DC Heroes in Marvel

The performance was a success.

Johnny successfully leaped over a football field with tens of thousands of spectators watching in person, along with hundreds of thousands more glued to their screens during the TV broadcast. Once again, he set a world record.

"Mr. Invincible!"

"Johnny!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Sitting in the front row, Anton felt his ears ringing from the deafening noise. However, he wasn't particularly moved by Johnny's achievement. 

This was all predetermined. He was certain Johnny had expected this outcome.

As long as Mephisto needed Johnny to achieve his goals, he would never let him die.

Anton's gaze fell on Johnny, who was surrounded by an ecstatic crowd. Yet, instead of excitement and joy, Johnny's face carried a trace of heaviness. 

That only confirmed Anton's suspicion—Johnny had realized something.

After filming Hell Detective, Johnny had taken on this high-stakes stunt. During their time together on set, Anton had subtly guided Johnny to reconsider a past experience—the gray-haired old man he had once encountered.

A demon.

That white-haired old man was a real demon.

And Johnny now believed it.

After the Battle of New York, Thor's name resounded across the world. As a god from Norse mythology, his existence confirmed the truth behind ancient legends. 

With everything Johnny had experienced firsthand, what reason did he have to doubt the existence of the Devil?

"Good job!"

"You broke the world record again—you're practically a god!"

"Oh my god, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest, Johnny!"

His teammates surrounded him in celebration.

Johnny forced a smile and nodded, barely managing to feign joy. The people around him were too caught up in the excitement to notice anything amiss.

Suddenly, Johnny's eyes locked onto Anton through a gap in the crowd. His gaze sharpened.

"Make way."

He pushed through his teammates, striding toward Anton.

However—

The moment Anton saw Johnny approaching, he smirked, got up, and disappeared into the inner passage of the stadium, quickly vanishing from sight.

"Wait, Anton!"

Johnny's expression darkened. He couldn't understand why Anton was avoiding him.

By the time he finally broke free from the crowd, Anton was gone.

Johnny stood still, looking lost. He felt as if Anton had abandoned him.

Recalling the promises Anton had made to him on set, Johnny clenched his fists.

No one was ever obligated to help him.

Johnny had learned that lesson the hard way through years of hardship.

He let out a bitter laugh before turning back to his teammates.

"Let's go."

"Let's celebrate!"

His team quickly engulfed him once more.

Meanwhile, on the other side—

Anton had already left the stadium.

Contrary to Johnny's assumption, Anton wasn't avoiding him out of reluctance to help. It just wasn't the right time to talk.

Helping Johnny overcome the Hell Dimension's invasion would earn him at least millions in Justice Points. There was no need to let such an opportunity slip away for nothing.

Besides, since he had only appeared as a clone, there was no risk to his actual body.

And right now, Johnny had just completed a world-record-breaking stunt in front of tens of thousands of live spectators and hundreds of thousands more watching on TV. 

Any interaction between them would be broadcasted and scrutinized, inevitably exposing Anton's involvement.

That was unnecessary.

As a renowned director and the only non-superhero member of the Justice League, Anton had surpassed even Tony Stark in social media followers.

 If he was seen interacting with Johnny on live television, certain people would start paying attention.

That was not something Anton wanted.

He had come today only to observe Johnny's condition.

The real conversation would come through Constantine.

Night fell.

After the revelry, Johnny returned to his residence in Los Angeles.

He hadn't drunk, so his mind was clear. Drinking gave him nightmares. Every time he tried, he would wake up drenched in cold sweat.

At first, he thought he was sick, but not long ago, he finally understood the real reason—

Because of that nightmarish incident in his youth.

Sitting on the sofa, Johnny turned on the TV. The Discovery Channel's special on howler monkeys echoed in the background.

It should have been the kind of program he loved, but his face remained blank. He stared at the screen, unfocused and lost in thought.

There was something Johnny had never told anyone.

Whenever he pushed the limits—riding his motorcycle, attempting seemingly impossible jumps—he always felt that fatal moment when death was inevitable. 

Yet, at that exact point, an inexplicable force would lift him up and carry him across the finish line.

Nine world records.

No, tonight made it ten. And every time, it was the same.

Johnny once dismissed it as an illusion, but now he was certain. It was real.

Even next time, when he faced the most dangerous moment, he knew he would rely on that unknown power once again.

This wasn't his own strength. Someone, somewhere, was silently helping him.

But no help comes without a price.

And silence always hides greater demands.

Boom boom boom!

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Who is it?"

Johnny snapped back to reality, frowning slightly. He assumed it was his agent who had just dropped him off.

"Mark?"

He got up and headed for the door but suddenly stopped, a chill running down his spine.

If it were Mark, he wouldn't knock.

Most importantly, Mark had a key.

"Who the hell is it?"

Johnny clenched his fists, grabbed his helmet from the side table, swung it twice for reassurance, and cautiously approached the door.

"I'm here to help you."

A voice came from the other side.

"Help me?"

Johnny hesitated, then opened the door.

Standing there was a stranger.

A blond man, effortlessly stylish, leaned against the railing near the entrance. He wore a beige trench coat, stubbed out his cigarette, and gave Johnny a knowing, almost mischievous smile.

"Let me introduce myself," the man said. "My name is John Constantine, and I'm a magician."

"Magic?" Johnny blinked in confusion. "I..."

"You don't need to explain. I know who you are and everything you've been through," Constantine interrupted.

That last sentence struck a chord. Johnny felt a sudden trust in the stranger.

"It was Anton who sent me."

…

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