i'm more than royal

It was fun to antagonise Anton, especially since if the stick were any further up his arse, he’d have had a tree growing out of his mouth.  John smirked as Anton ticked off his fingers, silently giving himself a point in the process.

“Christ, Ghost Rider?  Are they really still using ‘im?” John muttered at mention of the name.  “Tha’ bloke deserves t'be sent back to th’ Eighties where he belongs….”

“Just makin’ chit-chat, mate… tha’s all,”  John continued, shrugging noncommittedly and ignoring Anton’s question.  “Didn’t figure you for th’ urban livin’ type, or are you finally settlin’ down an’ playin’ Happy Families wiv’ someone, eh?”

Anton really did wish he would have taken a different route that day. He would have preferred to stave off the knowledge that Constantine was in the city for just a little while longer — he wasn’t afraid of him, far from it, but John was annoying as all hell and seemed to find exactly which button to press to rile him up. That alone was irritating.

@thdvlwrsprd

After all the years he’d been active, it blew his fucking mind that there were still people who believed they could actually get away from him. Roman could play a long game when he needed to. Wrongs that had been done to him years earlier would just sit and wait their turn to be rectified. He didn’t like the waiting, and anyone who made him do it just suffered all the more for leaving him with time to build up some real resentment. Star City had been a magnet for some of those people, maybe for the same reason that he’d eventually ended up there himself. It was open season. 

Unfortunately for them, he’d been nursing his grudges with extra care. He’d even made a list. When he called for Anton, he was on number three. One of his old contacts from Gotham, a man who’d ran transport for him and made off with a truck of full of weapons to sell for his own profit, happened to be that number three. The man had robbed him of millions, and Roman was going to get his repayment one way or another. 

He’d given his accountant the location of another property that he’d purchased, which at a glance was wholly unremarkable. It housed an old cosmetics lab that had been emptied of all its contents. It put him in a certain mood. As his security team moved to let Anton inside, Roman lowered the hand he’d been clutching a drill in. Blood dripped slowly from the tip of it and hit the concrete by his foot. Beside him, his former transport-turned-thief associate was gagged and bound to a chair, looking a little worse for the wear. Roman ripped the cloth out of his mouth. 

“See this man?” he nodded toward Anton. “He’s here to take care of all that fucking money you owe me. Isn’t that nice of him? We’ll speed up this process for all of us.” 

It wasn’t every day that Anton received a call from Roman Sionis. Usually there needed to be special occasion for that. What details given certainly piqued his interest enough to break his little dry spell — breaking the necks of Harley’s goons didn’t count. Though Kara and the rest would be whole heartedly disappointed if they were to ever find out, it was in Anton’s intentions to not let them. It was a work thing, that’s all; he didn’t lie about that. To him, this was work. 

But this line of work needed care — it needed discretion. A pair of black, leather gloves would suffice and perhaps a similar suit stowed back in his office for emergencies. Anton was always prepared. Tables could turn and routes grew murky, some even twisted and turned dangerous, so it was only smart to anticipate those changes. Anticipating meant staying alive.

Anton would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little giddy. He’d tugged on those gloves with a mild excitement that buzzed just beneath his skin. In fact, he was practically glowing. He had a placid and tight smile on his face when he was allowed into the room. The iron smell was overwhelming; Anton reveled in it.

WHO: @thdvlwrsprd & @memoriesofkrypton WHERE: Rooftop, Penthouse WHEN: April 12th, 2021 WHAT: Three Year Anniversary

The bottom of the thin silver band was nestled into its navy blue velvet cushion. Tiny diamonds circled the highly durable tourmaline center stone in a haphazard and seemingly random pattern in a similar way that the stars danced around the moon in the night sky. The band was also littered with tiny tourmaline and clear gems; the stones were burnished into the band, to limit bumping or breakage. 

While the ring was undoubtedly beautiful to look at, it didn’t necessarily look as if it costed an arm and a leg to get. Anton had money — of course he did. 

Money was never the question nor would it ever be, but the price tag was more for its rarity and strength than anything. The detailing of the gemstone sounded ideal, especially for Kara and the chaos that seemed to follow someone of her magnitude. The last thing he wanted was for her to blast her hand through a wall and for the ring to disintegrate under the pressure, so as strong as the gem was already, Anton needed just a little bit more insurance. A few incantations and a hand wave or two should do it.

Polished and glistening to perfection, the ring lay dormant in its bed, the entirety of the box hidden away in the inner left pocket of Anton’s jacket. He could feel its weight there constantly as he moved to and fro between the rest of the penthouse and rooftop, as he set up the quiet, candlelit dinner. He’d thought against it, at first — romance was never his forte, though he had a knack — but after the last few months, something simple, intimate, and over-all peaceful sounded overdue.

His piano sat, uncovered, to one side. A small round table and two chairs were settled more in the center, off of the winding staircase. A glistening, clear vase was settled in the middle of the table and housed a single, red rose. Its petals were dotted with small beads of water that reflected the warm yellow from the fairy lights that encircled the tulle lined canopy. Despite the large instrument, there was a small record player already loaded and ready to play. All he had to set down was the needle. Dinner sat in a warmer he borrowed and champagne chilled in a bucket of ice. Honestly, everything looked perfect, especially with what little star light that twinkled from the dark sea overhead — he was just missing one more thing: the girl.

Anton’s dark brown dress shoes made little to no sound as he padded down the dark spiral staircase; Evangeline was already with Clark, so the penthouse was quiet save for Kara as she mulled about. It would come as no surprise if she already had an idea as to what he had set up, or stole a sneak peak or two, but he’d made no mention of it, so he was banking on at least an inkling of surprise. 

The ring felt insurmountably heavy.

He wasn’t nervous, not exactly, but he didn’t have the usual confident spring in his step. Instead, it felt like he moved through a thick haze or fog, slowly, as if he were watching himself walk through water. Instinctively he’d run his hand over his jacket, over the place where the ring sat nestled in its silence. Of course it was still there — he was worrying for nothing.

Pale knuckles connected with the dark wood door, the piece open just ajar enough to spot an ocean of golden waves. There was the suggestion of dressing up for dinner, nothing glitzy like the gala, but definitely something other than jeans, preferably. He forwent the usual getup of differing shades of black himself, opting instead for a getup consisting of a white button-up and navy blue, textured slacks. His tall figure was framed by a lighter blue toned jacket, a stark contrast to the shadows that tended to hide him. There was no tie to follow the button line down, though he kept the first few open and undone.

When his black eyes met her vivid and expectant gaze, Anton shared with her a soft smile. He supposed he would always be tormented by the role the good Lord created for him and by those who hunted him, but Kara helped to soften the impending nightmares and whispers in his ear — all she had to do was smile back at him.

“Right now? Probably.” Linda agreed. Though she suspected that was largely due to the fact that, despite how chaotic her life could be, it was never her chaos. She just tried to help others navigate it. Anton, however, was right in the thick of it.

She snorted quietly, “I thought I was going to die so I got hammered in my office then Lucifer dropped me off at Opulence and I sobered up there.” she informed him with a shrug before becoming serious, “How are you, Anton? I know what you and your family suffered was no doubt traumatic.”

Anton snorted at her answer, though she was probably right. She didn’t have to deal with the Joker’s shit - at least, not firsthand. The bomb was a worry, but at least it wasn’t in the city. That much they could be thankful for.

“You had the right idea, at least. Why go out sober? That’s no fun,” Anton shook his head with a wrinkled nose before the attention was brought back to him. He leaned back into the couch and crossed his arms over his chest with a shrug. “I’m fine. I’ve been through worse. Much worse,” he shook his head again, his focus slipping into a momentary lapse in thought and awareness, as if he were remembering. “Kara and Evangeline are doing better. I do wish I’d gotten there... Sooner. Y’know?”

“No need t’be so defensive. We all get down and a bit blue sometimes, my old son… no shame in admitting that,” John smirked, unjustifiably proud of himself and his pun.  

He’d always liked Anton. Not because Anton was particularly good company, but he was always entertainingly easy to wind up and seem to take everything so seriously.  

“Zadkiel?? You can fuck right off!… D’you honestly think I’d ‘ave anything t’do with that two-faced piece’a shit?  Naah, if he ever crawls back t’the mortal plane then I’ll help you to send him straight back to Hell.”

“As for me? I’m just here as a tourist, mate… Here t’see the best sights that Star City ‘as to offer,” The Magician continued, still grinning and dropping ash on the map as he folded it back up. "I’m surprised to find you here though, t’be honest… I thought you’d either be sitting on the throne of the Celestial City or decorating your own cell down there by now, not livin’ in some urban backwater like this.”

“So wha’ happened, Anton?  You finally give up on that infernal destiny bollocks or wha’?”

One side of Anton’s nose twitched up into a sneer; he clenched his jaw, but resorted to rolling his eyes instead of the growl that itched to come out. “I’m not sad, I’m not down, and I’m not blue,” he ticked each one off with a finger before burying that hand in a trouser pocket. “Besides, I can run circles around the Witch Boy.” It was no contest, but he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to bring it up.

Anton couldn’t help but to smirk at John’s outburst. “Had to ask. Ghost Rider ran through here not too long ago, so I can’t be too careful.” He omitted mention of his Father. “Tourist? Not here for something else? Or someone else?” Zachary was an acquired taste on all fronts, one that even Anton wasn’t too keen on, but his cousin on the other hand. He tensed at the line of questions and sniffed.

“Whatever, masochist,” he responded, moving over to his espresso machine to power it up. “You want one of these? Or is it going to keep you up all night. Dad forbid.” He rolled his eyes, the humor coming easily. “I run a nightclub, so I don’t exactly go to bed by nine like a geriatric.” He paused before giving a crooked grin. “Not that I’ll ever be a geriatric. One of the perks of the position, right? Hot for the rest of eternity.”

When he heard that Eva hasn’t been sleeping, he paused, turning back to his son and looking him over. He looked tired in his own right. “Nightmares?” he asked. He could imagine that, even at her age, the tension had been enough to frighten her. His jaw set and once again that thought came to his mind. Abandoning the coffee for a moment, he came to stand beside Anton, his eyes looking out onto the city.

“We could punish them, you know,” he said. “It’s my gig, after all. Master of Punishment, Lord of Hell. Head torturer.” Billy hadn’t allowed him to when Joker had taken over the theatre. But Billy wasn’t here right now, and Lucifer Morningstar wasn’t an Avenger. He wasn’t a hero. He was the Devil, and this was what the Devil did. And this time, it was also personal. 

That brought a smirk to Anton’s face; he wasn’t wrong. “Oh please, I’m not a child. I’ll be fine. An espresso sounds good right about now, anyway.” Normally he spent his nights awake and doing all sorts of nefarious things, but with Kara and even Evangeline, he sort of developed a more normal sleep schedule. It was bewildering to say the least, but he knew espresso wasn’t going to ruin that for him. “Congratulations, care to rub it in more?” While Anton was immortal, in a sense, he wasn’t forever.

Anton nodded in confirmation. “Nightmares,” he honed in and surveyed the twinkling of lights as they began to turn on. He lifted a brow at the suggestion, but didn’t immediately turn to look at his father. “I think Kara would fling me into the sun if she found out.” He tensed his jaw for just a moment before turning to Lucifer fully and leaned against the balcony railing. “I’m game,” Anton replied with a smirk and lifted brows. “It’s been much, much too long.”