One-Shot Collection - Keanu Reeves.

- 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚 -

"Yeah John, this totally doesn't look sketchy" I mutter, stomping out my cigarette.

He looks at me, a ghost of a smirk painted on his lips. We stand outside a red-lit bar. It's plain and simple, but also mysterious. The red light from the club illuminates out on the sidewalk. Strangely dressed people scatter the sidewalk outside, mostly dressed in expensive and elaborate outfits. Their eyes glisten in the dim light, some pupils shining red and some a bright yellow-white. "C'mon it's Midnite's, he's a good friend" he re-assures, dragging me into the sketchy building.

     I wasn't keen on going in the first place, but it's the only way that I'll be able to find my mother with the chair. I'm simply just a newbie to this whole heaven-and-hell thing, and I'm scared. I'm scared of using the chair, I'm scared of half-breeds, I'm scared of fighting demons, I'm scared going to hell, and I'm scared to lose John. I'm so fucking scared of losing John. He promised he'll never die, he'll only die when his asshole of a father decides he wants to bring him down to hell. His time is merely on another persons hands; never really knowing when his time is up.

We walk in, pattering down the carpet stairs. The club remains red, colors and shapes distorted with the odd lighting. We walk up the bouncer, a tall buff man in a vest and hat towering over me. He meets about eye level with John, fighting for dominance. A velvet rope separates us from the club blocking us out. The tall man holds up a card, the back facing us. How is John supposed to read the card? The back is facing him, he can't see it.

"Two frogs on a chair" John mutters like it's a usual thing to him.

My mouths hangs open a little, brows knitting. The bouncer nods, letting John in by lifting the rope. I try to follow, the rope quickly being closed off against my legs. John looks at me, a fresh cigarette in his mouth. The bouncer holds up another card towards me, my mouth opening and closing. The card stirs in my head, trying to figure it out. My mind feel voluntary, like it somehow knows the answer. My mouth opens on it's own command, speaking without thinking.

"A rat in a dress" I mutter, shocked by my answer.

My hand flies to my mouth, confused on how I knew the answer. The bouncer nods, letting me reunite with John. He looks at me with a skeptical look, taking a drag of his cigarette. We share a look, quickly proceeding into the club. It looks like most clubs, furniture and couches decorating the open area. It's not the club that's off, it's the people. Well they aren't even people to be exact. Groups and pairs accompany each other, some of them too close for comfort. Pupils of red and white glimmer throughout the club, revealing that they aren't exactly human.

"John, what if Midnite says no?" I shout over the loud music. He shrugs, cigarette hanging from his mouth. Right, okay then. We walk through crowds of people, leaning in close to John so I don't get lost. We finally reach the back of the never ending club, John coming to a halt. We stop, standing in front of a padded door. John's face is blank, starring at the door while he takes small drags of his burning cigarette. He looks hotter then usual in the lighting, the red lights casting against his dark hair and strong features. He catches me staring, giving me a caught-you-staring look.

The door opens by itself, slowly revealing a separate room. John leads me in, the smoke in the room hitting my nostrils. The room is slightly hotboxed, my eye catching a man at the back of a room. He sits at a table, relics and candles surrounding him. He's oddly still, his only movement is taking the blunt between his lips out and in. This guy is supposed to help me? The door shuts behind us with a thud, revealing two scary security guards. The man in the back of the room who I assume to be Midnite is dressed in a head to toe red suit, the color contrasting against his dark skin.

"Ah, John Constantine. What brings you back?" Midnite asks, tipping his hat down. John leads me to the chairs at the table, the two of us taking a seat. The smell of weed fills my nostrils, the insides of my nose slightly burning. John leans over and taps the ash on his cigarette in the ashtray on the table, sighing. He stays silent, simply looking at me and then back to Midnite. "No" Midnite instantly chimes, taking a sip of scotch from in front of him. John tips his head, not surprised at the answer. "C'mon Midnite, I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important, you know that" John shoots back.

"John, I said no, did I not? She doesn't look like she's a day fresh out of hell and you want to send her back?" Midnite snickers, scanning me up and down. I adjust uncomfortably in my seat, quickly becoming self conscious under his cold stare. John leans back, analyzing the situation. "Midnite, I'm not going to beg. She needs to know If her mother is down with her old man or not" John says, looking at me. I swallow, a lump forming in my throat at the thought of my mother. She didn't deserve to die. She would still be here if I just visited her a day earlier. I could have protected her. "Why is her mother down there anyway?" Midnite questions, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips.

"She committed suicide" John replies with an eye roll. The knife in my gut gets twisted further, my face contorting to give John a dirty look. "She was murdered" I correct him, looking at Midnite. "She speaks" he laughs, drawing his attention back to John. This guy. What an asshat. "John, why are you helping her?" Midnite continues, questioning the man beside me. John pulls his cigarette from his lips, letting it burn between his fingers for a moment. His eyebrows knit, mind wondering. I meet his eyes, thinking the same thing as Midnite. John holds eyes for a moment too long for comfort, his brown brooding eyes searching mine.

"Because she's different. Not because her father is lucifer, but because she's different. She doesn't know it, but she knows why the demons are trying to come through onto our plane" John explains, looking back at me. There's a different look on his face, one I've never seen before. His emotional guard is down, his eyes soft and understanding. The look only lasts for a moment, quickly looking back at Midnite. Midnite's eyes dart between John and I, sipping slowly from his glass of scotch. I can see the clockwork working, his mind pondering. How do I know about the demons trying to come through? If I knew something like that I would tell John. Unless my father is playing his usual game of cat and mouse, and I have to act like a detective to figure it out.

"Fine, just this one time. But if the girl dies in the chair, you deal with the body" Midnite answers quietly.

"Die?" I ask, sitting up in my chair.