Chapter Text
Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and John Constantine gathered in the street outside Wayne Manor. Martian Manhunter had left with a muttered apology. soon after Batman did.
It was the day after their confrontation at the Watchtower. Although the League was wary of allowing Batman time to prepare, everyone knew the night was Batman's domain, and Constantine’s input that many ghosts were also strengthened at the time felt like a good excuse to put it off.
It was a little strange for Constantine to embark on a ghost hunt while the sun was up. While it was true they were weaker then, most ghosts were weak enough to begin with not to manifest at all during the day. You could wander around a haunted house for hours without seeing the merest sign.
Hunting during sunlight was a constant reminder of what he was up against.
Flash vibrated nervously, “Are we sure we should be doing this? Maybe we should talk to him again. He’s our friend.”
“You’re just scared,” Green Lantern said, bouncing on his toes.
“You can’t talk someone out of an influence this strong, you have to take out the source.” Constantine said.
Superman put his hand on Flash's shoulder. “Remember we're here to save him , not just beat him. This isn’t a betrayal, Batman will understand what we’re doing here. Half of us have been in exactly the position he’s in right now, no one has more than me and he’s always been the one to pull me, us out. We can’t let him down now.”
“But what if we're wrong ”
Wonder Woman kept her eyes locked on the house, “There are kids being raised in that house. What has more lifeforce than a child? I fear that perhaps his tendency towards adoption may not only be his own. We can not risk their safety for a slight chance.”
Flash squares his shoulders, “So what’s the plan? Are we sticking together or what?”
Superman brow furled, “Well, what do you need John?”
“I need to either confront the ghost while it is corporeal or find the grave itself, but I think the chances of the latter are low. In either case backup would be helpful. One this strong probably has control of when it manifests and since it seems happy to allow its thralls to protect it, it probably won’t show itself until it feels it's losing. That's a good thing though, your fight should give me time to make some preparation for my fight. Wonder Woman said children live there, if you mean the Robins, well, if they grew up there, it’s likely it has a hold on them and we should expect them to fight too. You won’t be able to talk them out of anything, any more than you will him. I think we should go in together so none of them pick me off while you’re fighting.”
“Ok” Superman said, looking around at the group. “A frontal assault then.”
Getting over the gate was suspiciously easy. Superman carried Flash and Green Lantern carried Constantine. John didn’t know what he expected to happen, but certainly something, Batman’s paranoia and security measures were legendary. He couldn’t help feel like they were being let in, even if the gate itself had remained shut.
As they moved toward the house they paused for a second. Were they really planning to just go in the front door? Green Lantern started moving again first, stepping to the side to get out of line with the door, which the others quickly copied, before pushing it open with his ring from a distance.
They tensed collectively, but still nothing. The foyer beyond appeared to have been haphazardly painted yellow.
The silence was heavy and tense as they proceeded, especially in combination with the deep unsettled feeling in their stomachs, which John knew to be an instinctive response to haunted land.
As they passed the threshold however the silence was quickly shattered. The doors slammed shut and bolted, seemingly mechanically. Heavy metal slats fell over the windows, blocking out the outside light entirely, as the lights inside flickered off. There was a quiet flutter of cloth and then– chaos.
John found himself quickly regretting his plan. He saw flashes of glowing green and arcs of lightning. He was utterly unable to determine which green was kryptonite and which was willpower, what lightning came from Flash and what was from Nightwing’s escrimas.
And in the dark he couldn’t rely on the heroes to protect him, not from the Bats, he wasn’t even sure if any of them had night vision as power set. Hell, even if the Bats completely ignored him, he would be liable to get trampled if he tried to get far enough into the room to start drawing his circle, let alone do rune work.
He felt his way around the wall, until he came to a doorway. He kept going through another two rooms, before he risked lighting a candle, so as not to attract any Bats to his location. He was sure they had some sort of night vision tech, but with any luck they’d be too caught up in the fight to notice his absence.
The frankincense and sage infused in the candle would do little to weaken the spirit in these quantities, but hopefully would at least protect the candle itself from being blown out while he was working. He crouched down to start his circle when suddenly the light flickered back on. John shot up, whirling around to get a sense of his surroundings. He found himself on one side of a ballroom, with a grand staircase by him, spotless wooden floors, and three massive chandeliers running down the room.
Standing in a rather inconspicuous doorway was the butler.
“I’m afraid drawing on the floors is a privilege reserved for only the youngest of the residents of the house. The walls too, Lord knows I saw enough of that in Master Dick and Master Thomas's youths. Although at least chalk as you have would not be nearly as much of a hassle.”
John eyed the spirit. “All these years here, you must be tired. Aren’t you ready to rest. That’s all I’m trying to do, help you rest.” John said, planning his next move. Some of the older spirits he’d met could be reasoned with enough to distract them at least.
“How many decades have you been stuck here? Whatever business kept you here must long ago have passed, achieved or no longer achievable.”
The apparition smiled, “Oh quite a good many, but they’ve never been boring.” John put his hands behind his back casually and snapped the chalk in his hands. He let a piece fall to the ground, and pushed his foot back until it was under his toe. He slowly started rolling it around, as the spirit continued. “I’m not quite ready to rest yet, despite your beliefs I still have much to do, Master Bruce and his family- I SAID DO NOT DO THAT!” It screeched just as John had started to roll the chalk around him with his foot.
There was a creaking and John looked up just in time to see the nearest chandelier start to fall. He blinked, and the LED bulbs he’d been sure were there had been replaced by gas fixtures. As he dived to the side the chandelier smashed to the ground right where he’d been standing. Candles (‽) flew everywhere from as it crashed igniting the wood floor all around him. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a handful of herbs, more sage and some thyme, he threw them into the nearest fire. Hopefully the fumes would at least keep the damn thing from getting too close. He heard a hiss. Gotcha. Pulling out a crucifix he tried going straight for the Latin again, but the smoke caught in his throat, and he coughed viciously. He stumbled down the room, trying to avoid the quickly spreading spots of flame and get some air.
KA- Chic
John dived back to the ground just in time.
BOOM
Wall paper and wood chips fluttered down onto John's head.
Shotgun wielding ghost, what has my life come to.
“And here I thought your master wasn’t a fan of guns, or killing for that matter,” John wheezed out.
“He’s not,” John started moving in the opposite direction of the voice, he just needed to catch his breath. “But I am my own man, you know. As to killing, he may hold himself to a higher standard as a vigilante, but as I am a civilian he won’t begrudge me using my right to self defense.”
John reached a doorway and pulled himself through it.
BAM
“Although I don’t suppose that applies now you’ve passed out does it, hm?” Alfred inspected the rolling pin in his hand, running his other hand over it. “Oh dear, I think I've bent the rod.”