Hidden Love-Charlie

Dancing Queen...

My name is Olivia Constantine. I am a demonologist and master of the dark arts, just like my brother, John Constantine. We've been through a lot together. From childhood, to NewCastle, to Lian Yu, to the Legends, we were always with each other. Through thick and thin no matter what. And that was our plan. Right now, we were helping the Legends clean up the mess they made when they defeated Mallus while hiding from our enemy, Neron. One problem- Charlie.

"And then there were six." Sara looked around at the remaining six residents on the waverider.

"Shorter bathroom lines." Zari said.
"Yeah, but no one to watch Patrick Swayze movies with." Ray said solemnly.

"Nate will be back soon." Sara assured the big man. "In the meantime, we need to go back before the monarchy goes anarchy."

"Never thought I'd get to meet the Queen." I muttered, loudly enough for Sara to hear.

"Not gonna happen, Liv. Too risky. And besides, she's not the one setting off Ray's magic-o-meter. The Queen's favorite new band is- The Smell."

"The Smell?" My brother questioned Sara immediately. "Never heard of them, and I know of every rubbish punk band there is in London."

"Ditto." I agreed with my brother.

"That's because they didn't exist in this timeline. Gideon?"

"The Queen's cheeky jig launched The Smell's rise to stardom. They were known as much for their music as for a series of improbable anti establishment pranks."

"All with a magical signature." Ray added.

"Okay, so we're looking for someone in the band." Zari concluded.

"We could be dealing with demonic possession, mind control, illusion."

"Or maybe just the run of the mill dementia." John and I tossed ideas back and forth.

"Hold on a minute." John and I said in sync with one another after looking at a photo of the band.

"There's your magic man right there." John pointed at a person in the band who definitely looked Irish.

"Obsessed with riches, given to mischief. That Irishman there is a leprechaun." I said, my brother nodding in agreement.

"S-sorry, are you guys being serious or racist?" Zari asked us.

"Both, love."

"Why are the weasels running the show?" Mick grunted from his seat by the entrance of the parlor.

"If you've got a problem with us, pie-head, why don't you just say it?" I raised my voice at Mick.

"I got a problem with you." He answered immediately.

"I'm running it, and I say we need to get close to that band, which shouldn't be a problem because everybody left on this ship is a punk." Sara pointed out.

"Except for Haircut." Mick reminded her. "He hasn't broken a rule in his life."

"Yep. Not a single rule." Zari emphasized.

XXX

Ray, who was driving, pulled the van up outside of The Hole.

"The Hole- cradle of punk rock and the stickiest floor in the British Isles." My brother explained to the clueless Americans.

"Sounds lovely." Ray said sarcastically. "You kids have fun."

"Actually, Raymundo, I'm sticking behind with you. You know, just to make sure you don't do anything stupid."