For: Mischiefandice

[soulisfucked]

The city was a mess. Life was a mess. Everything was a--"Fucking mess. Fucking shit everything is fucked up." The young Exorcist barked as he threw the researches off of his table--"SHIT!" He had broken his right wrist from the battle he had last been with a mere half Demon, if he knew that one bad move would have costed him a few days of broken wrist, maybe then he would have just gone for the overkill, but it didn't matter now because it was going to cost him maybe even weeks of limp fighting, or even more at the rate of him continuing to ruin the healing process of it. "Fuck it all." He grumbled in the thought of that irritation, kicking his chair down and onto the floor from the piling frustration.

He was frustrated, maybe it was his young age that made him so impatient? Why was he looking for so much desperate ways to buy his way into Heaven? It had been weeks since he had the encounter with the bloodied sadist of a bitch, Lucifer. Had his words really gotten embedded into his brain that he was beginning to be that desperate for a key? A key that will assure his stay in Heaven and voided from the sight of Lucifer?

"How many--fucking demons and fucking--what am I fucking missing?!"

John had read somewhere of Gods, Gods of Thunder--Norse Gods. Shit, he would even steal a shit ton of high school mythology books if it meant that he would be able to summon--no, get the attention of these /Gods/.

Don't do it John. You'll regret it. Don't do it.
John could careless about Gabriel's words, he was a fucking Angel out of Heaven due to his own fuck up--so why the fuck should he listen to his warnings now? His eyes shot out in all directions as he thought, looking at the researches, warnings, how bad could a Norse God be? Couldn't be worse than what Lucifer was. Couldn't be as annoying and irritating as Gabriel was. Couldn't be more cold shoulder than fucking Michael was. Norse God couldn't be worse than what both Heaven and Hell sent him. Right?

Besides, if anything were to go wrong, John will fight back. He'll blast him with the Dragon's Breath he had gotten from Beeman. Sure he was told to return it but when it comes to fighting someone with a level of "God" in their name in some way or another? That could be inevitable. "I've been doing NOTHING but fucking ass-fucking demons back to Hell, how the fuck is that supposed to get some fucking piece of shit God to even come to me? Huh?" He picked up his raggedy pack of cigarette off of the table to take out a stick, placing it in between his lip before lighting with his Zippo. "...it has been for fuck sake...months. I haven't had a day off." Cringed his eyes closed before taking a drag of his stick and placing it over the ashtray on the counter to let out the deathly smoke into the air before flashing his middle finger up to his ceiling, "Yeah--Yeah fuck you too!" He swallowed hard before placing the stick back in between his lips, whispering under his breath, "Fuck my life."

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[mischiefandice]

Loki looked at the ugly creature crawling on the ground in front of him and sniffled. He was not overly too fond of demons. He could hold his own against most of them easily but they were dumb, too dumb to be entertaining. Having a master and a clear agenda made them entirely too predictable. It was sometimes amusing to ruin their plans still, if only because that meant he'd have to run from Lucifer afterwards.

Running from the Devil was one of the very few things that still proved challenging to Loki, these days. Lucifer had his ways of knowing where to find him and how to bind him, and it'd taken several days to heal last time he'd been caught, and weeks to get the smell of brimstone out of his hair. Still, it had been worth it, if only to disturb Hell's carefully laid-out plans.

Not that Loki was on the side of Heaven, mind you. He wasn't on anyone's side, for that matter, but at least the demons were amusing enough. Loki was all for chaos-making and wrecking havoc on the unfortunate souls that happened to cross his path, but the ridiculous war going on between Heaven and Hell for the salvation or condemnation of mankind was really none of his concerns. It had been going forever, too, and Loki wondered when both sides would finally admit that there was no point to it. Never, most likely, so the war would be going on for just as long.

What did the war of Good and Evil matter to a Pagan God anyway?

Still, one had to keep busy and Loki was not above going back and forth between sides, playing cruel tricks on angels and demons alike, dooming and saving mortals depending on his mood.

Which had brought him to ruin the plans of the creature before him, half-destroying it before it could even begin to take corporeal form on Earth. Loki had been about to kill it when the demon had began screeching about something potentially interesting.

Constantine, it'd said, like the word burnt his mouth. It might have, after all. He knew the name, had heard it whispered with equals measures of hatred and fear amongst demons and some angels as well. Constantine, the most gifted exorcist anyone had seen in a while, and he was researching Norse mythology?

Very curious, Loki thought, as he stepped on the creature's throat. And definitely worth investigating.

To Constantine's credit, it actually took Loki a while to find out where he lived, a small apartment so crammed with spells and sigils to keep every creature under the sun away, so carefully concealed that it stood out, if you knew what you were looking for. The demon hadn't lied either, books and spells more or less accurately taken from Norse mythology and magic cluttering every available surface when Loki looked, pushing through the invisible barrier of Constantine's spells cautiously.

He cloaked himself in shadows and stood by the door, trying to decipher whether Constantine's spells would try to stop him should he step forward, or give away his presence.

[soulisfucked]

John wasn't of his full potential yet, he was still young, only 22 with nothing but endless knowledge at the tip of his fingertips. All he had to do now was to take them all in, soak into it and use them to his advantage, which is exactly what he was doing. Sadly, he was still an amateur, if he was good as he should be getting, he would have gotten out of every demon fight he had been without a scratch, especially those being powerless bottom feeders of Hell. If only he was able to finally just get his mind settled--"FUCK!" John shouted as the last of his nerves began to shrivel into weed. He smashes the cigarette into his ashtray before flinching upon the pain on his wrist, he has strained it just to put out his cigarette. Shaking his wrist of pain, he stood up and massaged it a bit to numb the pain out, his eyes fixated upon his wrist before slowly pausing his actions upon a presence filling up his studio faster than a flood caused by a broken Hoover Dam.

"...what." His eyes glanced over to his door, he didn't know who it was but they weren't human. They also weren't anything the lines of something low as a demon or a low leveled Angel, oh no, this was something of much higher being. Had Gabriel heard his mind screaming in agony finally? Or was this just something else out of misfortune? Strangely, maybe his luck was finally working? Though, it really depended on who this being was. "Who the fuck are you?" John asked rather cockily, placing his right hand into his pocket, not wanting to show any weakness towards the stranger. "Your fucking presence say that you can just stroll into my studio, I mean you fucking found it. The fuck are you doing? Courtesy or something? Looking for my consent to come into my home?" He couldn't even think about reading this being's mind, not with his current abilities he couldn't. What the fuck was this being? "...who are you? Did Gabriel send you? That fucking half breed?" He didn't turn his back on the being before him, not once, only slowly strolling back as he leaned down to pick up his chair, his eyes not once looking away. He only had one weapon on the table, Dragon's Breath, but he hoped that it wouldn't have to go that far. In fact, he liked this studio enough for it to burn. "...Name's Constantine." He muttered before taking a seat and offering his previous seat to the stranger, "...John Constantine...though I'm sure you knew that, seeing that you are here...in my fucking studio." This presence, was new to John. Was this being a higher Angel? Higher Devil? Or was he even--, "...you a fucking God or something?"

[mischiefandice]

Loki very nearly jumped when Constantine suddenly yelled and stood up, aparently exasperated with what he had been reading. Ah, yes. Loki smirked thinly. Summoning a Norse God was no easy task. He noted the way John held his wrist with a grimace of pain with interest and was about to step forward, curious to see which Norse God Constantine had been trying to summon, when the man stopped, looking right at him.

It took him a second to realise that John could see him, or at least feel that he was there. Loki's magic was usually powerful enough to shield him from prying eyes. He stood very still, wondering how that was possible and whether Constantine was going to attack him, his eyes widening at the unceremonious way John addressed him.

He couldn't help but snort, raising an eyebrow, and slowly dropped the spell that held the shadows to him, revealing himself. He was wearing his full Asgardian armour (Loki was no fool – he knew Constantine was not to be under-estimated) and took nearly all the space between the door and the bookshelf, tall and imposing in the dim light.

He let Constantine talk, keeping quiet as the man asked question after question, his lips twitching up at the abundance of cussing that punctuated them. He tilted his head to the side at the mention of Gabriel but still didn't reply, stepping forward when Constantine stepped back and sat down, offering him a seat.

“I do know who you are,” he finally replied, slowly moving closer, feeling for traps and spells before he stood beneath the harsh light-bulb hanging from the ceiling. He seemed to bring shadow with him, filling the room in a way that was ominous and not entirely benevolent. He didn't sit down, considering John with shrewd eyes. “You were researching me. Us.” He nodded towards the discarded books mockingly. “I thought it would only be polite to pay a visit.”

[soulisfucked]

"Oh." John may be young, his abilities are no where near where it should be--way down the future. He didn't have the power and the cunning ability to trick the Fallen or God yet but until then, he'll do what ever he can. Who knew? Everything he was going through right now will be either beneficial or a stab in the back later. "I doubt that you're..." His eyes began to scan the God before him and then leaned down to pick up the piece of paper upon the floor, brushing away the ones he had failed to find interest in, "...you are different...not the old fuck on this photo." The paper he picked up, presenting to the God before him was the photo of how the humans depicted of 'Odin'. John never targeted any of those within the lower tier, not this Thor, not this Heimdall and not this Loki.

John, don't be too fucking cocky now, you will not benefit much by fighting anyone within the tiers of Gods.

A broken wrist could turn the tide of any fight be it human, demon or even God. "Very Fairy like of you," gently mocking as he slowly got himself up to look up at God before him, "Oh and don't worry." He pointed around his studio with his left hand, "No trap here--at least not for you. Other little shit pickers? Yeah. Yeah they're toast before they get into within a 100 feet of me." John made his way towards the kitchen to grab the half empty bottle of whiskey, placing two glasses along the side of his left wrist to bring it over to the table, "I need my bloody beauty sleep. Need to look good, I mean you never know when a lower God tier will come and..." The glasses were placed and whiskey began to pour into them, "Give you a lovely visit." Who knew, maybe this God could help him? Hell, he already tricked the Fallen, he already held the one-way ticket to Hell. "Loki. Right?" John brushed away one of the papers from the floor, revealing the paper with the photo of what the humans depicted of the Norse God: Loki. "Don't look like him but...my luck is usually right on the spot. It's the reason why I'm such a great con man." Synchronicity, it was the only ability on which John was doing smooth job on honing to perfection. "Let's get to the point, shall we?" He offered the half whiskey filled glass to the God, "Think that you can fucking help me get this one-way ticket to Hell...disappear?" John was going to be straightforward, he wasn't going to hide--"Not going to hide jackshit from you. It's what I want, it's what you may have the answers to."

[mischiefandice]

Loki could see that just looking at John, looking at the potential warped inside that scrawny body, bursting at the seams with power he did not know how to control yet. He seemed amused when Constantine didn't believe him at first, picking up a dusty piece of paper and looking at the picture. “These are old stories,” Loki explained, grinning a bit. “A lot has been changed and twisted, through the years.” He leaned forward to look at the picture himself, snorting. “The All-Father would not heed your plea. He hasn't bothered to come to Midgard in centuries.”

He chuckled openly at the comparison, raising an eyebrow at Constantine. “Is it?” he asked idly, watching John as he got up and gave him a once-over. “I can't decide whether to be flattered or offended,” he replied, smirking but not threatening. John was gloating, Loki thought, but he had every right to do so, after all.

He followed John with sharp eyes as he padded to the kitchen, coming back with glasses and a bottle of what looked like cheap whiskey. He seemed amused and perhaps a little mocking when Constantine mentioned needing to look good in case he had an important visit, watching him pour drinks. He had no intention to drink anything that came out of this bottle.

He seemed faintly surprised to be recognised so easily but didn't try to deny him. “What gave it away?” he asked dryly though he was quite curious to know. He stepped closer to look at the picture of himself. It looked nothing like him, apart perhaps for the mischievous smirk. He sneered a little at the eight-legged horse in the corner, looking up when John got to the point.

He took the glass without looking away, his eyes amused but intent. “Let's.” He swirled the whiskey inside the glass, tilting his head at John. “Why would a Norse God know anything about Heaven's ways?” he asked, reasonably. “And more importantly, why would I help you?” He sniffed the whiskey and made a face, putting the glass back on the table. “I am not Lucifer. I am not interested in striking deals.”

[soulisfucked]

John wasn't stupid, every god had their connection. It didn't matter if they were higher up or lower down, one way or another if it was tried anything can happen. "What gave it away...?" John repeated Loki's question before taking a seat upon his table, taking a sip from the glass with his eyes wondering the floor as if he were to sweet away all the dust and dirt on it. "Told you. Luck." It was the simplest and the most logical answer in John's book, it didn't make sense to some but to John, it made sense as the clear question of why do we breath? "And I know you are not Lucifer, if you were Lu, I would have summoned you and gambled away as if there's not a care in the world, as if he knew that he was going to win when the cards were set right. The problem was, at John's current age and status, all of his cards were fucking bluffs, and even Lu knew that and he could hear his laughter and mockery all the way down from the depths of Hell, just waiting for John to slip up.

"I mean if you can't then I understand, I'm sure that your brother would take the offer if I were to propose something." Yes, John was going to play that card, he always had a way of twisting situations be it one way or the worse, he was going to get what he wanted, even if it meant that he would piss off a God tier. He had maybe 3--no 4 minute head start if shits were to hit the fan, "Just because you're a Norse God, doesn't mean you don't have to know jack shit about Heaven, one way or another, there'll be a way...and besides, make this an I owe you shit. From my fucked up end. What ever you need in the future, I'll do my hell of a way to get shit back to you, anything, anything you want. Won't fuck up. Won't trick you. Won't fucking con your ass, as long as I get my one-way ticket to Hell gone. That's all. That ticket to be gone and out of my fucking time line. If it comes back in though...the deal is fucking off."

John wasn't going to get back on his words. He finished his glass and pulled out his sprained hand. If it was a deal, he was going to show this God that he wasn't fucking joking, but if anything were to hit the fan right now, John would run. He wouldn't get far, but at least having the 4 minute head start be it better than nothing. Sure he would lose his place but he can easily find a new place to stay with his wits end. It was an I owe you deal, John couldn't think of any better ways to make a deal with a low tiered God he knew literally jack shit about--he knew enough, but he didn't know shit to really have huge advantage. This was really him swinging the bat blindsided, his huge leap of stupidity which he will either think of as the luckiest trick he has ever to pull or be it the fucking death of him.

[mischiefandice]

Loki's eyes narrowed slowly, observing John sharply and trying to decide whether he was making fun of him or concealing the truth. “There is no such thing,” he replied dryly. Loki didn't believe in luck. The Universe was a harsh place and if the randomness of it sometimes ended up being in your favour, it was rarely due to sheer luck.

His eyebrows rose faintly at the idea that Constantine could summon Lucifer whenever he wanted and gamble with him freely. “A dangerous pastime. I prefer to stay away.” While they were some things Loki enjoyed about Lucifer, he generally tried not to bump into him too often. Lucifer was ancient, as ancient as Loki himself, and powerful in ways Loki was not, making him a formidable opponent.

Loki smirked at the obvious manipulation, snorting when Constantine mentioned Thor. He gave him a flat look that meant he would have to try harder, to find better tricks to play the Trickster. “You haven't done your research properly, then. I don't have a brother.” He sniffled, suddenly disdainful. “Thor's way of dealing with issues is to hit them with his hammer. And if that does not work, he hits harder. I fail to see how that would be of any help in your case.”

He suffered through the rest of John's attempt at persuading him, tilting his head to the side and giving off an air of mild boredom though he was listening fairly intently. “You would enter an open deal with the God of Mischief and Lies?” he asked, seemingly amused. “How desperate you must be.” He looked at John's out-stretched hand and stepped closer cautiously.

He reached out but didn't shake, instead taking John's bruised wrist in his hands carefully. Loki's fingers were cool and tingled oddly wherever he touched Constantine's skin as he inspected his sprained wrist lightly, his fingertips slipping over the aching muscles. “Did you try to strike this deal with someone else before me?” he mocked, meeting John's eyes.