Deadliest Fiction Wiki

You'll still need a driver. And there's me martial arts training. That'll come in handy.
— Chas to John Constantine

Francis William "Chas" Chandler is a middle-class cabbie working in the streets of London and also a close friend of the magus John Constantine. He is the longest surviving member of Constantine's cast and is one of his oldest and most loyal friend.

Chas first met Constatine when they were young, when the magus decided to lodge in the Chas's apartment. There Constantine saw the abuse that the young Chas had to endure from his insane mother and so decided to help him out. Having been rescued by Constatin, Chas indebted himself to him and he would later assist the magus in many of his supernatural adventures. Constantine tends to use Chas for mostly mundane reasons, like driving him around town for free, or taking him home whenever he gets drunk. Although Constantine would try to keep Chas away from his dangerous line of work, Chas would inevitably get entangled from time to time.

Chas helped Constantine numerous times before, especially during their fight against the birth of the anti-christ, and the battle against the Beast. John would also help out Chas in times of trouble, such as when Chas' granddaughter was afflicted with a magical curse that was ravaging the world at that time. However, Chas' relationship with Constantine had more negative effects on his life, with Chas loosing many of those he cared about, and the two would go on to have a rocky relationship throughout the Hellblazer's career.

Battle vs. Ken Clarkson (by Killermoves)[]

Paris was in a gloomy state this time of the year. It was almost midnight and no stars could be seen as heavy clouds covered the whole sky. Large cold rain fell from the heavens and flooded the Parisian streets. All the locals were huddled in their little homes and apartments, not wanting to fight the rain to go out on a stroll. It seemed that the city known for its warmth and love was in a state of cold loneliness.

And yet, in this deluge, a lone Englishman was running in the streets, desperately trying to find some refuge from the rain. His name was Chas Chandler, who was a taximan back home, but now a down on his luck tourist here. As Chas ran, holding his jacket on his head, and trying his best to hold on and cover it, all his mind could do right now was to curse and be pissed.

“Chas I need your help now mate and I need you to hurry. I’m in Paris right now and Jesus wept a lot of bad shite’s happening here. I need you to hurry to my apartment, go to my bed and grab this large paperbag on top of it. And then get here in Paris as soon as you can because the thing inside is something that’s going to help me stop this shite. Don’t worry about the costs gettin’ here cause seriously the whole world needs you right now!”

Those words were the last thing he heard from his dear old mate John Constantine on the phone. And like a stupid dancing monkey, Chas took the bait, thinking that his wizard friend was in some tight supernatural trouble and that the paperbag may contain some macguffin that would help save the world.

But to his damn surprise, the bag contained nothing more than hashish. His friend John Constantine was not battling demons or waging wars against warlocks; he was just high and wasted in some weed joint and “asked” poor old Chas to get more of the exotic stuff to share with the junkies he just met. There was no danger or “end of the world” situation, it was typical John Constantine being the biggest asshole in existence, and Chas being the biggest dumbass to ever fell for him.

And now Chas Chandler was stuck in Paris, wet and super angry. He was hoping that the city of love might make the journey at least bearable, but the heavy rain raging these past few days made even sightseeing almost impossible. This shithole wasn’t that different from the hole he just left all the way back to the channel.

However, his luck seemed to have changed as he spotted an open club in the distance. Its bright lights were enticing to Chas’ weary and wet eyes, and the first thing that came to his mind was the warmth and grub that it could provide. Without second thought he went running straight to the place, and as he got closer, the buzzing party music was getting louder which gave him comfort. He finally arrived inside the club and its dry atmosphere felt heavenly to him. The people there looked a bit odd but he didn’t mind since there was a bar and a whole cabinet of liquor that he could enjoy for the night.


As Chas took a seat in the bar, on the other side of the place stood another individual who was also having a bad night. His name was Ken Clarkson, an unhappy little Orb employee who was in Paris for business. They were supposed to attend an international trading convention to represent their company back in New York. But alas, the director of their company was nowhere to be found, and it wrecked Ken's whole plan.

“What do you mean you’re not coming, Aric?!” Ken said on the phone at the corner as he talked to the “acting” director, who unfortunately, was not acting like one. The man he’s talking to was Aric of Dacia, a Visigoth who was abducted by aliens and was now living among them as a superhero. Ken should have known that this barbarian wouldn't be disciplined or “civilized” enough to keep time like any modern folk. But then again, Aric was the X-O Manowar. If this guy was able to save the world countless of times, Ken hoped that a simple business meeting wouldn't be that difficult for him.

“Aric, you are the CEO of Orb Industries. You need to be here!” Ken yelled. “And don’t give me that crap that you’re out there saving the world. I am not falling for that shit again! I know that you are drunk in some whorehouse right now and damn it, man, you are seriously fucking this up!”

As Ken continued to talk to the phone, his voice was getting louder and angrier, to the annoyance of the patrons, including Chas Chandler. “Fuck you Aric! I want you here right now! Like this fucking instant! You better get your caveman’s head out of your ass, use the X-O suit, and fly here as fast as you can! I know how fast that thing can go so plea—”

And then Ken heard a beep, before a long silence filled his ear. Aric had just hanged up on him, and probably wouldn't be calling back soon. Enraged, Ken threw his phone to the wall and took a shot from his glass. The gay man was having the worst night of his life, and that one shot he just gulped wasn’t enough. He then stood up and started walking to the bar, pissed, in the hopes of getting even more booze to help them get through the night. And he was walking straight to Chas Chandler’s direction.


“Give me three shots of scotch, a couple of whiskey, and one big fat bottle of cold beer, garson,” Ken said in a pissed-off mood. Chas watched as this person in a suit gulped each of those shots down his throat like it’s the end of the world. With a heavy and dizzy head, Ken took a sip of his beer next, before turning his eyes towards the still watching Englishman besides him.

“How about you, honey?” Ken asked. “You want me to buy you something to drink? I can use a company right now.”

Chas turned his sight away from the drunk and went back to drinking his mug. He then said, “I’m not in a good mood either and I hate talking, so piss off.”

“I like your accent,” Ken replied, drunk. “I really really need someone to talk to right now. It’s been one crazy night, and I don’t care if they're old or butt ugly. Hell, I can even make it worth your while…”

Chas looked at him with disgusted eyes before saying in a loud harsh voice, “The fuck is wrong with you? What are you some fuckin’ queer? Get the fuck away from me, you piece of shit.”

The Englishman's old-fashioned insult echoed throughout the whole club. Ken looked at him with a confused but furious look. The music that was playing suddenly stopped, and the crowd halted what they were doing, before giving Chas a mean glance. What he said didn’t just strike Ken’s nerves; it seemed that the place didn’t like what Chas said either.

“You got some guts saying that, grandpa,” Ken said who seemed to not be able to get a break. And now he would have to go deal with this horrible homophobe next.

“Do you even know that you’re in a gay bar, you fucking asshole!”

With that revelation, Chas turned his head towards the patrons in shock and embarrassment. The place that Chas had been was a gay bar all along, which explained all the bright lights, the odd music, and even the weirder people. And speaking of those patrons, they had been watching the two argue and they did not like Chas one bit.

“Listen, I don’t have any problems with you people,” Chas said to the crowd as he tried to calm them all down before they chase him back into the streets. “I just want to get off the rain, that’s all. I mean no disrespect to the lot of ya’. I mean, I have a friend named Constantine who’s also—”

“Ah yes, the good old ‘I have a gay friend so I’m not a homophobe’ excuse,” Ken interrupted. “I think it’s time for you to go now, old man. Go back to the 1950s where you belong!”

Ken then grabbed Chas shoulder with his metallic arm and tried to throw him through the door. But Chas body flew and crashed into a wall instead. The rest of the people lost their nerve as they saw a fight brew up, and they all bolted out of the club before they too could get hurt. Chas then stood up, trying to breath away the pain from his back, and grabbing a nearby baseball bat for defense.

The businessperson stood up, drank the remaining beer off his bottle, and charged at Chas. But the taxi driver managed to side-step away and hit Ken on the back of the head with the bat. “You want a fight, mate? Then I’ll give you one!”

“Oh, it is on Mr. Buckingham Palace,” Ken said before grabbing a knife. He tried to swipe and slash at Chas but the latter managed to back away and dodged Ken’s attack. Chas then front kicked Ken, pushing him away before he could do more damage with that knife. He then smashed his bat on Ken’s right ribs, forcing Ken on his knees as he clutched his sides with pain. It seemed that Chas’ street fighting skills were paying him off tonight.

Coughing up blood, Ken looked up and dodged another swing to his head. Although Ken was still crippled in pain, the automatic defenses of the Shanhara arm flared up, and it instinctively caught Chas’s bat. With great strength it easily threw Chas away, before throwing Ken’s knife with great accuracy on Chas’s shoulder. Chas yelled in pain as the blade embedded itself on his shoulder, making him drop the baseball bat he was holding.

Ken managed to finally get himself back up, and seeing Chas weakened on the club floor, Ken took the opportunity to draw his fire light pistol. He aimed the pistol at Chas but as he pressed the button, Chas managed to roll out of the way, just in time as a fiery red laser hit his position, and make it burst into flames. Seeing himself outgunned, Chas dove into the bar and took the Ace of Winchester out of his bag. He then fired several rounds at Ken, but Ken managed to either dodge those shots or block them with his metal arm.

With his opponent pinned down, Chas desperately grabbed a marker and drew sigils and circles on the floor. He knew that nothing he could do could penetrate that bastard’s prosthetic, and with zero options left, Chas turned to magic. He planned on unleashing the Knowledge with the hopes of taking down Ken Clarkson and send him to hell.

“Bums tits and arse?...” Chas said as he tried to remember the enchantment. The pressure of the battle was making it difficult for poor old Chas Chandler to pull off the magic perfectly. And as he desperately tried to chant the magical incantation, Ken saw his chance to finally finish this fight. He aimed his laser pistol at the cover that Chas was in, and blew up the whole bar into a thousand burning pieces. Chas was thrown a few feet away with the back of his jacket in flames, his attempt to use magic having failed. Ken ran as fast as he could towards Chas before the Englishman could pull off any other crazy shit. He kicked Chas in the side as he laid down on the ground, before Ken picked him up from his neck with his prosthetic.

“You should have given us more respect, old man,” Ken calmly said knowing that he had already won.

“No. But you and your little friends can go to hell,” Chas stubbornly replied.

And without any further talk, Ken broke Chas’s neck with a loud snap using his metallic arm. He then threw Chas’s lifeless body back on the floor, his nose dripping with blood, and his eyes wide open and soulless.

Ken then promptly left the club before the French police could arrive and arrest him. He started jogging back to his hotel even as the rain continued to pour. This night just kept on getting worse and worse for everyone.

Expert’s Opinion[]

While Chas had superior training, experts believed that Ken’s metallic arm proved to be more useful than the powerful-yet-slow Knowledge spell. But what really sealed the deal was Ken’s intellect which countered Chas’ reliance on brute strength.

To see the original battle, weapons and votes, click here.