The invasion had been nothing like any before. Effective in its simplicity. The invaders came from nowhere, gave no warning, and made no contact whatsoever. Billions upon billions of ships surrounded Earth so thickly it blocked out the sun like a curtain, engulfing the world in an endless void of black. The planet cooled in a matter of hours, changing air currents tore the world apart with endless storms, plants died, and supplies were running thin.
No matter how many ships they were destroyed, what slivers of light they opened up lasted only moments.
The world was suffocating.
The only reason they resorted to such drastic measures as summoning the King of the Infinite Realms was because if the world was ending anyway, they didn't have much to lose.
In the biggest ritual room in the Watchtower, Constantine cast the dice.
The Kings voice fractured dimensions and was barely contained by his most powerful translation spell. It still grated against his soul with every word. The judger of gods and the restless dead had shown itself to fitting of the title, with a wit sharper than its teeth. None of Constantine's usual tricks worked. Careful wording, double entendres, offering his soul... nothing. The King didn't even seem to have pride or vanity that Constantine could leverage or manipulate either. It simply refused everything offered.
After the JL and Constantine exhausted every other avenue they had left, he reluctantly agreed on behalf of the Earth to the price it would name after it eliminated the invasion. NO conditions. At least this way, there was a chance that some of humanity would be spared.
When Constantine shook the King's 'hand' binding the contract, its grin activated every primal fear in his DNA. Pure, unadulterated terror washed through him like dry ice crystalizing outward from the contact into every cell of his body. It hit Constantine that he was out of his depth and had no idea what he was dealing with. Under the monstrous form of limbs, claws, and tail made of the eternal abyss accented by the light of creation was an abomination beyond any eldritch entity he could comprehend.
And that was the smile of a dragon playing with a mouse.
Without another word, the ruler of the Infinite Realms turned to the window that appeared as a pitch black wall and waved the limb Constantine shook. The sky turned a blinding, unbroken green. As quickly as it came, it vanished, and in its place, the sun shone like any other day. The Watchtower hadn't even shuddered.
To Constantine's senses, it was as if everything in a certain range from the surface of the Earth had been sliced from existence with surgical precision. The fabric of reality knitted itself back together so perfectly, no signs that gaping hole in reality had been there at all.
Constantine breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. Now, it was time to find out what fire-
But the King wasn't done. It swept its 'hand' down toward the Planet. The change was immediate. The ice that encased half the planet melted, hurricanes vanished, and vegetation bloomed. It wasn't a reset to a previous point in time. No. This was much more nuanced. Constantine could feel it.
Everything that had died was gone, but dead plants were replaced by new growth, displaced wildlife was returned to their homes with a boost to help them restore their biomes, frostbite and starvation was healed, and structures and buildings were repaired if the rapidly vanishing damage to the Watchtower was any indication.
It did not fix everything. Anything that was broken, sick, or contentious from before the invasion remained so. Earth's problems remained.
...That hadn't been part of the deal.
The King had done that of its own volition. It set Constantine's teeth on edge. The only reason it would do that was to show its absolute control. The worst part was it worked.
Constantine really hadn't comprehended what he unleashed until that moment. He'd faced countless beings capable of far greater destruction, but healing the fundamental makeup of the world like it was an afterthought?
Cold sweat broke out under Constantine's coat. He'd gotten what he asked for, but now, it was time to pay the piper.
"About my payment, there is someone you must find and bring to me. He is mine."
This was fine. This was totally and completely fine.
How this unknowable entity from beyond every reality knew the name 'Richard Grayson,' Constantine wasn't going to question.
One soul as payment was a goddamned miracle of miracles. A pipe dream that Constantine still wasn't sure he believed. He had been expecting the enslavement of their souls at the very least or blood sacrifices until the end of time. So the loss of one silver spoon licking wanker from Bludhaven, the literal rotting trash heap worse than Gotham, was nothing.
Or at least it should have been if it wasn't for Batman.
To summarize an extremely vicious and contentious series of events that almost resulted in the dismantling of the Justice League: the King of the Infinite Realms refused to change its demand and stopped responding to any attempts at conversation, and after weeks of back and forth, the Bats ONLY agreed to allow Grayson to talk with the King for the explicite purpose of finding an alternative payment.
While all this went on, the King had done nothing but silently watch the stars with an ever-shifting number of toxic green eyes. That type of cold impatience left Constantine terrified what price they would pay for the delay. Batman had no understanding of how precarious their situation was.
After the Bats' failed to make any technology work in the presence of the King in the hopes of a video call, here they finally were with the sacrifice in tow, walking down a hall of the Watchtower to the ritual room. Every Bat and Bird was equipped to the nines and surrounding this average looking chap like a living shield.
Constantine didn't know what all the fuss was about. This Grayson bloke repeatedly vocalized from within the wall of bodies his willingness to hand over his soul. Called it a fair trade. Good lad.
"You will not sacrifice yourself. That's an order." Batman's voice was harsher than Constantine had ever heard it.
"It's my life. They saved everyone and everything I care about. That's more than enough."
Constantine stopped with his hand on the door.
"Denied. We will find another way. This will only be a discussion. Understood?"
To cut off the argument that had been cycling on repeat since they entered the tower, Contantine interjected, "Yes! For the last time, it's completely contained within the binding circle. Can't affect anything outside it since it completed its end of the bargain. The only thing it can do is talk." Constanine opened the door without waiting for the go-ahead. "Fair warning, if your ears start to bleed, that's normal."
Batman glared at him as they stepped inside without another word to stand before the King.
It gazed out into space with its back to them, none of the multitudinous green eyes were visible as it gazed out at the universe. Constantine closed the door and stepped off to the side of the Bats. Standing close to the object of a master of gods fury generally wasn't good for one's health.
Constantine cleared his throat, praying that the world would still be in tact after this. "Your Majesty, we have brought Richard Grayson as you requested."
Everything stilled around the King, every indistinct shifting particle of its being froze as if the very fabric of reality was holding its breath (Which was a terrifying possibility).
Slowly, ever so slowly, it turned.
Every one of the King's eyes was focused solely on Grayson. Constantine doubted it even registered that anybody else was there.
The King's form evaporated like mist in a swirl of particulate as something condensed at its center.
When it cleared, a man stood with his feet on the ground wearing simple black clothing, the crown above his head was the only adornment. It shimmered and rippled like a living curtain of the aurora borealis. His features were too sharp to be fully human. His eyes glowed the same unnatural shade as before, and his hair flowed like an etherial white fog, swaying and insubstancial.
Then the King stepped out of the circle like it wasn't there, shoes silent against the hard floor.
Constantine felt like he shit a house in shock.
Every bat jumped into fighting stances. Warnings turned into demands, then threats as he approached. Constantine jumped in doing his best at damage control, but he was too late as everything devolved into violence.
The King didn't react to any of it as he stopped in front of them. Every attack went straight through him.
The voice was breathless and thin with only a slight echo. Sorrow, yearning, and love all wrapped around that single word like a lifeline. The King's face was open and vulnerable in desperate hope.
Grayson stood stock still at the center, refusing the arms that tried to pull him to safety as he stared back in shocked wonder.
The quiet call of 'father' cut through the chaos like a stone to glass.
"My little robin. My boy." Tears glimmered in the King's eyes, and a tender smile lit up his face like a beacon. His arms made an aborted motion to reach out when something uncertain flickered through his expression.
Dick vaulted forward, latching every one of his limbs around the man so tightly as to never let go and burying his face into the crooks of his father's neck. "Tata!" He heaved in wet sobs.
The King clung back, cradling him and humming a quiet lullaby. "I thought you followed me, but I couldn't find you. I have never been happier to be wrong. Oh how you've grown."
Before long, the King was quietly mingling with the Bats like a freaking person. Constantine stayed well out of it, wondering why the King hadn't taken his prize and killed them all already.
A voice that was way too soft to be Batman but was definitely coming out of Batman jolted Constantine out of his suble creep toward the door. "One father to another, would you allow Dick a little more time before you collect his soul? He is young, and this world would be a darker place without him."
The King's face contorted in confusion. Then, his head snapped glare at Constantine with daggers he could actually feel against his skin. "Is that what took so long? I never said anything about taking anybody's soul. I just asked to see my son."
Constantine decided this was an excellent time to make his exit. In a flash of sparks, Constantine was in the House of Mysteries safe and sound and out of whatever bullshit he stumbled into.
...until a voice filtered into his head. "We will have words later."
Note: pointed out in a Tumblr post that I can't find (if you know it @ me so I can credit), Daniel means "God is my judge," so I choose to believe that when "Danny Phantom" is filtered through Constantine's imperfect magic translation, it comes out as "I am the judger of gods and the restless dead" because that is cool as hell and sounds like a proper introduction for the literal Master of the Infinite.
Edit: someone found it! This is the post that inspired the name miscommunication.
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