Peter Wisdom and his assorted cast and crew are property of Marvel
Comics.  John Constantine, always the exception is properity of Dani
and both of them are owned by DC Comics.

This chapter contains mild explitives and mass amounts of alcohol
consumption.  Later chapters are guarenteed to get worse :)


Strangers in the Night: A Tale of Peter Wisdom
Chapter 1
By Kevin Schmidt



	The Thirsty Wyrm was a lousy excuse for a pub.  The pints had
floaty bits in it, the lighting was dark to nonexistent.  The musical
selection in the ofttimes disabled jukebox consisted of bad Country
and Western.  There was a pervading stench, the sweet smell of whiskey
mixed with excessive body odor with a hint of urine.  The clientele
consisted of unemployed hitmen, career drunks, and people taking the
fast ride down the downward spiral.   Consequently, they left each
other alone and concentrated on some championship drinking.  This made
it the perfect place for Pete Wisdom to lose himself in.

	He shared his table with a 60-ish old man who smelled of
blood.  A  multitude of empty shot glasses and beer mugs with the
chunks still in them, littered the table.   He lifted his head from
the table and tried not to pay too much attention to his surroundings.


	He raised a glass to his lips and took a sip of his whiskey.
It wasn't high-quality, with an artful hint of hickory smoke and a
pleasant aroma.  It tasted like paint thinner with delusions of
grander.  However, it did the job, it carried alcohol into the
bloodstream resulting in the condition eloquently known as
"fitshaced".  The slow burn as it drifted down his throat was a
pleasant feeling, none at all smooth.  

	Still, despite his best efforts and most of his pocket cash he
had not succeeded in doing what he set out to do a month ago when he
started his drinking binge.  Now just a pound away from being broke,
and 24 hours on the far side of being homeless, Pete Wisdom tried not
to remember what got him into this mess.

	It certainly wasn't her.  No soddin' way was it the girl.  It
was the shitstorm of bad luck that had followed his hooking up with
her and her psycho friends.   He had lost his job, although to be
honest that didn't bother him.  He had quit when he found that his
employers, a secret spy house called Black Air, was a group of
megolomanical psychopaths.

	It was Black Air's experiment with a bunch of alien bastards
called the Uncreated that killed his best friend.  Reduced the once
proud man to a pus-dripping, ruined head case of a man.  Before the
alien virus killed him.

	Time for another shot.

	Perhaps it was seeing his psychotic toerag of a Father lose an
arm to some soddin' mutant git who thought he was Cain.  Getting what
was left of his bloody family involved in the hunt for a serial killer
only to find out the killer was a cop.  

	Another shot would hit the spot about now.

	Maybe it was the time he spent being tortured by another
government looney mutant.  A mutant who used a virus combined with his
psychic powers to rip him to shreds with Wisdom's own twisted
memories.   Could be it was having some big Russian bastard use him
for a punching bag, leaving him stuck in a wheelchair and eating
through a tube for a few weeks.  

	Whatever had gotten him to this place, it was absolutely not
some stupid American, wet behind the ears, barely out of puberty, girl
"super-hero".

	No way in Hell.


	"Ey you!  Yeh you, I know you!  I seen you on TV.  You're one
of them super types ain't ya?"

	The meaty hand closed on Pete's shoulder, its owner still
rattling on.  "Yeh, how is it you're not out doing super stuff with
your super friends?"

	"Leave me be mate, you've got the wrong guy."  Wisdom's
patience was thin to nonexistent and this guy was wearing it all off.
Still, the last thing he needed was a fight.

	"Bullshite, I seen ya!  What's a super hero like you doing
here, Wisdom?  Or is that your secret identity?  What should I call
you?  Bollocks Lad?  The Crimson Goatgouger? Trenchcoat Boy?"

	Wisdom grabbed the man's hand, applying force to a pressure
point and forcing the large drunkard to his knees.  "Lissen here, you
can bloody well call me Sir and get the Hell out of my face!"

	The man's face contorted in pain, "Ahh you bastard, Jesus,
can't ya take a joke?  Why don't you find one of those super broads
and get some spandex lovin?"

	His patience was gone. Unfortunately so was his coordination.
Wisdom directed a kick to the kneeling man's chin, however he missed
by a good foot and landed square on his rump.   "Bloody Hell!"

	The man was on him in a flash, landing several well places
blows to the head and kidneys.  The hulking man stood as wisdom feebly
tried to defend himself.  The man sent a merciless barrage of kicks
into Wisdom's almost fetal form. Wisdom tried to gather his wits, use
his mutant powers to force the thug away, but before he could do that,
his world went black.


*****

	He awoke to pain, pain and a warm, wet feeling as rain poured
down on him.  He decided not to see wether it was morning or not,
because that would involve opening his eyes and he wasn't quite up to
that yet.  Wisdom started to move, and winced as his head began to
throb and pain from a cracked rib or six shot through him.  He could
feel the asphalt beneath his face and smell the stench of garbage
nearby.  It was a familiar sensation, though not one he'd felt in a
long time, waking up in an alley.  A voice came to his ears.

	"Jesus, Mate.  You really got someone right pissed didn't you?
Did you forget you fight like a quadriplegic when you're drunk?"

	Wisdom started to smile at the familiar voice, but his mouth
hurt too much.  "John, the frigger called me a super hero."

	John Constantine chuckled and helped him to his feet.  "It
could have been worse mate, he could have confused you with that
Gambit person."  He chuckled again, "Let me get you back to my place,
there's been some folks looking mighty hard for you. "

	Wisdom opened his eyes and took a few stumbling steps, leaning
on his old friend and sometime magus John for support.  "Any of them
wearing spandex?"

	That awarded him another chuckle.  "Not a one, Pete."

	Wisdom sighed, "Good, maybe I can get my life back to normal."

	John Constantine didn't have to be a magician to detect that
lie.

*****

	Peter knew better to ask what was in the foul smelling but
sweet tasting tea he was given.  The same went for the salve that
John's girlfriend spread on some of the more damaged parts of his
body.  It didn't matter really anyway.  Within a few days of coming to
John's apartment Pete was in fine operating condition thanks to John
and Dani's ministrations.

	Down at the local pub, John and Pete were waiting for the
people who John said were looking for him.  John had a G n T and
Wisdom stuck with the ginger ale.  

	"John, I just wanted to say thank you for pulling my arse out
of the gutter back there.."

	Constantine took a long drag from his Silk Cut and slowly
exhaled.  "No need for thanks, I've been there myself.  Besides, I
owed you for taking care of that bloody demon last year.  Those
government blokes you worked for sure knew how to screw up royally
didn't they?  I mean summoning a demon of that magnitude to this plane
right after that shite with Merlin?"

	Wisdom took a sip of his ale.  It was the good stuff, sweet
taste with a bit of an earthy tang and a mildly hot burn after it went
down.  What ginger ale was meant to be.  He had no idea what John was
talking about with Merlin and all that, and he knew it was better left
that way.  He took a long drag off of his own fag and let the smoke
mingle with the ginger taste on his tongue.  He looked up over John's
shoulder as Jardine walked in.

	Pete wasn't surprised, Jardine was one of the few people who
felt they could Call Peter Wisdom a friend.   He was also one of the
few who were right.   He looked about the pub as he entered, a
briefcase in hand.  When he finally spotted Wisdom, he flashed a quick
smile and began heading for their table.  He was obviously relieved
that Pete was still alive.		

	"Pete, thank goodness.  Some of us had though you were dead."
Jardine smiled and took a seat.  As he sat down, John moved to stand.

	"Well mates, it looks like my job here is done.  Thank you Mr.
Jardine for picking up my tab.  Very generous."   With that, before
the confused Jardine could say a word, John was out the door.

	Wisdom chuckled as his friend stared after John. "Don't mind
John, he's as good as they come, but he's also the biggest conjob
you'll ever see."

	Jardine turned to the table and looked to Peter, "Good God
man, you look like you were ridden hard and put away wet!  Are you
alright?"

	Pete chuckled and took another drag.  "That's about right, so
what brings you here?  It can't all be concern after me."

	The man sighed, pulling out the briefcase and placing it on
the table.  "It is Peter, but it's also professional."

	It was Wisdom's turn to sigh as he downed his ale.  "I'm
sorry, but I don't do professional anymore."

	"Just hear me out Peter.  First of all, you'll be paid for the
mission.  From the state of your bank account..."

	"No."

	"Wisdom, just shut up and listen!  This is about you and Black
Air."

	"Black Air is dead Jera, we killed them, literally and
politically."

	"You're right, BA is dead but they were a vindictive group of
assholes that perfected the art of revenge.  Now If you'll shut up and
listen I'll give you the score."

	Wisdom took another drag, "Okay".

	Jardine removed a manila folder from his briefcase and slid
it over to Pete.  "Black Air was working on a program where they could
train mutants to hunt other mutants.  It was similar to a program
rumored to be active in the states.  However, apparently BA was a good
deal more subtle about it."

	"They had been taking mutants and other superhumans with
mental problems and other disorders that made them easy to control and
brainwash.  They then put them out into society, ticking bombs ready
to go off.  Well, apparently after you went rogue they were given a
kill list.  A list of people they'd hunt down when activated.  You're
on the top."

	Wisdom lit another fag on the tip of his finger and continued
listening.

	"In that folder is a picture of a man named Jason Croyd.  He
was a Black air agent that managed to escape us for a bit.  We got
him, but not before he contacted and activated the sleeper agents."

	"We managed to get two of the four that we know of.  The
pictures are also in there."

	Wisdom scanned the photographs.  They showed an ordinary man
in a black suit and what looked like an ordinary housewife.  However
ordinary housewives didn't need to be hit with multiple shotgun blasts
to be brought down.  The third picture showed a teenage boy with a
skateboard under one arm.  The notes attached to it described the
bloody fight as the boy used his hemorrhage inducing ability on the
agents.

	"We want you to help us find the other two."

	"Be bait in other words.  Let them come after me so your
people can get ‘em?  Sorry, I'm good at laying low.  There's no way
I'm going out looking for these bastards."

	"Pete, you aren't the only name on the kill list. If they
don't get you first, they'll go after the other names."

	The fags weren't lasting as long as they used to.  As the
conversation continued, he lit another. "Anyone I know?"

	"Yes actually.  Your father, your sister and some others."

	Pete put out the fag on the table. "These things are going
after my family?  Damn it.  Who else is on the list?"

	"Your old lady friend.  Kate Pryde, and failing that, her
parents."


*****NEXT:   Peter plays both the hunter and the hunted as Black Air's
Sleepers close in.  Can he save his family even with help from a most
unexpected source? *****

Comments and questions are /very/ welcome!

 "Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind of Way." -- Henry IV
sphinx@bright.net ********** Kevin Schmidt