Chapter Text
ACT I · The Things we do
Chapter 1 · Made for Rain
"It was not merely the cold, but the cold of space, the cold of a world that was not of man. It was a cold that was austere and indifferent, a cold that made no concessions to the frailties of the flesh. The man was a stranger to the land, and the land was strange to him." — Jack London, To Build a Fire
The wind howled like a dying animal.
John Constantine pulled his trench coat tighter, which did absolutely nothing against the Norwegian winter. He'd worn the coat through curses, demonic invasions, and the occasional apocalypse, but it had never met weather like this. Snow was finding its way into every seam, every pocket, every inch of exposed skin. His fingers were numb around the cigarette he couldn't light because the wind kept blowing out his lighter.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, shoving the unlit cigarette back into the pack. "This place makes the Arctic feel like a bloody seaside resort."
"You've been saying that for the last hour," Sara called over her shoulder, leading the group. She was bundled in a futuristic thermal suit that made her look like she was about to climb Everest. It was, John noted bitterly, probably warm and comfortable. So god-damn warm.
"Because it's been true for the last hour," John shot back. "Why couldn't this rogue warlock set up shop in, I don't know, the Bahamas? Fiji? A nice, warm, unfrozen hell dimension?"
Ray, trudging beside John with a scanner in his gloved hand, offered a cheerful smile. "At least we're in the right place! Gideon's readings are off the charts. Whatever Vex is doing, it's creating a massive temporal distortion."
"A temporal distortion," John repeated, deadpan. "In a blizzard. On a mountain top. In the 1970s. In the middle of godforsaken Norway. Mate, this is a Thursday here. Worst field trip ever."
Nate, just ahead of them, snorted. "Just you wait until you remember this is the year The Beatles broke up."
"Say what now?" Behrad chimed in, disbelief coloring his voice.
"Also, John," Nate continued, "remember that time in Ancient Rome when you accidentally summoned a demon into the Colosseum? I'd rank that one worst field trip ever. It really did a number on what historians later believed happened in gladiators' fights..." A full shiver trembled through his body.
"That wasn't a field trip. That was a business expense. Not my finest piece of work, I'll tell ya." John stepped into a snowdrift that came up to his thighs. He made a sound of pure, unfiltered misery as he flailed his arms around. "I'm melting. My bones are melting. Ease my suffering with the sweet, sweet release of death."
"You're not melting, John," Ava said, her voice flat and unimpressed. She was bringing up the rear, a blaster in one hand and a grim expression on her face. "You're just dramatic."
"I'm a master of the dark arts. Theatrics are sort of my trade."
Zari chuckled, bundled in a suspiciously fashionable high-tech parka, and pushed past him with a smirk. "You look like a wet cat, Constantine."
"Go on, luv, kick a man when he's down. See if I remember to save your aesthetic when Vex tries to melt our faces off." Snow clumped to his coat as he tried to brush it off. Reaching into his pockets, he came up with his now-soaked cigarettes. He stared at them for a long moment—soggy, useless, dead. Just like he'd be in an hour if they didn't find shelter. He tossed the pack into the snow. "Bloody fantastic. Alright, can't get any better."
Sara stopped at the edge of a ridge, causing the team to almost trample each other. She raised a fist, and the entire team went silent. The wind still howled, but everyone stopped moving. The cold gnawed at his ears, sharp and unforgiving.
"There." Sara pointed downward.
Through the swirling snow, faintly against the white specks that blurred their vision, they could see it—a hollow carved into the mountain's flank. At first, it looked like a shadow—a void in the white, faintly organic-looking, unnatural at its core. The rock had been warped, twisted into unnatural angles. Violet light pulsed, slow and rhythmic, like a heartbeat—a sickly heartbeat about to extinguish—radiating a strange stillness to their surroundings. Inside, a figure knelt in the center of a massive, jagged ritual circle.
Morgan Vex.
She was tall, gaunt, with hair that floated around her head as if she was underwater. Her hands were raised, and the air around her shimmered—reality itself bending to her will. Now John could feel the energy from here. It made his teeth ache. Something dark brewed inside that twisted cavern.
"Right then," John said, squinting. "That's our girl."
"She's channeling raw chaos energy," Ray said, scanning her. "John, that's... that's not normal magic, is it? That's like... a singularity's worth of unstable reality. She's pulling it from the timeline itself."
Sara turned to John. "Can you shut it down?"
John studied the scene for a long moment. His usual cocky smirk was absent. "She's using chaos energy from the fractured timeline she caused. She's not just drawing power—she's a leak. Whatever she's doing, it has to come from somewhere, and energy isn't free. If I had to guess, the price of her using time itself as 'magical fuel' is burning a hole in the timestream."
"That ain't good," said Nate. Ava pressed further. "Can you stop her?"
John's smirk returned, though a little thin around the edges. "Luv, I'm John bloody Constantine. I don't stop things. I inconvenience them until they give up. Momma didn't raise a quitter. She did raise a fool or two."
Sara didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway, brushing the snow from her thighs. Snow really got everywhere it wished to. "Alrighty then. We go in quiet. We don't give her a chance to power up or any reason to cut this timeline off the mainstream. Ray, you're on support. Zari, air totem for cover. Nate, if she tries to run, you're on steel. Ava and I will flank. Behrad, I need you with Gideon—we might need a quick jump out. John, you're on—"
"Magic," John finished. "I know the drill. Let's do this before I freeze to death, yeah?" He looked up at the snow-heavy sky. "I was made for rain, not snow."