The Oblivion Bar - Pocket Dimension - 03:00 AM
The entrance was located behind a dumpster in a shadowed alley of Gotham. To the average human, it looked like a brick wall.
To me, it looked like a door made of solidified mana.
"We are here, Sir," I said, adjusting my tie.
Bruce Wayne stood beside me. He was not wearing the Bat-suit. He was wearing a trench coat and a fedora, his face obscured by a low-level glamour spell I had cast.
"Matches Malone," Bruce grunted, slipping into his underworld persona. "I hate magic bars. They always smell like sulfur and cheap gin."
"And despair, Sir. Do not forget the despair."
I knocked. Three times. Pause. One time.
The bricks melted away.
The Atmosphere
The bar was smoky. But the smoke was purple.
Demons, warlocks, and magical creatures sat in booths, drinking glowing liquids. A jukebox in the corner was playing a blues song performed by a skeleton.
We walked to the VIP table in the back.
The players were already seated.
John Constantine: The Hellblazer. Smoking a Silk Cut cigarette, looking like he hadn't slept in a decade.Etrigan the Demon: In his human form (Jason Blood), shuffling the deck with stiff, armored fingers.Detective Chimp: A chimpanzee in a deerstalker hat, drinking a beer.
"Well, well," Constantine smirked, ash falling on the felt. "Look what the cat dragged in. A suit and... something else."
Constantine looked at me. He squinted.
"You're a long way from the Pit, mate. And you smell like... butler?"
"I am Sebastian," I bowed slightly. "And this is my... sponsor."
"Mr. Matches," Bruce grunted, sitting down. "We're buying in."
"Buy-in is steep tonight," Detective Chimp said, scratching his ear. "We're not playing for cash. We're playing for Favors."
"I have a question," I said, placing a silver chip on the table. "A bounty has been placed on my head. I wish to know the name of the broker."
"That's valuable intel," Constantine exhaled smoke. "The Broker is a ghost. To get that name... you'll have to beat the House."
"Deal."
The Game: Texas Hold'em
Hand 1: I folded immediately. Constantine won with a pair of Queens. Analysis: Constantine bluffs with his breathing. He holds his breath when he has a weak hand.
Hand 5: Etrigan bet heavy. "The pot is high / The stakes are grand / I hold the power / In my hand." I called. Etrigan revealed a Full House. I revealed Four of a Kind. "Your rhymes are excellent," I noted, raking in the chips. "Your poker face, however, is atrocious."
The Final Hand
It came down to me and Constantine.
The pot was massive. Favors, magical artifacts, and the name of the Broker.
The Flop: Ace of Spades, King of Hearts, Two of Clubs. The Turn: Ace of Diamonds. The River: Ace of Clubs.
There were three Aces on the table.
Constantine grinned. He pushed his entire stack into the center.
"All in, mate. I've got the fourth Ace."
Bruce tensed beside me. If Constantine had the fourth Ace, he had Four of a Kind. Unless I had a Royal Flush (impossible with the cards on the board), I would lose.
"Sir," I whispered to Bruce. "Do you trust me?"
"No," Bruce whispered back. " But I trust your math."
"All in," I said, pushing my chips forward.
Constantine laughed. "Read 'em and weep, Butler."
He flipped his hole cards. Ace of Hearts.King of Spades.
"Four Aces," Constantine crowed. "Unbeatable."
The bar went silent.
"Unbeatable?" I raised an eyebrow. "Only if the deck is honest."
I reached for my cards.
"But this is a magic bar, Mr. Constantine. The deck is never honest."
I flipped my cards. Joker.Joker.
Constantine froze.
"There are no Jokers in this deck!" Constantine shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "I checked it myself!"
"There were no Jokers when you shuffled," I corrected. "But when Mr. Blood shuffled... I believe a slight transmutation occurred."
I looked at the cards. The images on the Jokers weren't the standard jester.
One looked like The Joker. The other looked like Batman.
"Five of a Kind," I declared. "The 'Gotham Special.' It beats Four Aces in this establishment's house rules... does it not?"
I pointed to the rulebook on the wall, specifically Rule #49: Transformation magic is legal if undetected.
Constantine looked at the cards. He looked at me. He realized I had out-magicked him without casting a single spell. I had simply used sleight of hand so fast it looked like magic.
"You cheeky bastard," Constantine chuckled, throwing his cards down. "Fine. You win."
The Prize
Constantine slid a coaster across the table. On the back, a name was written in burning letters.
"That's your Broker," Constantine said. "But be warned. He doesn't just put bounties on heads. He collects them personally."
I picked up the coaster.
LOBO.
Bruce stiffened.
"Lobo?" Bruce whispered. "The Main Man? The intergalactic bounty hunter?"
"He's unkillable," Detective Chimp added, opening another beer. "He regenerates from a single drop of blood. And he hates... well, everyone."
"Why would an alien care about a butler?" I asked.
"Because," Constantine lit another cigarette. "Someone paid him in Czarnian Moon-Metal. Rare stuff. Only one person has that kind of currency."
Constantine looked at Bruce.
"Luthor."
The Exit
We walked out of the bar. The alley was cold and wet.
"Luthor hired Lobo," Bruce said, his voice grim. "He's escalating. He knows the Court of Owls failed, so he hired a tank."
"Lobo is not a tank, Sir," I corrected, opening the car door. "He is a natural disaster with a motorcycle."
"Can you handle him?"
I looked at my gloves.
"He is immortal. He is strong. He is rude."
I smiled.
"He sounds like a challenge. I shall prepare the heavy silverware."