Damian was busy cleaning up his work station. It had been unusually busy at the bar for a weekday, but he didn't mind. More people at the bar ment more tips for him, he had made enough extra cash to buy the ultimate edition of a new game. He'd have to stop by an ATM on the way home to deposit it.

As he was wiping the countertop down, John came over. John was an okay dude, but more of a work friend than a real friend. They'd shoot the breeze while at work, but not hang out at each other's place.

"Hey Damian, I need to ask you something, but it might be kinda personal."

Damian paused for a moment, "Okay, what's up?"

"Are you and Claire still a thing?"

"Ah, that, no we aren't together anymore."

"Did she dump you?"

"No she did not dump me, it was a mutual thing. We had fun but we just didn't click."

"That sounds like something that someone says to the person they're dumping, so their feelings don't get hurt."

"Listen here you ass, it was mutual." Damian chuckled, "Now do you have a point to this, or are you just concerned about my love life?"

"I want to ask her out, but bro code dictates I gotta clear it with you first. If she had dumped you, then it would've been a no-go."

"Well consider the bro code upheld. Now go, you can probably catch her before she leaves, I'll take care of trash duty."

"Thanks dude, you're the best!" John gave him the keys, a thumbs up, and ran off.

Damian finished cleaning his station and proceeded to gather up the trash. They rotated who took out the trash every week, as they would end up being the last one in and have to close. Damian was on duty next, and John had tomorrow off, so he could just keep the keys with him. He got the big rolling trash can, loaded it up and wheeled it out the back door.

As he opened the dumpster, he tried to only breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench. He heaved the heavy bags in and closed the lid, but as he was about to go back inside, he heard a noise down the alley. Turning, he saw a man staggering along the wall.

"Ah it's just a drunk guy, probably just got out of one of the other bars." He thought to himself.

"Sir, do you need help?" He called out to him.

If he could get the man's address out of him, he could use a rideshare app to get him home safe. The drunk guy suddenly collapsed though, and just laid on the ground unmoving. Damian rushed over to help, but a look of horror covered his face seeing the man's condition.

The man was soaked in his own blood, and had deep gashes all over his body. It looked like somebody had gone to town on him with a giant butcher's knife. Damien felt bile rising in his throat, he reached for the phone in his pocket so he could call for an ambulance, but the injured man grabbed his arm, with a surprising amount of strength for someone in his condition. He sat up and opened his eyes, which held clarity in their depths, and looked directly into Damian's.

"He must not get it," he said, "Constantine must not get the spark." He slumped back down, his voice changing to a whisper. "He must not get the spark." He turned his head, seemingly looking at nothing. "I'm sorry my friend, looks like this is the end, we have no other choice." He paused for a moment, like he was listening to something, then nodded.

"Listen dude, I'm going to call an ambulance, we'll get you help, you're going to be alright."

"I'm sorry about this, but there's no time."

He removed his hand from Damian's arm, and placed it over his heart instead, then placed his other hand over his own heart and spoke.

"I, Elliot Corner, of my own free will, surrender my spark to you, and swear my fealty until my dying breath."

His words seemed to resonate with power as he spoke. Then something strange happened. A golden glow started to emanate from his chest, focused from a point underneath his hand. The glow move from his heart, up his arm and into Damien's own heart.

Damian felt heat, strength, and power as it entered his chest. He had never felt so alive in his whole life, like he could pick up a car and throw it. The feeling started to fade, and he remembered the man dying before him. Looking at him, his eyes, they were vacant and lifeless. That same golden glow that had come from his chest started to cover his entire body. Once he was completely enveloped, his body started breaking down, drifting off as motes of light. In less than a minute, he was completely gone, not even a scrap of fabric or drop of blood was left, no trace that he had ever existed. Damian was left kneeling in the alley, his mind reeling.

“What the hell is going on?”

He didn’t remember much after that, just locking up, arriving at his apartment, and collapsing into his bed. Then the dream came.

*

Two men stood on a vast open field. Each wore armor from different time periods, one armed with a spear, the other with a sword, each sporting a shield as well. They stood unmoving, and while their helms hid their features, Damian knew they were studying each other, waiting for the slightest twitch to give away the first move.

With incredible speed, the man with the spear shot forth, like he had been fired from a cannon. Energy crackled around his spear as he thrust it at the swordsman. The swordsman brought up his shield at an angle, deflecting it away, and followed it up with a slash, emanating a similar power, towards the spearman, who knocked it aside with his own shield.

The battle continued on in much the same manner, each man the master of their own weapon, trying to get an advantage on the other, dancing on the knife's edge. As the fight wore on, fatigue started to show, as minor wounds were taken on both sides. Instead of the crimson of men, they instead bled golden ichor. The warriors’ battle slogged on, unil the swordsman got inside of the spear's reach, and plunged his sword into the spearman's gut.

The spearman folded over the blade, losing his strength and dropping to his knees. The swordsman extracted his sword and swung it again in a wide horizontal cut, taking off the spearman’s head. The headless corpse collapsed to the ground, still clutching his spear, even in death. A golden glow enveloped his body and it started to dissolve, much like the man in the alley, unlike the man however, the motes of light did not fade, but grew in intensity. They shot towards the sky, and flew off, looking like a meteor shower.

The swordsman watched all of this in stillness, and as the last speck of light disappeared, he brought his fist over his heart in salute.

“May you have better luck in your next life, brother.”

He sheathed his blade and walked off the battlefield, not looking back.

*

Damian woke up covered in sweat. For some reason he was still in his work clothes. He shook his head remembering the images from the night before.

"I wonder if I ate something bad before bed, those were some weird dreams." He said to himself.

"Oh," came an unknown voice, "those weren't just dreams. No, not just dreams at all."

Damian looked up, and was startled to see a crow at the foot of his bed, looking at him.

"Hello Damian." it said, cocking its head in a very bird-like fashion, "Welcome to your first day as a Demigod."