twist of fate

Anton wasn’t in the mood for an audience, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Once he stepped through the dark, viscous shadow that acted as a doorway, his visitor would have his show - and his comments. Anton snorted and displayed his usual smirk as he stalked toward the older man.

The older man who hummed with magic himself; Anton grew wary. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grinned and pulled out his own case of cigarettes, tapped one out and wedged it between his lips. He touched the other end and it lit bright before he sucked in a breath. Smoke curled into his nose. “Do you usually hang around dark alleyways and wait for some unsuspecting magic user to walk by? There are easier ways, my friend.”

///

“I rarely get this lucky,” Kent replied evenly, a dry humor to his tone that made it somewhat difficult to figure out whether or not he was joking or being serious. It was part of what made him so inscrutable most of the time; he seemed to live in those in between spaces, the places that would make others uncomfortable. 

He cocked his head to the side. “Demonic magic?” he asked, his eyebrow raising just a little as he took another drag of his cigarette. He rarely got to see it in person without immediately having to dispatch its wielder back to Hell, and he vaguely wondered if he would have to do that to Anton. He hoped not. Bloodshed was not pleasurable for Kent.

His conjuration spells were going pretty well, he was having success after success with bigger demons every time. Neron was just one big demon; if he could steal the hearts of his underlings and force them to do whatever he wanted then he’d have a shot of doing it to him and getting Eddie’s freedom. This specimen was just over five feet tall and covered in rough scales with sharp protruding horns; Zach currently held the creatures blackened heart in his palm and was forcing it spill everything it knew about Neron.

Though he started a little when an unfamiliar voice spoke. He tightened his grip on the heart, the demon shifting uncomfortably, and turned to face the intruder. “Interesting isn’t the word most people would use.” he said dryly, “Who are you and what’re you doing here?” He was more than prepared to fight and, conveniently enough had a demon under his power who’d have no problem battling on his behalf,  

///

“No, I suppose the word for it is dark.” Kent pressed his lips together behind the helm, keeping his hands tucked behind his back as he watched Zach carefully. “I do hope you see the irony in asking a masked man who he is,” he replied lightly. He took a few steps forward, not menacingly but with a precision that made it clear that he would be prepared for a fight if necessary. Kent hoped that wouldn’t be the case. “Torturing demons rarely gives you what you are looking for.” 

Kent had his fair share of experience with demons, and, in his experience, even under duress, demons would lie. They were expert liars, and they found more thrill in misleading people than they ever would in telling the truth. “Why don’t you release his heart, and we’ll see if I can help you instead,” he said equably. “I can assure you that I won’t lie.” He took off his helm, revealing his features. “I have nothing to hide.”

-

Foggy didn’t usually take the lower profile cases these days, instead he took the helm of the more high risk or tricky trials while his deputies managed the rest. But one was currently off sick and he had no problem pulling a little extra weight, so he’d stepped in to take a doctor’s statement about the mugging they were getting ready to prosecute and nodded, jotting down some notes of his own.

“We can add that as another consequence to the attack, thanks for coming here and doing this. The poor guy’s gonna need some kind of settlement to keep his house together so this’ll help with that, Doctor-” he paused to look over the file, “Nelson. Heh, funny, we got the same last name.” he grinned at Kent then tilted his head slightly, “So, you look kinda familiar, have you been in the city all that long? Or did you ever work in New York?” He couldn’t place it but some bell was ringing in his mind. 

///

Kent raised an eyebrow. Perhaps the younger man was more perceptive than Kent had given him credit for originally. It was only a matter of time, after all, until Foggy figured out that there was an immortal ancestor of his shadowing his movements, but Kent had been hoping to put off that moment for as long as possible. The fewer people who knew about his immortality, the better; he kept his name and face quiet, kept under the radar and got his work done to make sure that no one would look twice at him. 

“I haven’t, actually. I only recently arrived.” He cocked his head to the side, a half smile curving at his lips. “I haven’t been to New York in a very long time.” He had been, of course, over the years, but the more he could keep his identity under wraps, the better. If Foggy was going to come to the truth on his own, then he could do that independently of Kent’s help. Kent was always the kind of person to speak with vagueness and obscurities, anyway. 

[ @fcted​ liked for a starter !! ]

Her office was in the process of being repainted, thus the smell was atrocious, otherwise she’d rifle through photographs of potential pieces and their information there. It would have been much more preferable, but the silence and familiarity of the League’s hidden conference room was enough to hone her focus. Music filtered out of the speaker in her cell phone, the notes slow and warm, but the sound came out loud enough to fill the lonesome area.

Diana’s attention fixed itself on a damaged bust, though was promptly ripped from the photograph when she heard the happening of another enter the room. She ushered out an apologetic chuckle as she pressed pause on her music with a quick finger, her gaze on the mess of paperwork in front of her. “Apologies, I had no idea that anyone else was here,” she pardoned as she turned to greet her guest. “Kent—” A glint of surprise bubbled with the name before it gave way to a friendly smile. “I hope I did not interrupt anything important.”

Kent himself was looking through a few of his case files, preparing for upcoming surgeries. While he normally would do this in the hospital, the smell of disinfectant was starting to make his head spin, and with no surgeries on the schedule for the next few hours, he decided to steal a few precious moments away from the hustle and bustle of the hospital to instead spend some time where he could find some peace and quiet to prepare for his surgeries.

“Magic is a fickle thing.” Kent was leaning against a nearby wall, smoking casually as he watched Anton with an appraising eye. “Not many have it, and of those who do, few can control it like that.” He gestured vaguely towards Anton’s hands and the magical ability he had just displayed. Kent had no quarrel with users of darker magics, as they were necessary to maintain balance in the universe, but he always liked to keep an eye on them. 

Too much darkness and the world could topple over into something much worse than it was already—it was what had happened in another universe similar to this one that he had been observing from the Tower of Fate. 

Kent cocked his head to the side as he sat across from Barry in the bar. Barry had always been one of the more annoying members of the Justice League to Kent, if only because his unyielding optimism was too much for Kent’s realism, but in that moment, he was missing the way in which Barry would constantly be talking at the speed of light and constantly smiling. Kent pursed his lips lightly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Barry, he was certain, would fill in what it Kent meant, even if Kent didn’t quite know himself. Kent ran a finger around the rim of his glass as he studied Barry carefully, unsure of what else he could say or do that could bring back the Barry he knew so well. 

Kent finished bandaging up the young man who had ended up on his front stoop with a badly bleeding forearm, a cigarette between his lips as he did so. He looked absolutely ancient in that moment, like a man way out of time with his black bag of medical supplies and the lightly unbuttoned dress shirt that had clearly been under a suit jacket for most of the day. And, despite being a doctor, he had never been able to give up his favorite vice of cigarettes. 

“Now, I do hope you’ll be careful for the next few days,” he said. “Try not to twist or strain your arm too much. You could open the wound back up.” He pressed a hand over the edge of the bandage to finish securing it before lifting a hand to his lips and taking the cigarette out of his mouth. 

Upon returning to this universe, the first thing that Kent wanted was to get back in contact with the Justice League of this world. It was imperative that he have allies, and more importantly, he considered the Justice League to be the few proper heroes who might be able to stop the collision course with destiny that this universe was careening on. And so, that meant making his presence known to Bruce. 

He was waiting outside the Wayne building in Star City, a cigarette dangling between his lips as he watched the people leaving the building with a careful eye. When he finally saw Bruce, he plucked the cigarette from between his lips and stamped it out with the toe of his shoe. “Bruce,” he greeted. “How have you been?” 

Kent was used to surveying places from high above, his arms tucked behind his back as he floated way out away from the hustle and bustle of the city below. It was quiet up here. Peaceful. It was a peace that Kent longed for but rarely got outside of the Tower of Fate, and even then, the Tower was constantly feeding him information from various universes—there was no peace to be found there, not really. 

He flew down closer when he saw a disturbance in the waves at the shoreline; a half smile lifted at his features as he realized who it was, though his expression was hidden behind his helm. “Hello, Garth,” he said, still keeping his hands clasped behind him. “Up to your old tricks, I see.” 

Kent didn’t often end up tangled with the law, and that was by design, especially now that Foggy was the DA in Star City. Kent had known about Foggy for a while—he had always kept tabs on his relatives, even if after a while he was no longer able to stay in contact with them, lest he bring attention to his age—and he was immeasurably proud of the younger man for what he had accomplished, but he had been unable to say anything. 

Now, he was almost tempted, but as he gave his statement on the mugging victim who had come in, he made sure to keep it strictly professional. “In my opinion, he won’t be able to go back to work for at least another month. His jaw will have to be wired shut for the next six weeks and he has three broken ribs, which means physical labor is off the table.” He nodded once as he finished. “Is there anything else you need?” 

Kent had keenly tuned senses when it came to ripples of darkness in the magical forces of the universe. It was part of the powers that had been bestowed upon him by Nabu, the powers imbued in his helm and through his body tingling with the feeling of something...ill. He flew to a high point above the city, scanning for the feeling that had sent a chill down his spine before zeroing in on its source. 

He flew down, quietly dropping into a nearby alley to the building, putting his hand up against the brick and feeling the vibrations of the magic even more strongly. He slid a nearby window open, quietly jumping up and through the open window to move towards where he felt the magic grow stronger. He peeked around the corner in the quiet, abandoned building, pausing when he saw it was a young man. Wary, he stepped forward. “Interesting. What you’re casting, that is.” He folded his arms behind his back.