Chapter 251: Your Name Is Known From London to Gotham

PS: Chapter 2 will be later.

Does it feel like bugs are crawling on my body?

Damn it, this isn't just "feeling" it; there are actually bugs crawling on my body!

Bang!

In that second, the bathroom door slammed shut with a bang, fast and hard—facing the terrifying scene in the bathroom, Constantine didn't even turn his head as he slammed the door and turned away, walking off as if he had made some kind of resolve.

"Jesus fucking Christ, has Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies, descended upon the world?"

"John, don't leave me!"

Amidst the wailing coming from the bathroom, Constantine looked dazed, his eyes empty; the scene just now had truly inflicted a considerable psychological trauma on him. A second ago, he felt just like Beni in "The Mummy," surrounded by dense, disgusting bugs, and nearly had them burrow into his flesh and chew him to death.

After being dazed for several minutes, the wailing in the bathroom still hadn't ceased; Leicester's soul-calling cries finally brought back Constantine's remaining sanity. After catching his breath, he finally put on his trench coat and went out.

He hurried through the streets, past walls covered in large graffiti, then walked toward the shop at the street corner. At that moment, a passerby happened to brush past him and exclaimed in wonder at the mural of mountains and sea with a setting sun on the wall.

"The artistic merit, hmm, must be three or four stories high."

Asian, American English accent, new to London, dressed decently. Constantine thought that in the past, such a fat sheep might have been squeezed for some profit.

But not now; there are more important matters to handle right now.

Constantine's gaze swept rapidly over this man, then he broke into a small, fast run and pushed open the door of the small shop.

"Bang!"

"Hey, Ali, I need to buy something!"

"Hey! Do you have eyes?"

The shop wasn't big; a bald-headed hippie was looking for items on the shelves behind the door. When the door panel swung and hit his shoulder, he immediately turned a furious face toward the blond man who had burst in recklessly. As a liberal, he resisted tradition and the mainstream, advocated indulging desires, and was a hippie; how could he tolerate such an insult?

"Get lost, you hooligan."

Constantine didn't even look at him, just casually retorted a curse, then walked straight to the counter. At the same time, another bald-headed hippie reached out and pulled his companion: "Forget it, Kenny, let it go—that's Constantine."

Fame spreads far and wide, both good and bad; Constantine's infamy in this area couldn't be said to be known by everyone, but at least it could be called thunderous. In the shadows, everyone knew there was a thug in a suit on this street who could use various evil and filthy black magic to make people suffer unbearably.

"Ali, give me ten packs of Skittles, and six cans of insecticide spray—no, twelve cans will do."

"No problem, John."

The boss shrugged, turned back to get goods from the shelves, while at the same time, Constantine took out his phone and started making a call, completely ignoring the hippie's provocation as he left.

Beep—beep—

After two short rings, a heavy, steady middle-aged male voice came from the phone, asking concisely.

"Hello, who are you looking for?"

"Chas?" Constantine said: "It's John. Don't ask too many questions; come to my apartment as soon as possible—remember to bring some medicine. A friend is sick, right in my apartment."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

"Don't tell me you're busy right now. Do it, Chas."

"Fine."

Beep—beep—

The call was directly hung up by the other party, but Constantine actually sighed in relief. He was already used to Chas's sparing use of words; anyway, this taciturn old friend was always reliable. As long as he promised something, there was no need to worry about him breaking his word.

But when Constantine returned to the apartment, Mrs. M was waiting for him downstairs again.

"Constantine," she whispered: "Someone came to find you. Seems to be an Asian, in his twenties, looks young, dressed decently. I let him wait for you in the room."

An Asian?

Constantine immediately remembered the Asian he had brushed past earlier in front of the graffiti wall; he didn't expect the other party to actually be coming for him.

But strangely, in his memory, he had never seen such a person; that is to say, the two of them should have had no interaction before today—so why did he come to find him?

A hint of alertness rose in Constantine's heart.

Thinking that Leicester was still in the bathroom, Constantine immediately ran toward the room; he only hoped that the unlucky guy wouldn't have some strange chemical reaction with that uninvited guest.

"Slow down! Good heavens..." The old lady sighed: "Not decent at all; this child really should learn some manners."

When Constantine pushed open the door, what met his eyes was still the ordinary living room; the visitor Mrs. M mentioned was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?"

Constantine instinctively looked toward the other rooms, but heard no sound; only then did he realize that the hysterical wailing from Leicester in the bathroom seemed to have vanished.

This is not normal.

A bad omen immediately surged in his heart, so he casually lit a cigarette, walked quietly to the bathroom door, and suddenly yanked it open.

Whoosh—

However, after opening the door, the scene before his eyes completely exceeded Constantine's expectations.

"Good heavens, this place really looks terrible."

Standing in the bathroom was exactly the Asian he had met on the street. At this moment, he was holding a bottle of green insecticide, spraying it around the room, and also holding a sprig of clover in his hand.

The bathroom window was open; at this very moment, the howling wind was carrying the mist of the insecticide, sweeping up the dense corpses of mosquitoes and bugs, and blowing them out the window.

"Luckily Dave's insecticide works well and is harmless to humans; otherwise I would have had to try Pokémon's bug-repellent spray—by the way, how are you feeling?"

Leicester sat in the bathtub, saying nothing; he stared blankly as the bugs on his body were swept away, his face showing an expression of having survived a disaster. But his body remained curled up, not relaxed, until he saw Constantine open the door, and only then did a glimmer of light finally appear in his eyes.

"Alright, Mr.," Constantine casually tossed the newly bought insecticide into a corner of the room and patted the man: "I am very grateful that you helped fumigate my home, but next, my friend and I have some private matters to discuss—I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"Leave?" The man turned back to look at Constantine: "You are John Constantine, correct? Your name is known from London to Gotham, and I have come precisely for that."

Constantine impatiently scratched his head; regardless of whether this guy in front of him had come for revenge or to commission him to do dirty work, it was trouble all the same.

I have to get him to leave, Constantine thought.

However, the other party's next sentence made him abandon this thought.

(End of this chapter)