Chapter 2128: Battle of the Two Cities! (Part 6)

There is a type of person in this world whose every word and action, while not causing any real harm, just makes people want to punch them.

The last person Peter met like this was called Reed Richards, and today he met the second one.

"Alright, anyway, what I need to solve isn't a big deal, anyone will do, name a price."

Peter really wanted to hang up the phone, but he thought about it. The previous call didn't go well. If he hung up again, would it make him look a bit passive?

So he had to say: "What do you want to do?"

Peter didn't know what kind of voice the other party heard, but he raised his eyebrows and showed an expression of surprise.

Taking another puff of smoke, he said: "You actually don't know me?"

Peter was really a bit annoyed. He could tolerate a person being rotten, and he could tolerate a person being arrogant, but he couldn't tolerate a person being both rotten and arrogant. This kind of person was usually very annoying, just like Reed Richards.

"Let me introduce myself, John Constantine. Although I don't know which corner you popped out of as a newborn, I now need to investigate the information of a person named Nyarlathotep. A living person, should be a historian, usually called Dr. Nyarlathotep."

"Age is about the same as mine. Last time I saw him wearing a black double-breasted trench coat, a bowler hat, carrying a black leather suitcase, speaking with a bit of an Oxford accent."

Peter immediately remembered the first man who called him. He immediately understood that the damn rotten person in front of him might be hunting down the person named Nyarlathotep, and Nyarlathotep was praying to seek help.

Although Peter knew that you can't judge a book by its cover, the sloppy man in front of him really made it hard for him to feel any favor.

Not to mention anything else, the one who called before was at least well-groomed, had a correct attitude, and was very polite in reporting his name first.

Look at you again, smoking, drinking, and perming your hair, and actually wanting to tease the messenger of God. Whichever god you land on is really having bad luck.

Peter made a series of complaints in his heart. Although he didn't say it out of politeness, he still expressed his resistance with silence.

"Okay, okay." The man named Constantine waved his hands and said: "I understand, money first. What do you want? My lungs? Let's say first, Satan took a look last time and didn't want them. Are you sure you want them?"

Peter wouldn't want them even if they were given for free. Peter stepped back with some disgust.

Constantine spoke again: "You know this isn't a big deal, so organs are out of the question, soul contracts are even more out of the question, don't even think about opening your mouth like a lion."

"If your adult taught you, you should know that information for information is very fair. You answer me one question, I answer you one question, how about that?"

Peter wouldn't be easily fooled. Saying information for information, the other party might not necessarily tell the truth.

"We can sign a contract to ensure that what we say is the truth." Constantine added: "And it's the whole truth, without any concealment."

Peter thought, anyway, he didn't know who this Dr. Nyarlathotep was at all, so just sign it.

Constantine produced a contract from nowhere and handed it to Peter. Peter looked at it carefully and added some restrictive conditions similar to modern law, such as time limits, question number limits, etc.

Constantine, who took back the contract, looked at the figure in the fog, his eyes even more surprised. He flicked the contract with his fingertips and said: "Interesting, boy. It seems you have dealt with quite a few humans."

This made Constantine look at the contract carefully again. After confirming there was no problem, he lit the glowing paper with the lighter in his hand.

"Now, tell me, what country is Nyarlathotep from?"

Peter wanted to say he didn't know, but he could hear from the accent of this Dr. Nyarlathotep that he might be British. So should he tell the truth?

When Peter was stunned, a series of knowledge was stuffed into his brain. Peter looked carefully and found it was the information of this Dr. Nyarlathotep.

Peter stood there and looked for several minutes, couldn't help but let out a sigh, and then answered: "British. Nyarlathotep is from Britain, just like you."

"England or Scotland?"

"It's my turn to ask you a question." Peter interrupted Constantine's inquiry, but Constantine waved his hand and said: "This is one question. You didn't answer me the specific region."

"This only has meaning in the eyes of the British." Peter chose a more conservative answer.

"Then what do you want to know?" Constantine asked.

Peter was very bad at intelligence work. He couldn't understand those twists and turns. He was a scientist who always adhered to pragmatism, so he asked.

"If you and two detectives are sitting in the same car, and they have a question they must get an answer to from you, how can you neither leave nor answer?"

Peter saw that Constantine was obviously stunned, then he curled his lips and said: "Is this some kind of brain teaser that tests intelligence?"

Obviously, Constantine didn't think this mysterious visitor from the fog would be stumped by the police—the occult circle is usually not under the jurisdiction of the ordinary human society's laws, and ordinary people can't manage it even if they want to. They can't put handcuffs on a mage who can teleport and escape at any time.

If a mage is like this, why would this visitor from the fog, who doesn't even look like he has a human form, ask this question?

Constantine could certainly give a very perfunctory answer, such as "you can try to pretend you don't know," or "tell them a wrong answer," which ordinary people could think of.

But Constantine was very interested in the fog visitor. The other party gave him a very contradictory feeling, making Constantine feel that he was facing a combination of god and man, mysterious, holy, but as simple as a small person.

"If they demand you must answer, you can try to bargain with them." Constantine touched his chin and said: "Everything in this world can be bargained, just like what we are doing."

"You don't have to ask them directly 'how much are you willing to pay for my answer,' but you can say this, 'I want to help, but I'm not sure if I can help,' which can get you more information."

Peter pressed "keep call" without stopping, his consciousness returned to reality, facing the double gaze of Gordon and Bullock in the front row, he cleared his throat, showed an innocent expression, and said.

"I'm very happy to help, Sheriff, but I'm not sure if I can help."

"At least you can tell us what your city is like. This can give us some psychological preparation, and perhaps it can also save many people's lives."

Peter opened his mouth. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer, but this question was really too difficult. He couldn't describe the living conditions of New York residents to anyone. There were very few people in this world who could clearly say what kind of city New York was.

"This is a long story." Peter could only answer like this.

"Then what's going on with Bruce Wei En?" Gordon asked knowingly. He had just heard someone call Bruce Wei En's name.

"Oh!" Peter suddenly realized. He immediately said at a fast speed: "Mr. Sheriff, we'll talk about what's going on with the city merger later. There's a very important matter now."

"You must hurry and take me to catch up with Bruce Wei En. He forgot to take a very important piece of equipment, which might lead to him being unable to stop a terrible criminal from carrying out a dangerous bombing."

"Perhaps you've heard, there was a major power explosion somewhere in the city. That wasn't a problem caused by circuit aging at all, but a supercriminal acting behind the scenes."

"His name is Max Dillon, nicknamed Electro, also called Electro. His ability is to turn into current and manipulate current. When he needs to draw electrical energy, he often causes explosions in places where circuits are dense."

"At the same time, behind him is an extremely evil supercriminal organization called the Sinister Six. They have been manufacturing various superpowered criminal cases in New York all year round. The current Sinister Six are Hobgoblin, Sandman, Mysterio, Electro, Vulture, and Kraven."

"Wait, Sandman?" Gordon captured a familiar name and said: "What is this guy's ability? Could it be making sand?"

"Completely correct." Peter said somewhat surprised: "Have you heard of him?"

"Not before, just heard of him now."

And Bullock's focus was on another term. He said: "'The current Sinister Six'? In other words, there are other Sinister Sixes?"

"There are indeed. If I remember correctly, many members among them intend to organize their own Sinister Six. Most are very short-lived, but they have indeed caused trouble."

"And the members of the Sinister Six also change frequently. There are also some supercriminals outside the Six who are the best candidate members."

Peter, who had seen big scenes, didn't even need to think and started counting on his fingers.

"Queen Bee, Crucible, 8-Ball, Squid, Shrike, Vampire, Grim Reaper, Gog, Iron Spider, Shrapnel, Chameleon, Shocker, Beetle, Spot, Lizard, Rhino, Hydro-Man, Venom, Scarlet Spider, Carnage, Scream..."

"I have to fight about three of them every day." Peter spread his hands and said: "There were more when I just graduated, averaging four to five a day. Later, I was too busy at work, so they formed their own societies and appeared in groups, which saved me some time."

"Of course, the most troublesome ones are Kingpin and Green Goblin. Apart from being able to fight, one raises my rent, and the other deducts my salary."

"These are basically the supercriminals I have dealt with independently, not counting the enemies of the Avengers, plus Hydra that makes trouble every few months, mutants that go out of control every week, aliens that invade every two days, and superhero teams that have problems every second..."

Zzzzt—

A sudden brake almost slammed Peter into the back of the front seat.

He rubbed his forehead, which was hurting from the bump, and saw Gordon, who was sitting in the driver's seat, busily taking out his phone, dialing a number, and then roaring at the other end.

"Oswald Cobblepot! There are only two months left until the election, what are you doing?!!" ===== CHAPTER 2129 =====