Template:Featured Articles/3-2021
"No need to get on your high horse, sonny. I might be a fictional expression of this place's subconscious, but it doesn't mean I can't put you in your place. So how about we start this again. John Constantine, professional bastard. And you are?" "Doug Ramsey. -Trained- by professional bastards." A cocky grin that wouldn't have been out of place on John Constantine's own face crossed Doug's. "And the jury's out on whether you're fictional. I mean, I presume you feel real to yourself, anyway. Maybe this thing touches an infinite number of universes, and I'm the fictional one where you come from?" He rubbed his temples. "Trying to suss out the multiverse gives me an enormous headache." "These professional bastards of your could have done a better job. Looks like you can barely stand on your feet, let alone deal with multiverses. Right nasty curse you've got there." The cocky grin definitely wavered a bit at that. "Try being on my end of it," he said a bit sourly. "Turns out that while shattering a focus amulet does work at taking out a blood mage, the backlash...leaves a bit to be desired." And unlike Wanda, he hadn't found some handy-dandy order of monks to set things back to rights. "My heart bleeds for you." Constantine smirked. "Messing with blood mages is never a good idea and it's always best left to the professionals." He reached for another cigarette, crushing the finished one out under his boot without a thought for the polished wooden floor. "If you came here for a cure, I've got shitty news. There ain't one." "I work with the professionals," Doug replied with a bit of a shrug. "Might not be a magic user myself, but I run with plenty of them, annoy some others, and do my best to put the nasty ones in the ground." Talk of the curse definitely tended to put him on the defensive, as much as he was trying to come to terms with it. "Didn't come looking for a cure, though I'd take one if it was on offer," he continued. "No, I'm here trying to help fix whatever interdimensional cock-up is going on around here." He waved a hand to indicate more or less the entirety of the library. "You?" "Same, pretty much." Constantine shrugged - his needling of Doug wasn't as entertaining if the kid didn't get pissed off. "Can't say I know that much more than you about the place - I was mindin' me own business, being fictional, and suddenly here I am." Doug grunted. "Then I assume one of us is supposed to do something particular, or impart some Saturday morning cartoon nugget of wisdom to the other one." He shrugged. "It's either that or sit around here shooting the shit until we get tired of each other." He waved a hand airily. "I mean, if we're going to approach this from a strictly World-as-Myth viewpoint, those are the most relevant options in terms of 'advancing the plot' and all." The trenchcoated man barked out a laugh. "Wisdom? You're definitely barking up the wrong tree. I don't do comforting and I don't do helpful, unless there's something in it for me. And I definitely don't do sympathetic listening to some wanker's bleeding issues. So if you're expecting anything like that, you're shit out of luck." "You're all heart, Johnny," Doug groused. He hadn't really expected differently, though. "So you can get cancer cured by pissing off Lucifer fuckin' Morningstar, and Wanda gets sorted because her power's too dangerous to have on the fritz or something, but god forbid I get my hopes up, right?" He glared at John. "If you're not here to Yoda me, what the hell ARE you here for?" "To crush your pathetic hopes and make you face reality?" John shrugged and lit up another cigarette. "Heart will get you and others killed in this business, you know that. And the world doesn't give a shite for your personal bollocks. So the sooner you stop chasing rainbow-fucking-cures from magical unicorns and learn to live with what you've got, the better."
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