Chapter 2141

"Hey, hey, is anyone there? Is anyone there? Is anyone there?"

Peter heard that nagging prayer again, but he really had no time to pay attention now, because Bruce was injured again, and Peter was busy thinking about what kind of intense battle could cause a wound to appear only on the inner side of the thigh root.

This area was slightly sensitive, and Peter had to be extra careful when bandaging Bruce, otherwise Bruce might permanently lose a bullet.

After trying several times, Peter finally admitted that he still had a certain gap with a professional surgeon; he sighed and said: "Buddy, no, I'm afraid you have to go to the hospital; I really don't have the confidence, and it's not that it won't work if we just make do, but..."

Peter's expression changed several times, and Bruce also understood what he meant; he also sighed deeply in his heart; that damn perfume sprayed by the female agent named Natasha definitely had a problem, and the old saying was right, the more beautiful the woman, the more deadly.

Of course, he and Natasha hadn't really done anything in the sky, but under those intense exercise conditions, even just reaching out to take advantage would very likely cause bad consequences due to a bump; now the wound on his leg was like that.

Natasha didn't actively attack him; it was just that when she was touching his thigh, a string of "candied hawthorn" happened to hit the building, and Natasha's sharp nails pierced into the flesh next to Bruce's magazine.

The wound wasn't very deep, and it wasn't very painful, but the difficult point was that the position wasn't very good, and when cleaning and disinfecting, it hurt so much that Bruce wanted to die.

The two stared at each other for a while, and Peter still spoke: "Okay, I know this is a bit embarrassing; if you really don't want to go to the hospital, finding a doctor will also work."

Bruce opened his mouth to say that he could go home and find his butler, but he quickly swallowed this sentence back, because he really couldn't explain to Alfred why he was injured there in his first battle after his debut.

Natasha expressed her apologies for this and said she could go to the S. H. I. E. L. D. infirmary with him, but judging from Hawkeye's crazy winking behind Natasha, Bruce felt he'd better not go.

But just leaving it alone wouldn't work either; that position was often rubbed, easily causing infection, and the key was that walking was too painful, making it impossible to act normally.

"Is there no other Batman who has encountered such a shitty thing?" Bruce lay on the bed, muttering to himself: "Have they never been injured on the inner thigh? When he is injured here, won't he walk like a crab?"

Peter seemed to imagine that scene and laughed heartlessly; Bruce grabbed a pillow from beside the bed and threw it at him, but Peter's smile eased his embarrassment.

Because when your good buddy laughs, you know that this matter is actually no big deal; even if it is, he will come to help you after laughing.

"Sorry, but I'll go answer a call first." Peter really couldn't stand the nagging in his ears, put down the disinfection tools in his hand, walked out the door, and drew his consciousness into the gray fog world; sure enough, he saw Constantine again.

"Hey, remember me? Our deal isn't over yet, and I have a question now that urgently needs you to answer."

"Ask away." Peter said unhappily.

Spider-Man doesn't like Constantine; there's nothing to discuss about this; in fact, compared to bad guys, Spider-Man hates rotten people even more.

It must be admitted that some people are bad for a reason; although they violate legal and moral standards, at least from the perspective of a bad guy, they have benefited.

But rotten people always do some things that harm others without benefiting themselves; they clearly know that letting themselves rot will not benefit themselves or others, but they still want to do it.

There are always people who make excuses that their rotting is their own business, but Spider-Man has seen too many examples; all rotten people, when they rot to the end, have others clean up their mess; they themselves, the people around them, this society, and good people like Peter have not benefited, but have been implicated by them and helped them pay the price.

So Peter is really impatient to deal with Constantine and just wants to fool him away quickly, but he didn't expect Constantine's first sentence to be "Do you have Dr. Scholl's phone number?"

Peter was stunned for a moment; in fact, it wasn't hard to see before that Constantine and this Dr. Scholl were in a hostile relationship, and even if Peter wasn't a master of micro-expression analysis, his years of experience fighting various rotten people told him that it should be Constantine being hunted by Scholl.

Peter's feeling now is that this world is too crazy; even mice are bridesmaids for cats; why did Constantine suddenly stop hiding?

Constantine rubbed his hands and said: "I think there might be some misunderstandings between us, and communication is the best medicine to resolve misunderstandings, isn't it?"

If others said this, Peter might believe it, but Peter wouldn't believe a word of what someone who smoked while praying and sandwiched 200 pounds of profanity in his eulogy said.

He cleared his throat and said: "In that case, I can help you ask if this doctor is willing to communicate with you."

Constantine actually agreed immediately, which made Peter really doubt his purpose; however, Peter didn't understand the affairs of the occult circle, so he did as he said and went to ask Scholl about his willingness.

After meeting this mysterious doctor named Scholl, Peter found that the place he was in was like a prayer room in some monastery; this was a dim, small room covered with wrinkles, and this man with a pair of dim, unclear brown eyes was lighting candles on the prayer table one by one.

"Hello." Peter said conventionally.

"I had a premonition of your arrival; Lord, I know that the panicked lamb will not run too far in the end; he will repent to you, and I will teach him to do so."

Peter didn't understand what the other party was saying; he just expressed his meaning straightforwardly, and the other party seemed to have known something long ago, nodded and said: "I will talk to him; please give him this."

Peter saw the other party draw a special pattern with paint on a stone slab in front of him; Peter guessed that this should be what the occult circle called a phone number; although he didn't understand how such a small pattern worked, Peter firmly upheld the principle of saying less and making fewer mistakes, and sent this scene to Constantine exactly as it was.

Constantine seemed very surprised after seeing the pattern; after his expression changed inexplicably for a long time, he still hung up the phone.

Peter was a little curious about what Constantine would say after calling, so he projected his consciousness to Dr. Scholl's side again.

In the dimly lit prayer room, only the candelabra hanging high on the wall was lit; the weak light cast dense and slender shadows under the eyelids, and the heavy shadows made the lines of his features clearer.

Possessing both Eastern softness and Western depth, Peter thought, there was also a kind of haziness and mystery that couldn't be described, like parchment mottled by age.

"He must be wondering, how do I have his phone number from when he was young?" Peter heard a hint of ambiguous laughter in his tone, as if it were the most straightforward closeness he could express from that gloomy and detached temperament.

The doctor was talking to the stone slab with the drawn pattern, but why he wanted to do this, Peter didn't know either.

"He must have gotten into some big trouble."

A voice actually came from the stone slab, which made Peter feel a bit familiar, but it seemed to come from an extremely distant and empty place, blown away by the wind, so he couldn't hear it clearly.

"No one knows you better than yourself." The doctor said again.

"And I never thought that I didn't know you well enough." The mysterious voice said: "I neither knew there was such a you, nor did I know you had such a past."

"This is obvious, Mr. Hellblazer." The doctor replied: "It was by no means my deliberate concealment; this should take its natural course."

"Yes, it took its course to another me; do you like this brand-new challenge? One after another, never satisfied, never-ending, and those things that make you feel stable and satisfied will all be abandoned by you."

There were some dangerous factors lurking in the tone; Peter heard it, and this was usually not a good sign, meaning that at least one person had some extreme thoughts flashing through their mind.

"John." The doctor called his name, his voice as stable as ever, and he said: "The life you enjoy is what you deserve; no more bloody terror, chaos, and complexity; it will be quiet and happy; isn't this the dream you have always wanted to pursue?"

"This is just the dream you think I should pursue, Doctor; does being born different make you very painful?"

That voice began to become low; Peter finally heard it; it was almost exactly the same as the voice of the Constantine he had contacted before, just because it was less hoarse, so he hadn't heard it before.

The doctor called him John, Peter thought, this shouldn't be a coincidence, because Constantine was also called John, but this John sounded younger and stronger, or, also crazier.

Peter could only use vicissitudes and exhaustion to describe the older Constantine, but this one was different; the voice coming from the stone slab had a kind of evil aggressiveness, sharp like the thorns on ironwood.

Perhaps he should have been like this, Peter thought, perhaps this was a Constantine in some universe who hadn't given up on himself, but this didn't mean he would become a good person.

Perhaps quite the opposite, Peter knew very well that suffering makes people discouraged, but it can also blunt their edge, making people feel like they have been splashed with a basin of cold water and are calm; when splashed with cold water too many times, some crazy and unrealistic fantasies are naturally driven out of their minds.

Some people are not crushed by suffering, which doesn't mean they will definitely walk on the right path; Peter knew that sometimes one must thank the cruel reality for stopping some more cruel ideas in some people's heads from becoming reality.

"I appeared precisely to investigate this kind of difference." The doctor replied: "But at that time I didn't find anything, which made us no more than ordinary guests."

"Until you planned to seek new love?" The dangerous signal in the voice on the stone slab became stronger and stronger, and he said: "From the beginning, you understood what your salvation of me meant, but you still did it, and now you refuse to see me."

"It's not that simple." The voice coming from the stone slab suppressed more things, and he said: "I will find you soon; I will pay back your debt, and you will return my things to me."