Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 87: Ch.86 Constantine

Chapter 87: Ch.86 Constantine

Barry's expression grew even stranger when he heard they were going to London. As a member of the Justice League, he knew very well what that place represented.

He let out a long, drawn-out "Umm—ahh," like someone struggling in a restroom, before finally starting to run with Su Ming in tow.

Su Ming could feel Barry's pace slow down considerably, as if he were hesitating. Even the sand kicked up behind him wasn't as high. Su Ming could only try to reassure Barry.

"Relax, you're my partner. If that guy tries to mess with us, I'll put a bullet in his 'little buddy.'"

"Uh, no, please don't... We're all on the same side, and I don't want a bloody conflict." Barry snapped out of it and started sprinting at full speed.

A hissing laugh escaped from behind Deathstroke's mask: "Of course, it's just a joke. I'm definitely not the first one to think of that, and he's probably invented spells like the 'Buddy Protection Charm' or the 'Iron Groin Shield' to counter such thoughts."

"Do you know what happens when you get a stitch while running with the Speed Force? Don't joke around while I'm sprinting!" Barry's face under his hood was turning blue as he struggled not to laugh.

Su Ming quickly raised his hands in surrender, fearing that if Barry laughed too hard and stumbled, he would be thrown into the Speed Force.

"Alright, I won't crack jokes while you're running anymore. But I have a half-brother, and I think you two would get along pretty well."

"???"

...

London, England.

This city, once a symbol of capitalism, now represented the twilight of an empire. It was late at night, and everything was quiet with no signs of life.

Barbatos had invaded the United States, so the UK, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, was temporarily safe. But everyone had seen the horrors across the ocean on TV or online. After the initial waves of refugees and panic, the remaining residents of London chose to hide in their homes, perhaps for the rest of their lives.

One could almost imagine it being like the sinking of the Titanic, with old-fashioned gentlemen in their best suits listening to classical music as they perished.

The streets weren't in chaos. Su Ming could still see a police officer on duty at a distant intersection, but from his dejected posture, it was clear his spirits were low.

The two stood on an old street with no lights around. Although Barry knew who Su Ming wanted to find, he didn't know the exact location. However, Su Ming had an idea. He immediately walked over to the roadside, where there was a red phone booth illuminated by a streetlamp.

The warm yellow light poured down like hot water, forming a large circle on the ground, with the phone booth standing right in the middle, particularly eye-catching.

It had lattice windows, with the entire glass divided into hundreds of small squares by wooden window frames. At the top, the word "Telephone" was written above a small crown-shaped cutout.

Su Ming strode over, opened the door, and stepped inside. The cramped space had a mix of urine and cigarette smoke. He picked up the phone directory and started flipping through it, searching for keywords like "Master of the Dark Arts" and "Exorcist."

In the UK and the US, such public directories were often called Yellow Pages, containing not only common phone numbers but also some inconspicuous small ads, much like the lamppost flyers in China.

As a sorcerer, Constantine didn't like posting ads on the internet because it couldn't be influenced by magic.

But in these simple Yellow Pages, all he had to do was sneak into the printing house at night and cast a little spell, and his ads would appear for free in thousands of phone booths across London. Many companies would also receive complimentary copies of the Yellow Pages.

Yes, Constantine was broke. Although he took on jobs, his situation was far worse than Deathstroke's. Slade served high-paying clients, while Constantine's customers were often those driven to desperation by dark forces.

"Cough, a little Speed Force, please," Su Ming reminded Barry.

Barry sighed helplessly. If you're in such a hurry, why did you eagerly dive into the phone booth? Wouldn't it be faster to let him find the number himself?

Despite his thoughts, he placed a hand on Su Ming's shoulder. He suspected that this alternate world's Slade had once been a speedster. The Speed Force flowed between them without any hindrance.

Vroom...

The sound of rapid flipping, like a buzz saw through wood, filled the air, and Su Ming closed the book: "Found it. Got thirty pence?"

"Uh... pence? How about fifty cents? I can go back home to get some."

"Forget it. It's easier to make money on your own." Su Ming shook his head, unscrewed a silencer onto his pistol.

Then, he fired several shots at the payphone. Silver-white coins clattered out like hitting a jackpot in Las Vegas. He bent down, picked out a few, and stashed them in his belt: "Alright, let's find another phone booth."

Barry glanced nervously at the nearby police officer, feeling a bit guilty. Su Ming's actions vividly illustrated the mercenary motto of 'shooting for money'—he wasn't thinking at all, just acting on instinct.

Before the police could notice, Barry quickly took Su Ming to another phone booth, deciding to compensate the London government for the damage later.

Su Ming took off his helmet, inhaled a breath of London's flavored smog, inserted the coins into the phone, and dialed the number he had noted.

"Beep... beep..." The ringing lasted for about ten seconds before someone picked up: "Hello?"

"Constantine? I need your help," Su Ming said directly.

"No time, but here's some advice—buy more booze, it cures all ailments. Bye-bye." A lazy voice answered him. It was hard to tell where he was, but the buzzing background noise sounded like a swarm of flies around the receiver.

"Ten thousand dollars," Su Ming said, staring blankly at the street.

"Huh? Where are you? I'm in!" Constantine immediately agreed. Su Ming thought he could hear saliva hitting the receiver.

"If you don't know where I am, it means you're not skilled enough. No deal." Su Ming did want to answer, but neither he nor Barry were familiar with London. Who knew where they were?

There was a sound of heavy breathing on the other end, followed by the crisp click of a lighter: "You win, I'm coming."

Su Ming hung up, stepped out of the phone booth, leaned against a nearby building, and put his helmet back on, waiting.

Moments later, the door of a pitch-black shop nearby glowed and opened. A man in a brown trench coat, cigarette dangling from his lips, swaggered out.

He spotted Barry standing by the roadside at a glance and immediately pinched the bridge of his nose: "Wait, what am I seeing? A member of the Justice League, gracing London with his presence to find a lowlife like me?"

Barry raised one hand, gesturing for him to turn around.

Before Constantine could react, he felt a strong arm wrap around his neck, his back hitting the solid armor behind him.

"After all the beatings you've taken, haven't you learned to check behind the door?"

A deep voice whispered in his ear.