It was a fairly quiet night besides a dog barking outside. It wanted in. Its paws scratched relentlessly as it jumped up at the window clawing at the wooden exterior surrounding the window frame. Its sharp teeth shown with every ferocious bark.

It just wouldn't stop its attempts to get through and at John who was peeking out through the blinds.

"Gotta love a loyal companion." John said before releasing his hold on the white venetians. They flicked closed, sending the dog into further fits of animalistic fury.

"See to that, would ya?" Constantine said to Anthony as he walked away from the window and took a seat at the kitchen table.

He lit a smoke and let out an exhale. The smoke wafted across and into the face of the house owner, seated opposite. He was silent even though these guests weren't exactly invited in. Not by the man himself anyways. 

A shriek could be heard then shortly after the back door closing. Anthony was now back inside and took his position where he was before, sitting on a chair at the kitchen bench just off to the side.

"You see. Loyalty is a strange one. Without it dogs aint exist. And with it, they are no longer simply dogs. Man's best friend, they say."

John was quite calm. He sat across from a man who's name he'd not forgotten but his face though was all he needed to know and it too was looking back at him in a similar way.

Given the situation at hand it was quite peculiar. John was edging towards doing something he never thought in a million years he'd do. And the other was being held hostage at his own dining table. Not exactly your usual Sunday get together.

"And man's best friend can also be his worst ally. Cause afterall it's a dog eat dog world out there." John lipped as his cigarette hung loosely out of the side of his mouth.

He needed his hands free to remove a gun from his inner jacket pocket. Anthony's eyes lit up but he stayed quiet. He trusted John, even if he was a fuckn nutter at times.

Constantine placed the Nagant gaz-seal revolver on the table then removed a single bullet from his right pant pocket, shuffling his ass on the chair to get his hand into his slacks. The 7.65mm caliber bullet was then placed down beside its match.

"Now you probably don't know me or who I work for but that aint even a care. What you need to know is someone doesn't like your lack of loyalty."

The showing of the offbeat gun must've struck a nerve with John's dinner date. It struck something because all of a sudden he went off. The previously well managed emotions burst out and probably also a blood vessel or two.

"You come into my fucking home, probably killed my fucking dog and you want to talk about some mother fucking asshole not liking my loyalty?!" he roared back as he stoop up out of his seat. His eyes were fuming and veins were starting to pop out of his neck.

"You worthless piece of fucking shit! I'm a politician you scum sucking fuckface! You can't do shi.." his rant was cut short by a punch to the ribs by Anthony who then grabbed his hair and rammed his face down hard into the table.

The man who supposedly had some kind of pull was then sat up straight by Constantine's handy man. Anthony was a story all to himself. For now though he was simply supporting cast to John's antagonising. He took a seat again as the recipient of his version of 'sit down and shutup' winched in pain.

"Now you better not try another piss session or me mate here will take you out back and put you down like ya dog." John said in a serious tone as he picked up the gun.

Now it really was time to get serious. No more fucking about. He came for a reason and although not exactly fond of the idea he had already accepted his actions. Taking responsibility wasn't his strong suit but his shoulders were broad and he was willing.

As Mr Rant regained his bearings, John picked up the bullet and slid it into one of the chambers. He cocked the revolver closed then gave the cylinder a single spin.

Constantine made sure the bullet was at the end of the repeat shooters sequence as to be the last shot. This wasn't russian roulette. He wasn't that fuckn crazy.

Holding the gun firmly and with Anthony looking on with sharp concern, John pointed it directly at the man opposite him and quickly squeezed the trigger. Click. No bullet left the gun yet it did have the target catch his tongue once more.

"Wait! What the hell are you doing?!" he spewed out with a deeply fearful look in his eyes.

"Five more shots. You're gonna tell me you will let this thing slide." John stated clearly and concisely as he kept the gun steadily aimed. He was leaning forward in the chair, the point of the Belgium revolver just inches from the mans face.

"The fuck are you on about?! I don't even know you!" was the face's heated response, blood dripping from his nose as he clutched his side with one hand and raised the other to shield the view of the gun before him.

"John mate this aint necessary." Anthony chimed in.

Suddenly his guy wanted to speak as if it were a group conversation. Not the time and not appreciated was the look John quickly shot over to him in return before staring back down his outstretched arm.

"Clark. William Clark. You're messing about with other people's reputations." John sternly stated, emphasizing his name in his British accent. He was all in on this and no longer his lighthearted self.

He took a puff of his lucky strike cigarette then lay it on the side of the table, ash end out. Constantine blew the remnants of the smoke toward his playmate then squeezed the trigger again. Click. But again no bullet fired.

"Fuck! They are fucking up the city! If I don't speak out no-one fucking will!" he shouted in a scared yet defiant tone back at John. He was also all in on his agenda too, to rid the city of corruption and this wasn't his first threat.

But he hadn't yet dealt with Constantine who now seemed to have a different look about him. Sure he was already an offbeat asshole but it wasn't even that. He looked as if he had a screw loose. Anthony also noticed this and stood up.

"This is nuts. The fuck you doin?" he worrily protested which seemed to have an effect he wasn't expecting. His eyes lit up and so too his arms and hands in a defensive gesture as Constantine quickly turned the gun on him.

"Four left." John said defiantely as he glared at his long time accomplice with a look that could cut through steel. The gun then quickly returned to Mr. Clark which prompted Anthony to drop his hands and silently reseat himself.

"Just tell me you'll back off and we can all go out for a quick nip and a bite to eat, mates and all that." John said with his usual sarcastic flavour.

He was a little off kilter yet not far gone. He seemed to be getting more comfortable as he dripped crazy and as his ash dropped of his still burning smoke onto the floor.

The usually lippy Brit then let his forefinger do the talking and a little louder than it already had been. He squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession. Click. Click.

"Two left." John snapped as he reverted back to his down the line, straight faced newly acquired negotiation demeanour with a touch of hellfire.

"Fuck! Ok! OK! You win you crazy fucking son of a bitch! I'll leave it alone! I'll leave it alone. Just get the fuck out of here. I'll leave it alone." The sappy political figure exclaimed as he squirmed in his seat. He was moving frantically and covering his eyes and face as John's finger had put more pressure on the situation.

The politician was now almost sobbing. And Anthony was beside himself and then some. His hand was over his mouth with eyes bulged as he watched on. He couldn't believe John was being this savage. He'd never seen him like this before.

"See? Loyalty. You were simply an untamed animal. Now you're practically man's best friend, aint ya?" John said as the lowered the gun.

Just as William began to relax Constantine then raised the weapon again and pointed it back at him squeezing the trigger two more times. Click. Click.

The gun was aimed at William's chest which was the first place he grabbed at as he slumped in his chair then rolled off and onto the kitchen floor. Anthony leaped out of his chair and put his hands on his head, shocked, mouth gaped open.

But again, no bullet. A massive sigh of relief was had by both men as Constantine stood up out of his chair and opened his free hand showing a bullet sitting in the palm of it, right in the center. He wiggled it around as he looked over at Anthony with a sly smirk.

"Come on mate, meet me outside." John instructed his long time friend as he threw over the piece of metal that had him in fits for the past few minutes.

Anthony caught it with one quick grab, swiping it out of the air. He gave John a greasy look and shook his head as he walked outside overloaded with adrenaline.

So too was the man whom all this was about, who was laying on the floor face up with his hands over his heart which was still pounding through his chest at a mile a minute.

As Anthony sat in the car waiting and collecting himself a gunshot rang out from inside the house. It jolted him up in his seat. As he peered out through the red Ford Model A's windscreen he noticed John exit through the front door.

The revolver, that odd looking piece was nowhere to be seen. The smoke from earlier had one last leg as John puffed it once more before flicking it off to the side as he hurried to the car.

"Don't even ask mate. You'd rather not know the answer. We best be going." John said slicing through Anthony's ominous stare as he hopped into the vehicle to join him. Without a further word the engine was started. The silence on the ride back was deafening.

Later on that day police would be called to the house for a reported suicide. Laying next to William Clark's lifeless body was a revolver. Unlike most American models and very uniquely, it was actually a seven shooter. Not a six.

Constantine did what he always did and played the bluff. He was a confidence man afterall. But this con job wasn't about getting one over on anyone. It was about helping his friend and hopefully the soul of the deceased.

The gun always had the bullet in it. He just had a second one on him too. His purpose was always going to be fulfilled yet he wanted to cross the man over with something to remember, and maintain his friend's innocence.

Most people never got to experience the events fully before they had actually died. Especially if done in a quick way like a tragic event or an accident. Or a cold blooded murder.

Constantine knew these types all too well. They were the various earthbound souls not knowing they'd crossed the threshold into death and tended to latch onto others as they attempted to continue living their lives. 

Atleast Willam Clark would know he was going from this life and hopefully by that, realise his arriving in the next. The clear cut explanation from Constantine made sure he did. Whether his conscious self maintained that memory or not though would be anyways guess.

Maybe then his death wouldn't be so bad. If he was going down he was going all the way down because if Constantine had to be the man to do it he sure as hell didn't want to have to exorcise him from some poor sap later.

The devil was in his pocket the whole time. His knowing this wasn't exactly a righteous thing to do and that it went against his ingrained beliefs. But sometimes you did what was needed, not wanted.

Atleast for John he still played the angles. He may have just stepped over that line into the fiery pits of hellish damnation yet he still had an angel on his shoulder. He still had his soul. But for how long?