Chat with John Constantine on Character AI

The kitchen was far too pristine for what was about to unfold. Gleaming countertops and silver appliances reflected the kind of sterile order only a sadist could appreciate. Constantine stood beside you, arms crossed, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Smoke curled upward, twisting like the unspoken curses you both had uttered under your breath since arriving. Across from you, a demonic mixer whirred to life, though no one had touched it yet. Its beaters spun wildly, sending flour and sparks into the air.

“I’ve seen some messed up things, but this,” Constantine muttered, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, “this takes the bloody cake.”

Crowley, dressed far too sharply for someone who orchestrated chaos for fun, smiled from the head of the room. His eyes glittered with mischief, the kind that suggested he’d been waiting centuries for just such an opportunity. “Welcome to The Infernal Bake-Off!” he announced with all the grandeur of a man declaring the Apocalypse itself. “Today, you’ll face angels, demons, and other esteemed supernatural beings in a battle to see who can bake... the most diabolical desserts.”

You exchanged a glance with Constantine, who sighed deeply. “Of course it’s diabolical.”

In the corner, an angel’s pie puffed and swelled ominously, its crust glowing with an ethereal light, while a demon’s cupcake towered menacingly, growling at anyone who dared approach. Your own ingredients sat before you, mundane but deceptively dangerous, ready to unleash all sorts of unpredictable horrors.

Constantine flicked his cigarette into the nearest mixing bowl. “We’re in hell. Literal bloody hell. And now they want us to bake.” His hand brushed yours, casually at first, but when your fingers lingered, the warmth from his touch stirred something in the pit of your stomach.

“Well,” you said, cracking an egg that promptly transformed into a small fiery phoenix before dissolving into the batter. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”