Chapter Text
“You walk into the refrigerator again?” your hand gestures towards Constantine’s split lip while the rest of your body remains sprawled on the sofa.
The indignation flashes over his face. “You hexed that bloody door!”
“And a warlock of your caliber would have been able to detect it.” You slowly push yourself into a sitting position, trying to force the sleepiness out of your system. “Dia.”
The cuts and bruises on Constantine’s face heal and fade away instantly. “I said you don’t have to heal me every time.”
“It was an eyesore,” you justify. After a tired yawn, you rub your face. “So what brings you here?”
“There are mages after you.”
“Are they after me personally or because of my association with you like last time?” You don’t bother to get off the sofa yet.
“For once, they’re actually after you. Told me to sod off when I caught them snooping around.”
“I assume that’s when your face turned into a punching bag.”
“You know me, can’t say no to a good time,” he smirks.
“I do know you, so you probably have some half-cocked plan for catching them. Shall I be the bait again?” You rise from the sofa and stretch your arms.
“Not happening,” he frowns. “I’m taking you to the Waverider. You’re staying there until I stop them.”
You fix your gaze directly at him. “I refuse. It’s me they’re after, so this is my problem to solve.”
“Not when they’re jumping through time!” he shouts. “This isn’t something you can just waltz in and out of unscathed. One wrong move and you could rip the fabric of time.”
“Then we work together. But I won’t be treated like some helpless child, especially not from you.”
“Fine,” he gritted out. “Not like I can stop your stupid stubbornness.” Constantine shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” You grab a prepared go bag from the nearby bookshelf and turn your attention back to Constantine. “Ready whenever you are.”
Constantine lets out an annoyed huff and conjures a portal. He guides you onboard the Waverider, the timeship of the Legends.
The two of you end up in a large open room with an advanced contraption at the center. You see two women already waiting there, one of which you recognize: Captain Sara Lance.
Captain Lance speaks first, “Oh good, you managed to convince him.”
“Not quite,” Constantine replies, staring intently at the tip of his shoe.
“I heard your plan,” you interject. “While the thought was nice, I refuse to let anyone fight my battles for me. Any plan to fight the mages, you will count on me to be a part of it.”
Captain Lance raises an eyebrow. “Is it a warlock thing that you have to put on a tough guy act each time?”
“Wouldn’t know,” you shrug. “Considering I’m a sorcerer.”
“The difference being?”
“My magic comes from my lineage; his,” you point your thumb at Constantine for emphasis, “comes from whatever entity he’s managed to piss off for the week.”
Constantine flips you off. “Bugger off.”
The unknown woman speaks up, “We’re getting sidetracked.”
Captain Lance introduces you to her. “Right, Y/N, this is my co-captain Ava Sharpe.”
You extend a gloved hand out to Captain Sharpe. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Captain Sharpe.”
She accepts the handshake but looks at you like you said something strange. “Just Ava is fine. We don’t really do titles on this ship.”
“Very well, Sharpe and Lance it is.”
Constantine interjects, “He’s allergic to first names.”
You sigh, “I know the concept is foreign to a feral individual such as yourself, but I do try to maintain a modicum of propriety.”
Sharpe waves her hand, “Back to the topic on hand. These are the mages after you, Y/N.” Apparently, the contraption works as some kind of console and it projects the image of two people you don’t recognize, a man and a woman, both in nondescript gray robes.
You shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t know them at all.”
Lance shrugs. “It was worth a shot.”
Sharpe gives you a brief account of the Legend’s encounters with the mages. “We’ve run into them three times already. The first for us was in 2020; they attacked us out of nowhere. When we met them again in 2024, they didn’t recognize us at all. That’s when we suspected they could only go backwards in time. The attack in 2023 all but confirmed it.”
“Wait,” you interject. “They just keep going back in time after each failure? Even if they did succeed, wouldn’t that create a time paradox?”
Lance gives you an impressed look. “Oh, wow, you actually know the rules of time travel.”
“I live in an era with internet. And I chose to not live under a rock.” You give Constantine a pointed look.
Sharpe continues, “We’ve stopped them each time, but we can’t let them wander around unchecked. We’re lucky that they’re targeting you for some reason, Y/N. Otherwise, they could break the space-time continuum.”
“I have located the mages,” announces a disembodied female voice.
You jump back in surprise, head turning back-and-forth looking for a mysterious presence.
“Apologies,” the voice speaks again. “I’m Gideon, the ship’s AI system.” A virtual head shows up on the console display.
“Uh, glad to meet you, Gideon,” you respond. “I’d offer you my hand but I don’t think you’d be receptive.”
“The gesture is appreciated nevertheless.” She tips her virtual head at you.
Sharpe asks, “Gideon, you said you found them?”
Gideon nods. “They’re in LA, 2016. Near the Griffith Observatory.”
Lance addresses all of you, “We know where they’re going to be but we need a plan to catch them. I’m open to ideas.”
You suggest, “What if we blocked their magic? If they’re just regular people, it’ll be easy to apprehend them.”
“I’m listening. How would we go about that? Blocking magic?”
“Traditionally, by crafting cages or manacles. But we’re strapped for time. We can improvise with this.” You pull a small box the size of your palm out of your go bag. After undoing five layers of protective fabric, you reveal a flower glowing in a pale blue light.
Constantine gasps, “The bloom of a Sussur flower.”
You nod. Carefully, you redo all of the wrappings so no light escapes the box. “The flower itself isn’t rare by any means, but highly dangerous when processing.”
“How did you get your hands on one? For decades, no one's-” Constantine’s eyes widen. “You daft bastard!”
“I had to take matters into my own hands.” You turn your gaze over to Lance. “We pair this with a transmutation spell and we can temporarily block their magic.”
Lance looks towards Constantine for his expertise, “John, is what he said doable?”
Constantine nods, “It’s the best option we’ve got so far.”
“Then we can head out. One last thing, under no circumstances do we interact with the younger Y/N.” Lance looks at you. “How old were you then? A teenager?”
“My age is irrelevant,” you scowl. “But none of us have to worry about running into my past self. I spent most of that time at … an internship.”
Lance gives you an incredulous look. “They had internships for magical kids?”
You shrug. “I was considered a prodigy.”
“Looks like we’re ready to go.”
The four of you land on the rooftop of a building that had the observatory in clear sight.
“They’re over there.” Sharpe points at two suspicious figures crossing the street.
They raise their arms; ice covers the entirety of a storefront. Suddenly, the iced-over building shatters, bringing rubble down on passerbys.
Lance curses. “Shit. People are getting hurt down there. We have to stop them.”
“Let me handle the mages, I’m better equipped to deal with them. Lance, Sharpe, help the injured. Constantine, you’re in charge of the transmutation.”
Lance and Sharpe agree with your task assignment and leave first.
Constantine shakes his head. “I’ll be the one to fight those wankers. You stay here.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re horrible in a head on fight. Leave this to me.” You shove the box with the bloom over to Constantine, but he refuses to take it. “Look,” you sigh. “The longer you spend arguing with me, the more people are going to get hurt. Do you trust me?”
“Fine, you stubborn git.” He snatches the box out of your hand.
“They’re after me, so I’ll lure them to the middle of the street for you to finish the spell.”
Constantine grabs your wrist. “You’ll be careful, yeah?”
“I will.” You rush down the stairs.
Lance and Sharpe do all they can to help the civilians caught in the crossfire. That leaves you alone to deal with the mages.
You step out onto the street. “Looking for someone?” you call out.
The mages turn around. Recognition passes over their faces and they take a step closer to you. Raising her wand, the female mage chants, “Glacies.” A chunk of ice the size of your arm hurtles towards you.
You stand unflinching as the ice shatters harmlessly off your wards. Looking at the male mage, you taunt, “Your turn.”
The male mage holds out his spellbook and invokes, “Ira et dolor. Hadar.”
Darkness suddenly surrounds you. A biting cold permeates the air, sending chills to your very core.
You see nothing. Even with your eyes open, only the black darkness greets you. To concentrate, you close your eyes, trying to use your ears to locate the mages.
“Treme,” casts the female mage.
A barrage of hail crashes against your wards. With each hit, you feel your barriers grow weaker. Against this onslaught, they will only hold for a minute more.
“You cannot withstand our attacks forever,” the male mage gloats.
The last of your wards crumbles and the frigid cold creeps in through the cracks. As the frost climbs up your legs, you roll your shoulders and crack your neck. You have delayed them for long enough, time to launch your counterattack. “Mahama,” you cast.
A blast of light erupts from your hands and illuminates the surrounding area. The shroud of darkness that once enveloped you disappears. You spot your targets in front of you, “Mazio.”
Lightning shoots out from your hands, shocking the two mages with electricity. They stumble from the blow, but it doesn’t bring them down. The male mage casts, “Gela.” A blade of ice speeds directly towards your face.
“Sukukaja,” you retaliate. As the ice approaches, you easily evade it and it crashes to the ground harmlessly.
Scowling, the mages raise their arms, attempting to dual cast an even stronger spell.
However, the ground beneath their feet glows blue. The blue light rises higher until it swirls around their wrists, turning into glittering shackles.
“What have you done!” shrieks the female mage.
“Bindings crafted from the Sussur bloom,” answers Constantine. He approaches you from the hiding spot. “Should put a damper on your magic in the meantime.”
Sharpe and Lance arrive to apprehend the mages. The ladies handcuff the mages and haul them off towards the Waverider.
Constantine shuffles next to you with his hands in his pockets. “Uh, good work, mate.”
“Told you I can handle myself.” You cross your arms over your chest.
“Yeah…” He avoids looking at you and instead stares at a very specific piece of gravel.
A speeding black corvette nearly runs you over, but you dive out of the way in time.
Constantine curses at the car, “Arsehole!” He looks ready to chase down the offender.
You shake your head. “Not worth it, Constantine.”
He helps you up from the ground. “Let’s get back to the ship before another local tries to kill you.
The two of you board the timeship.
Sharpe has restrained the mages to metal chairs in what looks like a storage room.
Lance stands with her arms crossed and a frustrated expression on her face. “They refuse to say anything.”
“I might be able to get a confession out of them,” you suggest.
“We’re not going to torture them.” Lance raises her eyebrow, daring you to challenge her.
“Torture is too messy anyways,” you retort. “I was more thinking of a compulsion spell.”
Lance waves her hand, giving you permission. “Go ahead then.”
You pull out a small cloth bag out of your pocket dimension. It opens to reveal golden dust. “Pollen from the lotos flower,” you explain. “Last chance to tell us willingly before I have to resort to this.”
The mages glare at you. One of them spits at you, “Fuck you.”
“Remember, this is on you. I offered an alternative.” You take a pinch of the pollen and sprinkle it on them. “Veritas.”
The mages struggle against their restraints, trying to escape the spell now running through them. After a moment, all the fight just leaves their body; their faces now hold empty expressions and their eyes stare blankly into the distance.
“They’re ready,” you inform the team.
Lance steps forward to ask the question. “Who sent you after Y/N?”
The mages try to answer, but only a choking noise comes out.
An inky black substance spews out of their mouth. Blood runs out the corners of their eyes. They slump in the chair, dead.
“What the hell happened!” Lance shouts at you.
“That wasn’t me.” You raise your hands in a placating manner. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot an insignia emerging from the back of the dead mages’ necks. It looks like a cross with semicircles attached to three of the sides with a full circle on the final side. Red, as if formed from the victims’ blood.
Other people notice the mark as well.
Constantine scowls. “Hex magic. Whoever casted it didn’t want us to find their identity. No matter what.”
“How reprehensible,” comments Sharpe.
Lance sighs, “A dead end.” She faces you. “We’ll have a better chance at catching whoever’s responsible if you stay with us. But we can’t force you to stick with us. So it’s your choice.”
You nod in assent. “Who am I to turn down a strategic alliance? Very well, I’m in.”
“Welcome to the Legends.” Though she means it as a greeting, it rings ominous in your ears.