Chapter 788: Deadly Joke (Part 15) (Patreon)

In DC World With Marvel Chat Group : Table of Content/Chapter List

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

On this night, the rain in Gotham was exceptionally cold, carrying a sense of desolation beyond the chill, making people shiver from head to toe.

A figure staggered out from a pitch-black alley, leaning against the wall, vomiting with a clatter. Then, he started coughing violently, muttering a bunch of incoherent words. When he finally reached a step, illuminated by a streetlight, it revealed Constantine's haggard face.

He burped, weakly leaning against the icy wall. A dreadful stench emanated from him. Judging by the two shoe prints on his overcoat, he seemed to have been kicked out for running out of money to fuel his addiction.

However, his addiction persisted. His hands shook as he tried to light a regular cigarette, failing to strike a match a few times. After wasting a few matches, Constantine sighed, tucking the cigarette back into his pocket.

Suddenly, he noticed a glimmer of fire on the other end of the wall, reaching out towards him.

Constantine's eyes lit up as he immediately pulled out his cigarette, bringing his head closer to the flame. Lighting his cigarette, he took a satisfying drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke, saying, "Thanks, buddy."

But the next moment, he was startled nearly jumping off the ground because the face on the other side of the wall was Bruce, donning Joker's makeup.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Constantine exclaimed. "If I hadn't activated Spirit Realmvision, I would have thought it was that lunatic! Wait a minute, you're not him, right?"

Opening Spirit Realmvision again, Constantine thoroughly examined Bruce's soul from top to bottom before he breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good, you're not him... Wait, why are you wearing this makeup? Is it Halloween already?"

Constantine briefly activated his brain, still immersed in his addiction. Recalling that April Fools' Day had passed, and he hadn't offended Batman recently.

Squatting in front of Bruce, Constantine carefully examined his face. He noticed that the makeup seemed not to be applied; rather, Bruce's face seemed soaked in some chemical solution. His skin became wrinkled, unhealthy pale, and his lips were unusually red due to the chemical agent causing the skin on his lips to peel, revealing the redness as blood.

Constantine squinted. He was about to ask when Bruce took out a cigar from his pocket, lit it, and Constantine immediately recognized the smell.

His eyes widened, shifting from shock to sudden anger. He snatched the cigar from Bruce's hand, threw it to the ground, and stomped it out with his foot, raising his voice, "Batman! Are you out of your mind?! Do you even know what you're smoking?!"

Bruce leaned against the wall, saying, "Of course, it's the same kind of cigarette you usually smoke, right? Even the smell is identical. Of course, I know; they call it medicine here..."

"You can't see it, can you? I'm sick," Bruce coughed forcefully, "I need this 'medicine.' I plan to get more later..."

"You're really insane!" Constantine, as if struck by something, said to Bruce, "Medicine? Do you, with your genius IQ, think this is medicine?"

"You..." Constantine crouched down, covering his forehead with his hand. "Listen to me, Bruce... Listen to me, children. I smoke this because I'm a late-stage lung cancer patient. Late-stage lung cancer, you understand? It means my lungs are almost rotten..."

"If you had Spirit Realmvision... never mind, you don't have that, but you have to know, I'm dying soon. This thing isn't for curing diseases; it's for relieving pain."

"I'm in pain right now," Bruce's tone was calm, showing no ripples. "I have a lot to do later, and I can't afford to lose mobility, so I plan to refresh my mind."

"But this thing won't help you refresh your mind!" Constantine stood up again. He spread his hands and said, "Inhaling this stuff will only lower your memory, make you have all sorts of hallucinations, make you want to vomit, break into cold sweats, and leave you with no strength..."

"If you smoke this for a long time, it may harm your male functions, and if you smoke too much, it might lead to shock or death!"

At this moment, Constantine spun in place, covering his forehead with his hand. He then looked down at Bruce and said, "My God! Why am I telling someone all this?"

His fingertips trembled, paused in place, and then he looked at Bruce, saying, "Do you really want me to tell you? Do you really want me to tell you like a softie that this is really uncomfortable? Are you satisfied?"

"I want to throw up now, and my lungs hurt, less than two minutes. I'm about to cough and vomit, and half of this pain is due to this thing. Are you satisfied, Batman?"

Constantine gritted his teeth and said, "Batman, you really have a way. Your recent psychology studies are really effective!"

"How do you know that as long as you treat yourself as a hostage, I have to act like a righteous hero to dissuade you?"

Bruce stood up, trying to pick up the cigarette. Constantine forcefully pushed him away, but to his surprise, Bruce fell.

Constantine was even more shocked. He said, "Damn! How can you be so weak? Wait, could it be that you've... wait, wait..."

Constantine quickly picked up the cigarette at his feet, then threw it across the street. Feeling uneasy, he ignited a cluster of fire in his hand, rolled it into a fireball, and threw it at the cigarette until it burned to ashes before finally feeling relieved.

Constantine knew he couldn't use violence to provoke Bruce. So, he helped Bruce up from the ground, supported him to the nearby steps, and then half-knelt across from him, holding his shoulders, saying:

"Bruce, I know you think I'm an unreliable person, okay, I acknowledge it. I'm a rotten person. I got addicted at the age of 14, just for fun. You know, all my classmates were into it."

"I'm different from you. I wasn't born in a wealthy area, and my parents didn't care for me. I was surrounded by a bunch of bad influences since childhood, and they introduced me to this. I found it interesting..."

"Yes... yes... in the beginning, it was good. Oh, God, I thought I could lounge on the sofa all day. But back then, I was too young. Just like you, I didn't realize how dangerous it was..." Constantine released his grip, placing his hands on his knees. "No matter who introduced you to this, you can stop now. There's still time."

Constantine took a drag from his cigarette, snapped his fingers, and exhaled a puff of smoke.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure of a demon appeared on the street in front of him. Constantine pointed at it after walking over, saying, "You see, I can summon the physical entity of a demon. That's why I dare to do these rotten things."

"If one day I don't want to be this rotten, I can sell my soul for a few decades of peaceful life. But Bruce... Bruce... look at me." Constantine held Bruce's head on both sides with his hands, turning it towards him. "Can you summon demons? Do you have a natural talent for magic? Can you rewind time and start over?"

"If you can't, then don't do this!"

"But everyone here is doing it." Bruce looked at the lights on the street ahead. "They consider this thing as medicine to cure illnesses that won't get better. The sellers genuinely see themselves as doctors, and the consumers genuinely treat it as medicine."

Constantine fell silent as he suddenly understood what Bruce was saying. He asked, "Do you sympathize with these people? Do you feel sad because they can't afford medicine, so they resort to this?"

Then, Constantine saw Bruce smile. Constantine's cigarette dropped to the ground, and as the ash touched the ground, it bloomed like a rotten flower.

"No, I'm happy about it," Bruce's lips began to tremble. He spoke rapidly with excitement, "I'm happy to be a part of it, trying hard to become one of them."

Though Constantine couldn't fully grasp the metaphor, he could understand Bruce's current state because he could directly see souls. He squatted in front of Bruce again, hands hugging his knees, and said with his head lowered:

"Batman, do you know why I want to stop you from doing this?"

Bruce looked at him, no hint of doubt in his eyes, but the eye contact was intensely focused. He had become better at listening to others.

Constantine moved his hand slightly, saying, "I know, it might sound cheesy, but I've lived for so many years, been rotten for so many years, and you're the first person genuinely wanting to save me."

"Do you know? I was very puzzled about it at first." Constantine sighed, saying, "I really didn't understand why you had to save me."

"Of course, there are people in this world who saved my life and wanted to use that favor, knowing my abilities. Some pretended to be my friends just to achieve immortality, while others showed kindness to get me to help them kill someone."

"Seeing through these emotions isn't difficult because I can directly see people's souls. I can tell if you're lying, I can see the emotions when you say something... yes, I have mind-reading abilities."

"But when I read your soul for the first time, I found out that you genuinely want to save me. And the reason you want to save me is that you want to save everyone in this world."

"I was shocked because you were sincere." Constantine looked into Bruce's blue eyes, as if seeing the depths of the sea. Through the soul, he was speaking to the little boy lying beneath the dark waves. He said...

"You shouldn't be this kind. What you gained from this society is far less than what you've given to it. So, I'm very surprised."

Bruce shook his head, saying, "Isn't what this society gave me enough? Endless wealth, comfortable living conditions, the confidence of not worrying about livelihood..."

Constantine paused, saying, "But this isn't what this society gave you. This is what God gave you, and you can't decide where you're born. No one in this society can."

"...I held onto these things and had a very long dream. In the dream, I turned into a bat, hanging high in the attic, worrying about my mission for revenge..."

Constantine's eye contact softened a bit. He looked at Bruce and said, "Do you feel guilty for not saving this world earlier?"

"No, I just find it funny." Bruce forced a stiff smile, as if the muscles on his face were uncomfortable making that expression. He said, "While I was in the house, the owner here died thousands of times, and I was just sleeping, moved by the logic in my dream."

"During that time, many people made a lot of noise to remind me. They said I should wake up, but I thought they were crazy."

"The owner of the house finally couldn't stand it anymore, kicked me out, and I always couldn't understand them. I thought they were so foolish, short-sighted, easily swayed by rumors."

"I told myself I didn't need that house. I wanted to stand on the roof and save them. When I found out it didn't work, I found a small door and sneaked back in."

"Then, I finally discovered the truth. It's not that they don't live seriously, not that they're used to treating everything as a game, laughing frivolously and absurdly."

"Instead, everything unexpected in an ordinary person's life is so absurd, extremely humorous. Nothing is completely under their control, so facing hardships, what else can they do?"

Bruce looked into Constantine's eyes, the light from the streetlamp shining in his eyes like the Gotham sunset. He said:

"They can't cry because crying consumes too much energy..."

"So, besides laughing, what else can they do?"

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, without ads and support the work.]

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

Next Chapter>>Chapter 789: Deadly Joke (Sixteen)