Toby Bukare had been blessed from birth, his mother used to tell him, with a more sensitive soul than the rest. One might call it a sixth sense, but he'd always heard the whisperings of the spirits that lived around him- some that he could understand, chattering away; some humming in indiscernable tongues.

They'd never bothered him too much.

In his early adulthood, his ear for the supposedly paranormal led Toby from his home on the Nigerian coast across the world (on the back of scraped savings and tourist visas) in search of answers. Following several fruitless endeavours, he ended up in Louisiana, looking for wisdom amongst questionable witch doctors.

That is when he heard it- on a dry night with clearer stars in the sky than he'd seen for a long time, almost seven years ago.

The first voice ever to speak directly to him- from across the galaxies. Terrifying and rumbling in his eardrums. It introduced itself as 'The End', 'The Greatest God', 'The Divine Usurper' amongst a dozen other titles. Of course, the real name of this voice was none other than Darkseid- not that Toby knew that.

The man had heard a voice from beyond- who was to say that it wasn't from the heavens? Toby's "heavenly" commander had deemed him one of two blessed to lead his forces upon the Earth.

It was that voice that guided him to where he now stood.

Toby Bukare, leader of one of two twin, diminished cults, slashed a dagger across his palm and pressed the blood on to cold stone. Darkseid had ordered him to this place- the most prominent focal point of magical ley lines on the planet.

Nandra Parabat.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with his free hand, the cult leader closed his eyes and regulated his breathing. Toby drew on the training of the magical masters, those he'd encountered before gathering the numbers for his cult of Darkseid. His hand still bleeding on to the stone, at the centre of a pentagram, the man's back lurched: he poured his essence in to the construct and instantly felt the physical drain.

Toby's eye lids began to droop and his knees were weak against the floor. His body veered to one side, swaying.

The voice snapped him to attention. In this place of magic, Nandra Parabat, the voice had only grown louder.

AWAKE! You mustn't falter!

Toby's eyes fixed, wide open, on to the dribbles of blood slipping over the creases in the stone. This was the third of five step in the summoning- he couldn't mess up now and start again. Toby doubled down his concentration, fighting off the grogginess.

Behind his eyelids, the man saw fleshy red and knew that he'd finally poured in enough energy. He opened his eyes and sighed at the glow of the pentagram- the chalk lines illuminated the room more even than the fire-lit brassieres.

Good. Now-

"Oi oi, what's all this then mate?" A cocky, strange accent called out, a moment after the doors behind Toby had flung open. The cocky stranger was, of course, none other than one John Constantine himself.

CONTINUE! The voice boomed.

Standing on shaky legs, Toby faced the Englishman and held out his hands, ready for step four.

A dozen of his cult brethren had accompanied him to Nandra Parabat (the best of the remaining members), they were on guard and surely would intercept this odd blonde man.

Some shouting from the corridor outside confirmed Toby's hopes.

"Well, that looks like a nasty piece of work." The man nodded to the pentagram, throwing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it. "How's about you don't activate it. Because if I'm not mistaken, that's going to summon someone- or something- here and I don't think either of us want that. Eh?"

A flash of magical energy slammed in to the door just behind the Scouse's head and he swore, ducking in to the room and closing the doors.

Toby screwed his eyes shut and began to mutter the words as Darkseid ordered them. They made no sense in his mind and weren't of any language he had ever heard, but Toby spoke the words all the same.

"No no no no nooooo mate cut it out- do you have any idea who's ordering you?" Constantine tried to reason.

There was a fair chance that the pentagram was magically wired (if he fired any spells at it, they could backfire or absolutely fry the man inside) so John decided to try persuasion first.

"That's Darkseid. You heard of him? Massive scary guy. Beat up the whole Justice League a couple years back. A real bastard."

Toby continued his enchanting.

Fuck persuasion then, Constantine decided. He rummaged about in his coat pockets- what he looked for had to be in there. Finally, the Scouse squeezed out from his top pocket a playing card. Nine of Diamonds. He might have nicked it from his girlfriend...possibly. With a flick of the wrist and some magic behind the action, the card would stick to the mouth of an opponent and render them mute until the caster decided otherwise.

Terribly useful things. Only the problem was...Constantine had spent so long fumbling about in his pockets that the occultist had already finished the enchantment by the time John had fished out the damn card and thrown it.

"Ah bollocks."

The card hit Toby's lips and the man turned to Constantine with triumph.

Excellent. Now the last stage. A human sacrifice.

Toby started.

He couldn't do that...surely not. But if this heavenly voice ordered it, what had he to fear of the beyond? The voice had guided him so far in life and he had absolute trust.

Toby do what must be done for the good of your master.

Constantine saw what happened as if it transpired in slow motion and he was wading against the current.

Picking the knife up from the floor, the man raised it to his head. John gathered his energy for a spell to knock the man out. Toby had dragged the blade across his neck before the spell hit him.

Red spattered across the walls. Toby crumbled and the pentagram heaved, spewing sparks in to the air as it activated.

John shouted as many counter-spells at the pentagram as he did swear words, whilst the construct crackled and whirred. All the hexes and tunes he threw were in vain. The very nature of the pentagram went against every genre of magic that Constantine tried. Even godly magic- spells scratched on to papyrus and summons of Hecate's power- wouldn't deter the glowing construct on the floor.

Running his hands through his hair, Constantine despaired at the shit that would go down once that summoning pentagram had finished cooking. Panicked, he pulled out his cellphone and called his magic helpline.

"Hi- yeah- Zee, darling- Yep I know,I know- uhuh I'm in Nandra Parabat. Look just- shush- can I get my two pence in?" John dragged a hand down his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay I'll apologise in a mo, but- I KNOW CAN YOU JUST SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND?- we've got what I think's a portal making thingamajig and I have no Ickenham clue how to dis-activate it! Could you get your arse over here and-"

Always too late, Constantine.

With Toby Bukare's body still lying limp at its centre, the pentagram gave one last heave before it parted the fabric of the universe. As if a hole had been made in existence- a void in the middle of the room, thin and jagged. Constantine stared at the tear a fer metres in front of him and frowned, slack jawed.

"John- John what's going on?" Zatanna's voice sounded on deaf ears.

He took a step forwards and found his hand itching to reach in to the blackness, the phone falling to the floor.

Luckily for him, John Constantine was a man whose inner voice was even snarkier than his outer voice. It promptly shouted in his head, What the bloody fucking 'ell are you playing at you damn tosser? Put that bloody hand down. Constantine complied, going one further and shuffling backwards.

Behind him, the doors were slammed open.

"Ah Etrigan old pal," he greeted, "we've got a major problem here mate-"

Cut off again, Constantine turned back to the void as he sensed something new.

It was oily, black and slinking. It seeped out of the tear and dropped on to the floor, oozing over the pentagram. The slimy something rolled over the cult leader's body, submerging it. As the continuously pouring ooze covered Toby Bukare, it dissolved the tissue that it met.

Constantine and Etrigan watched grimly as the tar-like slime stripped away the layers of skin and muscle and organs until it had eaten away even the bones. Neither of the two fancied meeting that sort of ending and figuring it would be best to scarper. This urge was solidified when the oozing entity (still spilling out of the crack) began to float in their direction...flying killer ooze... John very nearly shat himself scampering out of the room.

Etrigan picked up Ricardo on their way out as John retrieved a second phone from his coat (always prepared) and speed dialled his girlfriend on Themyscira.

***MEANWHILE ON APOKOLIPS***

Hands clasped behind his back, Darkseid viewed the screen before him in satisfaction.

"The God-Eater will consume the others now." He chuckled.

At his elbow, Darkseid's trusted counsellor, Desaad, sneered at the screen, watching the black ooze disappear from its dimensional prison. The God-Eater slinked through the tear in its small prison-universe: a pocked dimension exactly large enough to fit the formless, writhing entity.

"And once the rest are managed, my Lord, " the advisor grinned, "you shall assume their place."

Darkseid turned from the screen and closed his eyes, savouring the thought.

"The Supreme God."

He opened his eyes and ordered Desaad, "Have my armour prepared. The God-Eater will make short work of their realms. Then I shall subdue the Earth."

A.N:

Ooooh some shenanigans going down! Welp, I hope you liked this chapter my darlings. Sorry we've not got Damirae action this chapter, but I'm invested in getting the snazzy storyline stuff done. What do you guys think of this 'God-Eater' then? What's it going to do??? Eek so much going on!!

I love you all my darlings! Thank you!

-Bats :)