Subject: [dexf] [X-Men/Preacher/Hellblazer/Authority] "Last Call' - PG Date: Fri, 28 Dec 2001 21:01:48 -0500 From: Dex "Last Call" All recognizable characters and settings belong to Marvel/DC/Vertigo/Wildstorm; I am using them without permission but mean no harm and am making no profit. The plot and original characters, however belong to me. Any and all feedback is appreciated at dexf@sympatico.ca. Redistribution of this tale for profit is illegal. Please do not archive this story without contacting me first to obtain my permission. This story contains strong langauge. Note: This is the archival version of this story. The fully illustrated version will be available on-line soon. It was a stunning rainfall; angry and determined to drown out every detail behind a veil of cascading water. Thunderous rumbles followed every shift in the wind, creating staccato patterns of noise across the cobbles and the roofs. It was a sullen English soak, as much a part of the national character as the Queen and football hooliganism. Thin traceries of lightning arced in the mottled black sky, cutting designs between the dark clouds. One bolt crashed down to a lamppost, and arced down it to ground at the cobbles. That's where she stepped out into the rain. Jenny Sparks tried to light her cigarette, and scowled at the rain as it soaked the butt in seconds. "Bloody England." She muttered and rushed off the road, ducking into the pub. She paused at the door, spitting the rain drenched butt from her lips and pulling a dry one from the pack. Jenny resisted a rare dramatic urge to light it with an arc, and fished out her lighter. She paused as she caught the eye of the barman. "Henry, son. Do your da a favour and nip out to the fusebox? I want the switch off." William Plover said calmly, drawing another pint of Tennent's. "Da, what are you talking about? That'd shut down the bloody bar." William reached out and clipped his son round the ear. "I'll not have that language. This is my bar. If I decide to shut it down, then it shuts down. That's my decision, my son. Now do it." William growled, and his son backed away and fled. Jenny lit her cigarette and smiled, a flicker of electricity crackling in her blue eyes. William nodded and set the pint down at the bar. There was a flicker in the lights and the bar went back to normal. "It's been a while, Jenny." "That it has, you old sod." Sparks picked up the pint and took a long swallow. "Nearly drowned in that bloody monsoon out there." "A bit wild, innit?" Henry Plover reappeared from the basement, his mouth agape. "I turned off the box, Da! I swear I did!" "I know you did, son. This is Miss Sparks. You make sure you don't charge her for her drinks." William said, and Jenny nodded at Henry. "And make sure you don't go home with her either." "Da!" Henry blushed crimson, to Jenny's great amusement. "William, you're just being jealous." "Jenny, I woke up in Sheffield four days later with my bit and two veg painted orange, and no body hair. I'd like to spare my boy that experience." "You old coward, Will. How's your da these days?" "Passed away in the spring. Fighting right to the end, too." Jenny's face clouded. "I'll miss the ol' bastard." "Aye." "You knew grandda? But how--" Henry broke in, and withered under the look from his father. "Miss Sparks here was a good friend to your grandda, and he thought the world of her. Now, go clear the tables and get another round out. That's a good lad." Plover gently pushed his son from behind the bar, and turned back to refresh Jenny's pint. "He's a good lad, if a bit impatient. Young people today..." "Tell me about it." Jenny ghosted a smile as she took a long swallow. "I've got a group coming in tonight." "Same deal as always, Jenny. Just give me some warning to get the lights back on." William grinned. "Course." Sparks carried her pint to a corner table to wait, and crushed out her cigarette. She sat in the quiet corner for the length of her second pint, when a shadow fell across the table, and she looked up with a smile. "Never takes long for the bastards to arrive, does it?" "Cheers Jenny. How goes being a superhero? Figured you'd look good in spandex, like." "Cheers John. You're not covered in blood and vomit. Early night for you, luv?" John Constantine smirked and dropped into a chair. "Nah, I'm respectable now. None of that demon summoning or magic bollocks." "Right. And you walked out of a maximum security prison with a murder one conviction all because of your charm and babyface." Jenny snorted. "True, true." John accepted a gin and tonic from Henry, and settled back. "It's not erasing continents or summit, but it works." "You heard about Sliding Albion?" "With that much involvement with the Black Ops community, of course someone was going to tell a whore eventually." John tipped his drink at her. "Good one, by the way. I once ran into their blue-skinned version of a mage, in the middle of raping a few female friends of mine. He told me quite a bit about them." "Where is he now?" "Well, most should still be at the bottom of the Thames, but with the current, there's no guarantee, you know?" John grinned wickedly and Jenny threw it right back. "To real solutions then?" "Cheers." A half dozen more slid down like water, amidst a welter of comfortable conversation. The pub was typically English, all dark panelled and brass accented. It had a way of softening the violence of the storm outside, buffering the lashing wind and creating a soothing backdrop for the vigorous drinking. "-- and it was at this very table that I called Hemingway a nasty little boy buggerer." "Christ!" "He came over the table at me, and I tattooed his balls for it." Jenny sipped her pint. "Serves him right. 'For Whom The Bell Tolls' was pretentious shite anyway." "True, but-- aw, fucking hell." John's eyes flickered towards the door; just as a dark haired man entered. "I had hoped he was dead." "He's buying this round." "Good on him. I'll hope he's dead after he pays." "Cheers Jenny. John." "What's with you, Constantine?" "He's just a little pissed over our last little meeting." "Bollocks! You had a squad of flaming spooks try and gun me down!" John snarled. "You were breaking into a Black Air installation at the time, you silly bastard." Pete Wisdom smiled at the other man. "I should poke out your other eye." John shot back, and turned back to the bar. Pete flipped up his eyepatch and winked at Jenny. "It's an early night yet, John. Let me buy us a drink first." "It's a start, you git." Constantine smirked and dropped back into his chair. Pete collected the drinks and returned to the table. Sparks and John accepted the refills and all three relaxed back into their seats. "So, Pete you ol' soak. How's like with those X-types?" "Fair, fair. Got a bit of a deal wit' some of the younger ones, like." "Mutant prostitution ring?" "Not yet, bollocks. They want to change the world, and haven't been diddled much by that bald git to be twisted wankers about it." Wisdom grinned wolfishly. "Was funny, really. I'm sitting in the Wolfshead, half off my face and arguing with this Daemonite about changing the telly off the Manchester/Arsenal match when this bloke walks in. He's got this Marine blond buzzcut and a flannel shirt and reeks Yank from the street, right?" "In the Wolfshead? Life expectancy, nine minutes." Jenny laughed. "Right, that's what I was thinking. But he walks right over to me and says 'Mistah Wisdom? Ah heard you can outdrink a horse, spent fifteen years doing nasty things in the shadows and had sex with Kitty Pryde.'" Wisdom aped a Southern accent, to the extreme amusement of Sparks and Constantine. "Bold as brass, he sits down and tells me how he and his mates want a shot at changing the world, and they need an appropriately suspicious bastard like yours truly to help them do it." Pete took a long pull from his pint. "And I figured it was good for a bit of dosh and a holiday in the States, like." Jenny And John broke up, filling the tiny corner with laughter. "Christ, you bastard!" Jenny gasped finally. "You nearly made me spill my drink." "Sacrilege, that is." "True. We should see if the blessed gods will forgive us on another round then." Jenny got up and headed for the bar. William passed over another round, pulling pints with a smooth professionalism. Sparks thumbed a light to her cigarette and paused at the sound of smashing glass outside the pub. "Yeh bloody fockin' hooer!" "Oh shite, he's here." Jenny muttered and stepped out of the bar. Outside, in the rain slicked street, a man lay draped over the hood of a car, the better part of a woman's change purse jammed up his rectum. The man behind him dusted off his hands and straightened his denim jacket. "And that, yeh wee prick, is proof crime doesn't pay." Cassidy grinned wickedly as a woman ran up to him. "That was brilliant of you to stop that prat that nicked me purse." She gushed, smiling. "Where is it?" Cassidy cocked a thumb at the man on the hood and grinned wider. "It's right there, luv. No problem at all." "Oh." The woman's smile faded and was replaced by a stunned expression. "Oh my." "Right." Cassidy turned and found himself nose to nose with Jenny Sparks. "Geez.. Yeh enough to give a man a coronary." "I'd say the same, Cassidy. When did you reform and start abusing evildoers in the street?" "Actually, this piece of shite knocked me bottle out of my hand as he was running, and I was in the mood for a touch of revenge." Cassidy smirked. "We started yet?" "Yes. Let's go get a drink then." "Rarely do yeh get wisdom like that from the young." "Shut it." "Right." Cassidy and Jenny re-entered the bar, the former smirking at her back. A few patrons looked up from their drinks and then turned back to them. Even a bit of street violence wasn't enough to set the dedicated drinkers off their pints. John and Pete accepted the round, and Cassidy flopped into a chair. A brief flicker of suspicious analysis ran behind their eyes, and Sparks sighed. "Cassidy, meet the boys; John Constantine and Pete Wisdom. Boys, this is Cassidy. I electrocuted him once on the streets of New York, about nineteen forty, and we've sort of kept up since then." "Cheers. Constantine, right? Didn't you have summit to do with those vampires in London, say, four, five years ago?" Cassidy said. John looked curiously at him for a moment and then to Jenny. "You don't have to bait him, Cassidy. John, Cass here is a vampire." "Right. Well, Cassidy, I forced demon blood down his throat, pissed on his face, and dragged him into the sun to burn to fuck." "Good job. All the ones I've ever met have been wankers. The one who told me about it was all moaning and pissing on about the death of his king." John was momentarily take back by the cavalier attitude of the vampire. Obviously, Cassidy was far from your typical denizen of the night. "There's where I know you from!" Pete snapped his fingers. "Maesada! You're the one that took down the bloody stronghold of the Grail!" "Er... not exactly. It was a friend of mine that did that. I mostly spent the time being shot repeatedly." Cassidy laughed. "So, what's with this party?" "I was wondering that myself." John said, turning to Jenny. "Fill us in, luv?" "Not much to tell." Jenny shrugged. "I figured that I might not be around for a while, after New Years, and needed a single good piss up to keep me going until then." "Why not invite yer great heaving bruisers from the Carrier then?" Pete asked. "They look good for a pint or two." "Nah. They don't have the refined air you lot bring." Jenny snickered at the trio of scowls. "So, are we drinking or what?" "Solid logic if I've ever heard it." Constantine looked around. "Here then?" "This was just the warm-up. Come on and up here." Jenny stood and wandered over to the bar. William set down the glass he was polishing and nodded to the blonde woman. "You off then?" "Seems like. Take care of yourself, William." "You too, Jenny." She nodded and headed out the door, her companions in tow. William sighed and turned to his son. "Henry, go down and turn on the electrical box, will you? There's a good lad." Outside, the quartet stepped out into the pouring rain, and Jenny called out. "Door!" A psychedelic coloured rectangle sliced the rainy night, and Jenny Sparks stepped into it with an orgy of ripples and crackling energy. "Last time I saw one of those was at one of Bill Burroughs' parties." Cassidy muttered, shying slightly from the pulsing energy. "Someone teleported in?" "Yeah. Turned out to be Leonard Cohen. Who knew?" He grinned and jumped through the portal. John and Pete exchanged looks, and Pete shrugged and stepped in. "Through the bloody looking glass and all, John." His voice trailed off abruptly as the vibrant chaos swallowed him. Constantine shook his head, stuffed his hands deep in his pockets, muttered a few choice curses and followed them in. The door turned sideways and disappeared a few seconds later, leaving the rain to continue its fury unmarked. *** "Welcome to the Last Shot." Jenny said. The three men stopped short at the door. Siberia was a frigid hell in November, and they were torn between the biting cold outside and the profound weirdness in the warm. Jenny laughed and waved them in. "Come on. A friend of mine showed me this place." "Some friend." Cassidy muttered as he went through the Polaroid lined hall to a table. "Killians? Harp?" He said hopefully. "Wake beer. Don't worry. It's only mildly radioactive." Jenny grinned wickedly. Pete claimed his beer and scowled at her. "Be nice, Sparks." He passed out the round. "So, how did you find this place then? Black Air sent me into City 57 to nick a few matter converters in '91, and I holed up here for a couple of days. But it's not a well-known place." "Remember Stormwatch?" The group nodded. "Well, the field leader of the public team, Winter, took us here one night." "So, why the Last Shot?" John said, draining his drink. "Russian scientists in City 57 determined that the human soul is an electromagnetic field. According to rumour, it was further established that souls end up feeding Heaven and Hell, which operate against each other like siege engines, straining against each other. The more souls, the more power." "So why at a nuke test site then?" Cassidy asked. "Nuclear explosions disrupt electromagnetic fields. The pictures are of people who had their final drink here, and then were strapped to a nuclear bomb at the test site, cheating the afterlife of their soul." Jenny held up her bottle. "To the triumphant dead!" They all toasted, if a bit distastefully, and drank. Jenny stared into the green glass of her bottle for a moment and smiled. "Winter was aboard Skywatch when they detonated it. Right into the bloody sun he steered it. I hear he set off the nukes as he did. Which means he cheated the afterlife of his soul. I like that." "I met God once." Cassidy said mildly, to the shocked expressions of his comrades. "Bit of a prick, if you ask me." "That's nothing. The devil himself was after me for a while." John laughed. "The devil, aye?" "Well, the First of the Fallen. Looks like that Geoffry Rush character in that movie 'Mystery Men'." The table broke up as John soldiered on. "God's truth. The first thing I wanted to ask him was if the infernal stylist was a paid position." "Bloody right." Jenny took a long pull from her beer. "Still after your arse, then?" "Yes and no. He's been a little delayed of late by a takeover. I'm not that worried of his continued interest." John grimaced. "He wants me more then a lay from Sadie Frost. Maybe I should try this nuke thing." "Piss him right off." Jenny said. "That's what it's all about, innit?" Pete muttered. The others turned to him. "Laughing at the devil, flipping off God and generally being right bastards in the dark because it's what we believe needs doing." "Boy's got a point. Living between heartbeats, all balanced on a razor blade with everyone waiting for you to slip so they can crush you into oblivion." John said. "But what are you worried about, Wisdom? You're an X-Man now, right? Doesn't that mean you get a roundtrip ticket from the afterlife?" "Aw, get stuffed, Constantine." "Play nice, boys." "Yeh know, if yeh all are done yer drinks, I know this dead brilliant bar in San Francisco." Cassidy said, and the others nodded. "So, do we get one of those fancy portal things, or are we walking?" "Door." Jenny said. "And if this is another bloody biker bar, I'll have your sack on a stick, bollocks." "Trust me." *** "Well, it's a biker bar." John said dryly. "Cassidy..." "No, it's great. Trust me! Come on in." Cassidy grinned and held the door. The three Brits went in, leery of the rancorous and abundantly American interior. Cassidy shoved them ahead to the bar. A pierced bartender took them in with a jaundiced eye, and nodded to Cassidy. "Three pitchers of Killians and a bottle of JD. Cheers." He grinned and passed the glasses out. "I first found this place in 1963. I was bleeding from four gunshot wounds, all placed neatly in my chest,. Yeh wouldn't believe how good it was to find a place to hide out in." "No doubt. Why the bullet wounds?" "Misunderstanding with a few of San Francisco's Finest." Cassidy shrugged. "It happens, yeh know? Found a lovely young gel in the washroom trying to commit suicide after a bad acid trip. Didn't know enough to cut down, and not across. Drank enough to get me bits back, and got her to a hospital. The bar kinda grew on me after that." "I see." Pete said, watching a woman in a croptop and leather pants work her way across the floor. "Kind of growing on me as well." "That I did not need to know." John said, to barks of laughter from the others. They turned back to their drinks. After a few minutes, a man in greasy leathers approached Jenny, a sneer on his face. "Hey, I saw you when you came in the door." "I'm glad that the homebrew here hasn't rendered you blind." "English, huh? I've never fucked an English girl before." "Nor will you, until you conquer the mystery which is deodorant." "What?" "Stunning retort. Now, be a good lad and piss the fuck off." "Hey bitch." The man grabbed Sparks' arm and pulled her roughly around. "I don't take shit from anyone, especially not some fucking limey cooze." "Oh my. Walk away, little boy." "Fucking cunt!" He snarled and swung a meaty right hook at her. Jenny sidestepped and unleashed a shocking jab to the bridge of his nose. The thin bone shattered like balsa wood, and he floundered back into a table of his friends. With the dangerous sound of bar fights everywhere, their chairs scraped back and the British foursome found themselves facing a baker's dozen of angry Hell's Angels. "See?" Cassidy said, grinning in anticipation. "Didn't I tell you it'd be great?" *** John held the pint to his head, willing the bleeding to stop. The Chalk and Cheese was making a brisk trade, with the four battered Brits ignored in the corner. "Nice place, this..." Cassidy said, hoisting his pint. John and Pete scowled at him. Pete sported a black eye from a thrown chair and John had a nasty cut opened above his right eye. Cassidy had come out of the fight by far the worst, having run up against a knife wielding opponent. Even so, the wounds had already closed, in the quiet of the Scottish pub. The bikers had been thrashed all over the bar, between Jenny and Pete's training, Cassidy's strength, and John's perchant for fighting dirty. They'd left money for the damage and disappeared via Door a half step ahead of the police. "Anne. Another round, luv." Wisdom called over and a pretty blonde brought them a fresh round of pints. "I was expecting to see your X-friends in here. The blue German one looks good for a couple of pints." Jenny said. "Nah, they went back to the States. Only the ol' jock and the kids are still here." Pete smirked. "And he's got a girlfriend anyway." "Funny man." Sparks said sourly into her drink. "Speaking of girlfriends, where's that Yank you were shacked up with?" John said nastily. "That's low, mate." "You're making me blush." "How's Kit then?" Pete said, and Constantine's good humour vanished, replaced by an icy glare. Wisdom scowled back at him, the two locked in a hatefilled staring contest. Cassidy waved a hand between them, trying to defuse the coming storm. "Hey, geez... relax." "Shut it, Irish." Pete snarled. "Look, all I'm saying is what's the big deal, aye?" "You wouldn't understand." John shot back hotly. "The woman I love is totally and completely in love with my best friend, bollocks." Cassidy said, and both men had the good grace to look embarrassed. "So, we can either sit here feeling bloody sorry for ourselves and generally wanking the night away, or we can place the blame where it belongs." "And that would be?" "On women." Cassidy said, and both John and Pete nodded sagely. "Oh right. And the fact that all three of you spend your lives in the friggin' shadows doing nasty things to other people never occurred to you as a possible reason for your relationship troubles?" Sparks said archly. "Well..." Cassidy suddenly looked uncomfortable and stared into his drink. "Right." Jenny held up her drink. "We've lived sideways of the world for so long, we don't bloody know what it really is anymore. Except when one of the friends we didn't get killed makes good for himself. I sometimes think we're the triumphant dead. Neither Heaven or Hell has us, but we're not really alive either. We just haven't realized it yet." Sobered, the four toasted Jenny Sparks. "So, what's it all for then, Sparks?" Pete mused. "So no one else has to." Sparks smiled and downed her glass. "That's our world, mates." "If so, I want a bloody flat like yours on that Carrier, Sparks." Wisdom shot back, and the laughter shattered the solemn mood. "With those bloody huge men shagging in the next room? You're welcome to it, Wisdom." "Yeh saying they're up each other?" Cassidy said, choking on his beer. "Queerer then a Labour party card in Harrod's." She grinned wickedly. "Bloody hell." Pete snorted into his drink. "I wonder if that's true with all those muscle blokes. Maybe I should introduce them to the Terminator." "That's why I get together with my mates for a drink; to talk about bloody giant men sticking it into each other." "You'd prefer demon talk and a spot of random violence?" Wisdom said, and John shook his head. "We need to finish this off in the right fashion. With whiskey." "Bloody brilliant." "You got a place in mind, John?" Jenny said and John turned to her with a devious twinkle in his eye. "Course luv. We'll do this proper, on holy ground, like." Jenny stared at him quizzically for a long moment, and called for the door. *** "What is this place?" Wisdom said in shock, while John set up candles on a board. "This is Brendan's Folly. Silly bastard sold his soul to the First of the Fallen in return for the finest collection of liquor ever amassed by man." Constantine said. "Pretty stupid goal if you ask me, but it's got some big advantages for his mates." "Glenlochie '37!" Jenny cried from the stacks. "Bottled sunshine!" "Brendan used to say that." John dusted off his hands. "Anyone for a drink?" "Of?" Cassidy poked his head around from the dedicated inspection of a keg of Harp's. "Well, this is Ireland. What else am I going to serve, bollocks?" John dipped a pint glass into the foaming pool in the middle of the cave, and came up with a glass full of Guinness. "Ooh, real black magic." Cassidy said, amazed. "So, what is this place really?" "It's a holy site, blessed by Saint Patrick at some point. Amazing the things you can do with a pool full of holy water." John grinned wider and passed out four full glasses of the best Guinness in creation. "To Brendan Finn!" John raised his pint and toasted his lost friend. "S'funny." Pete noted, draining his pint. "Only thing we've got in this weird world of ours is friends to fight for." "And here I thought you did all your fighting for Queen and country." Jenny said nastily. "Cow." "Have another." John took in the cellar with a sweep of his arm. "Have a bloody dozen." The three grinned, and settled down to do some serious drinking. *** Nights down at the pub stretch in endless minutes of conversion and innumerable pints. It's a moment when time flows thickly, and the soft warmth of chatting, alcohol and company draws over reality. There is no fear, or anger; only the chemically generated good will and companionship. A pub gives you as many friends or as much space as you want or need. In the waning eve before last call, it's a small pull of paradise. *** "-- so I figured, they're both bald, they've both supposedly died, and they both have a thing for redheads." "Pete, I don't think Professor Xavier is actually Captain Picard." "You could be right." Pete ordered another pint from the barman at the Red Rover. "But every time I see him, I'm expecting to hear 'make it so'." "Weird. And they let this bollocks run a school?" "God's truth, Cass." "I don't trust bald people anymore, yeh know. It's like their hair ran away from all the evil thoughts and summit." "Never trust the bald. It's as good a motto as any." Jenny smirked. "Last orders all!" Called the barman, and the four turned. "Bloody hell. That time already?" "I lost track five time zones ago. One more for the road then?" "Aye, deadly." Cassidy got up and walked over to the bar. "Harp for me. You lot?" "Gin and tonic." "Scotch, double." "Pint of Guinness." Cassidy collected the drinks and threaded carefully back to the table. "So, one drink and back to the shadows, eh?" Wisdom jibbed. "I'd say so." Jenny stared reflectively into the inky depths of her pint. "Back to saving the world again." "Back to kicking God's bollocks." "Back to life on the razor's edge." "Back to mutant teenagers and nun shagging." "Thank you very much for the image, Wisdom. You prat." They worked on their drinks in the deep quiet of a moment come and gone in a pub. "So, I guess I'll be seeing yeh, Jenny?" Cassidy stood up to go. "I'll be around." Jenny replied. "Maybe I should get moving too. Impressionable minds to warp and all that." Wisdom said and Jenny nodded. John Constantine sat quietly, watching her. For a brief moment, his eyes lost their normal evil merriment. "New Years then, luv?" "That's right, John." Jenny said, and smiled. "No pity, right?" "None." John threw the grin right back at her and motioned to the others. "You know, I know this great place in New York and they're still serving." Wisdom and Cassidy exchanged looks and grins. "Sounds good." "Groovy." "Jenny, can we have a door for this one." "Of course, John." Jenny's eyes crackled with energy for a moment. "Always room for another." The door gaped open outside of the Red Rover, and shut closed on the sounds of laughter, leaving behind only the rain. FIN