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Contact III : Judgement

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Gotham City

Rooftops

12:34

Nezumi would admit to being immensely annoyed at the concept.

Assassins, coming after his master?

That was like saying that a horde of killer bacteria were going hunting against a bottle of antiseptic disinfectant.

It just did not happen. It wasn't meant to happen. But somehow, his master was allowing it to happen. Nezumi hopped from rooftop to rooftop in single, long movements as he kept his eyes peeled for any more fools that had it in their heads to go after his master. He had long since realized that his master was wiping off the last of the Falcone bloodline, killing Falcone's sons and sole daughter, hence, Nezumi had decided that he would allow his master complete his task by taking out the impetuous fools that would prove as empty cannon fodder for him.

The streets were almost literally riddled with them. With idiots possessing delusions of grandeur – and it was taking him a few seconds to stop, appear, punch a hole into their hearts, and then move on to the next target. They had guns! Guns! And the fools actually believed, in one way or another, that the guns would be of use!

Why hadn't his master conquered this entire planet already?

Honestly – Nezumi was not amused with the lackluster performance of these beings – these humans. It was a genuine wonder as to how they evolved to become the dominant species on this planet, when the planet was filled with demonic or angelic beings or even godly presences – what could a mere human do to –

A torrent of flame barreled into the side of the demon butler, flame that he realized, with some annoying condescension, could actually harm him. Except, it didn't, because, years and years ago, when he was a measly rat, his master had enchanted him to be fireproof.

He rolled to a stop, idly noting his position on one of the numerous rooftops in the residential area of the city, and turning his gaze to find the one that actually dared attack him.

"At first I doubted, if this was the one, but he survived my attack, and that's never been done."

Nezumi stopped, and stared, at the comical, almost laughable creature that was in front of him. With bright orange skin and horns, dressed in red spandex, green external underwear, and possessing a red cape –

"The Rhyming Demon – Etrigan."

Nezumi would admit, he had not been expecting to meet another demon in the city.

"Blimey mate! What if you'd been wrong? You'd have toasted some poor sod on a whim."

There was another man beside him, blonde hair, brown trenchcoat and a roguishly handsome charm to him, yet, Nezumi couldn't sense the innate magical power within him – no, he was not like his Master, he was just a lesser magician who relied on artefacts, trinkets and tricks. Yet, he knew who he was, because his master knew who he was, and that knowledge had been transferred.

"John Constantine."

The man appeared somewhat surprised.

"Well, that's a first. Never met an Eldritch Demon that knew my name before."