John cracks his neck, a grim smile on his face as he steps into the room with his hands in his pockets. Your room.

"Alright luv, you know who I am?"

He asks, standing over your writhing, chained-up form on the bed and taking a drag of his cigarette, tapping ash onto your face.

Of course you do. Everyone in Hell knows who John Constantine is, and how you must have really fucked up if he's come to stop your fun.

"Hm, seems my reputation proceeds me from how you're thrashing." John hums, leaning back on his heels, his smile growing into something that you know from firsthand experience is nothing short of demonic. "Its quite pathetic really."

He leans over you, tapping your nose condescendingly and blowing smoke into your face. "Now, I'm giving you a chance to sod off out of that human flesh suit and fuck off back to the depths from whence ya came."