From the jet eschewed the mighty defenders of justice, their great power about to be swatted down like flies by the skinless god of darkness and death.

"Guys guys I can't find him!" The Flash urged over their communications link, darting in and out of the toxic black fog. "Wait hold on-"

Less then a second later, Clark lay sprawled on the ground before his teammates, Barry leaning over him.

"That Tezca- something hit him, he fell right in to the cloud. Might be poison in the claws- I'm not sure." The Flash wheezed.

Batman passed his teammates, crouching besides Superman. The Kryptonian groaned faintly as he was turned over, torn  facing the humid Mexican night. The flesh had been gouged, three deep lacerations running down from his shoulders to his waist, seeping gouts of hot blood: none of them were healing.

Constantine too bent to Batman's level, holding a hand over the Kryptonian's back, "Well I'll be fucked, that's some bloody strong magic. The old stuff too, none a this newfangled nonesense. We need to get these healing." He stood up, shouting at Shazam, Hawkgirl and Cyborg, "Oi, get this bastards attention as far away from us as possible! Got it?"

Accepting the order without complaint, the three set about encircling Tezcatlipoca, maintaining a safe enough distance to avoid the deadly claws while keeping within firing range.   To Captain Marvel's dismay, lightening had no damaging effect on the god whatsoever: in fact, after the second round of thunderbolts, the Aztec god caught the live electricity between his hands, allowing it by some magical force to amass and take the shape of a twitchy ball of lightening. Shazam knew to stay away from lightening-fuelled attacks when the crackling ball was hurdles in his directing with a chilling screech of a battle cry.

Meanwhile, Diana and Nightwing hovered over Superman, watching Constantine get to work. Dick did not know what help he could be when faced with an ancient god of death that could incapacitate even Superman- hmmm, ancient god of death...now there was an idea...

"Nightwing, organise the police force in herding away the civilians." Batman ordered, heralding away the son he knew he shouldn't have brought to a fight with such bad odds.

Flying down to the cluster of heroes (and Constantine), Hal reported, "It's doing something to the sun- blocking its rays or something." He winced as he looked at Clark's savaged back. "Might have something to do with that black cloud, you know, the blinding toxic one that almost made me cough up my lungs."

The fog was rolling over the ground nearly, slinking over the shops and lampposts; it didn't reach up towards the atmosphere. However, the very god's presence seemed to weaken the son. Indeed, the air had a distinctive chill foreign to Central America.

Constantine snorted, letting the circular runes around his hand disappear, "Figured this wanker'd be fucking around with the sun- 'god of the night' could have told us that much. So 'ow's about we give old Supes-" the runes re-lit, orbiting his hands faster and brighter than before, "- a little sunshine."

Forehead drawn in concentration, Constantine brought his cupped hands together like he was holding an invisible ball. Between his hands (now aglow as if fireflies buzzed beneath his skin) Constantine breathed, "Thig a-mach solas slànachaidh.", And from the centre of his cupped hand trickled a fine, winding stream of pure light, probing its way towards Superman's gaping wounds, snakelike.

Bruce and Diana were forced to shield their eyes, Batman covering his face with his cape upon instinct.

"Good old Scottish Gaelic healing magic, oughta do the trick." John said, ending the spell with a shake of his hands.

The tendril of live having sunken in to Clark's skin, the three of them anticipated the repairing of the wounds, watching the ends of the flayed flesh intensely.

"It isn't working." Batman growled, prepared to draw out his kryptonite needle and synthesised thread and push the magician out of the way.

J'onn held back Batman's assertions with a steady hand, "Wait a moment." He said. "Look."

Much to the unnoticeable relief of one John Constantine, Clark's severed flesh began to knit itself together, tendons and muscles and sinew restoring the state of his back to its former unmarked state, bathed in the same glow that had lit Constantine's hands priorly.

The process was crawling, each tiny vessel painstakingly rejoining with its separated half, the tissue struggling to un-tear. In the minutes in which Clark's body tried to combat the suppressive magic of Tezcatlipoca's claws, J'onn joined Hawkgirl in attempting to usher away the god's black cloud (while the Aztec was distracted by Barry, Shazam and Cyborg).

Once, through the ripped blue fabric, they could see that Clark's back was mostly healed, Batman and Diana ensured that he was taken further from the scene to fully heal and rest, depositing him in the Invisible jet: princess-like, Clark was carried in to the plane by Wonderwoman. He hadn't yet regained consciousness and likely wouldn't for at least another ten minutes- so theorised Batman.

Back on the ground, Constantine explained, "I've got to get to a high vantage point. If light magic can reverse the effects of Tezcatlipoca's magic on Big Boy Blue, then it might just work elsewhere.", to the team strategist.

Batman surveyed the area before asking, "You are certain this will work?"

Ever honest, the Scouse shrugged, "Not half mate, but it's the most we've got to go of seeing as nothing can touch 'em." He nodded to the military helicopter current firing rapidly at the god- brought down a moment later by way of godly screech and sharp claw. "And if that bloody cult is behind this, you lot can deal with them in the meantime, just don't go barging in and fucking it all up."

Instructions taken with little protest the League (plus Constantine) feel in to their respective roles: Diana, Hal and Batman searching for the perpetrators; Constantine standing upon the nearest building; and the others trying to manage the disasters brought on by the god- who seemed quite happy to wreak havoc while staying put.

"Right, sun spells..." Constantine muttered to himself, rummaging through his mental magic book to locate a suitable counter to the god of death.

Facing a deity, John recognised that perhaps summoning some godly magic of his own would be more potent: Greek or Norse magic might serve to overwhelm the Aztec by confusing their power source: the same way that Constantine had been told the gloves worn by the occultist attempting to use Mjolnir had confused the hammer.

It was worth a shot anyways- he didn't want to try anything more until he knew he'd expended all other options.

The sky was depressingly blue for so chaotic a scene, and the sun (though it felt weaker) was as yellow as egg yolk. Constantine held his hands, palm out, to the star in the distance: alternatively perceived as high-fiving the sky with both hands. He closed his eyes, the brightness painting his vision a splotchy red-yellow nothingness.

"Great Helios! Noble, mighty god of the sun!" John hoped the Amazon wouldn't start having a seizure- who knew what effect Greek magic would have on a demigod? "Shower upon us your blessings so I may purge the Earth of this Dark Spirit!" Constantine hated how grovelling you had to be when channeling godly magic.

See, the thing about great, powerful beings, is that they love being told how great and powerful they are. Having the ability to disintegrate mortals with a snap of one's fingers tends to have that effect. Or perhaps, Constantine had previously theorised, the gods are just very, very insecure.

The introductory praise over, John clapped his hands before spreading them a shoulder width apart. He fought back the instinctive wiping of sweat, exhaling heavily, as the anticipated revolving whirlpool of light amassed between his hands: alike the power he'd summoned to heal Superman's wounds, only ten times larger.

Now that caught Tezcatlipoca's attention. The distractions of the Justice League would do nothing now; their purpose didn't exceed crowd control.

That is, unless John's attack were to work and the god would be weak enough to attack.

For the first time since their arrival, the Justice League witnessed the Aztec god move. They were not nearly as tall as Trigon had been, but walked as massively, so that the very ground shook under their weight- as though the earth strived to rise to meet their feet and they quashed it with every footfall.
Tezcatlipoca's jaw unhinged as it had done before (in Clark's direction) red eyes darkening and darkening in their round sockets.

And their trajectory was Constantine.

***

It hadn't worked.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Constantine's spell had struck Tezcatlipoca, stunned the god. And the Justice League had been able to ascend upon the great being. Mace and sword and fist striking the god from all angles in a cacophony of solid unison: the Justice League had done this before, too many times.

The god looked, for a moment, as though they might fall, and the toxic fog would recede.

And then it didn't.

Tezcatlipoca breathed their terrible Death over the attackers.
All in close proximity, the entirety of the Justice League (save Superman) were engulfed in the strangling blackness, they stumbled through the air, carrying each other to the closest area of safety.

In the last second, Constantine brought forth a shield of circular, golden runes, covering him from the fog that poured from the god like fire from a dragon's breath (the dragons that actually have fire, not the poison-shooters or water-spitters ). One hand maintaining the (hopefully) impenetrable shield, Constantine used the other to manifest a portal of similar runes, darting through it and letting the shield collapse with the passing of his second hand.

He stepped into the street wherein Nightwing was ordering police away from the scene. The vigilante paused when he saw the panting magician, eyes wide.

"Is it-?"

"Plan...A.." Constantine heaved, hands on his knees. "Plan...fucking...A..." 

"A?" Dick was confused. The foghorns in his mind was cleared a second later, the recognition crossing his face like the lifting of a veil.

"Anubis."

A.N:

Suffer bitches.

Sorry there wasn't any Damiraeeeeeee content this update- be prepared for LOTS next chapter! Please remember I'm trying to write a book here, not like one-shots: there are going to be some chapters that aren't all about Damian and Raven. Deal with it xxx

Thank you my darlings

-Bats :3