What followed largely matched the original course of events.
To prove that Angela's sister hadn't been murdered, Constantine even made a trip to Hell. There, he personally saw Isabel-confirming that she had indeed committed suicide. A devout Catholic would only fall into Hell under that condition.
However, thanks to Morin's prior information, Constantine already knew the truth behind it all.
Isabel had chosen death because of her powerful psychic ability. She had sensed Mammon's plan to use her body as a vessel to descend into the mortal world.
Because Constantine already knew this, he didn't involve the fat priest or the gadget guy at all.
Which meant they finally avoided the classic fate of "first teammates to die."
As everyone knew, being Constantine's teammate was usually a death sentence.
Either you died tragically.
Or you died tragically.
Even if the enemy didn't kill you, Constantine probably would.
The Keanu Reeves version of Constantine wasn't that bad-maybe "good looks equal justice"-but the natural team-killing constitution was still there.
Morin even deliberately drew a clear line between himself and Constantine. Not even teammates in name.
Logically speaking, having a universal-level protagonist nearby should prevent him from being crushed by another protagonist's aura, right? Wasn't there a saying about powerful dragons and local snakes?
Unfortunately, causality didn't care about logic.
Better to be cautious from the start and not give that attribute any chance to activate.
Eventually, when Tony reached the point where he could fully utilize his magic-and his combat experience had plateaued, requiring stronger enemies to improve further-Constantine came looking for them.
They met at Papa Midnite's office.
Morin raised a shield as usual.
"Knowing Angela was likely the demons' target, I protected her with everything I had," Constantine said, smoking. "Arrays. Holy relics. All anti-demon. Unless Lucifer himself showed up, she should've been untouchable."
He paused.
"And yet she was taken. Easily."
"You didn't set anything against... angels?" Papa Midnite asked.
"Wouldn't have mattered," Constantine sighed. "It's Gabriel. An Archangel. I didn't bother."
"Rituals destroyed. Demon residue left behind. But I heard wings."
"Incredible," Papa Midnite said, looking at Morin and Tony. "So, Sorcerer Supreme. What now?"
"You keep an eye on the half-angels and half-demons," Morin said, glancing outside. "You know which ones are good, which ones aren't, and who should disappear."
"As a formerly neutral businessman," Papa Midnite smiled, "yes."
"Constantine comes with us," Morin continued. "Tony and I remain 'ordinary exorcists' for now. I've left backups. If Gabriel doesn't act, neither will I. You can handle the rest."
His fingers moved slightly, confirming the preparations he'd made over the past few days.
"It may be impolite to ask," Papa Midnite said, still uneasy, "but are you sure you can handle this?"
"If it's just Gabriel, I can play him like a fiddle," Morin replied calmly. "Angels don't have gender-that's why they chose Tilda Swinton. Bound the chest, blurred the image."
"I'm guarding against other variables."
If things followed the original story, there'd be nothing to worry about.
But now, things were clearly different.
First, the DC Universe had a God. A real one.
Morin didn't believe the Heaven of this world housed that God-or even a clone.
Otherwise, why gamble souls with the Devil?
Why not crush him outright?
Once that was clear, one thing followed.
They wouldn't be erased without a chance to escape.
They could win.
A Sorcerer Supreme wouldn't misjudge that badly. Asking for help from only one person meant the crisis wasn't catastrophic.
Two Sorcerer Supremes should be enough.
Morin wouldn't claim he was the strongest.
But he was absolutely top-tier.
So caution, preparation, then action.
Gabriel was an Archangel. Getting taken down instantly in the original story could've been divine authority-or just budget issues.
Either way, he shouldn't be that weak.
And he had the Ancient One's face.
Beating him up would be satisfying.
With preparations made for every outcome-including running away and returning ten years later-Morin, Tony, and the main damage dealer, Constantine, arrived at Ravenscar Mental Hospital.
It wasn't downtown.
But it was the thinnest point between realms.
Between Hell and the mortal world.
"The right time. The right place. The right people."
Balthazar smiled at Angela, unconscious despite struggling. The coin on the back of his hand flipped faster than usual, rhythm erratic.
Excitement leaked through.
"Descend, Mammon. Son of Lucifer. Turn this world into Hell. Burn it all. So many souls. So many demon hunters worth torturing..."
BANG.
Not a gunshot.
Not a cannon.
His fantasy shattered.
"Those dregs are here..." Balthazar clenched his coin, glancing toward the sound. He wasn't panicked. He bowed toward empty air.
"Please, respected-"
WHOOSH.
Wind howled.
"Useless thing," a voice snapped. "You need me just to catch someone? I agreed to act once. Get out."
"Yes..." Balthazar bowed, face stiff, retreating.
It was easy to guess what he was thinking.
Soon.
After Mammon succeeded.
A founding official.
Power.
Status.
Second-in-command of reality.
On par with Gabriel.
A limitless future.
Then he was cut cleanly in half.
A Silent Septumsempra: Holy Version passed through countless half-demons without losing momentum.
"Uh...?"
Cold.
Heat.
Nothing.
Constantine stared at Tony.
Tony held his wand steady.
The first blast had come from Constantine's weapon-calling it a gun was generous. It was closer to a cannon. Two or three inches in caliber.
Gold-plated.
Cross emblazoned.
A perfect fusion of physical and magical exorcism.
Tony was already thinking about upgrading it and mounting it on his Mark IV-or V.
Ideas were overflowing.
"Don't look at me like that," Tony said. "I thought he was a boss. Used a stronger move."
He flicked his wand.
It grew into a staff as tall as his brows, metal-capped, flooded with pure white light.
Top-tier exorcism gear.
"...Was this made from Jesus's cross too?" Constantine asked, eyes shining.
"Uh... yeah."
"So rich," Constantine sighed.
He'd thought his gear was extravagant.
The Shroud.
One-use miracles.
But this?
A reusable staff?
Lit up-
Wait.
If it lit up, it was consumable.
But if it was a staff...
"So that's how it is!"
Constantine felt enlightenment.
Wrap holy relics around weapons.
Exorcism via blunt force.
He thought of his brass knuckles.
Time to learn martial arts.
Meanwhile, Tony had already moved on.
One-shotting Balthazar drained mana, but not critically.
So he switched to physical exorcism while regenerating.
His physical condition was already formidable.
Mana infusion only helped.
Morin estimated Tony was at least on par with Steve Rogers.
Wait.
Wasn't he already?
That cursed draw-with-everyone constitution.
How was he supposed to be a benchmark?
Morin observed from the back.
And watched Gabriel.
Invisible.
But electromagnetic anomalies were obvious.
He couldn't let Gabriel snap and kill Tony.
Morin still wanted Tony to graduate soon so he could clock out with the shortest Sorcerer Supreme tenure on record.
Only after starting work did he realize how much he wanted to quit.
The half-demons at the door?
Against Tony and Constantine?
Disorganized rabble.
Simply weak.
"Damn it... damn it..."
Gabriel trembled with rage.
The Spear of Destiny, stained with holy blood, was already in his hand.
He was waiting.
Mammon possessed Angela.
The realms aligned.
One strike.
Freedom.
But the demons outside hadn't lasted ten minutes.
What enraged him most was Balthazar.
That was it?
One shot?
At least die slower than a grunt.
So the difference was the enemy skipped basic attacks and used a skill?
Gabriel couldn't wait.
He spread his wings.
Water erupted, forming feathered blades that shattered glass and flew toward Tony and Constantine.
A guaranteed kill.
Except-
The attack lost power mid-air.
Fell.
Splashed harmlessly.
"I thought you'd keep your composure longer, Gabriel," Morin said calmly. "Looks like these teammates made you nervous."
Gabriel manifested.
Then froze.
His gaze locked onto the faint angel mark on Morin's left hand.
At this distance, Morin's simple concealment meant nothing.
"You're from Heaven," Gabriel said slowly. "You dare oppose me? You dare betray Heaven?"
Morin: "???"
You have the nerve to call me a traitor?
You're the biggest traitor here.