catch.”

Batman caught the coin as it arced through the air. “Is this some kind of talisman?”

“That old thing? It’s just a coin I found once and bewitched to be sensitive to a soul’s capacity for Dark Magic. I don’t need it anymore.”

Bruce gestured to the limousine and the young driver stepped out.

“Collins, call Arkham and Doctor Tompkins. We’re going to need a couple of ambulances.”

“Yes, sir.” The man nodded dutifully and knelt back into the car to make his calls.

“It’s time to go home.” Zatanna urged Constantine.

“That it is.” Constantine wished he could weep for the men’s suffering. “A brief respite before our next adventure?”

…

Epilogue:

The rain. How long had it been since he felt the rain? How long had it been since he felt anything? The old man let go of the void and ran his fingers through his long white hair. As he did so, the hair turned a dark brown. He ran his hands over his face and the eternity of wrinkles faded as well. He was as young and handsome as he remembered himself being. Well, perhaps a tad more handsome, but as handsome certainly as he felt he should be.

He stretched his shoulders and his clothes changed as well. A black suit with a blue bird slashing across the darkness. He didn’t know what age it was now, but the age would soon come to know him. The age would come to fear the name Nightwing. As is appropriate.

The man smiled. “Come along my love. Let me show you what I can do.”