"Midnight Dad's bar, I've always wanted to go in."
Charlie muttered to express his attitude to Constantine beside him.
But this slutty guy didn't care at all.
Speaking of which, Constantine was imprisoned countless times because he lacked the most basic respect for the secular world.
"If you are a psychic, you can naturally go in."
Constantine strode into this basement-like bar with a nearly burned out cigarette in his hand.
He said casually to the guard who showed him the back of a card: "Two frogs on the stool" and walked over.
Charlie imitated Constantine and said the same words to the doorman, but was pushed out by the tall man who did not look like a living person.
The flipped card showed a mouse wearing a skirt, which looked a bit funny.
While Charlie was battling wits with the guard, Constantine had already met the wizard known for his voodoo.
Father Midnight, generally people will only call him Midnight, and those gang members will add the term "father they respect" after Midnight.
Midnight's body was always accompanied by a lingering stench, like the smell of a corpse.
But he always dresses like a successful person. Maybe he and Mr. Fisk have a lot in common.
"Midnight, do you still think balance is the most important thing now?"
Constantine smiled contemptuously and threw the cigarette butt aside.
"John, I remember I warned you not to litter."
A miserable green flame ignited from the wizard's hand.
"Don't be so serious. I just want to tell you that hell seems to be a bit chaotic recently. Those guys seem to have found some loophole in the barrier and popped up one after another."
Constantine ignored the flames in Midnight's hand, took another cigarette in his mouth, and then stretched his head towards the flames.
"That has nothing to do with me, I just follow balance and remain neutral!"
The fire in Midnight's hand disappeared before helping Constantine light his cigarette.
"I just came to ask if you saw anything..."
Before Constantine could finish his words, a guy he knew very well walked in.
"Ah, Constantine, I miss you so much."
A guy dressed like a lawyer or CEO walked in with tango steps.
In terms of arrogance, this guy seems to be slightly comparable to Constantine.
"Balza? Long time no see."
Constantine turned his head and looked at the guy who interrupted him, one hand already reaching into the inner pocket of his windbreaker.
"boom!"
"In my territory, you'd better abide by my rules!"
Midnight put his palms on the table and stopped the possible conflict with an angry attitude. By the way, he also swore his sovereignty.
"Ah, Midnight, my old fellow! How could I embarrass you?"
Constantine reached into his pocket and took out a box of matches, then struck the flame and lit the cigarette in his mouth.
A few almost undetectable red lights flashed across Balza's completely black eyes. His hand took out a coin from his pocket and was playing with it on his fingertips.
"You know, I would never lie to a friend."
Constantine walked to Balza's side, turned around and stood in line with Balza, and then winked and said to Midnight.
"Being your friend never ends well."
Midnight's cold tone indicated that this guy was not happy anymore.
"How could it be? You think so? Balza, my old buddy, my old friend."
Constantine put his hand directly on Balza's shoulder, showing that the two brothers were in good company.
"If you would take that damn shroud out of my pocket."
Balza sneered in response to Constantine.
"These are the sacred objects collected by the priest in the church. They can protect you from evil spirits. How can you refuse my kindness?"
Constantine looked shocked, then silently took out the shroud and stuffed it back into his trench coat pocket.
"I think you need it more than I do, Constantine. Everyone in hell has asked me to say hello to you, and some of them can't wait."
Balza's originally handsome face turned into an image like dry, dead skin in an instant.
He, Balza, was born from a demon that controlled the swarm of fire. He did not need a shroud to resist the invasion of demons.
On the contrary, what he needs to guard against is the power from heaven and the church.
"Constantine, it's time for you to go!"
"The person you called John before is now Constantine. It's really a new generation replacing the old one."
Constantine's response caused a burst of dark green gas that was so gloomy that it was visible to the naked eye to emit from Midnight's body. Midnight no longer planned to tolerate this guy any longer.
"Okay, I still have things to do."
Constantine faced the two people in the room and backed away.
He smoothly dragged Charlie, who was waiting at the door, into the car.
"You know, Charlie."
Constantine put away the smile on his face, silently inhaled the last puff of cigarette into his lungs, and then lit another one.
"Go back to the office, okay. But it's time for you to teach me some exorcism techniques. Two people are better than one."
A young man named Charlie complained.
But Constantine didn't respond.
Just like what Midnight said, none of his friends ended well.
…
"Now we have taken over this case!"
Rumlow appeared in the crime squad's office and showed his ID to the officer who was still having a headache.
Of course, it's FBI ID.
When S.H.I.E.L.D. handles matters, it will always produce agency credentials within its authority.
"Thank God, you are finally here!"
The police officer seemed to be relieved and pushed everything on the table in front of Rumlow.
"Sign the confidentiality agreement, right? Come on, I've been working overtime for a long time!"
The police officer took the agreement from the agent behind Rumlow and signed his name neatly.
"Then you go ahead, I'm off work. Bye! By the way, remember to turn off the lights before you leave!"
The police officer's figure had disappeared around the corner before Rumlow and the others could react.
"Have you always worked like this before?"
Rumlow suddenly wanted to find a bottle of strong liquor and take a few sips.
"Usually not."
The agent behind him said these words leisurely.
"But he is an exception. No matter where he is transferred, this guy will encounter this kind of thing. I have met him seven or eight times."
This does not include cases handled by other agents.
"Maybe he should be transferred to SHIELD."
Rumlow let out a long breath, and started to spit out an old rant from nowhere.
