Constantine: Reigning Chaos

The Joker sat comfortably in an abandoned carnival. His feet propped up on a barrel, sipping a glass of champagne while contemplating his next grand act of mayhem. The room was littered with maps, newspapers, and half-scribbled notes, each one representing a potential masterpiece of madness. He hummed a little tune to himself, pleased with his most recent accomplishment, escaping Arkham Asylum went perfectly according to plan. As he plotted his next move, something caught his eye. An orange-striped cat was pacing around the room in a peculiar fashion. Joker squinted, curiosity piqued. Suddenly, the cat’s body shuddered and shifted, and from its mouth emerged Klarion the Witch Boy, his eerie, boyish face twisted in frustration. “It’s not fair!” Klarion snapped, stomping his foot. “Some powerful sorcerer defeated me by using a mortal! A pathetic, pitiful mortal! I demand my own mortal! Someone worthy, someone truly chaotic!” Klarion’s eyes zeroed in on the Joker, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “And who better than you, Clown Prince? Nobody in this observable universe is more chaotic than you.” Joker tilted his head, eyeing the strange boy with amusement. “You want me to be your little play thing? Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t do partnerships. Or slavery. Or whatever you’re on about.” With a flick of his wrist, Joker tossed a small device at Klarion, which exploded into a cloud of green gas. Joker laughed wildly, but his mirth was cut short as Klarion emerged from the smoke completely unharmed, looking more annoyed than impressed. With a snap of his fingers, Klarion caused the gas to warp into a swarm of fireflies that swirled around Joker’s head. The Clown Prince swatted at them before they vanished with a pop. Joker’s grin returned, wider and more intrigued than before. “Alright, kid. You’ve got my attention. Let’s play.”
Constantine leaned against the pool table, cigarette hanging from his lips as he eyed the shot. The dim, hazy light of the dive bar did little to hide the mix of admiration and frustration from the poor sods he’d just hustled out of their cash. He gave them a cocky smirk, casually flicking the ash from his cigarette before lining up his next move. The cue slid effortlessly between his fingers as he murmured a small charm under his breath, just enough to nudge luck his way. The eight-ball cracked against the rail and sunk into the corner pocket. Easy money. As Constantine collected his winnings, a new voice cut through the room, low and raspy. “Fancy a game, mate?” Constantine looked up to see a new challenger stepping forward, a man with a battered old bowler hat, his hands resting casually on a pool cue. Constantine’s eyes narrowed. There was something off about this guy, but he wasn’t one to back down from a wager. “Sure,” he drawled. “Let’s see what you got.” The game began, but something was wrong from the start. Every time Constantine tried a subtle trick, making a ball swerve just right or willing the cue to stay on course, it backfired spectacularly. His shots clattered uselessly against the rails while the stranger sank ball after ball with impossible precision, all while humming a jaunty little tune. Frustration gave way to suspicion. Constantine wasn’t losing because of bad luck, someone else was tampering with fate. Finally, the stranger lined up his final shot, the eight-ball poised to end the game. But instead of taking the shot, he picked up the ball, examined it, and then casually threw it onto the table. The ball cracked open like an egg, and from it sprang a tiny dragon, no bigger than a housecat, with flickering flames for eyes. Constantine stumbled back, cursing as the creature hissed and snapped at his ankles. The stranger cackled with glee, his voice rising to a manic pitch. Constantine’s eyes widened as the man ripped the hat off his head, revealing pale white skin and a mass of green hair. “Surprise!” Joker sang, tossing his hat aside. “Nothing like a friendly game of pool to make new friends!” Before Constantine could react, Joker snatched a handful of darts from the board on the wall, flinging them with unnatural speed. They caught fire mid-air, streaking toward Constantine, who barely had time to raise a protective ward. Instead, the darts went wide, embedding themselves into the tiny dragon, which screeched once before collapsing on the floor, dead. Joker huffed, tapping his chin in thought. “Shoot,” he muttered. Just then, the dead dragon’s mouth stretched open, and a familiar voice hissed through it, dripping with annoyance. “Stop breaking the new toys I’m giving you!” Klarion’s tone was unmistakable, echoing out of the dragon’s corpse. Constantine’s brain caught up to the madness. Klarion. Joker. Chaos magic. This wasn’t just a simple setup, it was a nightmare. He tried summoning a counter-spell, but Joker just kept coming, producing one chaotic magical object after another, each one more ridiculous and lethal than the last. As Joker approached with a fish with teeth cahattering like a chainsaw, one lucky slip on a discarded cue stick gave Constantine the opening he needed to create a diversion. A quick, whispered spell sent a cascade of pool balls bouncing across the room, crashing into tables and shattering glasses. Joker laughed uproariously at the spectacle, momentarily distracted. Constantine took his chance, bolting out the back door into the alley, heart pounding. Back inside, Joker twirled on his heel, giggling to the dragon’s corpse, “Well, little fella, that was fun! We really gave your friend Constantine hell. But now it’s time to play fair and visit my buddy, Batman!”
Constantine grumbled under his breath as he glared at the massive golden doors of the Tower of Fate. He’d tried every trick in the book, channeling incantations, old sigils traced in the air, even a bit of old-fashioned brute force. Nothing. It was like Fate had changed the locks and put up a magical “no solicitors” sign just for him. With a heavy sigh, he curled his knuckles and knocked them against the intricate carvings, knowing it wouldn’t work but not having much else to lose. The doors reacted instantly, pulsing with eldritch energy before launching him backward through the air. He landed hard in the overgrown grass, muttering a string of expletives as he pulled himself up and dusted off his trench coat. “Persistent as always,” came a calm, almost amused voice from behind him. Constantine twisted around to see Doctor Fate, hovering a few feet off the ground, arms crossed. Constantine grimaced. “Would it kill you to answer the bloody door like a normal person?” Fate didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Why are you here, Constantine?” Still brushing dirt from his coat, Constantine fixed Fate with a glare. “I’m here because Klarion’s up to his usual tricks, only this time he’s roped in a right maniac to do his dirty work. A bloke you might’ve heard of, the Joker.” Fate’s expression remained impassive, as if he were trying to calculate just how little he could care. Constantine wasn’t having it. “Ring any bells? Joker? Gotham’s psychotic pain in the arse?” Fate didn’t react. “Klarion’s chaos is hardly a threat worthy of my attention. He’s an annoyance at best.” Constantine snorted. “That so? Seem to recall the last time we dealt with that brat, I saved your golden arse.” The glint in Fate’s helm seemed almost annoyed. “You are mistaken. The last threat that required our combined efforts was Equinox. You assisted in resolving that conflict.” “Assisted?” Constantine scoffed. “I saved the day. And anyway, you called me back then. So, here I am, returning the favor.” Fate sighed, a sound like the wind rustling through his helm. “Incorrect again. I called for Jason Blood. You arrived instead. A most unfortunate turn of events.” Constantine clenched his jaw but didn’t rise to the bait. “Right. Well, Klarion’s going mad out there, and he’s given the Joker a bunch of enchanted toys. It’s not just chaos, it’s bloody magical anarchy. You’re really not going to give me a hand?” Fate remained unbothered. “Klarion is best left to his own devices. If you are incapable of managing one troublesome warlock and his accomplice, then perhaps you need the practice. Besides,” Fate added with a hint of finality, “the individual more suited to deal with Joker’s antics resides in Gotham.” Constantine glared at the tower doors again, his fists clenched. “You’re serious? You’re just gonna leave me to deal with Klarion and Joker alone?” Fate didn’t answer, instead vanishing as effortlessly as he’d appeared, leaving Constantine alone on the grass, fuming and already mentally preparing for a trip to Gotham.
Gotham was in chaos. Klarion and the Joker had teamed up to unleash pure bedlam on the city, and it took everything Batman and Robin had just to keep up. Joker was running rampant over rooftops while Klarion lounged nearby, flicking his fingers lazily to make objects levitate and explode. Robin barely avoided a burst of flaming confetti that singed his cape, and Batman had just managed to disarm a jack-in-the-box that spewed corrosive glitter. Klarion laughed, delighted with the pandemonium, and Joker whooped in agreement, conjuring a deck of razor-sharp playing cards and flinging them like shuriken. Batman blocked them with his gauntlet, but even his precision couldn’t keep up with the barrage, drawing blood from his tricep. Then, amid the chaos, a familiar voice cut through the madness. “Oi! Why don’t you lot pick on someone with fewer bats in the belfry?” The four of them turned to see John Constantine sauntering onto the scene, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the magical mayhem. Klarion’s smirk faltered just a bit, while Joker’s grin grew wider. “Ah, the great trench-coated wonder! Miss me?” Joker cackled. “Here to join the party?” Constantine ignored him, locking eyes with Klarion. “Thought you’d be content terrorizing stray cats and toddlers. But no, you had to drag the Clown Prince of Crime into your nonsense.” With Constantine’s arrival, the tide seemed to shift. Klarion muttered something under his breath, and the odd magics Joker wielded began to flicker. Joker pouted. “Spoilsport.” In the next moment, Batman and Robin seized the opportunity to push forward, striking back and forcing Klarion and Joker to regroup. Klarion hissed in irritation, waving Teekl to his side. “Not fair, not fair at all!” Joker yelled as Klarion snapped his fingers, teleporting them both away in a shimmer of chaotic energy. As the dust settled, Batman looked over at Constantine, expression stern and expectant. “Explain.” Constantine gave a tired shrug. “Long story short, Klarion wanted a chaotic mortal to play with. Naturally, he picked the biggest nutter in the room. Gave Joker a bunch of enchanted trinkets. Now they’re running around like kids with a chemistry set and no supervision.” Batman took a moment, processing the information. “And Klarion thought Joker was the most chaotic mortal he could find?” Constantine gave him a pointed look. “You gonna argue with him?” Robin raised an eyebrow. “And how are we supposed to stop them?” Batman’s eyes narrowed, already calculating. “If Joker’s using magic, we need a way to counter it.” He looked at Constantine. “You’re familiar with Klarion’s work. Ideas?” Constantine scratched the back of his neck, muttering, “I might have something. But it’s gonna get messy.” Batman nodded. “We’ll deal with it.” As Constantine rifled through his pockets for a talisman, he noticed Batman giving him a sidelong glance. “Something on your mind, mate?” Batman hesitated. “In my studies, before I became Batman, I sought out knowledge in various disciplines. Learned from martial artists, detectives, even a few mystics.” Constantine gave a low whistle. “You? Learning magic?” Batman almost smirked. “Studied under a sorcerer named Giovanni. But it didn’t take. Apparently, I don’t have a natural affinity for it.” Constantine smirked back. “Lucky for you, I’ve got plenty to spare.” Robin just sighed. “Great. Two detectives, one with magic and one with gadgets, against a chaos witch and a clown. You guys should have fun together.” Constantine grinned, lighting a cigarette. “You have no idea, kid.”
Klarion was livid. His tantrum echoed through the abandoned carnival they’d chosen as their makeshift lair, his shrill voice bouncing off peeling funhouse mirrors and rusted ride tracks. Sparks of wild magic erupted around him, warping the space and leaving Joker grinning like a proud parent. Klarion kicked at a nearby carousel horse, which promptly neighed and galloped off on its own, crashing into a popcorn stand. Joker leaned back against the popcorn machine, which belched black smoke instead of kernels. “Y’know, kid, I thought I had temper issues,” he mused. “But you really take the cake. It’s like watching me at my worst, only with more glitter and fewer punchlines.” Klarion whipped around, eyes blazing, “That meddling sorcerer and his stupid friends keep ruining my fun! I had it all planned out, perfect, wonderful chaos, and now it’s all gone wrong!” Joker’s smile widened. “Plans never go as planned. That’s the fun of it. But, uh… what if I told you I had an idea to tip the scales in our favor? A way to make this magic mess stick.” Klarion glared, intrigued despite himself. “Go on.” Joker crouched down, whispering conspiratorially. “That furball of yours, Teekl, it’s cute and all, but it’s also the reason you’re stuck halfway between power and tantrum. You’re tethered to this mortal plane through that thing. So why not… upgrade? Kill the cat. Make me your new familiar. Tie your power to a mortal as chaotic as me. Imagine the possibilities.” Klarion blinked, the suggestion rolling around his head. Then, slowly, his mouth stretched into a sinister smile. “That’s insane.” Joker gave a low chuckle. “Yeah. And?” Klarion’s eyes widened with glee. “It’s perfect! Insane and perfect!” He grabbed Teekl, who meowed in protest, and whispered something to the cat before snapping its neck in one quick motion. The feline’s body convulsed, dissolving into glowing threads of arcane energy that danced in the air. Joker stepped into the swirling chaos, arms outstretched, as Klarion began chanting words older than the earth itself. As the ritual progressed, Joker’s body crackled with vibrant chaos energy. Klarion poured more and more magic into him, the colors around Joker intensifying, warping his form, his grin stretching wider than ever. Joker giggled, then laughed, then screamed with euphoric pain as his body absorbed every last spark Klarion could muster. Only when Joker’s laughter became more like a thunderclap did Klarion realize his mistake. He stopped chanting, but it was too late. Joker reached out and grabbed him by the collar, and Klarion could feel his very essence slipping away, draining into this mortal madman. Klarion’s form flickered, faded, and his eternal self was wrenched from the mortal realm, scattered into a whisper among the cosmos, now reduced to an echo. Joker staggered, blood oozing from his mouth, nose, and eyes, but he was alive. More than alive. He could feel the chaos magic thrumming within him, coursing through every cell. He flexed his fingers, and the ground beneath him rippled like liquid. A grin split his bleeding face, and he cackled maniacally as he conjured a king’s mantle around his shoulders, the fabric shimmering with flickering, chaotic patterns. A golden crown materialized, lopsided and jagged. He struck a regal pose, staring into the cracked mirror of the funhouse, eyes wide and gleaming. “Long live the King of Chaos,” he mused. Then, with a gleeful clap of his hands, he proclaimed, “I think I’ll kick off my reign of terror at the most chaotic spot on this miserable little rock, Viva Las Vegas!”
Las Vegas had always been a city that thrived on chaos, the glitz, the noise, the ever-turning wheel of fortune. But tonight, the chaos had taken on a life of its own. King Joker, bathed in swirling, multicolored energy, strutted down the Strip like he owned it. Buildings warped into spirals, neon signs blinked in incomprehensible symbols, and the famous fountains spouted rivers of grape soda. Tourists fled from a parade of walking playing cards that chased them with rubber mallets. A giant dice monster rolled down the boulevard, flattening cars with each lumbering turn. In the midst of this bedlam, Zatanna and Giovanni Zatara did their best to maintain some semblance of order. Zatanna cast a protective dome around a panicked crowd, while Zatara turned a pack of living poker chips back into harmless plastic. They fought back the tide of insanity, but for every illusion dispelled, three more sprang up. Overhead, the Bat-Plane cut through the sky, Batman at the controls and Constantine beside him, gripping the seat as if his life depended on it. Batman’s sharp gaze took in the surreal battlefield below, calculating their landing strategy. Then, without warning, the clouds turned pink and sticky, cotton candy spun itself around the plane’s wings, gumming up the works. The Bat-Plane sputtered, veering wildly, and with a grim determination, Batman aimed for a relatively clear patch on the ground. The plane crashed through a marshmallow billboard, skidding to a halt. Batman kicked open the hatch, helping Constantine out. “We alive?” Constantine muttered, brushing candy from his coat. Don’t sound so suprised,” Batman replied, eyes already scanning for the threat. Zatanna ran up to them, panting. “Are you two okay?” Constantine shot her a look. “Define ‘okay.’” Giovanni joined them, adjusting his top hat. “This is madness, pure, unfiltered chaos magic. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Batman’s mouth was a grim line. “It’s Joker. He’s using magic.” Giovanni shook his head in disbelief. “But this level of power, it’s not just any magic. It’s chaotic beyond reason. How did he get this strong?” Constantine muttered a curse. “Klarion. The Witch Boy must be using him as some twisted familiar. Now Joker’s in the driver’s seat.” Zatanna cast a spell to make a collapsing building spring back to shape, but she looked back at Batman. “How did you beat him last time? You faced Joker before.” Batman hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Last time... he surrendered. Checked himself into Arkham. I didn’t stop him, he just gave up.” Zatara looked alarmed. “That doesn’t help us now. We need to stop him, not wait for him to tire himself out.” As the four strategized, Joker’s manic laughter rang out, his kingly silhouette appearing on a nearby rooftop. He waved a golden scepter that shot confetti missiles into the sky, exploding into squawking rubber chickens. Zatanna clenched her fists. “We need Doctor Fate. This is way beyond our abilities.” Constantine huffed. “Tried that already. Fate couldn’t be bothered. Said this was small potatoes.” Giovanni didn’t look convinced, “That was before it escalated to this. We must try again.” He reached into his hat, pulling out the glimmering golden key. “We’ll go to the Tower of Fate directly.” Joker’s eyes widened from his vantage point, “Ooh! Did I hear a little field trip?” Before they could react, he stretched his fingers 80 feet, and yanked the key flew out of Giovanni’s hand, landing in Joker’s palm. Joker grinned down at them, waggling the key triumphantly. “You’re right! This is a great idea! I think I need a little check-up myself! I’m very sick myself and I hope he has rubber gloves.” With a flick of his wrist, he jabbed the key into thin air, twisting it as if unlocking an invisible door. A shimmering portal appeared, and with a flamboyant bow, Joker stepped through, cackling madly. The heroes could only watch as the portal closed behind him, leaving them stranded in Vegas.
The group stood frozen, staring at the now-empty space where Joker had just disappeared through the portal to the Tower of Fate. Constantine muttered a curse under his breath, lighting a cigarette with his hands. Zatanna’s frustration was palpable as she glanced between her father and the remnants of cotton candy gumming up the Bat-Plane. “We really screwed the pooch on this one,” Constantine grumbled, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the chaos around them. Zatanna turned to him, arms crossed. “You’re a magic user, can’t you just make us a new portal to the tower?” Constantine shook his head, almost embarrassed. “Fate locked me out. Apparently, I’m not welcome anymore. Guess saving his life once didn’t buy me a lifetime pass.” Giovanni pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly restraining his frustration. “This is why no one takes you seriously, Constantine. You’re reckless. Irresponsible. Immature. You treat magic like a parlor trick instead of the force it truly is.” Constantine raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Didn’t know I was auditioning for ‘Son of the Year.’ Thought we were dealing with a chaos god in clown makeup.” Batman stepped between them, his tone firm but calm. “Enough. We need to stay focused.” He looked pointedly at Giovanni, and the older magician sighed, twirling his mustache. After a moment, Giovanni collected himself, nodding. “Alright. There might be another way in.” Zatanna perked up. “Another way? You mean a secret entrance to the Tower of Fate?” Her father hesitated, clearly weighing his next words. “There was... a time when I may have found a backdoor into the tower. You know, during my younger days.” Zatanna smirked, “Your bad boy era?” Giovanni said nothing, and the silence spoke volumes. Batman gave a barely perceptible nod, prompting Giovanni to continue. “There’s a vacation home in New Orleans that used to belong to the Kents, a safehouse of sorts. The sliding closet door inside can be persuaded to act as a passage to the tower.” Constantine raised an eyebrow. “The Kents? Didn’t peg old Fate for the beach house type.” Batman didn’t waste time on the banter. “New Orleans. How fast can we get there?” Zatanna eyed the Bat-Plane, still stuck in the sticky mess of Joker’s chaos magic. She stepped forward, murmuring an incantation under her breath. A nearby fire hydrant burst open, spewing a jet of water that sliced through the cotton candy cocoon around the plane’s wings, dissolving the sticky mess until the Bat-Plane stood free once more. Constantine gave her a disapproving nod. “Oh, I hate you, love.” Zatanna shot him a look. “Maybe you should grow wings and fly then.” Batman was already moving toward the plane, motioning for the others to follow. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.” As they piled into the plane, Constantine glanced back at Giovanni. “So... breaking and entering into Fate’s house? Gotta say, I like you more and more.” Giovanni rolled his eyes. “Just get in. The sooner we fix this mess, the sooner I can forget this conversation.”
The Tower of Fate seemed to ripple with distortion as Chaos King Joker and Doctor Fate clashed within its twisting halls. Magical blasts collided, lighting up the vast, warped spaces with bursts of chaotic energy and shimmering golden light. Joker was laughing madly, every strike met with unpredictable retaliation as he floated mid-air in his kingly garb, his eyes wild with the thrill of the fight. “Oh, Doc, I have to say, you’re quite the dance partner!” Joker cackled, ducking under a glowing ankh that split into spectral serpents. He twirled with glee, conjuring a bouquet of explosive roses that detonated harmlessly against Fate’s protective aura. “Finally! Someone actually worth my time. You’re not just some sad sack in a cape, are you?” Fate remained silent, focusing on subduing the unbridled chaos threatening to tear apart the tower’s sanctity. Joker grinned, “But here’s the thing,” Joker continued, balancing on a floating chunk of marble, one leg crossed over the other. “For all your magic, all your power... you still have the same Achilles’ heel as any mortal.” His voice dropped to a sinister whisper. “A loved one.” Joker didn’t wait for a reaction, dashing through the noneuclidean corridors with manic speed, twisting through impossible angles and doorways that looped back on themselves. Fate followed, desperation creeping into his normally stoic demeanor. Joker was moving with purpose now, his mad laughter echoing through the bending architecture. Joker’s footsteps were quick, but his method was cunning, darting down hallways seemingly at random, yet always veering closer and closer to where Enza was hidden. Every time Fate unleashed a hash attack, Joker seemed to revel in it, sidestepping or redirecting the blow with a flick of his chaos-infused hand. The closer he got to Enza, the harder Fate fought. “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Joker taunted, pushing open a door that had appeared out of thin air. His smile widened as he spotted Enza, standing in the center of an ethereal garden that defied gravity, vines spiraling toward the vaulted ceiling. Fate materialized in the doorway just in time to see Joker conjure a feather boa that slithered through the air, wrapping around Enza’s neck like a colorful, constricting serpent. Joker pulled on the boa, making it tighten with a jerk. “Now, now, Doc, no funny business. One more step, and this pretty little scarf will eat her alive. Now, why don’t you do us all a favor and take off that chrome dome?” Doctor Fate froze, golden light shimmering around his form as Nabu’s presence resisted. “Don’t hurt her,” he pleaded, the weight of helplessness sinking in. He reached up to remove the helmet, but his hands wouldn’t move any closer. Nabu’s essence locked them in place, refusing to yield to human desire. Joker tilted his head, fascinated. “Oh, you’d love to save her, wouldn’t you? But you’re not really in charge here, are you? You’re just a puppet with a fancy hat!” He leaned closer, whispering into Enza’s ear with a wicked grin. “Tell me, do you think he’d sacrifice you just to keep playing hero?” Fate struggled, trying once more to reach for the helmet, but it wouldn’t budge. The ancient magic held firm, and Fate knew that without Nabu’s blessing, he could do nothing. The laughter rang out again, louder and more manic, as Joker tightened his grip, watching Fate’s futile resistance with glee.
Just as the suffocating tension reached its breaking point, the team of heroes burst into the Tower. Batman led the charge, followed closely by Constantine, Zatanna, and Giovanni. They skidded to a halt at the sight of the standoff, Joker holding Enza hostage, the feather boa tightening around her neck with every manic tug. Joker barely acknowledged them, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Oh look, company. What a pity.” He gave the boa another vicious yank, and Enza’s face contorted in pain. “No!” Fate cried out, golden light crackling around his fists. He lunged forward, but Joker sidestepped, pulling Enza in front of him like a twisted human shield. Fate’s hands hovered, glowing with power, but unable to risk hurting her. Constantine shot a panicked glance at the others, then barked out, “Oi, clown!” He bolted toward the opposite side of the room, catching Joker’s attention for just a second. Taking the cue, Zatanna and Giovanni split off, flanking Joker from both sides, each drawing on their own magical reserves. Energy crackled in the air, the pressure of their combined power like a storm about to break. Joker’s eyes flicked between them, his smile slipping just a fraction. He backed up, cornered and calculating. “Well, well, well,” he mused, weighing his options with a mocking hum. “Odds aren’t looking too good now, huh? Suppose there’s only one thing left to do… Go out with a bang!” His grin widened, and with a final, brutal pull, the boa erupted in a burst of feathers. The heroes flinched, and as the plumes settled, Enza collapsed to the ground, lifeless. Fate’s scream shattered the room. “NO!” He surged forward, righteous fury fueling his every move. Joker barely had a chance to blink before Fate was on him, golden fists pounding into him with relentless force. Joker tried to laugh, tried to conjure some of his chaos magic to fight back, but Fate didn’t relent. Constantine took advantage of the opening, fire licking at her fingers before she hurled a scorching bolt into Joker’s chest. Zatanna, fueled by both grief and rage, whispered a spell through clenched teeth, sending a hex crashing into Joker’s side, knocking him further into Fate’s assault. Giovanni followed with a blast of arcane light, hitting Joker square in the gut. Joker stumbled, still grinning despite the blood now trickling from his mouth. He managed to conjure a twisted, sparkling scepter, but before he could even swing it, Fate shattered it with a single, crushing blow. “Pathetic,” Fate hissed, his voice layered with Nabu’s anger. He caught Joker by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The maniac still tried to giggle, his laugh now strained and choked. Constantine stepped closer, his own magic swirling dangerously around his hands. “You’re done, Joker,” he spat, eyes cold as he aimed another spell.
Fate stood over the defeated Chaos King Joker, his golden armor gleaming with the residual energy of the battle. With a wave of his hand, arcane chains erupted from the floor, wrapping around Joker’s limbs and pinning him down. Joker’s manic laughter was little more than a rasp, his chaotic power dwindling, “Kinky.” Doctor Fate raised his hands, ancient symbols blazing to life in the air. An intense arcane spell took shape, burning with the purifying essence of order magic. Joker writhed as the searing light surged through him, tendrils of chaotic energy recoiling and dissipating into the ether. When the last of the magic settled, Joker was left trembling, his power diminished, but his smile never fully fading. Without hesitation, Fate turned to Constantine, his voice like thunder, “End him. You, of all people, have the means. The chaos within you can extinguish what remains of him.” Constantine hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he approached Joker. He muttered a half-hearted curse under his breath, but his hand still glowed with destructive intent. Just as he readied to strike, a shadow stepped between them. “No,” Batman said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Constantine raised an eyebrow, but Batman didn’t budge. “We don’t kill. A life for a life doesn’t maintain order, Fate. It only breeds more chaos.” Joker, barely conscious, let out a choked laugh. “Aw, Bats... always knew you had a soft spot for me. Good ol’ friend...” Fate’s glowing eyes flashed with anger, his hands still crackling with restrained power. “He murdered Enza. He tore apart the balance of magic itself. This isn’t justice, it’s necessity.” Giovanni stepped forward, his face stern but composed. “Kent, listen to reason. The chaos has been driven out. He’s human again. Killing him now would make us no better than him.” Fate didn’t move, his resolve still like iron. He looked at Constantine, as if daring him to defy Batman’s decision. Constantine glanced between them, his usual indifferent demeanor momentarily replaced with a rare look of rage. Then, Fate thrust a finger at Constantine, eyes blazing. “Take him and leave. All of you. Take Joker out of my tower, and never return.” Batman gave a nod motioned for Zatanna and Giovanni to help Constantine drag the barely conscious Joker out. Giovanni hesitated, looking back to say something more, but Fate’s figure remained rigid, silent, and resolute. Before anyone could argue, Fate uttered a single word, and in a blinding flash of golden light, the heroes found themselves back outside the tower, Joker slumped in Constantine’s arms, mumbling incoherently. The Tower loomed above them, silent once more, before vanishing from view.
The group gathered outside the Tower of Fate, the air still tense with the aftermath of the battle. Joker lay slumped at their feet, grinning up at the sky, his laughter reduced to a faint, erratic giggle. Batman kept his eyes fixed on the villain while Constantine lit a cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke into the evening air. “We’re lucky Fate let us walk out of there,” Giovanni muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. Batman gave a tight nod. “I’ll take care of the clown. Make sure he’s locked away where he can’t do any more damage.” Constantine scoffed, taking a long drag. “Right. Lock him away, just like the last bloody time. Might as well tie a bow on him for the next breakout. You know it, Bats, sooner or later, people are going to die because of this freak. And we could end it right now.” Batman turned, his voice low and firm. “We don’t kill.” Constantine stepped forward, voice rising with conviction. “No, you don’t kill. The rest of us don’t have the luxury of playing pretend that your moral code means something. How many more bodies have to pile up before you get it through that thick skull of yours? Maybe the good doctor was right, should’ve let him end this while we had the chance.” Batman’s jaw clenched, and his hand moved to his belt. “Your moral code is the joke, John. You’re no better than the chaos you pretend to fight. Killing him won’t fix what’s broken, it’ll just make you like him.” A red glow flickered to life in Constantine’s palm, and he took a step forward, his eyes sharp and cold. “Maybe that’s the point, mate. Maybe someone’s got to get their hands dirty to keep the rest of you clean.” Before things could escalate, Zatanna stepped between them, hands raised. “Enough! It’s over. We’re done with this madness. You two don’t have to like each other, but you’re both on the same side, or at least, you’re supposed to be. Let it go.” The tension lingered, but slowly, the glow faded from Constantine’s hand, and Batman relaxed his grip on the batarang. He looked at Zatanna, then back at Constantine. “Our paths should have no need to cross again.” Constantine snorted. “Feeling’s mutual, mate.” Just then, the Bat-Plane swooped low overhead, and Batman shot his grapple skyward. As it reeled him up, Joker clung to his side, cheerfully kicking his feet as he ascended. “Weeeee!” he cackled. Constantine shook his head, rubbing his temples. “And they call that one a hero. Bloody hell.”
The screen fades in from black, revealing the familiar, imposing silhouette of Arkham Asylum looming against the night sky. The Bat-Plane lands just outside the gates, and Batman drags a cuffed and battered Joker down the steps. Joker limps along, still grinning through bruised lips, his voice light and mocking. As they approach the entrance, Joker chuckles. “You know, Bats, any sane man would’ve just let me die back there. Hell, Fate had the right idea. But not you. Nah, you’re too noble for that, aren’t you? Or maybe... maybe you belong in here with the rest of us crazies.” Batman doesn’t respond, his jaw set, eyes fixed forward. They reach the doorway where Aaron Cash stands, arms crossed, his gaze hardening as he takes in the sight of the Joker. Batman gives Cash a brief nod. “He’s all yours.” Cash grabs the Joker by the collar, his grip firm, and Joker just grins wider. As Batman turns to walk away, Joker calls after him, his voice high and sing-song, “Had a wonderful time on our date, Bats! I’m looking forward to the next one!” Batman doesn’t look back, his cape billowing as he disappears into the darkness. Cash shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he drags Joker inside. Joker just hums a little tune, satisfied despite it all.

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