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It had all started out with a congratulatory coronation gift from a demon. A collector's item, she'd called it. The scrap of a soul that hadn't yet crossed over. Apparently, it'd been trendy for a while, and "since all souls will belong to your majesty eventually anyways, one could only figure that such a thing of non-material value would please the High King more than a simple soul contract".
Confused and not wanting to be rude about it, Danny had asked some questions, thanked the demon and ordered for the paper to be placed in his desk drawer. He couldn't have known that this would have been gossip for a good amount of time all throughout the afterlife.Thinking back, though, he guesses he could have figured that they'd be interested about any kind of information about the new High King of the Infinite Realms that they'd known nothing about.
Danny only found out about it much later, however. He found out, in fact, when a very scared imp called Ezuric offered another scrap of this man's soul as a peace offering. "Ezuric didn't mean to interfere with the king! He really, really didn't… Ezuric is very sorry. And- And he heard the king liked these. Can… Can the king forgive Ezuric? Please?"
Now, that imp had a very impressive puppy gaze. Besides, that was just a baby! Danny wasn't a monster. He wasn't actually angry, either. Not that the child had believed as much when he'd been trying to tell him. No, Ezuric had just started to tear up then.
So Danny smiled and took the paper. "You know what? Sure. Thank you for this, that's very thoughtful of you."
A pair of hopeful imp eyes were glowing at Danny at those words. "So Ezuric is forgiven? He can go now, just like that?"
Danny nodded thoughtfully. "Yup. All forgiven, and free to do whatever again. See? No consequences." He even stepped back a bit, making the imp unreasonably happy.
He was thanked greatly then and blissfully unaware of how word would spread after that.
The young high king had started to participate in the soul trade, they said. The high king was interested in the Hellblazer, they said. The high king, even if he owned all of the afterlife and every soul therein, had found amusement in collecting the soul of John Constantine. If given one of the collectors-contracts, they murmured, the High King would even allow himself to be placated and you could earn forgiveness for a mistake - if at all reasonable.
Within a few months, Danny owned all of 58.739% of the man’s soul.
Within the same time, Danny also found himself privy about all the things his subjects wanted to do to the man.
It hadn’t taken until even then for him to know throughly that he didn’t approve. It had taken until then for him to decide that he would do something about it. Personally. He did, after all, own almost sixty percent of the man’s entire being - which meant that he owned more than half of him already. If, Danny thought, he were to collect all of the contracts, well, he would be able to help him. Maybe even make a deal to protect his soul from becoming such a tangled, scrambled mess again in the future.
It was then that rumours turned into truth.
2,5% of Constantine's soul were owned by a duke of the Christian hell. The man had intended to offer the contract to his wife as a last-second anniversary gift. Since a trip to Valhalla was worth a lot more and a lot more romantic, Danny was able to trade the soul-piece for a free-of-charge journey between the two realms and back. They set up a document, and both sides were happy.
Azrael was a different story. As one of the first lords of hell the man had sold himself out to, Azrael owned a larger chunk of the entire thing. 9.82% which was a lot more than most others did. As one of the two lords of hell Constantine had coned with that deal, the Angel also felt… strongly about it. Danny had to visit five different times, and that was only until he was able to convince the other to tell him what to exchange the contract for. He then needed to bargain with Azrael a couple of times until it was actually a price Danny was willing to pay. Three souls, that was the thing they agreed on. Three souls that were already owned under the name of the high king.
Danny did not own the souls that had sold themselves directly to Pariah. Actually, after Danny had crushed the former king's core - a part of the whole thing that he… rather not think about ever again - they were now free. But there were some souls that had lost their sense of self over the millenia belonging to the crown of fire. Danny didn't choose them arbitrarily. He explained and asked for volunteers. Five came forth, two of them did it because they didn't care. The three that would actually rather belong to the lord of hell instead of the high king were the ones Danny exchanged for the contract.
He made a mental note to never interact with Azrael again, if he could at all help it.
Next on the list was Beelzebub. The other party in that scam. He owned an even larger part, since he'd been doing the same thing Danny had taken to and tried to regain the soul he thought should be his anyways that way. In total, he'd collected 23,3005% by the time Danny came to him.
Surprisingly enough, the prince of hell didn't mind giving all of that away. Not much, anyways.
"I do not envy you, young king~ All that work just for Constantine? He isn't worth the effort, I tell you. Not worth it. You loose so much time, then, to indulge in finer souls." The demon shook his head, flies buzzing around them and carrying the contract to Danny. "But I don't give away things for free. No, no, not even to a high king. I won't do that, you see? It's mine now, mine and I am possessive of what I own and what I want. I want something in return. Something I don't have. Something no one else can have? Yes! That."
He… didn't tell Danny anything else. And, well, damn. If his parents didn't invent a lot of unique shit, Danny didn't know what else they were doing all day. Now, he knew he wouldn't be able to sell the some junk for the contract. It did have to be something that worked, and something that was so outlandish even his parents wouldn't set a second one into the world, or into any other world for that matter.
It took him a while of digging. But in the end, he did find something to give Beelzebub: The hot dog grill of nightmares. It didn't have a name, at least not one that Danny could remember. But a grill that could bring sausages back to life and allow you to fight them to the death? Very appropriate for a demon prince. Especially since that would be, er, great entertainment at his next dinner party? Danny didn't want to think about it.
He also politely declined the invitation to stay and eat with Beelzebub after that.
Just a little over 5.6% remaining now.
1.8% belonged to a witch in Salem. She didn't intend to sell it at first. Something or the other about being an angry ex. But when she heard just who Danny was? Well. She did seem to like the thought of John Constantine belonging to the High King himself. It wasn't even really a deal that they made. She only asked for a couple of summoning circles to be reviewed - she had found them through questionable means, apparently.
Two of them were nonsense, one was downright suicide, five were different levels of dangerous-don't-fuck-with-it, another one was functional but summoned someone at random and was easy to refuse, and the other two were a go-ahead but there wasn't a sigil to keep the entities from leaving the circle nor any way to add one. Salt it was, then. Danny told her as much, and she passed over the contract happily. Her parting words were a brightly smiled: "Don't let him be owned by anyone else, okay?"
Next up on the list turned out to be a god. 2,74% of John Constantine's soul belonged to a deity that hadn't been revered since the Inca anymore and whose name Danny didn't even dare to try to pronounce nor spell out. Old enough to rival the ancients, and powerful enough that even Danny had some trouble stomaching the feel of it.
Fortunately, the deity was a kind one and was mostly curious about modern society. He asked for a book of real-life stories from all around the world. And, sure, Danny could have found and brought back some random history book. But he was committed, damnit! So he spend the next two weeks traveling through time and space to take pictures, buy newspapers and make a large, chronological scrap-book complete with stickers from all over the world at different times and a glittery cover. Dani would have been proud of it.
This deal, Danny found, was actually kind of fun. He learned new things, and traveling was actually pretty cool if there was no looming threat to the Infinite realms or crushing weight of imposter syndrome telling him he was lazy for doing so. This might have been his favourite exchange, and the deity even got along really well with Pandora. Danny had introduced the two of them to each other.
And honestly? New polite acquaintance, fun trip, new friend for Pandora and another soul-chunk for his collection? Totally worth all the paper cuts. His favourite deal by far.
The rest was a nightmare. Not because it was so hard to haggle for them. No, it was because the rest was split into tiny, tiny chunks that were awfully annoying to find the owners to.
This part, even though it was less than 2% of the entire thing, was what took Danny the longest to secure.
A vile of Styx-water here, a letter to a living relative there, checking up on this person on the living realm, a selfie together, attending the birthday party of their child, speaking out against bullying in a school there, a dragon scale, approving of visitation rights to the newly born half-demon-half-human so the child could visit their father for up to three days every other month - Danny would've approved anyways, and more if that wouldn't have put the partially mortal child in danger - a signed copy of some novel he'd never heard about, siren hair, a statement to one of his papers from Aristoteles, a collection of rubber ducks, twenty coins for the ferryman, approving of a personal summoning circle, phoenix tears, and one pair wanted their wedding to be officiated by him to make it extra special or something.
About two years after Danny's coronation and therefore when he'd been given that first scrap of the man's soul, the new High King had gathered all of 99.9995% said soul with the remaining 0.0005% still in the possession of the human himself.
Not wasting any time, Danny figured he'd just get it over with. So, hoping he'd be able to get through that conversation with the notorious man quickly and without getting conned out of his mind - the stories about that guy were wild - he followed the glowing metaphysical chains from the contract to Constantine.
What he did not expect was for him to be inside of a meeting at the moment. In space - Which, ohh, stars, pretty! He'd have to take a closer look at those later… - with the Justice League.
Now, Danny knew what his portals looked like.
He had a huge appreciation for stars, so it started with space warping into a black hole. When the fabric of reality opened up, it sucked in all light and sound. Gravity would be amplified a lot as magic waved in waves off of the newly formed void. Next, the toxic green glow of the Realms started to shine through. Specs like embers would start springing from the glowing mass, taking on the most different colours as they turned into stars wafting around the frayed edges of the portal. If you concentrated, you would be able to hear them burning like dozens of little suns. At the same time, purple smoke would emit from the edges, filling the immediate vicinity of the portal with stunning nebulas.
And then, slowly, as sound started to return to the world, he would come through, the green light condensing into him and leaving the black hole of a portal behind him. His hair shining like Procyon, eyes glowing like green comets, constellations giving off a faint shimmer as freckles around his nose. Lichtenberg scars were traveling up his bare arms from underneath his white gloves, impossibly dark voids like the black hole behind him cut into his blue-ish skin. His lips were the purple they only assumed when you froze to death and both his teeth and ears being inhumanly pointy now. The black crown floating in its own purple nebula atop his head let magic snow fall onto him constantly.
He had changed his outfit when he'd been crowned - Kept the gloves but lost the jumpsuit. Instead he was now wearing black pants and a black tank top, with boots made out of ice and a white cloak draped around his left shoulder, with fur lining the seam on the outside and galaxies dying and being reborn shown on the inside in realtime - and, since he'd been convinced that he needed to wear at least some weapons, he was now sporting an artefact inspired by the reality gauntlet but designed to look more like fantasy jewellery and a dagger strapped to his waist both made out of black iron.
So, yeah, first impressions weren't usually that he was harmless per se. And Danny could spot Batman, the vigilante known for his paranoia first and his work second, amongst the heroes in attendance. It was very obvious that Danny had just managed to get himself on the Justice League's list of possible threats to be observed in just the few moments of his arrival.
So Danny, being a royal half-ghost with sense, did the only logical thing: He filed that away as a PFFD (problem for future Danny) and promptly decided to ignore the heroes he hadn't come here for.
When he looked at the somewhat horrified, somewhat done™️ magician in front of him it suddenly occurred to Danny that he had, in fact, for all his running around and bargaining with literal demons and gods, not once thought about what to say right now. So once again, still being a royal half-ghost with sense, did the only suitable thing: He fell back on memes.
"John Constantine," he said with a sharp-toothed smile, "…We've been trying to reach you about your soul's extended warranty."
What. The. Fuck?! Could the black hole behind him please swallow him up? Right now, please?
Constantine watched as the very powerful, very much dead being took in the meeting room. Briefly, surprise at seeing the League there flashed across the bloke's face. Blimey, he hoped the portal had just opened in some off spot and he'd leave again…
Constantine took note of those green eyes hovering at the window for a moment, features softening. So there was something there this one liked, eh? He'd do bloody well to remember that, John figured. Especially if his fears were right and this fellow was here for his poor sake. He hoped not, but, well, he did have hard lines in regards like that.
As if he didn't even care, the being turned away from even the heavy hitters of the League, and - god-bloody-damnit! - turned those unsettling eyes onto Constantine. Which placed the Brit at the full force of the aura of death he didn't even try to tone down.
Now, what in all the bloody hell scapes had Constantine ever done to get anyone from the Infinite Realms narked with him? It wasn't like he had ever went gallivanting about that plane of existence, nor had he ever dared trying to scam any of them. One didn't just do that. Not even John ever thought of doing it.
And yet. Right now, he still found himself at the receiving end of what must've been the Realms' newly bloody crowned High King himself. And before he could muster up what to say without taking the biscuit here, the ghost in front of him smiled at him, sharp teeth all on full display now. A voice that sounded like the cracking of thin ice on a lake and the static of electricity reverberated around his head.
"John Constantine…" The voice said, and Constantine found himself swallow because this was all kinds of bad if he even knew John's bloody name. "We've been trying to reach you about your soul's extended warranty."
"…'cuse me?" What the bloody hell did that even mean?!
But the High King only shrugged. "Well, since you've been treating your soul like a second-hand car and like you were working at a scrap shop, I figured I'd just do that too."
Bloody hell.
Spooks chose this moment to let out a grunt John could interpret as "Please, John, mate, be a dear and let me know who this is - since we all know you're the best one around to ask these bloody things." Or something similar, at least.
Not wanting to think about what the new Monarch of Death had meant earlier but still not daring to take his eyes off of him all the same, John decided to indulge the bat: "Eh, well… This here is his majesty the High King of the Infinite Realms, king Phantom. Been 'round for a couple thousand, but crowned only recently. Very important bloke. Though I'm afraid I… don't know exactly what I've done to warrant this audience?"
Batsy grunted again, but Constantine ignored him this time as the High King scoffed. "I already told you, though? This is about your soul."
"…Me soul's taken, mate. Sorry."
The king laughed, honest to the gods laughed at that. Like it was some bloody joke to him. Which, truth be told, it probably was.
Pralaya was looking like a bloody dream right now.
"Exactly! That's the problem. You see, right now your soul is somewhat like a very difficult jigsaw puzzle an angry toddler threw across the entire afterlife. Thing is, two years ago I got a little gift and, well, one thing led to another and… hm." The being cocked his head to the side, snowflakes following the movement. "I own every soul contract you ever made now? So!" The ghostly entity waved his hand and at once the pressure of the portal vanished along with it, a throne made our of stars appearing behind the ghost instead. He sat down with a smirk John really bloody didn't like. "Shall we talk about that?"
"Actually, mate, I think we’re good. No need for all that. Cheers for the offer, though."
"It wasn’t really an offer, you know? It’s more… Me saying that we will talk about- Did sarcasm change in the time I haven’t been to the mortal realm?"
"Figures," John sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. Well, he should probably be bloody glad the entity didn’t take him as being rude. Because, frankly? That’s what he was doing. Though he really should stop that. You didn’t mess with the Realms, and you sure as bloody hell didn’t mouth off to those bloody bastards. You just didn’t.
Which was a problem, seeing as playing nice was… Not John’s specialty.
"Right. So, you won me soul now. Brilliant. You already have that, though, so what else do you want?"
The being leaned forward, smirk still in place and unnaturally wide now. "Well. I was wondering… Do you know what a spluttered soul means in the afterlife?" John had a rough idea. So he really, really didn’t bloody like where this was going. But he didn’t answer. "Agony, mostly. You know, if I was you I’d really not want to die right now. Death is your eternity, after all, and that’s a real long time. And spending that feeling yourself being ripped apart the entire time? Not the best way to go, is it? But at least you won’t have to deal with all those demons that you made angry down in hell. I" The ghost king laughed a little. "I get a lot of complaints about you."
"What’s your bloody point, mate?" John… probably should not have said it like that.
"My point, mister Constantine" Phantom leaned back, crossing his arms "is that I have the power to change that. Since souls fall into my domain, and also since your soul belongs to me. Well, mostly anyway…"
Wait, what? Didn’t he just say he’d gone through the trouble of collecting all of his contracts? What was that all about, then?
Apparently sensing his confusion, the beging shrugged. "You never sold your entire soul. Technically, you still own all of 0.0005% of it. It’s not a lot - but it’s all yours. Enough that you might, possibly be able to resist half of a compulsion order every hundredth time with a lot of luck. Congrats, you’ll sometimes be able to have partial own will."
"So, what? You want to buy what’s left?" He raised an eyebrow absolutely unimpressed, but, truth be told, John absolutely would do that. He wasn’t too keen on being in pain for eternity.
"Why would I want your soul? I can’t even do anything with that. Pretty conceited of you to just assume everyone would want it, don’t you think?" Despite the fact that he'd just told John he'd spend the entire time after his coronation gathering bits 'n' pieces of his soul, the being sounded proper offended at the notion.
"Well, pardon me. Took a stab in the dark there. Bit hypocritical to say you don't want it, though, innit?"
The ghost king laughed again. "I don't want it! I just said I had it. And I never implied I wanted what's left - I just answered your question. Gosh, you really are the kind of fruit loop every says you are, ain't ya? Lucky you, though, I don't do the whole thrall thing. Ever got stared down by a skeleton without personality while trying to talk to them? That gives me the creeps every time. And I'm a ghost! No, no, no… I don't need that. But I do have a teeny tiny favour I want to ask. Just an itsy bitsy request."
John glanced over to Diana, catching a glimpse of the Amazonian's drawn expression. Brilliant, even the demigod was feeling something off with this deal. So nothing to worry about, eh?
"And what's that?"
From out of nowhere, the bloody bastard pulled out a stack of papers. A bloody huge stack of em, even. Was that the constitution in its entirety or something?
"I want you and-" He smiled towards the Leaguers around them, winking at them as he acknowledged them for the first time since his arrival. "-your friends here to take care of this little problem." As he turned back to John, he threw the stack of papers at the magician. He must've had telekinesis, since they stacked up nicely in front of him. "It's called the Anti-Ecto-Acts. A funny little thing your government came up with. Basically… hm. Think Meta-human protection rights but make it the polar opposite and especially for me entire realm? Yeah, that 'bout sums it up, I guess. And I mean, ain't that nice? Now, problem is… I don't really feel like going to war. So! That's where you and your little merry band of friends come in."
Looking down at the very definitely legal documents, John scrunched up his eyebrows. "How come I never heard of 'em before?"
The ghost king shrugged, smiling another smile with too many too sharp teeth. " 'Cause they were passed… About an hour ago? Your dimension lags behind mine a couple years. It's one of three where they'll pull this shit. Now my home dimension? That's all taken care of. The other one is basically ghost prison anyways, and the laws there aren't as bad as these. Yours, though? Not fine. Like, at all."
"So, you want me to change a new law with not only me soul but also me dimension on the line? Yeah, cause that's gonna be a piece of cake, mate."
"Sucks to be you, I guess." The ghost king shrugged. "Honestly, I would've done the whole fixing it up thing as a freebie for anyone else, but… Well. You were kinda an ass to a friend of mine that you pulled over the table. So. Work, yay. Also, like I said, I don't really feel like war."
"… I'll look into it."
To his surprise, the High King shrugged. "That's good enough, I guess. Hold on…" Sharp claws ripped through the air, weaving glowing green patterns. Suddenly, it felt like John's entire being was on fire, like he was just one open, raw wound. But just as he was about to scream his bloody lung out, it stopped. "There! One soul all fixed up."
"…Cheers?"
The being smiled. A bright and almost innocent looking smile that gave John the chills. "You're welcome! Now, like I said, I don't really want your soul… Would you be interested in buying it back, by any chance?"
"What?" …That was an option?
"I got your soul. Wanna have it back? Cause I don't want it. But it also feels weird to just throw it away, you know? Like… Let's deal in favours? I get to call you for help 99 times - one for every full percent I own right now - and you also get to summon me for help whenever you need it, but I get one more favour you can't refuse for every time. Sound fair?"
He sure as hell wouldn't be calling the bloody High King of the goddamned Infinite Realms for help, no matter how pear shaped things would go. But considering he got a chance to get his soul back for a measly ninety-nine orders instead of eternal slavery with infinite orders…
"Sure. Deal."
The being grinned, standing up. Behind him, the chair suddenly vanished into nothingness. "Great!" He called out as he zoomed over to John, slapping his clawed hand onto the human's left forearm. For a second, it felt like his skin was frozen and about to come off. Then Phantom took away his hand and a symbol - a P inside of a flaming D, surrounded by various constellations - had joined his tattoos like a scar. A summoning circle, and a sign of him being in debt of the High King.
"By the way, you won't be able to sell that soul anymore. Like, you lost your soul-trading privileges. Sorry not sorry. Now, then! That was all. Sorry to interrupt your… Whatever this was. If you excuse me, I have some stars to look at."
Before John could say or do anything about it, the ghostly entity flew straight out of the window and into the space beyond. He was out of sight within a few seconds.
Groaning, John rubbed at his face. "Bollocks! What the bloody…?!" Ignoring the questions he could see about to be asked, John stood up and opened his own portal. "I need a drink! Maybe even a whole bloody pub. Don't call me. I mean it, don't."
With that he, too, left the Justice League behind.