Dark Savages Come To the United States

"Papa Midnight's bar, I've always wanted to go in."

Charlie thought about it and expressed his attitude with Constantine beside him.

But the swinger doesn't care at all.

Speaking of which, Konstantin has been imprisoned a few times. He lacks the most basic awe of the world.

"If you are a psychic, you will naturally be able to enter."

Konstantin strode into this basement-like bar with a nearly burnt 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 thing to the guard, but was pushed out by the tall man who didn't look like a living person.

The flipped card shows a mouse in a dress, which looks kind of funny.

While Charlie was fighting wits with the guard, Constantine had already met the wizard known for his voodoo.

Father Midnight, most people would only call him Midnight, and those gangsters would add the word their respected father 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 can have a lot in common.

"Midnight, do you still think balance is the most important thing?"

Constantine smiled cheaply, 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 little messy recently. Those guys seem to have found some loopholes in the enchantment, and they popped up one after another."

Constantine ignored the flame in Midnight's hand, took a new cigarette in his mouth, and stretched his head towards the flame.

"That has nothing to do with me, I just follow balance and remain neutral!"

The fire in Midnight's hand disappeared before he helped Constantine light the cigarette.

"I just came to ask, did you see anything..."

Before Constantine could finish speaking, a guy he knew very well walked in.

"Ah, Constantine, I really miss you."

A guy dressed like a lawyer or a president walked in with a tango-like pace.

In terms of anger, this guy seems to be slightly comparable to Constantine.

"Balza? Long time no see."

Konstantin turned his head to look at the guy who interrupted him, and one hand was already in the inner pocket of the windbreaker.

"boom!"

"In my territory, you better follow my rules!"

Midnight lined up his palms on the table and stopped this possible conflict with an angry attitude. By the way, he also took an oath of sovereignty.

"Ah, midnight, my old chap! How can 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.

Balza's pair of all-black eyes flashed an almost undetectable red light. He took out a coin from his pocket and was playing with it on his fingertips.

"You know, I never cheat on my friends."

Constantine walked to Balza's side, turned around and stood in line with Balza, then winked and said to Midnight.

"It never ends well being your friend."

Midnight's icy tone suggested that the guy wasn't too happy anymore.

"How could it be? Don't you think so? Balza, my old buddy and old friend."

Constantine put his hand directly on Balza's shoulder, showing a friendly look.

"If you take that damned shroud out of my pocket."

Balza responded to Constantine with a sneer.

"This is a sacred object collected by the priest in the church. It can protect you from evil spirits. How can you refuse my kindness?"

Constantine looked shocked, then silently pulled out the shroud, and stuffed it back into the windbreaker pocket.

"I think you need it more than I do, Konstantin. Every guy in hell has entrusted me to say hello to you, and some of them can't wait."

Balza's originally handsome face instantly turned into a dry and dead skin-like image.

He, Balza, was born from the flames to control the swarm of demons. No need for a shroud to ward off demonic attacks.

On the contrary, what he needs to guard against is the power from heaven and the church.

"Konstantin, you should go!"

"Before you called someone John, but now it's Constantine. It's really a new generation replacing the old one."

Constantine's response caused a burst of gloomy dark green gas visible to the naked eye to emanate from Midnight, and Midnight no longer intends to tolerate this guy any longer.

"Well, I have work to do."

Constantine faced the two people in the room and stepped back.

He dragged Charlie, who was waiting at the door, into the car.

"You know, Charlie."

Constantine put away the smirk on his face, silently inhaled the last puff of cigarette into his lungs, and then lit a new one.

"Go back to the office, okay. But it's time for you to teach me some methods of exorcism. Two people are better than one."

A young man named Charlie complained.

But Constantine didn't respond.

As Midnight said, none of his friends ended well.

...

"Now we have taken over the case!"

Rumlow appeared in the office of the crime team and showed his ID to the police officer who was still having a headache.

Of course, it's an fbi certificate.

When S.H.I.E.L.D. handles things, it will always produce institutional credentials within its authority.

"Thank goodness you're finally here!"

As if relieved, the police officer pushed everything on the table in front of Rumlow.

"Sign the confidentiality agreement, hurry up, I've been working overtime for a long time!"

The police officer took the agreement from the agent behind Rumlow, and signed it neatly.

"Then you guys are busy first, I'm off work. Bye! By the way, remember to turn off the lights before leaving!"

The figure of the police officer 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 spirits and drink a couple of sips.

"Normally not."

The agent behind him spit out these words leisurely.

"But he is an exception. No matter where this guy is transferred, this kind of thing will happen. I have seen him seven or eight times."

And that's not counting the cases that other agents are working on.

"Maybe he should be transferred to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Rumlow let out a long breath, and he didn't know where to start to spit out the old groove.