The Danger ABC's

Chapter 23: Kill the stars

Call didn't know how long he'd been laying on the dirty floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He was weak. He was stupid. Aaron didn't even love him, so why was he crying? Why should he keep living? Then, he reminded himself that if he died, Aaron and his dad would probably be killed by Constantine out of spite. And so, he lay there, curled up, for who knows how many minutes, thinking about the boy that was out somewhere living. And meanwhile he was here, stagnant, afraid of what he could do if he just gave in to all the murderous urges and collapsed into himself. Was that the only way to survive? To become a blunt object for force? Let Jack take over until there was none of him left? Become numb?

It didn't sound so bad, actually. Give in, give up. What did it matter, anyway? Because some magical unicorn riding knight was just going to waltz out of the fucking blue and save him? No. This was the real world. There were no magic solutions, no way to just break down the doors and fly out of this place. He was stuck, in a prison of his own making. So he sobbed. He fell, and pretended that he could stop if he wanted to.

"You said you wanted him out of here, Call. I can bring him back, if you want. Might end up a little worse for wear, though." Call didn't have to turn around to realize the voice emanating from the door was Constantine.

"Fuck you." Call said limply.

"I find that things are much better when you can control them, Call. Regardless of whether you want my life advice, you need to come with me. Get your ass off the floor and stop pining. You act as if you don't live a life infinitely better than you used to have. Honestly, Call, I've done everything for you that you've asked me, with a few exceptions, that is. All I'm asking in return is a little loyalty." Constantine's inflection was monotone, as always, as if he was explaining the obvious. Call hated it. Call hated him. Call pretty much hated everything with three exceptions and two of them were inanimate objects, one of which was mostly caffeine.

"Where are we going?" Call said, shakily standing and trying to pretend like he hadn't just balled his eyes out for a good hour and a half in the fetal position.

"To the interrogation rooms!" Constantine said, as if they were going to Baskin Robbins and not a grisly torture room.

Call plodded along behind him, trying to look as macho as he could in front of the guards as if they hadn't heard him. He was torn between not giving a flying fuck and being incredibly embarrassed, and settled on a strange mixture of the two that made him itchy.

"What are you going to do for them? And who are they? And what did they do?" asked Call, trying not to sound like a psychopath and half-failing.

"Tsk tsk. So many questions, Call. I suppose inquisitiveness is good though, especially considering your position." Constantine pondered it for a moment, and then continued forwards, playing with the knife on his belt, seemingly on the verge of skipping. Call was disturbed to find that it didn't even sicken him anymore. Then again, it didn't matter, did it? He was here, Aaron was gone, and there was no point trying to be a good person if all it got him was dead. Then, Constantine snapped out of his trance.

"Oh, yes! Special case here, Callum. I suppose it might be a bit therapeutic for you, really. Today, we've brought in your little boy toy's biggest abuser. Definitely not a good person, if you can say that about anyone. Killed more people than I have! Well... almost. You see, he was incarcerated a while back, so I got quite a lead on him, really. Oldest crime boss in the tri-state area! Anyways, some detective finally brought him down, been in the clink for half a decade. Sadly, not enough for your little friend to escape his clutches, though. He didn't value family. Sent his own kid to whore out his debts when he couldn't kill them. We're gonna beat the shit out of him and then hang his head on the highest flagpole we can find."