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alecmagnuslwb · 6 months

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Friday Night Big Scream

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The too long laces of her converse shoes bounce against the concrete as they walk down the street Zatanna’s arm linked with John’s. The ground’s a little wet the rain ending just in time for Trick or Treating to begin as a thin layer of fog crawls along the ground giving just the right amount of spooky to the crowded streets.

They weave their way through hundreds of other costumed folks, dodging a line of little Power Rangers high on sugar who rush past them.

John and Zatanna come to a stop in front of the Landmark Opera Plaza Cinema, a small local theater she’s always been partial to, the marquee glowing proudly with tonight’s fare.

“Are you sure a movie marathon will satisfy your Halloween needs?” John says dropping her arm to twine their fingers together.

Zatanna smiles up at the marquee then at him. “Absolutely, Dinah and Ollie are out of the country so there’s no party worth our time and I already dragged you to three haunted hayrides this year,” she pauses with a smirk. He just scowls playfully in return; those hayrides were not as family friendly as he was told they would be. He had nightmares dammit, less terrifying than the one’s he usually has, but nightmares all the same. “Our costumes are top notch and their showing three of the finest slasher classics ever to exist. It’s gonna be a nice, easy Halloween.”

John nods his head satisfied with her answer. They step forward about to enter the theater bumping into another couple.

“Sorry, mate,” John says as one of the men looks at them.

“You two look fantastic,” he says as the pair saunters off not even missing a beat.

“Hell yes we do,” Zatanna says with a smile pulling John forward into the theater. She has once again gone all out on their costumes. This year opting to be Grace and Daniel from one of her favorite recent movies Ready or Not, it gave Zatanna an excuse to look damn pretty in white while John looks hot in a brown suit and teal shirt and has an excuse to carry around a whiskey glass all night that she can magically refill.

They give their tickets to the girl dressed as Batgirl in the booth and make their way into the massive theater. They skip the concession line for now, though Zatanna will be needing some popcorn soon enough, and head into screen room four. They’ve gone all out for the night, the lights are all lit up red, the walls covered in fake cobwebs and spiders and everything in between. A few animatronic slashers are set up here and there in the halls and at the edges of the seats.

John and Zatanna pass by screen room three where Freddy Kreuger stands and is having his own marathon, two young girls who look barely old enough to have bought their tickets tonight screaming in delight when he swipes out at them.

Their trilogy of choice isn’t quite as famous as that man of nightmares but it’s Zatanna’s hands down favorite.

The Killer Blade franchise is a blatant mish mash rip-off of Texas Chainsaw and Friday the 13th. The killer, quite obviously, carries a chainsaw in one hand, a machete in the other and sports a scarecrow like mask as he terrorizes young campers in the dead of the southern summer.

They’re corny and ridiculous and only get more so as the films progress, by the third film the killer has blatant healing powers that are never explained and the machete has become molded to his arm in a practical effect that’s essentially just duct tape. The final girl from the first film is portrayed by four different women across the movies, yes that’s right four. They couldn’t even keep one actress around to finish an entire film in the second installment.

They’re not great, but Zatanna has such fond memories of the schlocky 80’s slashers. They were the first horror movies she stayed up way too late to watch and couldn’t take her eyes off of. She remembers dressing up as Star Bradford, the series final girl, the first Halloween she was able to pick out her own costume and a few years later showing Zachary the first film and giving him nightmares for a month.

When she heard they were doing a big screen showing for one night only, she couldn’t think of any other way to spend the night.

Their screening is in the smallest screen room unsurprising considering Killer Blade isn’t exactly as popular as many of the big franchises.

They settle into their seats, unfortunately at the front of the theater. Zatanna hadn’t heard about the showing till it was almost too late snagging two of the last four tickets. She discreetly moves her hand a silent little spell under her breath that moves all the seats back subtly making it so their necks don’t have to crane uncomfortably up at the screen.

They settle in lifting up the armrest between them, John wrapping his arm around Zatanna’s shoulders his fingers softly running over her lace covered collar bone.

The first film breezes by a 90-minute gore fest that Zatanna delights in every second of. It’s been a while since she’s seen the movies, really sat down and watched them full through and she loves it just as much now as she did at 12 years old.

“Well,” Zatanna says slipping out from under John’s hold turning to him excitedly. He’s never seen the movies in their entirety only bits and pieces when he’s popped up and interrupted her viewings. “Incredible right?”

“That’s one word you could use,” John says with a snort.

“Oh, come on,” she says standing up and stretching out grabbing John’s hand and pulling him along with her into the lobby for the fifteen-minute break between the movies. “I heard you laughing at the jokes, even felt you jump a couple times.” She teases pushing open the door to the ladies’ room, John doesn’t even bat an eye as she drags him in along with her.

She steps over to the mirror adjusting her bandolier and fixing up her hair where the braid has loosened a bit from resting against John’s shoulder all movie long. John leans against the wall beside her and shrugs.

“I guess it was pretty fun,” he concedes pushing off the wall and wrapping his arms around her waist. Eyes meeting in the mirror with a small playful smile. Zatanna smiles back continuing to fiddle with her hair.

“I hate to say it, since we’ll never be getting married,” Zatanna says leaning back into John looking at the image they make in the bathroom mirror. “But damn do we look good like a bridal pair.”

John smiles at her pressing his face into her neck. A few other people move behind them clearly unbothered by the couple hogging the bathroom mirror. If the sounds from the second stall are any indication they’re definitely not the only couple in this bathroom anyways.

“A bit of a bloody wedding,” he comments brushing his hand over the blood splatter across her waist, his fingers fiddling with the bandelier of empty shotgun shells across her chest.

“Well if we were to get married, it’s safe to assume there’d be some bloodshed at the ceremony,” she muses.

John hums in agreement trailing his lips along her shoulder his hands moving in directions not appropriate for public viewing.

“And where do you think these are going?” she says lacing her fingers with his stopping his movement in its tracks.

“We can’t let those two have all the fun,” he says gesturing his head back for a beat towards the second stall just as a very loud moan comes from behind the door.

Zatanna chuckles pulling his hands around her tight before pulling them away and twisting to face him.

“I am not fucking you in a movie theater bathroom stall,” she says kissing him once quick on the lips before pulling away and heading for the door. John trails along behind her.

“We’ve done it in worse places,” he grumbles under his breath.

“We have not,” she laughs as they make their way back into the lobby pulling John by his undone bow tie into the concession line. She absolutely needs popcorn for the second movie.

“The basement of that haunted sanitarium in DC was way worse,” John argues.

Zatanna looks up contemplating. “Okay, maybe, but,” she defends. “We thought we were gonna die, dire circumstances makes one forget about germs.” She pauses once they get to the front of the line ordering a large bucket and paying, tossing an extra hundred into the tip jar with a wink to the girl behind the counter. “Also, the second movie starts in about five minutes and we will not be missing it.”

John dips his hand into the popcorn bucket taking a large handful and shoving it into his mouth. “Fine,” he says muffled through the buttery snack.

“Later,” she says with a flirtatious smirk backing into the doors and going back inside the theater. She reaches out running a finger along John’s lower lip licking the remnants of salt and butter off her finger holding his eyes the entire time.

John swallows the last of the mouthful of popcorn hard. “How long are these two left?”

“Three is the longest, just a little over two hours,” she says with glee settling back into her seat tapping John’s whiskey glass to fill it automatically. “Two is another cool 90 minutes. Think you can hold out?”

“I am a man of strong will and great endurance,” he says taking another handful of popcorn, setting his glass aside.

“I mean I don’t know if I’d call the endurance great,” she teases hooking an ankle around his.

“Rude,” John says shoving at her playfully. The lights go down, the movie starting to roll on the screen. “I’ve never heard you complaining.”

“Well now that you mention it,” she chuckles clearly just messing with him.

“I cannot believe you,” he says with a laugh throwing a little bit of popcorn at her. She tosses it back at him just as the production company insignia crawls across the screen.

She shushes him as she settles back in comfortably underneath his arm.

The first twenty minutes are pure trash attempts at being cinema all shot in black and white telling the loose origin of Killer Blade that makes not one ounce of sense and isn’t referenced ever again. Things get really good in Zatanna’s opinion when things go back to color the camp counselors of the second film, including final girl Star, now played by a different actress, who for some reason decides it’s a good idea to help reopen the camp where her friends were all murdered two years prior by a madman with no motive other than to kill that disappeared into the night without a trace.

It’s a rapid ride that she falls into easily forgetting how much time passes watching with rapt attention as if she hasn’t seen it dozens of times before. So of course she notices something wrong with the film in an instant. At first the screen crackles a bit, a passable glitch she brushes off, but then it happens again. This time along with the screen warping unnaturally. She sits up straight, John taking notice their eyes meeting for a beat before returning to the screen.

Zatanna scans the audience as the ground shakes, light bursting out of the screen. No one else seems to notice; all just happily watching the film without a care in the world.

The screen morphs again, Zatanna pushes the popcorn out of her lap her hands at the ready, magic just at her lips. But she’s not quick enough two hands still showing the movie across them reach out grabbing each of them by the neck.

They both fight back John biting at the hand while Zatanna kicks at the one holding onto her. They don’t so much as flinch pulling the both of them in closer and closer to the screen till they’re going straight through it. The sounds of a chainsaw and the blood spatter of the unsuspecting gas station attendant enveloping them.

Everything goes dark for a moment, a scene change, then they’re both being thrust hard onto the ground landing face first into dewy grass. Gone is the just right temperature of the movie theater, replaced now by the warm breeze of a summer evening. The darkness of the theater no longer surrounds them instead the slow burn of a summer sundown.

Zatanna sits up with a groan. “John,” she says shoving at his back, he groans in response slowly lifting himself up. Zatanna looks around the trees swaying in the wind, she shifts the other way and there she sees it the bright red Camp Crystal Arawak sign she currently has a replica of hanging over her big screen tv at home.

“Holy shit,” she says. John twists looking the same way she is.

“Are we-“

“We’re in Killer Blade 2,” she says half in awe that she knows she shouldn’t be feeling. “We’re in Killer Blade 2,” she says again lifting up from the ground, a little more enthusiastic this time. She knows this is probably bad, but she can’t help it.

“Probably not a good thing, love,” John says lifting himself up from the ground trying to reign in her excitement.

“I mean, yeah, probably not. Probably a villain did this to mess with us,” she says eyes looking all around taking in the scenery like she’s never seen it before. “But come on, I mean who hasn’t wanted to live inside their favorite movie?”

“I haven’t,” John says dusting the grass off of his suit.

Zatanna turns giving him an eyeroll over her shoulder. “Well, that’s because your favorite movie is A Clockwork Orange.”

“And your favorite movie is about a man with a machete for a hand,” he shoots back.

“Not until the third one,” she says reaching back. “Come on, the massacre hasn’t started yet, that’ll give us time to figure out how to get out of here.”

“Oh goody the massacre hasn’t started,” John says taking her hand.

They walk under the large arching sign and it’s almost as if the air shifts, the warm summer night giving way to a cooler breeze as if the space knows it’s about to become a wasteland of death. Zatanna points naming out cabins and which characters will perish where as they walk through the campgrounds. Her hand reaching out every now and then to run her fingers along the set she’s memorized every inch of.

A few teens portrayed by twenty and thirty somethings come barreling out of a cabin laughing.

“Shit,” John says trying to pull Zatanna behind one of the cabins so they’re not spotted. He assumes that will just make things more complicated.

“It’s fine they probably can’t see us, they’re scripted they can’t move off of it,” Zatanna says continuing to move forward.

“Hi, y’all!” one of the campers shouts. Zatanna and John freeze in their tracks.

“Or maybe they can go off script,” she swallows turning around. Janet, the films signature slutty girl, is waving at them frantically not a care in the world.

She’ll have cares soon enough when her macabre ending comes because she just can’t resist running off to the woods for one quick blow job with mega jock Brad who will die with his pants at his ankles.

“Hi!” Zatanna waves back a corny smile across her face. She nudges John with her elbow and he joins along a little less effort put into his smile.

“Are y’all lost?” she says that thick southern girl accent she’s putting on mixing with the actresses’ natural valley girl cadence.

“Sort of,” Zatanna says putting on her own little southern twang. John looks at her wide-eyed mouthing a question of what she’s doing. “Roll with it,” she whispers under her breath as Janet makes her way towards them, perky and practically bouncing with every step. Brad and a few of the nameless body count stroll along behind her.

“Oh, no!” she says rushing right at Zatanna giving her a hug not questioning their outfits or the bandolier of shotgun shells she’s wearing. Bless this sweet, horny girl.

“What’s up with the get ups?” Brad asks, at least having a little more sense to question their presence.

“You see we were at a costume party at the old West-Cain cabin on the other side of the lake and it got broken up by the cops,” Zatanna says coming up with a quick story using her knowledge of the movie’s landscape to her advantage. A party occurring prior to the events of the film at the cabin they’ll spend the entire movie trying to get to is a passable excuse for their presence. Especially for this crowd.

“And our ride ran off without us and left us stranded in the woods,” Zatanna continues with an overdramatic rolls of her eyes. “We just started walking and luckily stumbled upon y’all.”

“Well thank goodness you did; those woods get really spooky after dark. Especially after what happened,” Janet says with a shiver. She reaches out grabbing Zatanna’s hand pulling her along not giving any further information. That’s okay Zatanna knows better than her what happened. “I’m Janet and this is my boyfriend Brad.” She says pointing to the blonde walking alongside them. The nameless body count characters have peeled off ahead of them heading towards the dining hall.

“I know,” Zatanna says accidentally, Janet giving her a funny look. “I mean it’s printed on your shirt.” She quickly corrects, Janet looks down at her shirt like she’d forgotten that fact and possibly even forgotten her own name.

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a giggle.

“I’m Zat-” she starts deciding her name might be a little too complicated for this group. “Zee,” she says instead. “Just Zee,” she smiles at Janet throwing a hand over her shoulder. “And this is my boyfriend John.”

John snorts. She never calls him that, it’s what he is technically speaking, but the word never seems to fit for them. “Good to meet you,” he says.

“Ooh,” Janet says shimmying her shoulders. “From jolly old London are we?” she says putting on a god-awful British accent, mixing terribly with the two she’s already battling.

“Liverpool technically.”

“Like the Beatles,” Brad says with a nod of his head slapping his hand down on John’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Cool.”

John just gives Brad a thumbs up and a slightly grimaced smile rubbing at his shoulder as they walk up the steps to the dining hall.

“We’ll get you guys all set up in here,” Janet says dropping Zatanna’s hand and pushing open the double swinging doors. “Anton is the only one with a car, he doesn’t love driving at night, but I’m sure he’d be able to give you two a ride into town. He’s too nice to say no.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Zatanna says emphatically looking over at John. “Truly we can just get a little water and head back out there.” Look for magic signatures, find a portal or some sort of tear they can slip through to get back into their reality. Anton will be a hindrance to that.

“Nonsense,” Janet says dragging them along and introducing them to other counselors in the room. They may be going off script here, but Zatanna can’t help but notice she only gives names to the characters who are given them in the movie.

Anton is happy to help, a do gooder who will lose his head in act three, twirling his keys around with a wink before heading out to his car. Zatanna knows for a fact he will find his tires slashed, the night of terror truly about to begin.

“You two just sit here and drink these,” Janet says settling them at a table. Brad sits two glasses of water in front of them. “I’ll be right back.”

She won’t, if the leer Brad gives her as she walks away is any indication.

“So what’s the costume?” Brad asks turning the chair on the other side of the table backwards and sitting down in front of John.

“It’s from a movie,” John says not going into further detail.

Brads hums. “I don’t watch a lot of those.”

“Ironic,” John says leaning back.

“Yeah, totally,” Brad says absolutely not knowing what the word ironic means. He gets up with a nod jogging over to Janet wrapping his arms around her waist, shoving a hand down the front of her tiny shorts.

“Well that’s subtle,” John says watching them slip out of the side door.

“Yeah they’re about to die,” Zatanna says using her normal voice turning her body towards his. “Look, we’ve got to get a move on and find our way out of here, cause shit is about to hit the fan.”

She lowers her voice leaning into John. “Us being here isn’t affecting the plot all that much, Anton is going to go to his car and find the tires slashed. Then on his way back he’s gonna find Janet and Brad’s bodies. It’s pretty much a non-stop kill fest from there.”

“Let’s try and not be a part of that,” John says getting up from his chair. They make their way to the little backdoor they watched the couple slip out of moments ago when the kitchen door swings open blocking their path.

The walking epidemy of the 1980’s teen dream steps out. He’s got that same curly hair like the boys in Nightmare on Elm Street, rocking a crop top and denim shorts, baseball cap clipped to one of his belt loops. It’s a look she has managed to wrestle John into a few times and it delights her to no end.

“Oh my god, that’s Ray Bronson,” Zatanna says excitedly twisting them away from the door a bit.

“Who?”

“Ray Bronson,” Zatanna says sounding half in love. John tries not to be jealous. “He was a bonafide scream queen in the 80’s and 90’s. His character, CHARLEY, was originally supposed to survive this movie alongside Star, but he was dating Sidney Strode at the time and when she quit the movie he refused to be in the third film so they rewrote the ending.”

She steps away from John lingering near Ray Bronson as he shares high fives and bro hugs with a few other guys in the room. John follows after her.

“You could tell production was mad at him for bailing cause his ending is grisly,” she sighs quietly looking the man up and down.

“How grisly?” John says trying not to get the guy’s attention, keeping his voice low.

“Him and Star get split up and first one of his arms goes through the meat grinder in the cafeteria, he gets away bleeding like crazy. Then he gets his legs chain sawed off and as he crawls away somehow still conscious the killer picks him up and ties his only remaining limb to the back of a truck and does doughnuts in the field till CHARLEY smacks into a tree and basically his whole body explodes. It’s disgusting,” Zatanna says with a delighted grin.

“You look far too happy about that,” John says with a chuckle.

“Don’t get me wrong CHARLEY is dreamy as hell and you root for him in a way you don’t root for anyone but Star cause he’s a genuinely a great horror movie boyfriend, but the FX team goes all out for his big death scene,” she says with a fond nostalgic smile. She can be a real freak sometimes, John loves it.

The front door swings open again and the music swells. Zatanna and John look up finding no plausible source for the music, the generic 80’s pop playing from the radio is gone, the score taking over welcoming its final girl back to the screen.

The room freezes all eyes on her as she makes her way over towards CHARLEY.

“Star 2.0,” Zatanna whispers watching as a tall tanned woman flips her long black hair over her shoulders. Her outfit is different than a lot of the others, the blue and white polo replaced with a red t-shirt sporting the name of the camp, a little white washed denim jacket on top of it. It’s the outfit Zatanna sported for Halloween all those years ago. “She’s not my favorite Star, but she has the best final girl scream. This is so cool.”

John gives her look.

“Okay, potentially extremely dangerous, but also,” she pauses gesturing wildly to their surroundings. “Camp Crystal Arawak. I wanted to go here so bad when I was a kid, I was bummed when I realized it wasn’t a real place.”

“You wanted to come to the murder camp?”

Zatanna just shrugs with a little smile.

“You were a twisted little one, weren’t you?” John says fondly.

“Maybe just a little bit,” she says with a playfully tilt of her head. “Come on, Anton’s about to bust in it’ll be a good distraction for us to get out there and investigate.”

***

Night has fallen completely by the time they slip outside and out on the ridges of the camp not far from Anton’s car Killer Blade is waiting, lurking. Zatanna guides them in the opposite direction, better to avoid the killer for as long as possible.

The woods are quiet, largely carnage free for now as they make their way through the trees. Zatanna snaps her fingers trying and failing to find magic at her fingertips.

“Dammit,” she says a flicker of light coming from her fingers for a second, immediately expunged. “My magic is on the fritz.”

“Same here,” John says tapping at the exposed sigil on his collarbone, it doesn’t even flicker to life for a full second.

They continue walking along looking for some sort of magical energy signature until a rustle comes from the right. They briefly stop, but Zatanna keeps them walking along as if nothing has been heard.

“White guy, pony tail,” Zatanna says under her breath keeping close to John. She watches as he dives behind a tree thinking he’s gone unnoticed.

“There are several of those here,” John murmurs back. Zatanna looks the way of their potential bad guy again, the goatee man sneaking his head out from behind it for a second. For a bad guy capable of something this elaborate he sure is acting like a cartoon villain in the moment.

“That one,” she says inclining her head towards the tree line. “He’s not in the movie,” The man slinks back behind the tree disappearing into the background of the movie.

“You sure?”

“You saw his outfit, all black, long jacket; that’s out of place at a summer camp. Plus I’ve seen these movies a hundred times, I know every detail down to the background actors and he’s not one,” she says stepping towards the tree, John following right behind her.

Zatanna attempts to ready her hands with magic, but it flickers out once again. The man behind the tree snarls when they make eye contact and immediately twists making a run for it.

“No you don’t,” John says chasing after him.

He doesn’t get far, John may smoke a pack a day, but when he’s stubbornly determined enough the man can run. He catches up to the guy tackling him to the ground the two struggling with each other rolling on the grass. Zatanna comes to a stop in front of them watching as John gets the upper hand pushing the man into the grass.

“You cannot hold the demon of illusion!” he shouts ripping his hands into the grass a flickering beam of bright white light coming up through the ground. He sinks his hands into the light disappearing in an instant the light closing up right behind him causing John to fall face first into the grass.

“Fuck!” he shouts his voice lightly muffled by the grass.

“Demon of illusion,” Zatanna says. “I appreciate that demons have just started introducing themselves with job title cards, it really cuts down on the research time.”

“Doesn’t help us get out of here though,” John says getting up from the ground.

“Illusion explains why no one else in the theater reacted when we got sucked in. And it explains why his powers work, but ours don’t he’s in control of the whole thing,” Zatanna puzzles with his reasoning though. “Did we do something to this guy? Did you beat him in a poker game?”

John just shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t think so, of course some of those games are a bit of a blur.”

A piercing scream sounds in the distance.

“Did you hear that?” John says looking up from where he’d been scuffing at the grass the demon had disappeared through.

“The massacre has started,” Zatanna says grabbing John’s hand. “We should head back.”

“We should?” John says incredulously running alongside her.

“The demon probably wants to see us go through it and we can’t do that if we’re just wandering in the empty woods,” Zatanna says increasing her pace. “Plus I kinda want to see it if we’re being honest,” she adds on with an apologetic smile, gritting her teeth.

The screams get louder as they get closer, the whirring sound of a chainsaw slashing through the night air.

Zatanna skids to a stop, John crashing into her back. Her eyes are locked upward and John follows her line of sight. Before them stands a behemoth of a man clad in a white long-sleeved shirt and dark overalls, heavy work boots caked in mud and a lightly burnt scarecrow mask over his face. He sheaths the machete in his right hand into his blood splattered overalls choosing instead to rev his chainsaw back to life.

Zatanna backs up as Killer Blade takes a slow step their way. She and John end up side by side backing up slowly. John reaches out an arm ready to block Zatanna and take this chainsaw for the both of them if he has to.

Zatanna raises her hands, “Kconk siht rellik otni eht eerts!”

Nothing happens. Killer Blade just tilts his head inquisitively at her.

“Shit!” Zatanna says dropping her hands pulling at John’s back. “Not just a glitch, magic definitely doesn’t exist in this world.”

She pushes John down the both of them just narrowly keeping their heads as Killer Blade swipes the chainsaw at them. They take off in a run faster than either of them have ever run heading back in the direction of the cabins.

“I thought the killer had magical powers?” John asks as they run looking over his shoulder. Killer Blade is catching up somehow despite the fact he’s walking at a snail’s pace compared to them. Slasher movie logic hard at work.

Zatanna shakes her head pulling John to the right away from the dining hall. There’s nothing but abandoned dinners in there and within the next few minutes Killer Blade will find his way inside and give Marcie the cook a new haircut. Scalp free. “Not until the third movie and it’s never explained as magic so kind of a grey area anyways.”

She rushes them to cabin 28 pushing at the door that blissfully hasn’t been barricaded yet. Not that the barricade does much good.

Star screams high pitched and perfect for the silver screen; Zatanna screams right back on instinct. John pulls her back the screaming settling down.

“He’s back,” Star shudders pushing past Zatanna and John to pull at the screen door tight as it slaps in the wind.

“We noticed,” John says and CHARLEY gives him a questioning sharp look that John just ignores.

“If we stay put and wait Freddy will be here soon,” Star says pushing a dresser in front of the door. CHARLEY rushes over to help her. God, Zatanna loves her, but she doesn’t utilize a single thing she learned from the first movie for the first two acts.

“Freddy’s not coming and we need to get out of this cabin,” Zatanna says putting her little accent back on. She doesn’t want to bring on questions about her lack of cute little southern accent distracting them. They need to get out of here, they need to find the illusion guy and they need to stay alive. She also knows that Freddy is not coming, the owner of the camp is very, very dead broken into two over a tree stump outside the West-Cain cabin that only Star will reach in the end.

“She’s right,” Anton says. A voice of reason for at least the next five minutes. “We need to get to the phone in the craft cabin.”

It’s broken, not even by the killer, just by poor maintenance. But it is logically where the story goes next. The script finds a way.

A quiet scratching comes from the outside, the metal of a machete running along the jagged wood outside.

Everyone in the cabin freezes for a beat, screaming when the machete pushes through the screen door.

“Out the window!” Zatanna shouts shoving her way to the back. She’s slightly stealing Anton’s final attempted hero moment, but she can’t be bothered. Killer Blade slashes at the door shoving at the dresser blocking his entrance.

She takes a breath cringing a bit before she crashes her elbow through the glass of the back window. She knows for a fact it’s stuck and there’s no time to waste for her and John. John comes up beside her helping clear the shards before hoisting her up and out of it.

He follows her, Star and CHARLEY sliding out behind him. Anton, Zatanna knows is scuffling inside with the killer and he won’t be making it to the window.

“Anton,” CHARLEY shouts about to reach back inside, but Star pulls at him to run.

The craft cabin isn’t too far, but the killer is nice and distracted hacking Anton to bits right now and soon he’ll mow down a line of nameless camp counselors while Star finally re-finds her gumption. They have time and they’ll find two other survivors there.

***

The craft cabin is playing out exactly as it should. The phone doesn’t work, everyone panics and unbeknownst to the characters in the room, they’re the last five standing.

Star meanwhile is quietly finding her strength, building a weapon that will take her further than you’d ever expect out of a shovel from the gardening supplies in the back, loading her pockets with toxic spray paint that will save her life when she and CHARLEY get separated on their way to her salvation.

“We have to get out of here and find that illusion demon fast. He can’t be far, he’ll want to see us get chopped up,” Zatanna says talking to John but watching Star as the music swells her moment of power coming to a head.

“Out there doesn’t seem so safe,” John says ignoring as the room around them descends in to mild chaos. Star announces her plan to run to the West-Cain cabin, but the arguments end quick, CHARLEY taking hold of his girlfriend’s hand, nothing but a sharp pair of scissors as his weapon, as they confidently storm out of the doors.

“We’re running out of time, that was Sidney Strode’s last scene, when Star walks back through that door,” Zatanna says turning to the big green swinging door with the bloodied handprints on it the couple just walked out of. “She’s gonna be Renai Lambert who plays her for the remainder of the film which is only about twenty minutes.”

“What do you think happens to us if the movie ends and we’re still in it?” John wonders.

Zatanna shrugs. “There’s only one ever one final girl in the Killer Blade films,” she says ominously.

“Let’s go then,” John says rushing for the still swinging doors. Faint protests from the remaining survivors huddled in the corner call after them, but they ignore their pleas. They slip around the corner, off to the side away from where the moonlight catches on the killer’s rusty blade.

They make their way back into the tree line, John letting Zatanna be his guide. She knows exactly where the killer will be.

“I have an idea,” she says stopping when they find a patch of well grown earth. She reaches down taking a clump of dirt in hand along with some ivy and flowers. “Magic in our sense doesn’t exist in this universe. It’s born out of myth and humanity that doesn’t exist in this world, but magic of the earth? That exists in nature, in all nature.”

“The green,” John says watching as Zatanna closes her eyes and focuses. The green isn’t an expertise either of them have, but they’ve been friends with Swamp Thing long enough to know a bit to get by. Tracking using the earth is easy if you have the right belief, attitude and intentions. And Zatanna is filled to the brim with all three as their clock starts to run out of time.

John keeps watch as she centers herself the dirt falling through her fingers, the flower and ivy glowing a bit to life. She doesn’t understand the green, she never could she isn’t connected to it in the way people like Alec are, but she knows how to respect it, how to ask for its help in small ways. A tracking spell for a man that’s clearly set them up for a grisly movie worthy demise she believes isn’t asking too much.

The dirt swirls in the air drifting out on the wind like the living thing it is, the flower and ivy following along.

“John,” she says opening her eyes pointing forward. The little bit of earth moves fast in the air and they follow behind it quickly.

The earth leads them right to their target, sporting an evil smirk.

“Your end is near,” he says.

“Nah,” Zatanna says simply rushing at him. She rams at him knocking him into a tree hard. She struggles with him for a moment pressing her knee into his stomach holding him in place. He moves his hands about to pull the same trick he did before, but John’s quick to their side stamping hard down on one of his wrists and grabbing the other hand tight.

“You can’t stop me, you can’t break free,” he spouts. “You wronged me and you’ll pay.”

“We don’t even know you,” John says twisting the wrist in his hand. The demon grits his teeth.

“Of course, just another demon who’s crew you banished to hell. Just another on your laundry list of banishments. Well you won’t forget me now, when you burn in hell you’ll remember my name. You’ll remember the demon of illusion who ended your life through the plot of a silly little human film. You’ll remember Choronz-“

“Are you actually doing a big villain speech right now?” Zatanna says with a sigh cutting him off.

The demon looks taken aback. “I was trying to,” he says angrily.

“You really shouldn’t, it’s very generic of you,” she says angering him further. He blasts a shot of magic at John knocking him back a few feet, using his leverage to kick up at Zatanna. He scrambles upright, but Zatanna is on him once again, swinging a fist that connects right with his jaw. He twists around John landing another hit to the other side of his face. They don’t always need magic to win a fight.

He fights back, or tries to at least, every attempt he makes at waving magic their way they duck, quicker than him. Catching him hard in the gut or the neck or wherever they can reach with every movement.

Zatanna shoves him back to the ground John kicks him hard in the chest, a few times over for good effort and that’s when Zatanna spots it, a burst of light like the one the demon had created in the ground when he disappeared earlier.

“John get him up,” she says and John does so lifting the demon by the collar of his coat. His power might be impressive, but his endurance is not. He clearly relies on his illusions to do all the work and when he tries a different way he loses his grip on even that.

John hits him hard and square in the eye and the crack in the scenery grows, more light pouring out of it. The sounds of thunder rumble in the distance, a crack of lightning too bright and violent to be real. The music swells again, this time some 80’s metal hair band ballad playing.

Zatanna looks up just a John punches the demon hard in the gut again, a slow crawl of words coming down at them. The credits are rolling, their time is up.

She wastes no time tackling both John and the demon through the crack of light. They land hard on the floor, the sticky carpeted stairs of the theater not having the gentle give of the summery grasslands.

The demon tries to scramble away put John pulls him down by his long coat. Zatanna brings her hands at the ready her magic tingling at her fingers, regaining its strength in the world where it belongs.

“Hsinab siht owt-tib wohsedis nomed ot lleh,” she says a wave of burning hot fire leaving her hands and hitting the demon head on as he attempts to knock John with his elbow. The demon goes up in a cloud of burning flames, screaming for a moment before he’s nothing but ash falling to the ground.

John and Zatanna’s eyes meet the two letting out a synchronized breath of relief.

“Ummm,” a voice sounds and Zatanna turns. The credits stop rolling the room going silent, just the blank, confused faces of their fellow movie goers staring at them.

Zatanna bites her lip a forgetting spell at the front of her mind, before her stage presence kicks in bowing to the people with a wave instead.

“Happy Halloween!” she says in a cheery voice nudging John with her foot encouraging him to give the audience a wave as well. He does so, just not quite with the flair she possesses.

They all begin clapping immediately none the wiser that what just happened was real, even if they all still look a little confused what any of it has to do with the movie. It’s Halloween, weird shit happens all the time. She hears a couple near the front whisper to one another about how realistic practical effects have gotten.

“Let’s go home,” Zatanna says pulling John up and hastily down the aisle and out of the theater.

***

Zatanna runs her fingers along the contents of the closet adjacent to her bedroom a tired smile on her lips as she hangs their freshly magically cleaned costumes up alongside the collection of previous years.

She closes the closet door with a flick of her wrist before gliding down the stairs to her recently magically built entertainment center. She’s traded in her lacy dress for an old Killer Blade t-shirt she’s had since high school and some little jack-o-lantern shorts.

“You sure you’re not too disappointed we didn’t finish the trilogy at the theater?” John asks lying flat on his back on the couch a bowl of popcorn resting on his stomach. He tosses a few pieces in the air, only actually catching one in his mouth.

“After the hands-on experience we had tonight a comfortable at home viewing is more than enough,” she says tapping her Camp Crystal Arawak sign before making her way over to him. She picks up the bowl of popcorn just as he grabs another handful once again largely missing his mouth sitting it aside on the floor. She ignores the mess nudging his legs, he gets the message making space for her. She climbs on top of him making herself comfortable against his chest letting her hands drift up under his sleeveless Hellraiser shirt.

John hums bringing one arm around her and reaching into the pocket of his skeleton sweatpants Zatanna bought him earlier in the month for the remote. He presses play the opening title card of Killer Blade 3: The Final Stab splashing onto the screen.

“You enjoyed being in the movie too much,” he says with a smirk tossing the remote on the floor beside the popcorn bowl laying his hand none to discreetly on her pumpkin clad butt.

“I think I enjoyed it the exact appropriate amount,” she says scratching her nails at his sides playfully. He squirms moving his other hand to the small of her back pushing her shirt up dragging his fingers across her skin.

“You reveled in being chased by that psycho,” he says moving his fingers up higher along her spine.

“I didn’t revel, I simply partook with a normal amount of horror fan enthusiasm,” she corrects lifting up her head digging her chin into his chest with a smile. “Now shush,” she says turning her head back to the tv. “I’m watching the movie.”

John chuckles tilting his own head toward the screen, a perfectly timed rumble of thunder sounding just as Killer Blade, now equipped with superpowers and a poorly structured machete hand, takes over the screen. Blissfully just on the big screen this time, right where he belongs.

#my fic #john constantine #zatanna zatara #johnzee #magicblazersource #magicblazer

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alecmagnuslwb · 1 year

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Have Yourself a Merry Little Krampus

Read on AO3

The streets are, he’s loathed to use the seasonal word, bustling as he cuts through throngs of shoppers crowding the sidewalks. A line of children are practically curving around a corner waiting anxiously to meet a Santa Claus that sits in the window of the toy store looking at least two too many spiked eggnogs deep into his night.

John slows his hustle down the street when he sees her; her back to him, arms crossed. He watches as a man with an obnoxious number of shopping bags knocks several into her, shooting her a look like it’s her fault. She shoots him daggers, unfolding one of her hands moving it gracefully in front of her. A few of the man’s bags disappear, no doubt appearing on the doorsteps of someone in need.

John wraps an arm around her waist when he reaches her. “I saw that Zee,” he says pressing his face into her long dark hair that’s all resting over one shoulder.

She just shrugs turning slightly to give him an innocent smile over her shoulder. “One look at that guy tells me he’s been rude to every worker he encountered today, no regrets.”

John snorts pressing a kiss to her temple before readjusting so one arm is slung across her shoulders, they step together walking leisurely as people practically run around them.

“Is it bad I didn’t even realize it was December, let alone so close to Christmas?” he muses looking at the bright decorations lining every shop and light post.

“I’d be more surprised if you actually knew the date,” Zatanna says with a smile reaching up and tangling her fingers with his.

It’s been a long time since he celebrated a holiday with any sort of real intent, even longer since he found himself in his home country for one.

John steers them from the crowded streets, the festive lighting making way for normal flickering lamp posts. He cuts them through a cobbled alleyway, the skittering squeak of rats brushing along the damp walls. This is the London he’s more familiar with, more comfortable with. Not the holiday dreamscape they just passed through.

He halts them to a stop near the end of the dead-end alley disentangling himself from Zatanna.

“Is this where you kill me?” she squints at him, her lips twitching ever so slightly.

“I told you I had a place here,” he says reaching up and pulling at a rusty old fire escape ladder. It takes a couple of noisy pulls but eventually the ladder slides down.

“That in no way changes my question,” she retorts not even trying to hide the smile this time.

“Now, we both know if I ever tried to kill you, you’d end me first,” he says reaching up and stepping onto the ladder. He bounces on it a couple times before deigning it safe to climb. “And a dirty alley would just be so fuckin’ cliché.”

He holds out a hand to her with a roguish smile.

“Oh, no you go first,” she says tilting her head upwards. “Then if you fall to your death I can catch you.”

He shrugs starting his climb up. The ladder holds strong despite its appearance taking him all the way to the first platform. He looks over the edge gesturing down for Zatanna to join him.

He can’t hear her words but he watches her hands move sending her floating up in the air till she reaches the platform landing gracefully on it beside him.

“Show off,” he scoffs. She beams at him, hip checking him as she flips her hair back and starts up the first set of stairs.

“Three up,” he says following behind her just a little disappointed that a usually delightful view is being obstructed by her long deep red leather duster.

She stops when she reaches the right platform letting John slip past her closer than he needs to, his fingers trailing into the open front of her jacket and across her waist.

He crouches down fumbling in his pockets till he procures his pocket knife. He slips it into the windows scant gap wiggling it around till the lock pops. He lifts the window up and slips in landing a little clumsily. He holds a hand out the window for Zatanna which she takes this time slipping in with far more grace than he had.

She raises an eyebrow at him in question.

“I lost the key years ago,” he says answering her unspoken question. He shuts the window, locking it back up before making his way to the door flicking on the dim lights. “But I don’t pay a dime for the place cause I helped the guy who owns the building get rid of a poltergeist years ago.”

Zatanna walks around the small one room flat running a hand along the kitchen counter that John’s proud to say doesn’t have any spoiling food sitting on it from the last time he was here.

“He’s also under the impression that if he ever raises the rent for any tenant I’ll put a curse on him,” John says slipping off his coat and hanging it on the broken coat hanger near the door. It’s warm inside, comfortably so thanks to the free utilities the building provides, also courtesy of John’s not so thinly veiled threat of a curse.

Zatanna chuckles plopping down on the mattress and box springs that sit on the floor. He thinks he had a bedframe once, but he can’t be certain.

“Well, I love what you’ve done with the place,” she says looking around. The paint on the walls is a shade or two off from what it should be, yellowing from his persistent indoor smoking, there’s a battered Mucous Membrane poster hanging on one wall, a tv that likely predates both of them that only gets five channels covered in dust. There are books magical and not strewn everywhere, wads of crumpled up paper that missed trash cans line the edges of nearly every wall and an empty bottle of rum rests on the nightstand. His kitchen is bordering on barren; he thinks there might be two mugs and single plate for them to share if they’re lucky. The bathroom door has a hole in it from a fist thrown his way he narrowly ducked out of the way of.

Zatanna is by far the prettiest thing in the space leaning back on her elbows comfortably on a bed that’s likely never truly been made. She should look out of place with her artfully put together outfit that fits her just right, her wavy, shiny hair practically glittering in the low light. But like nearly every aspect of his life, dark and dank and generally rough she blends in seamlessly when she shouldn’t.

“You’d love my decorator,” he says making his way over to the bed.

“Oh, yeah?” she says biting her lip in a way that he swears on angels that hate him will kill him one day.

John hums. “Handsome bloke, dashing really,” he says as he finally reaches the bed. Zatanna leans up as he leans down nudging her crossed legs apart to fit himself between them.

“Let me guess: blonde, always looks a little tired,” she says before snapping her fingers the sheets beneath her changing in an instant. It’s a good call, he can’t remember how long they’ve been on this bed or what he’s done in them.

“That’s him. Vaguely always smell of cigarettes,” he says as Zatanna slides back onto the fresh sheets pulling John down along with her by his tie.

She fully laughs, guffaws really, right in his face as he attempts to lean in for a kiss.

“You think you just vaguely smell of cigarettes?” she says with a snort. “The olfactory fatigue is real.”

John chuckles skimming his nose along her neck till he reaches her lips again kissing her once long and slow.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” he says when he pulls back till he’s on his knees. He grips her hips pulling her against him. If the lip bite didn’t kill him the gasp she lets out at the motion might.

“Only once a year,” she says lifting up so they’re nose to nose. She grabs him by the tie again, pulling him down into her warmth and flipping them so their positions are reversed in one smooth motion.

“And,” she says adjusting herself over top of him her legs bracketing his hips now. “I haven’t used my one complaint a year yet.”

He smirks up at her his hands trailing up pushing her long coat from her shoulders. Years ago, when they were still practically kids on a New Year’s Eve on some rooftop in Las Vegas she proposed the idea of his New Year’s resolution being to kick his smoking habit. He’d told her frankly there wasn’t a chance in hell, but that he’d grant her the option to complain about it once a year till they were old and grey if he lasted that long. She’s never failed to take the opportunity to do so, he thinks it’s less about the smoking bothering her and more about her enjoying taking the piss out of him whenever she can.

“And will you be using it now?” he asks as she leans down her long hair a curtain around his field of vision.

“Nah,” she says pressing her mouth to his firm and insistent.

***

“Should we do a gift exchange or something?” John muses cracking open the window as he lights a cigarette a long time later, after they’ve both been sated and relaxed several times over. A chill brushes in as he leans against the windowsill, warmer than it should be this time of year, but a chill that’s strong enough he wishes he’d at least put some pants back on.

He’s not exactly great at gift giving, but if it’s something she’d like he’d give it a try. He always gets it right on her birthday every year without fail, it’s every holiday in between he tends to miss entirely.

Zatanna adjusts on the bed the oversized Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt she’d taken a gamble on the cleanliness of slipping off her right shoulder. She leans back against the yellowing wall attempting to tame her hair to one side. It’s a mess from John running his hands through it and he guarantee his looks even worse from the way she likes to pull at his.

“I don’t know, it’s not like Christmas is a big deal to either of us,” she muses. John looks down in the alley watching as some neighbor of his drags a particularly scroungy looking plastic tree to the dumpster.

“I haven’t had a proper celebration of any sort in,” he trails off struggling to remember the last time Christmas even really properly crossed his mind. With Kit had probably been the last time he’d so much as considered celebrating it and that had been years ago.

“Same,” she says. “It wasn’t that big of a deal when I was a kid. Dad tended to do shows right on through till New Year’s. Christmas morning I opened some spell book and then we were off to whatever venue he was performing in. Since then I tend to get dragged to Ollie’s big holiday bash, but that’s about it.”

“We could always head back to the states and do that?” he suggests taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“After how the last party we attended that Oliver threw went, I’m gonna say we pass,” she says shifting so she’s back under the covers.

John takes another long drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the wall, flicking it out the window and shutting it tight. He rejoins her under the covers sliding down under them with her. She nudges at him till he gets with the program, moving so his back is presented to her. She shuffles up against him tangling their legs together, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face in between his shoulder blades.

She presses a kiss there before settling down on the pillows she magically fluffed once she realized how pathetically flat they’d been her warm breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

“So that’s a no to gifts then?” he asks moving his thumb across the knuckles of one of her hands.

“Being with you is a gift enough,” she says seriously and he feels it as her nose scrunches up at the words. “Ugh, I take that back,” she says as he starts to laugh.

“That was disgusting,” he says still laughing as she joins him her chest rumbling against his back.

“It was. Forget I ever said that,” she says her laughter settling down.

“We’ll just treat it like any other day where we’re not in peril,” John says and Zatanna hums in agreement.

“I mean you’ve probably just jinxed us by saying that,” she chuckles cut off with a little yawn. “But I agree. I don’t have any shows till after New Year’s, we just solved a big case and we have this shitty little apartment of yours all to ourselves. You didn’t even notice it was the holidays till about four hours ago anyways.”

“True,” John says feeling himself falling into slumber as her breath starts to even out behind him. “We’re not particularly spirited.”

***

The final few days till Christmas breeze by, the two of them never straying too far into any shopping districts from the warmth of the flat. It’s been all hole in the wall restaurants with the best food you’ve ever eaten in your life and dive bars for them, blissfully untainted by the hordes of shoppers populating the rest of the city.

The days have blurred together comfortably, the closest to a peaceful break the two of them have experienced in ages.

A knock at his door mid afternoon forces him to peel himself from bed and Zatanna’s arms forgetting to even put on pants as he stumbles towards the door. Zatanna’s hand slips from the cocoon of covers a small wave of magic literally slapping him on the ass before a pair of sweatpants cover him up.

“Happy Christmas Eve!” the woman in the alarmingly bright light up surfing Santa sweater shouts as he opens the door.

“Noticed that you were back along with a pretty lady friend lately, so I thought you’d like an invite,” she says with a chipper smile handing John a woven red basket filled to the brim with treats. He vaguely remembers her from the poltergeist situation, her name starting he’s 87 percent certain with an H. Holly? Hayley? Something like that. She’s the one that decorated the halls, that much he knows. The little elf on the shelf, string lights and garland greeting him every time he walks out the front door all her handiwork.

“All the info is on the card!” she says before he can even get in a single word already bounding down the hall to the next door trailing along a child’s wagon filled with more baskets behind her. His grumpy neighbor opens the door after one knock with an annoyed yell. John mutters a curse under his breath quickly shuffling inside. Prior to Zatanna remembering to put a silencing spell on his flat they’d angered his neighbor quite a few times with their more enthusiastic activities.

John stretches his neck out as he trails back to the bed plucking the card from the basket. He steps onto the mattress purposefully shaking it as he crawls over Zatanna disturbing her nest of blankets. She groans at him pushing the blankets down her face grumpy and squinty as he settles back on his side of the bed leaning against the wall.

“We’ve been invited to a building wide Christmas Eve party,” John says flipping the card open. Zatanna moves up still squinting at him purposely breathing right into his face. Her morning breath is, well it’s not great, but he knows he’s no better and while she still smells like straight bourbon he certainly has a mix of things going on. It was a good night.

She smiles satisfied when he makes a face at her. She pulls the basket out of his lap digging in. He watches as her fingers pick through the contents. Her once pristine maroon and black acrylics are in varying levels disarray. Paint chipped on a few, and a few straight up gone entirely for one pleasant or fun reason or another. Yeah, a damn good night.

“Ew,” she says pulling a Cornish pastry wrapped in a cheerful snowman napkin out and dropping it in his lap. “That’s for you.” John snorts moving it to the nightstand.

She makes a triumphant little noise when she finds a tin of homemade chocolate dipped shortbread underneath the offending pie sliding the basket aside. She takes a bite of one in the shape of a tree and lets out a moan that’s akin to the ones John’s used to having the luxury of coaxing out of her.

“Oh man,” she says meeting his eyes. She fell asleep in her makeup it smudged in glittering streaks somehow still artfully around her eyes. “I don’t want to go to her party but I could kiss her on the mouth for these cookies.”

She settles in against John’s shoulder continuing her shortbread meal. He wraps an arm around her trailing his fingers up and down her exposed arms.

“What do you say you magic these pants off me and we stay this way all day?” he suggests. He reaches out attempting to grab a shortbread of his own but is stopped by a magical barrier. John gives her look and she blinks up at him innocently reaching up and offering the paltry last remaining backside of a reindeer shaped shortbread. He leans down taking the whole piece in his mouth nipping at her fingers for good measure.

She smiles at him happily going for another shortbread through her own magical barrier. “I like the sound of that, but I desperately need to shower. I feel like I bathed in bourbon last night.”

“I do distinctly recall licking some off of varying parts of your body,” he says with a sultry smirk wiping at his mouth.

“Yeah,” Zatanna says pulling away from him taking her shortbread with her. “Definitely need a shower,” she says tossing her still magically protected goods on the kitchen counter as she heads for the bathroom.

John grabs the rest of the basket and the pastry on the nightstand taking a bite as he walks over to the counter. He hums pleased at the taste, damn can Holly/Hayley bake. He slides the rest of the basket on the counter enjoying the rest of the pastry as the water is turned on in the shower, steam slowly billowing out of the hole in the door as it warms up.

“So, are you joining me or what?” Zatanna says voice clear through the thin broken door. John scrambles off the kitchen stool shoving the rest of the pastry in his mouth chewing with effort as he strips his sweatpants off.

He pulls open the shower door about to step in when a firm hand hits his chest, the acrylics are all gone now he notes. “Not until you brush your teeth, meat mouth,” she says flicking a bit of water at him with her other hand. He waggles his eyebrows at the nickname.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” she says shoving him back until he hits the sink still chewing away as he reaches for his toothbrush.

***

“And every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings,” the little girl on the tv says, the picture blurry as hell.

“You’ve encountered more angels than I have in your day,” Zatanna says pausing to pop another piece of caramel popcorn from the basket Holly/Hayley had dropped off earlier in her mouth. She swivels around on the kitchen island stool for a moment to look at him. Despite their original plan they did get somewhat dressed after their time in the shower, Zatanna in shorts and a Star City Stars sweater and John in the sweatpants she’d magicked onto him earlier. “Any truth to that statement?”

John reaches around her from his stool indelicately shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “If it is we need to stop ringing bells cause a lot of them are pricks,” he says his words muffled by the popcorn still in his mouth. Zatanna rolls her eyes at him shifting her attention back to the tv, channeling surfing between the five varying levels of blurry channels.

John’s eyes drift away to the window swallowing down his mouthful of popcorn.

“Is it snowing?” he says doing a double take.

“Considering it was pushing 65 when you went out on the fire escape for a smoke twenty minutes ago I doubt it,” Zatanna says twisting around leaving the duct taped remote and container of popcorn on the counter. She freezes when she’s turned getting down from her seat and moving towards the window.

“Holy shit,” she says lifting the window up and holding a hand out a few ice-cold flakes falling onto her skin.

“Guess this is a Christmas miracle,” he says shifting behind her shivering a bit as the air turns even colder.

Zatanna wipes her wet hand on John’s sweatpants just as a loud thumping from next door drags their attention from the weather anomaly outside.

“Now who’s being noisy,” John grumbles moving over to the wall to bang on it with his fist the way his neighbor had nights before. He knocks on the wall four successive times and is met with a moment’s silence followed by another thump and a yell.

“That didn’t sound like just a grumpy yell,” Zatanna says rushing over to the edge of the bed slipping on a pair of white sneakers. She’s at the front door by the time John has one arm in the sleeve of a Mucous Membrane tank top.

Zatanna pounds on their neighbor’s door only met with another more urgent sounding yell.

She uses her magic to bust the door down just in time to watch as their neighbor screams again. His flat is just as small as John’s so it’s impossible to miss it as a giant jack in the box looking creature with sharp teeth swallows the man down like a snake. He scrambles at the hardwood floor leaving marks as he’s consumed.

Zatanna watches wide eyed for a moment before kicking into gear.

“Tel mih og,” she yells moving her hands towards the thing. The magic bounces right off the creature as the neighbor’s head disappears down the pinkish gullet of the monster.

“Fuck,” she says running towards the door bumping right into John as he finally arrives.

“What the fuck?” he says scrambling as Zatanna pushes at his chest moving him back out into the hall.

“It ate your neighbor,” she says in a rush. The monster scrapes along behind them dragging itself towards the door.

“Ate him?” John says pausing and looking back as the thing struggles to pull itself through the doorway, it’s large box base getting caught. The thing thrashes in the doorway for a moment before closing its mouth, slowly shrinking down in size.

They back up side by side eyes never moving from the jack in the box as it gets smaller and smaller. Zatanna lifts a hand backwards magic under her breath, she may not be able to affect the actual thing with magic, but everything else is fair game.

“Mals eht rood!” she shouts the door banging closed with a crash knocking the jack in the box monster back inside the room. “Kcol ti!”

The monster on the other side lets out a weird jack in the box style song banging at the locked door shaking it. They turn ready to make their way back into John’s flat only to find the door blocked, the elf on the shelf that John has been side eying for days stands in front of the door much larger than it had been.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” John says moving out an arm in front of Zatanna. The door she’d just magically locked makes a wood cracking sound behind them, Zatanna turning her attention towards it while John keeps his eyes on the elf.

The elf waves at him menacingly.

Zatanna watches as the jack in the box breaks through the door using it’s tiny sharp teeth like a demented beaver chomping through the wood.

“You take the elf, I’ll take the jack in the box,” she says nudging John’s shoulder before moving back the neighbors door. The elf continues to just stare at him not making any move to fight. John decides to take its lead, eyes locked like a wild west showdown to see who makes the first move.

Zatanna takes a more aggressive approach behind him using some of the non-animated decorations in the hall to create a tornado of distraction throwing the hopping jack in the box off of its game.

The elf gets bored with John’s stare down making the first move reaching out a white gloved hand and punching John square in the chest. It sends him barreling back down the hall nearly knocking into Zatanna’s legs as she grabs the plastic reindeer in the hall using all her physical and magical might to throw it at the jack in the box as it attempts to once again grow a larger size.

The elf stalks towards John picking him up by his shirt tearing the already extra wide sleeves even wider. The elf lifts him over it’s head like it’s about to do a back breaking wrestler move. Much to John’s luck it doesn’t choose to do that, instead tossing him down the hallway the opposite way.

He yells catching sight of Zatanna as she slams the plastic reindeer down on the jack in the box again and again.

John lands with a thud, the elf moving his way hovering over him balling its hands into fists ready to bring them down on him.

John puts his arms up blocking the first blow as best he can pushing at the elf keeping it from crushing him. They trade blows John pushing the elf back enough to get the leverage to stand again. The elf backs him into the wall a fist John narrowly evades slamming a hole into the wall. The move distracting John for just long enough that the elf gets a hold on his throat squeezing tight.

He bats at it trying to gain some sort of leverage when its grip loosens the beautiful lilt of backwards magic coming from over it’s shoulder. There’s a wet crunching sound before the evil giant elf on the shelf explodes, guts it shouldn’t have exploding everywhere, Zatanna revealed behind the explosion her hand holding onto the still beating heart of the elf covered in gunk. She drops it stamping it to mush with very much no longer pristine white sneakers.

“You really are gift enough,” John says looking at her rubbing at his neck, charmed by the disgusted look on her face as a glob of elf goo slips past her lips.

She rolls her eyes at him wiping at her face best she can. “Guess magic works on elves, but not demonic toys,” she says turning back checking that there’s no other creatures lingering in the hall.

“What happened to it?” John asks.

“Threw it out the window,” she says making for the still wide open flat door. “The thing cursed me out in German on it’s way down to the pavement.”

“So, a German jack in the box ate my neighbor?” John asks locking the door behind them.

“Der Klown,” she says before running a hand over her body, a few little backwards words cleaning her off. She turns meeting John’s expectant eyes. She huffs giving him the same treatment.

“It gave you it’s name on the way down too?” he says as the mess of elf guts whisp away.

“No,” she says in a tone that makes it clear John’s being particularly daft. “It’s part of an old German holiday legend, Der Klown the seemingly innocent child’s toy that brings terror for its master Krampus.”

John snorts. “Krampus isn’t real,” he says in disbelief.

Zatanna tilts her head holding up a hand. “Babadook’s, Wendigo’s, Chaos Gods,” she lists checking each off with a raised finger as she goes. “Just a few of the things that shouldn’t be real that we have encountered in the last six months alone.”

He shrugs conceding her point.

“Our grumpy neighbor was very anti holidays, and joy in general, not exactly spreading the good tidings,” Zatanna continues on pacing a bit as she thinks. “And us, well we weren’t exactly hopping on the reindeer and spirit train either.”

“But Krampus is supposed to deal with naughty kids, Santa’s opposite and all that,” John says his eyes flicking to the still open window for a moment swearing he saw something moving out there.

“In some legends, but legends change, evolve. Some say it’s the kid’s thing, others believe it’s just about scaring those who don’t see the joy in the season, in gathering with others. I mean you know how it is enough someone’s believe a legend enough and it becomes true, that’s the simplest magic in the universe,” she concludes stopping her pacing. John’s eyes fix over her shoulder again, something’s definitely moving out there.

“The evil elf on the shelf is new, but I’m guessing it’s more of a use of surroundings thing,” Zatanna adds settling her hands on her hips.

John’s eyes go wide watching as hand to God a cookie, a moving cookie makes its way in through the window, followed by another and another.

“Gingerbread man army a part of the legend?” John asks reaching out and grabbing Zatanna by the elbow pulling her his way. She looks at him confused before turning watching as another line of the little guys makes their way inside lining up in seemingly practiced formations.

“Aww, they’re kinda cute,” Zatanna says. They all stand to attention like military each of their tiny cookie hands materializing with an array of small weapons. “Okay, less cute,” Zatanna says as John wraps an arm around her waist keeping her close.

The little gingerbread men scatter circling the both of them. It would be comical these tiny cookie creatures with their sharp knives and scissors coming at them, surrounding them like vultures, if it weren’t so outright terrifying.

Zatanna raises her hands ready to see if magic can be used against the little cookie menaces when the windows shake violently, near to the point of breaking.

A cloud of black smoke appears out on the fire escape hooved feet coming into view confirming Zatanna’s earlier reasoning.

“Elbmurc eseht seikooc,” Zatanna says her hands twisting in the air and coming down onto the ground a wave of magic hitting the little gingers. They don’t so much as shake, each of them sporting a curl of their icing lips.

The first line of cookie defense attacks, the pair of them kicking at the cookie men to keep them away. A knife knicks John’s elbow causing him to grit his teeth as Zatanna crushes a few underfoot heading for the kitchen space. John follows her lead.

She trips at the kitchen island one of the little cookies latched onto her shoelace. She kicks her leg out trying to dislodge the thing. John pulls open every drawer feeling triumphant when he finds a pot and rolling pin he didn’t know he owned.

He turns just as Zatanna kicks the little monster off of her foot another line of the cookies rounding the corner their way, he smashes the pot down hard on the one she’d dislodged crumbling it to bits. He holds the rolling pin out to his girlfriend and she wastes no time gripping it like a baseball bat swinging with abandon as the cookies jump at them.

The fire escape rattles, the window making an awful screeching sound as a booming footstep falls inside. Neither of them can see over the island, but it’s clear from the way the cloven hooves hit the hardwood, Krampus has found his way inside.

A bellowing growl carries over the space, the gingerbread mean freezing in place dropping their weapons and standing to attention, saluting upwards.

Zatanna meets John’s eyes inching back and into a crouch pressed against the kitchen island.

“Nothing says holiday cheer like a homicidal Santa Claus,” John says wryly, whispering.

“Krampus,” Zatanna corrects edging along the kitchen counter trying to stay hidden. It’s likely not working considering the size of the space and of Krampus. The gingerbread men pay them no mind any longer, focused on their leader and any instructions he might give them.

“Semantics,” John says lifting up, he swings the pot out hard at Krampus knocking it directly into one of his large goat like horns.

Krampus does not like it.

Zatanna’s hands are already moving magic flowing from her lips, a burst of angry red magic blasts at Krampus, but much like it had with Der Klown the magic bounces right off of him. Krampus takes a deep breath blowing it out heavily, nostrils flaring with a cloud of condensation moving through the chilled room. It’s the first good look they’ve gotten at him, his gait standing at easily seven-foot, dark matted hair covering his body, his face a cross between a goat and a cartoon devil. A deep red cloak covers his shoulders and a fucking Santa hat rests crooked and dirtied between his horns.

Krampus tosses the big red sack over his shoulder to the window before vaulting over the kitchen island sending John and Zatanna backwards, tripping over the gathered gingerbread lieutenants and falling to the floor pressing back into the corner by the stove as Krampus’ wild red eyes bore into theirs.

The gingerbread men part like the red sea giving their master space to take heavy steps their way.

“If we do a gift exchange would that help?” Zatanna gulps as Krampus gets directly into her face his hot breath, smelling vaguely of gingerbread and chocolate. She wonders if he eats his little army routinely.

John reaches into his sweatpants pocket pulling a loose cigarette and his lighter out as Krampus rears back lifting his head and letting out a victorious growl to the sky.

“Really? Now?” Zatanna says watching incredulously as John lights up a cigarette. He waves her off as he struggles to get his lighter working. The little gingerbread men break formation letting out tiny sounds of victory as well. “I think I’m gonna use my yearly complaint card now.”

John ignores her complaints as his lighter finally catches as Krampus moves right up on them again. He leans down backing them impossibly further into the corner and John moves quick.

He presses the lit cigarette into Krampus’ eye the creature letting out a guttural howl and backing away from them giving them space to run around him, no longer cornered.

“Okay, I’m never complaining about your smoking again,” Zatanna says as she grabs his hand pulling him through their open spot to run. Zatanna tugs him till they’re clear across the room crushing as many gingerbread men as they possibly can as they go.

She pushes John up onto the mattress situating him behind her as she moves her hands in a practiced, mesmerizing motion through the air.

“Magic doesn’t work on him,” John says putting his hands on her hips steadying them on the wobbly mattress.

“Not directly,” she says with a confident smirk over her shoulder. Krampus stands in the kitchen still brushing at his eye as the gingerbread men attempt to help him. “But boy do I know how to annoy someone with magic all the same.”

Backwards magic tumbles from her lips the fastest he thinks he’s ever heard it come from her. Krampus squints his burnt eye their way turning his attention on them as Zatanna’s magic crackles all around them.

Garbage from the floor lifts swirling and catching fire flying the way of Krampus and his tiny army. The army mobilizes heading their way, but Zatanna is quicker than them the sloshing sound of the elf guts in the hall barreling towards the gingerbread men like a great wave taking their tiny bodies on a ride.

Krampus lets out another guttural howl stalking around the kitchen island each step shaking the ground, nearly leaving imprints in the hardwood.

Zatanna moves her hands again strings of lights from the hallway violently whipping at Krampus, not quite touching him, but moving him back with every snap. He snaps back catching a string in his teeth and pulling.

Zatanna’s face becomes more determined more rapid fire magic spilling from her lips as the flurry of lights grow brighter, moving faster and blinking in Krampus’ one good eye. He bats at them his vision completely obstructed staggering on his feet.

She keeps one hand focused Krampus’ way while she snaps her fingers with the other, sunglasses appearing over both their eyes blocking them from the colorful assault she’s instigating across the room.

The little gingerbread men attempt to pull themselves from their goo wave struggling as it sticks to them, causing a few of them to stick together entirely unable to gain their footing again.

A few other decorations fly in from the hall along with the previously used pot and rolling pin and every other item from John’s kitchen cabinets, nothing ever quite touching Krampus, as the magic seems to bounce right off of him, but spinning around him, distracting him. Keeping him occupied and increasingly frustrated.

His claws get tangled in the lights and he lets out another frustrated growl shutting his burnt eye and the good one tightly as the lights blink more rapidly.

“Ich gebe nach!” Krampus yells, the first words he’s said since his booming arrival. Zatanna pauses the lights slowing down things falling to the ground. The lights still blink tangled around Krampus as he lets out a long sigh.

Zatanna slips the sunglasses off of her face stepping down from the mattress. John keeps his hands on her waist stepping down with her.

“What’d he say?” he asks as they hold eye contact with Krampus.

“My German isn’t great, but I think he said he yields,” she says one hand still sparking magic. The lights slow down to a normal glow untangling from Krampus hands.

Krampus hold up his arms in defeat at Zatanna’s show of power. The gingerbread men break free from their gooey bonds and move to attack, but Krampus reaches out an arm stopping them dead in their tracks. He nods at them once and they all move over to the discarded red sack using their combined strengths to drag it his way.

Krampus keeps his hands visible slow blinking with his one good eye at them before opening the bag. The gingerbread men dutifully hop in one at time, the sack writhing as they settle into the depths of it somewhere.

Krampus reaches inside once they’ve all gone inside and Zatanna moves her hands ready to act. Krampus huffs, annoyed as he digs in his long-clawed hands pulling a large tree from it.

He throws the base to the ground with force, the tree fluffing out a glittering star at the top lighting instantly. He points at the lights on the floor and meets Zatanna’s eye. John sees as she gulps a few words sending the lights to their proper spot decorating the tree.

Krampus nods stiffly then growls their way, nostrils flaring, breath hot and smoky before cinching the bag closed and making his way towards the window.

Zatanna and John look at each other wide eyed.

“We learned our lesson I guess,” Zatanna says her hands still kind of frozen mid air from her last spell.

“Or we just really bugged him,” John says his hands falling from her waist.

They watch as Krampus crams himself through the window, hulling the large red sack out onto the fire escape.

“Oh, fuck,” John says a thought hitting him. He rushes to the window before Krampus can truly make his leave.

“Wait a sec,” he says sticking his head out of the window. Krampus rears his head grunting loudly pushing John back inside, John holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, you want to be rid of us I get it, but it’s just my neighbor,” John says gesturing to the wall by his bed that’s shared. “He’s a grumpy git, but you gave him a good scare I don’t think he needs to be permanently digested by a jack in the box too.”

Krampus grunts again hefting his sack once again and pulling the small Der Klown from it. The innocuous toy grows again making an awful regurgitating sound poking its head through the window until their grumpy neighbor is shot out from the creature’s mouth covered in mint smelling goo.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs picking himself up off the ground sliding as he goes. “I’ll go to the party,” he says skittering off through John’s open door nearly face planting in the doorway but righting himself and taking off without so much as a backwards glance. Zatanna watches him go with bewildered amusement. The party must really be in full swing downstairs since no one heard the war they’ve been waging up here.

Der Klown shrinks back down Krampus tossing it back into his bag before giving them one last annoyed look. John just gives the beast a thumbs up and Krampus huffs again raising its clawed middle finger their way before jumping off the fire escape. Zatanna rushes to John’s side at the window watching as the beast disappears in a cloud of black smoke.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” she says after a long moment of silence staring at the snow-covered streets. They feel it as the temperature starts to rise again, the snow melting almost instantly. Local meteorologists are going to have a field day with this one for years to come.

John lets out a long breath turning and sliding down the wall to sit on the floor beside their merry little evil tree, Zatanna joins him and John rests his forehead on her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, love.”

As they’ve been heavily reminded this night, tis’ the season. Whatever that means. Maybe they’ll clean up and head down to the party after all.

#my fic #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara #magicblazersource #good holidays to you!!!

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