<div class="floatleft">(http://nextews.com/images/54/92/54922a357e640ed3.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Zachary Zatara (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=309416.msg15029970#msg15029970)<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong>Sleeveless black hoodie, light-blue vintage jeans with tears, and black Chuck Taylors<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>21 August 2020<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>2130<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Heaven's Undercarriage, Mammoth City, NJ<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Fight Club<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>John Constantine<br/><hr/><br/>The cards were fanned, but Zach froze when he heard a lackadaisical British voice and watched as John Constantine out of nowhere walked over and clapped the bouncer on his shoulder. Had he been in the bar the whole time? How did he know he was going to be here? Did he follow him? The questions were pouring in. While Zach was pondering over John's mysterious appearance, suddenly the bouncer had second thoughts facing him and backed off.<br/><br/>Zach scowled. He was a little disappointed, but he wasn't going to complain. His back still felt like it split open and was gushing down his spine. Zach closed the fan of cards and held out his hand to receive the box within it. He returned them to their pack, and as much as he wanted to just stand the blonde bastard up, Zach wasn't going to refuse a free drink.<br/><br/><em>Doesn't he know I'm underage?</em>Zach wondered. He had been using a fake ID, but it was so genuine that only biometrics could probably prove it false. The last thing John said caught Zach completely off guard. Unintentionally, it had actually cracked an amused grin on his face.<br/><br/>"What?" Zach said. John drew a dong on The Great Detective's face? It was a little immature that he found it funny, and while he was legally a man, he was still a teenager. "Shit…" he cursed because he knew he was giving in to hear such a story. Anyone who could make a fool of Batman was a legend in his book. It was almost villainous to think such a thing but sometimes Batman just seemed too perfect.<br/><br/>The young magician walked over to join John in the bar. The bartender asked out of concern, "You all right kid? I thought you were a goner, but I guess not everyone is normal who comes into this place."<br/><br/>Zach rested his hand on the counter and inspected his wound with his other one. When he brought his hand back around, his fingers were still glistening and red with blood. "I think I'm going to need stitches."<br/><br/>"I got you. You wouldn't be the first I've had to patch up in this bar. Bring a stool on back here and I'll get my kit."<br/><br/>Zach picked up a stool and carried it around behind the counter. As he set it down, his hands crossed as they grasped his hoodie and pulled it up over his head. "You can get me another vodka," he finally told John. He folded his hoodie and set it on the counter as he started removing his black tank. "Why are you following me? If it's about joining that fucking circus, then you might as well leave me my drink and fuck off."<br/><br/>Setting his tank on top of his hoodie, Zach sat upon the stool as the bartender returned from the back room. There were dark streams of blood going down his spine. Some of it dried but the trail was still damp and shining. He rested his hands upon his knees, grasping at least something as he waited for the bartender to begin his surgery. The magician's body was covered in tattoos. There were Oni, dragon scales, and Polynesian bands. They covered his neck, arms, shoulders, and upper chest area. His olive skin was like golden milk in the lamp light, lightly carving out his runner's build. His hair was of course immaculate--or what he considered immaculate at least. His hairline, his blades were neatly combed and geled. He could have probably emerged from his fight earlier without a strand out of place.