American comics: Starting from the Dimensional Demon

Night. Lakeside villa.

First floor, a bar near the hall for mixing drinks.

Swish!

Listening to the wind and rain outside, Constantine ordered a cocktail and leaned lazily against the bar.

Hearing someone approaching, he identified the source of the sound and spoke without looking up.

"Grant, have your men completed the defenses?"

"Well... although time was a bit tight, it's barely considered complete."

The newcomer was Grant. He sat down next to Constantine and looked at the woman behind the bar.

"Ms. Alice, thank you for your advice. We have already transferred those patients. Here are the keys."

"Thank you. I'm so glad I could help."

Accepting the keys, Alice personally mixed him a drink, regretting, "Unfortunately, I don't have the subsequent manuscripts, so I can't see what happens next. So, you two must be careful..."

After chatting with the two for a few more words, Alice put down the glass she was wiping, nodded goodbye, and left.

Before her figure completely disappeared into the darkness, she hesitated, leaving a sentence: "Be careful of Alan Wake," and left without looking back.

Swish.

Swirling his glass, Constantine clinked glasses with Grant and drank the liquor in one gulp.

A mosquito buzzed over, and Constantine maliciously covered it with a glass, trapping it on the table, then took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew thick smoke into the glass.

The mosquito struggled in the glass, constantly flying back and forth.

"Constantine, I'm very curious. Your codename is Hellblazer. Have you really seen Hell?"

Taking advantage of the alcohol, Grant asked his question at the right time.

Controlling subtle expressions and movements, even including the rise and fall of his tone, he knew that his identity as an agent would arouse the other party's vigilance, so he had to make himself look like he was just mentioning it casually, not deliberately probing for information.

There was a very deep psychological game at play here, but Constantine didn't even glance at him, which was like casting pearls before swine.

"Whether it's a high-level demon from Hell or a Prince of Hell, even Lucifer or Satan, if you can name them, I've dealt with them at least once..."

With a cigarette in his mouth, Constantine said with a sigh.

"Constantine, are those demons in Hell easy to deal with?"

Grant's eyes flashed as he thought of some black magic experiments in Hydra.

"Heh heh... I advise you to give up on that idea as soon as possible. Those bastards from Hell have great malice towards humans. The set of rules in human society can't be applied to demons!"

As soon as the other party raised his butt, Constantine knew what color of shit they were going to pull, nothing more than the old routine: experimentation, control, mass production...

Even if it's a different world and a different organization, a dog can't change its habit of eating shit!

"Actually, I don't really care about what Hell is like.

But as you know, some older bigwigs will think this way: if one day he leaves this world, will he go to Hell or Heaven?"

As a senior agent, observing words and expressions was a basic instinct. Grant quickly shifted the target to those bigwigs, clearing himself completely.

"That is indeed a problem, but the answer is often cruel..."

Thinking of the state of Heaven in this world, Constantine shook his head slightly.

"Look at the mosquito in this glass. If it knew that it could never get out and was destined to die, would it still struggle like this, resisting its inevitable fate?"

Looking at the mosquito in the glass, constantly bumping around, Grant felt that the other party's words had a deeper meaning. He thought for a moment and replied.

"Probably, even if the possibility is almost zero, they would still want to resist and see."

"Hmm?"

"Even those bigwigs who hold power and authority would try to resist, otherwise no one would be willing to die without doing anything."

With a smile, Grant gave his opinion.

"A very beautiful idea, but just like the mosquito in this glass, whether it works hard or not is not important. The most important thing is whether someone will choose to help it."

Exhaling a smoke ring, Constantine's voice sounded full of stories.

"By the way... Grant, has anyone ever said that your smile looks very fake?"

This abrupt sentence made Grant's face stiffen. He subconsciously touched his face. Really? This was a professionally trained expression, which should be the most likely to bring people closer.

"Yes, you smile too fake, it looks scary!"

For a master of deception, whether something is true or false is clear in a glance.

Putting out the cigarette in the ashtray, Constantine stood up from his chair, leaned on the wall with one hand, and swayed forward along the corridor, waving his hand as he left.

He drank a little too much this afternoon and needed to wash his face to freshen up.

Watching him walk further and further away, Grant took out his walkie-talkie, giving instructions as he stood up and walked to the upper level of the villa.

"Team A, bring powerful flashlights. From now on, no one is allowed to enter this area."

"Yes."

"Team B, guard the second floor of the villa. Also, send two people to be stationed on the roof. Those searchlights are the big killers tonight. You must keep an eye on them."

"Understood."

......

Not long after he left, a hand stretched out from the shadows and lifted the inverted glass on the table, revealing a gap.

The mosquito in the glass immediately noticed the change in airflow and flew out with a whoosh along with the smoke.

It flew around the arm twice, and then buzzed away into the distance.

In the silent darkness, someone whispered.

"Screw fate!"

… …

"Phew, phew, phew..."

Inside the first-floor bathroom, Constantine walked out of the stall, swinging his hands and whistling.

Step.

His figure paused, Constantine felt his right foot step on something.

Looking down, with the help of the dim light, it was a crow's corpse.

This crow seemed to have just died, with blood flowing all over the ground. Its black eyes silently stared at him, sending chills down his spine.

An ordinary person standing here would probably scream, but Constantine raised his eyebrows and picked up the crow on the ground, examining it carefully.

There was only one knife mark on the corpse. His mind simulated the scene: a crow flew towards someone and was stabbed in the heart with a casual stroke of a dagger.

Considering that he was just in the bathroom, this should not be the first scene of the crime. Someone who killed the crow malevolently threw a crow's corpse over when he was unaware.

Even thrown outside his door, at a distance... so close!

"This joke is not funny at all."

An unknown person mixed into this building, and this person also brought a crow's corpse.

That person was carrying at least a weapon, a dagger or some kind of short blade. He behaved like a ghost, constantly wandering in the villa area.

"Hello~ Is this Grant? I've found some situations here..." Taking out the walkie-talkie, Constantine contacted Grant.

Rumble!

The thunder outside the window sounded again, and the whistling wind mixed with large raindrops, pattering on the right window.

Black crows flew from the black wind and rain, stuck to the outside of the window glass, stared at Constantine with their dark pupils, and hit the glass with their heads one by one, making rhythmic knocking sounds.

Dong, dong, dong.