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SM/DC Chapter 132 : After The Fire
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 21:22:31 +0000 UTCARTHUR BLACKWYND’S ESTATE — GOTHAM
Just past midnight. Quiet. Clean. Cold wind rustling the dark trees outside.
A soft flash of light illuminated the grand marble foyer of Arthur’s estate. The teleportation magic unraveled like silk, setting Arthur and Raven gently onto the polished floor.
Arthur immediately staggered forward, knees nearly buckling. Raven caught him, her arm wrapping tightly around his waist. His body was heavy, not just with exhaustion, his mana was dried. The toll of holding back a god and bleeding beside a devil.
He groaned, chuckling as Raven helped him stand. “I think I left my spine in Metropolis.”
Raven didn’t laugh. She just kept holding him, quiet and steady.
From the grand hallway beyond, brisk footsteps echoed. A tall man in an immaculately tailored black suit approached with a speed and concern unbecoming of his usual decorum. Silver hair slicked neatly back, gloves pristine despite the hour.
“Master Arthur!” George called, his voice rich with refinement yet it laced with unmistakable alarm. “By the stars, what happened to you?”
Arthur smiled, barely. “Trigon happened. No big deal.”
George arrived and, with surprising gentleness, took Arthur from Raven’s side. His grip was firm but practiced. He’d done this before.
“I shall escort you to your chambers,” he said calmly, though his sharp gaze flicked over Arthur’s condition. “Shall I prepare something for you? You look absolutely terrible, sir.”
Arthur let out a raspy laugh. “Thanks for the comment, George. Nothing boosts morale like hearing how awful you look.”
George, unfazed, kept walking. “I merely worry about the blood that is clearly visible on your... person. You literally have a hole in your body sir.. And you appear as though you've fought a small war and judging by your current state, lost it.”
Arthur winced with a grin. “Harsh. But no, I didn’t lose.” then he glanced at Raven and said “We didn’t lose.”
Then George slowed, eyes narrowing curiously as he studied Arthur’s face in the low light.
“What is it now?” Arthur muttered.
“…Your eyes,” George said, his voice dropping. “Forgive me, but I swear I just saw them shift… violet, was it? Only briefly.”
Arthur let out a tired sigh. “It’s nothing. Just... Help me to bed. I’ll heal on my own. I’m out of magic, you see.” He laughed again, this time more hollow. “Running on fumes and sheer will.”
As they began ascending the stairs, Raven remained standing where they’d first arrived, alone in the silent foyer. Her hood was down now. Her hair draped messily. The white robe was still faintly aglow, strange on someone who carried so much darkness within.
George paused halfway up the stairs, turning back.
“And you, Miss Raven,” he asked courteously. “Might I fetch something for you as well? Tea? Warm towels?”
Raven blinked as if woken from a distant thought. She looked up, startled by the offer, and said awkwardly, “No, I… I’ll be leaving shortly.”
Arthur, halfway up the staircase and slouched against George’s shoulder, twisted just enough to call back over the bannister.
“You won’t be leaving anywhere right now.”
His voice was firm and gentle, but definitive.
He grunted and added, “Stay here. George is dull company, and it gets boring fast.”
George’s eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t dignify the comment with more than a dry chuckle.
Raven stared up at Arthur. Something unspoken flickered in her violet eyes uncertainty, maybe even a touch of warmth.
“…Alright,” she said, softly.
She took a step toward the stairs.
George glanced at her, then back to Arthur, and smirked faintly. “Shall I prepare the guest room, sir?”
Arthur groaned. “Just get me to mine first before I collapse on the staircase.”
“As you wish, Master Arthur,” George said with prim dignity.
****
METROPLOIS -
The sky was no longer crimson. The fire had faded. The storm clouds broke apart into dying wisps, retreating with the night. But the scars remained.
Some buildings reduced to rubble. Streets cracked wide open. Burned cars. The faint smell of sulfur still lingered in the air. It looked like the aftermath of a war between gods and that wasn’t far from the truth.
A glowing boom tube flared open atop the scorched ruins of a Plaza. Out stepped the Titans.
Robin landed first, crouched, his cape catching the wind. Behind him came Cyborg, his sensors already scanning the area. Starfire hovered just above the ground, her eyes darting between fractured buildings and the lingering magic that shimmered faintly in the air.
“I’m not getting anything hostile on the grid,” Cyborg said, eyes flashing. “No Trigon. No demonic signatures. It’s like the entire hell-rift just… vanished.”
Starfire floated down beside him, her expression conflicted. “Then we are too late…”
Robin’s voice was sharper. “No… we’re right on time. The only difference is, someone else finished the job for us. And that someone is Arthur..”
They turned at the sound of soft footsteps on broken marble.
John Constantine stood among the wreckage, lighting a cigarette with the embers of a fallen lamp post. His coat was burnt at the edges. A red cut ran across his brow. Beside him, Zatanna leaned quietly against a cracked column, arms crossed.
Robin stepped forward. “Constantine,” he said curtly. “Where are Raven and Arthur? What happened here?”
John took a long drag, exhaled smoke into the scorched wind. “It’s over,” he said flatly. “You lot don’t have to worry about them anymore.”
Robin narrowed his eyes, looking around. “So Trigon is no longer a threat?”
John smirked, bitterly. “Well, Raven’s seal is stronger... for now.” He flicked ash toward the charred pavement. “At least until she decides to release him again for some unknown bloody reason.”
Zatanna’s head turned sharply. “John…”
He raised a hand. “Don’t start. I know why she had to do it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Robin’s voice hardened. “You are saying she did it for the fun of it.”
John didn’t look at him. He stared out at the crater where Trigon had once stood, smoke curling off his shoulders. “No, but I wouldn’t sell the world for a few people.”
Zatanna raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t?”
John paused. His jaw twitched. “…I didn’t mean it that way. Bloody hell.” He ran a hand through his hair and turned away. “You know what I meant.”
Cyborg stepped in, breaking the tension. “All’s well for now then. I just reestablished contact with the Watchtower. Martian Manhunter’s confirmed it everyone who was still up there is bruised, but alive. Superman really messed them up,… they’re recovering. The ones that were possessed are also recovering in the tower. ”
Robin’s gaze scanned the scene again. “And the civilians here ?”
Cyborg nodded. “There isn’t any known casualties but there will be.., Arthur did a fine job then. Compared to previous fights that Superman had here, this level of destruction isn’t half bad.”
Starfire’s glow dimmed softly. “I wonder what Batman will say once he regains consciousness…”
Robin smirked faintly. “That’ll be… interesting.”
John scoffed, already turning to leave. “Don’t count me in when he does. And don’t call me again either.” He jabbed a finger toward Robin. “I’m on vacation for the next decade. This was a total mess. And for the last bloody time I’m a freelancer. Batman keeps forgetting that.”
Zatanna chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Where are you even going, John?”
“Somewhere with rum and no demons,” he muttered, flicking the cigarette away. “And where people don’t summon their fathers from hell.”
Robin folded his arms. “Well, thanks for the help.”
John shook his head, walking off toward a distant alley glowing faintly with teleportation magic.
****
Amidst the chaos in the city, late night. talk had begun to spread.
In hushed voices.
In hurried whispers.
In stunned disbelief.
"I SAW HIM"
“I saw him, I swear to God,” said one man to a police officer, his face smeared with soot and blood. “He punched that thing. That demon-thing in the sky. Punched it so hard it flew across the skyline.”
The officer blinked. “You mean Superman?”
The man hesitated. “I...I thought so. But… no. No, it wasn’t him. Too much… dark smoke thing. Not our usual red and blue hero. Violet. And the thing he was surrounded by these flying monsters. Like demons. But they were fighting for him.”
“That wasn’t Superman,” a woman said firmly to a Channel reporter, brushing rubble from her jacket. “I’ve seen Superman. This guy didn’t seem like him. He had this shadow-like creatures that were alive.”
Her daughter clung to her sleeve, nodding. “One of them saved me,” she whispered.
“You’re saying they saved you?” the reporter asked.
The girl nodded slowly. “He pointed at me and one of them came out. Tall. Glowing eyes. It pulled me out of the building before it fell.”
In a café with cracked windows and overturned tables, a group of college students sat watching the newsfeed replay aerial drone footage of the city. The images were distorted fragments of smoke, lightning.
“I’m telling you,” said one student, scrolling through a grainy video on her phone, “this wasn’t just a villain-of-the-week thing. This was some end-of-the-world, Book-of-Revelation stuff, Two demons fighting.”
“Yeah...” another muttered.
“And no one knows who that guy was?”
“They’re already calling him The Black King online. Reddit’s going crazy.”
"that's a stupid name."
“He looked evil,” a man said near a destroyed monument, holding a bandage to his arm. “But he was fighting for us. You saw how that demon screamed when he stabbed it. Superman wouldn’t kill, but I think… I think he might be on our side..”
His friend shook his head. “I don’t know, man. Whatever he was, whatever they were… that didn't look like justice league business..”
