<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/>Zach was baring his teeth as the bartender started grasping pieces of glass with a pair of tweezers and wiggling the shards free of his skin. With how firm some of them were lodged, there was a soft tear of flesh on one pull. Zach’s hands resorted to: one resting on the counter and the other grasping the stool between his legs. He was doing his best to listen to John, but with the bartender at his back, he began to wonder if letting him stitch him up was a good idea.<br/><br/>“Serendipity my ass,” Zach growled through his teeth. He then glared daggers over his shoulder at the bartender. “Just flay my back while you’re at it!”<br/><br/>The bartender pinched another piece as he wore an indifferent expression. “I never said I was a surgeon. I just said I do this all the time. It interests me. Besides, you got enough tattoos here that no one’s gonna see the scar so quit your cryin’.”<br/><br/><em>I’m gonna kill this man,</em>Zach thought. His attention then returned to John as he lined up some shot glasses for him. He immediately took one of the shots, hoping the vodka would numb the pain. Of course, it never really worked that quick. The magician had to focus on what John was saying. He not only had a thick British accent, but he had a very special way of speaking as though he could only communicate in references, figures of speech, and metaphors and rarely ever straight-to-the-point English. It was rather annoying. Zach’s annoyance immediately changed to amusement when John showed him the photo of Bat Cock on his phone. He snickered hard and then outright laughed, “Oh shit. You actually did i-FUCK!”<br/><br/>The bartender had taken one of the vodka shots and splashed it over Zach’s wound. The sudden sting and intense burn caused Zach to spring from the stool like a doused cat. With a hand cupping the gash—wanting to touch it so bad but knowing he shouldn’t—he whirled to face him and shouted, “What. The. Fuck?! Asshole!”<br/><br/><em>Hey! Don’t call the bartender an asshole!</em><br/><br/>“Shut the fuck up!” Zach shouted at the random who had tried to order him around.<br/><br/>“Since you were laughing, I felt it was a good time to disinfect it. Come back over here so I can stitch it.”<br/><br/>“Fuck you! I’m not some guinea pig you can use to live out your fantasies of being a shit doctor! I’ll sew it myself!”<br/><br/>Zach held his hands out, palms tilted up, as he chanted,<em>Desolc dnuow eht wes!</em>The makeshift needle and thread the bartender had prepared flew over to Zach. As soon as the needle impaled his flesh, Zach immediately grasped the counter edge and gripped it. The bartender’s eyes were wide with disturbance as he watched the needle relentlessly enter and exit Zach’s flesh without a care for delicacy. Magic was magic and a command was a command. When the stitching was finished, Zach buried his face into his arm as he panted softly from having endured so much…<em>torture.</em>He should have handled the whole thing himself from the beginning. At least it was finally over.<br/><br/><strong>See a flat-foot hiding ‘round, Squire…</strong><br/><br/>Zach slowly raised his eyes, frowning at Constantine before his hazel orbs darted around the room. They settled on The Phantom Stranger. He didn’t know who it was at first. He had to match the clothing description to an old memory Zatanna had told him about. Never had he actually seen The Stranger until that moment. It was like gazing upon a ghost and Zach ducked a little behind the counter. He didn’t know why he was afraid, but he didn’t seem to be alone. He could hear the quiver of fear in John’s voice, which was a bad sign and made him even more nervous. Zach continued to peek at the stranger from behind the counter. He tilted his head a bit in John’s direction as he whispered, “Who are we looking for?”