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The thing wearing Constantine's face stepped through the dimensional breach with the casual confidence of someone returning home after a long journey. But this wasn't the Constantine who had died in the DC Universe this was something else, something that had been shaped by forces Constantine was only beginning to understand.
"Hello, John," the doppelganger said, its voice carrying just enough difference in accent and inflection to make Constantine's skin crawl. "Miss me?"
Zatanna's ritual circle collapsed the moment the entity fully manifested, the carved symbols cracking under the strain of containing something that shouldn't exist in this reality. She staggered backward, blood streaming from her nose, her face pale with exhaustion and something that might have been regret.
"You're not him," she whispered, staring at the newcomer with growing horror. "You're not the John Constantine I was trying to reach."
The false Constantine smiled, and the expression was all wrong too wide, too sharp, carrying undertones of malice that the real Constantine had never possessed even in his darkest moments. "Oh, but I am, love. Just not the version you remember." It gestured toward Constantine with mocking civility. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I'm what your beloved John might have become if he'd made different choices. If he'd embraced the darkness instead of fighting it."
Constantine felt Nergal tense beside him, the demon's form shifting into a more aggressive configuration. But Constantine held up a hand, keeping his ally in check. This situation required careful handling one wrong move could turn an abandoned subway platform into ground zero for a dimensional catastrophe.
"Let me guess," Constantine said, lighting a cigarette with steady hands despite the adrenaline coursing through his system. "You're from one of those parallel timelines where I said 'sod it' to doing the right thing and decided to become a proper bastard instead of just playing one on television."
"Something like that." The doppelganger began walking around the ruined ritual circle, its movements carrying the predatory grace of something that had learned to hunt humans for sport. "Though 'parallel timeline' doesn't quite capture the scope of what I am. Think bigger, John. Think about what happens when someone dies and their soul fragments across multiple realities, each piece developing along different moral trajectories."
The implications hit Constantine like a physical blow. If his counterpart was telling the truth, then his death in the DC Universe hadn't been clean parts of his soul had been scattered across the multiverse, each fragment becoming something new based on the choices it made in its new reality.
"You're me," Constantine said slowly, "but from a universe where I chose to serve the darkness instead of fighting it."
"Bingo." The false Constantine produced its own cigarettes the same brand Constantine smoked, but somehow they looked sinister in its hands. "And now that dear Zatanna here has provided me with a doorway into this delightful reality, I can finally complete my collection."
Zatanna stepped forward, her hands weaving protective wards in the air around herself. "I was trying to contact the John Constantine from the reality where magic still works properly. The one who could help me fix what's broken here." Her voice carried decades of frustration and loss. "I didn't know there were... other versions."
Constantine studied this version of Zatanna, noting the differences between her and the woman from his dreams. This Zatanna was older, harder, wearing scars both visible and psychological. Her stage magician's costume had been replaced by practical clothing designed for survival rather than performance.
"What's broken here?" Constantine asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
"Everything," Zatanna replied bitterly. "Magic in this reality has become too structured, too safe. The cosmic forces that used to respond to will and desperation now require permits and proper procedures. The old ways the dangerous ways that actually got results have been systematically suppressed by mystics who value order over effectiveness."
The false Constantine laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "She's been trying to restore the chaos to magic, Johnny. Bring back the days when a clever bastard with the right knowledge could tell the universe to sod off and make it stick." It took a drag of its cigarette and smiled with genuine admiration. "I quite like her approach."
Constantine felt pieces clicking into place. Zatanna's ritual hadn't been random she'd been specifically trying to contact a version of John Constantine who could teach her techniques that Marvel's structured magical system had forgotten or forbidden. She'd wanted his knowledge of chaos magic, of reality manipulation, of all the dangerous tricks that made the DC Universe's magic system so volatile and powerful.
"The problem," Constantine said, "is that you summoned the wrong version of me. He's not here to help he's here to recruit."
"Recruit?" Zatanna asked.
The false Constantine's smile widened. "Collect, actually. You see, each fragment of our original soul carries pieces of knowledge and power that the others lack. By absorbing them back into myself, I become stronger, more complete." It gestured toward Constantine with mock politeness. "This reality's John is particularly valuable he's learned to work within Marvel's structured system while retaining his chaos magic instincts. Quite the useful combination."
Nergal stepped forward, his massive form radiating menace. "Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged," the doppelganger replied pleasantly. "Though I should mention that demons from alternate realities tend to be rather fragile when removed from their native dimensional framework. Something about cosmic incompatibility."
Constantine could see the trap closing around them. The false Constantine wasn't just here to absorb him it was here to destabilize this entire reality by introducing chaos magic techniques that Marvel's cosmic order couldn't contain. And Zatanna, desperate to restore power to magic, was exactly the kind of ally it needed to accomplish that goal.
"There's a third option," Constantine said, flicking his cigarette into the darkness beyond the platform. "One that doesn't involve anyone getting absorbed, recruited, or dimensionally displaced."
Both versions of Zatanna and his doppelganger turned to look at him with expressions of curiosity and suspicion.
"I help Zatanna with what she actually needs," Constantine continued, "using techniques that work within Marvel's framework instead of trying to impose our reality's rules on this one. In exchange, my evil twin here goes back to whatever hole he crawled out of and stays there."
The false Constantine's laugh was like fingernails on a chalkboard. "And why would I agree to that when I could simply take what I want?"
"Because," Constantine said, feeling the dimensional energy he'd absorbed during Strange's test beginning to respond to his will, "you're operating under the assumption that I'm the same John Constantine you remember. But I've been learning, adapting, figuring out how power works in this reality." He smiled with genuine confidence for the first time since arriving in the Marvel Universe. "And you're about to discover that chaos magic and Marvel's structured system can be combined in very interesting ways."
The abandoned subway platform began to vibrate as Constantine reached out with senses he was still learning to use, tapping into the Universal Energies that flowed through Marvel's reality like blood through arteries. But instead of channeling that power through traditional spells, he applied chaos magic principles will over law, intention over protocol.
The results were immediate and dramatic. Reality around them began to shift and flux, concrete flowing like water, dimensions folding in on themselves as Constantine rewrote the local rules of physics through sheer force of will backed by cosmic power.
"Impossible," the false Constantine snarled, its confident facade cracking for the first time. "Chaos magic doesn't work that way in structured realities."
"It does," Constantine replied, "if you're willing to pay the price for making it work."
He could feel the cost building not just in terms of mystical energy, but in the fundamental stability of his own existence. Each reality manipulation was tearing tiny holes in the fabric of his being, creating vulnerabilities that enemies could exploit. But it was working, forcing his doppelganger back toward the dimensional breach through which it had entered.
"This isn't over," the false Constantine said as it began to fade. "There are others like me, John. Other fragments of what we used to be. And they're all looking for you."
The dimensional breach collapsed with a sound like reality tearing, leaving Constantine, Nergal, and Zatanna alone on the restored platform. But Constantine could feel the aftereffects of his reality manipulation cracks in his personal dimensional stability that would take time to heal.
"That was either brilliant or suicidal," Zatanna observed, studying him with new respect. "Possibly both."
Constantine lit another cigarette, his hands shaking slightly from the effort of what he'd just accomplished. "Story of my life, love. Though I should mention that little demonstration has probably attracted every supernatural authority figure in a fifty-mile radius."
As if summoned by his words, they heard footsteps echoing through the tunnel multiple sets, moving with military precision. Whatever Constantine had just done, it had definitely caught someone's attention.
"We need to move," he said, grabbing Zatanna's hand and pulling her toward a service tunnel. "I know a place where we can lay low and figure out our next move."
But as they fled through the dark tunnels beneath New York, Constantine couldn't shake the feeling that his confrontation with the false Constantine was just the beginning. If there really were other fragments of his soul scattered across the multiverse, then his problems were about to become significantly more complicated.
And somewhere in the shadows of his memory, he could hear the stranger from Strange's maze laughing with cold satisfaction.
/-\
If you wish to read more and if you like the story don't hesitate to support me because I really get exhausted of this work than check out my Patreon at
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