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It was during a meeting, the kind that made you want to pull out your hair, or in Constantine's case, smoke fucking weed.
The air in the Watchtower had the scent of burnt coffee and stale pizza, remnants of an all-nighter spent poring over maps and intel.
John leaned back in his chair, his eyes drooping, as he listened to the drone of voices around the conference table. He'd seen worse, much worse, but this was definitely a close second.
The sudden ring of Phantom's phone pierced the tension like a knife through butter. Twice it happened, and twice the ghost's hand shot to silence it. The third time, he snatched it up with a snarl, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind.
"What?!" he snapped.
Constantine felt a cold hand grip his heart when he heard the smooth, cultured tones of the caller. He knew that voice, had heard it in his worst nightmares, and once, in a very real, very nasty deal gone sideways.
"Respectfully, my liege, I must insist-"
"Not today, Satan," Phantom cuts in dryly and hangs up.
John's laugh is a nervous rasp, his eyes darting around the table as he tries to gauge the room's reaction. The rest of the Justice League members seem to take it in stride, a few smiling at the ghost's humor. John was about to let out a sigh of relief when he notices Phantom looking at him, a glint of mischief in his eye.
"You know him?" the ghost asks, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Know him? Oh, yes. I know him," John says, his voice strained. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself.
He sweat harder.
“Can you believe that guy? So needy!” Phantom whined.
John couldn't help but crack a smile, his shoulders relaxing slightly. , “let him rot in Hell by himself. He deserves it, the bloody incel," he snorted.
“HA!” Phantom clapped, “Ancients yes! I’m glad someone gets it!” He tosses his head back, the holographic lights of the room playing off his transparent skull.
Constantine's smile is tight as he nods, pulling out a new cigarette, “i'd drink to that, mate. To the Prince of Darkness being a pain in the arse,” he says, raising his lighter. "Fuck that guy"
The room goes silent as the gravity of the situation dawns on everyone. The smiles fade, replaced by shock and confusion. Flash looks around, his smirk fading into genuine concern. "What? Did I miss something?"
"That was the actual Satan," John says, his voice calm, but his eyes betray his racing thoughts. "The real deal."
The others at the table exchange looks, some incredulous, some horrified. "How...how do you know it was really him?" asks Cyborg, his robotic voice crackling with tension.
Constantine sighs, leaning back in his chair and rubs a hand over his face. "Let's just say I've had... dealings with him in the past," he says, his British accent thickening with discomfort.
Batman breaks the silence that follows. "And why do you know his voice so well you can recognize it over a call from the other side of the room?"
Constantine's hand, which was reaching for his hair, pauses mid-air. He looks at Batman, "Irrelevant right now," he says, his voice a low murmur.
But Phantom, bless his soul, starts to giggle. It's a soft, high-pitched sound that bubbles up from his ethereal chest, and within moments, it turns into full-blown laughter. He's slapping his knees, the sound echoing eerily around the room. The other heroes stare at him, completely forgetting about him.
"Oh, this is priceless," Phantom gasps for air between chuckles, "the look on your faces!"
The room goes quiet again. Batman's shap gaze turns on Phantom, "How did he get your number?"
Phantom's laughter cuts off abruptly. "Well, it's complicated," he says, his eyes darting around the room.
"Complicated?" Batman's voice is a cold steel trap. "How complicated?"
He opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, a bright green light flashes, his image starts flickering and he vanishes.
The room goes still as a grave, the only sound the distant hum of the Watchtower's systems. John's cigarette burns forgotten between his trembling fingers.
"Where'd he go?" Superman asks, his eyes scanning the room.
Flash shakes his head, his eyes on the spot where Phantom was. "He's gone," he says, his voice flat.
John looks around the table, everyone's eyes now on him.