There exists a certain type of person in this world. A person whose every word and action – while not causing any real harm – makes you want to slap them.
The last person like this Peter had met was named Reed Richards, and today he has encountered the second one.
"Okay, anyway, what I have to deal with is not a big deal, anyone who can help, quote your price."
Peter really wanted to hang up the phone. But he considered that the last call was not handled well. Hanging up again would make him seem a bit neglectful of his duty, wouldn't it?
So, he had no choice but to ask, "What do you want to do?"
Peter didn't know what kind of voice the other party heard, but anyway, the other party raised his eyebrows, showing a surprised expression.
After taking another drag from his cigarette, he said, "You really don't know me?"
Peter was genuinely annoyed. He could tolerate someone being bad, he could also tolerate someone being arrogant. But he couldn't tolerate someone being both. Such people were usually very annoying, just like Reed Richards.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm John Constantine. I don't know where you came from, baby. But for now, I need to investigate a person named Naog Sokhup, a living person, likely a historian, usually referred to as Dr. Sophocles."
"He's about my age, and the last time I saw him, he was wearing a black double-breasted trench coat, a top hat, and carrying a black leather case. He speaks with an Oxford accent."
Peter immediately thought of the first man who had called him. He instantly understood that the awful man standing before him was probably after Sokhup, and Sokhup was praying for help.
Although Peter knew that you can't judge a book by its cover, it was just too difficult to like the shabby man standing in front of him.
In comparison, the previous caller was at least well-groomed, respectful, and came across as well-mannered by presenting his name first.
Just look at this man in front of him, smoking, drinking, and yet he had the audacity to flirt with a divine spirit - what a terrible luck for whichever god drew your lot.
Peter began complaining in his heart. And though he remained silent out of politeness, his silent resistance was palpable.
"Alright, alright." The man named Constantine gestured with his hands and said, "I get it, you want money first. What are you after? My lungs? Just to let you know, even Satan didn't fancy them upon seeing, are you sure you still want them?"
Peter would not take them even if they were handed to him. He recoiled a step out of disgust.
Constantine interjected again, "This isn't a big deal, so we can leave organs out of the equation. A soul contract is out of the question; so don't think you can ask for the moon."
"If you've been taught by your master, you should know that information for information is a fair exchange. You answer one of my questions, I'll answer one of yours. What do you say?"
Peter was not so easily fooled. Even if this were to be an information exchange, the other side might not necessarily be honest.
"We can sign a contract, making sure that what we say is the plain truth," Constantine continued to explain, "and I mean the whole truth, without any concealment."
As far as Peter was concerned, he didn't know who Dr. Sophocles was, so why not sign the contract?
Constantine conjured up a contract out of nowhere and handed it to Peter. Peter read it carefully and added some modern legal limitations, such as time and question number limits, etc.
As Constantine took the contract back, he looked at the figure in the fog with even more surprise, he lightly flicked the contract with his fingertip and said, "Interesting, boy, it seems you've dealt with quite a few humans."
This made Constantine read the contract more carefully. After confirming there were no issues, he used his lighter to torch the paper which was bathed in a faint glow.
"Now, tell me, what nationality is Naog Sokhup?"
Peter wanted to say that he didn't know. However, from Dr. Sokhup's accent, he could infer that he might be British. So, should he tell the truth?
While Peter was hesitating, a series of knowledge was crammed into his mind. Upon looking closely, he realized it was the information about Sokhup.
Peter stood there for several minutes, then let out a sigh, and answered, "British. Naog Sokhup hails from England, just like you."
"England or Scotland?"
"It's my turn to ask you a question." Peter cut off Constantine's inquiry, but Constantine waived his hand and said, "This is one question; you did not answer the specific area."
"That only matters to the British." Peter chose a more conservative answer.
"In that case, what do you want to know?" Constantine asked.
Peter was not skilled in intelligence work; he didn't understand those nuances. He was a scientist who always adhered to pragmatism. Thus, he asked his question.
"If you're sitting in a car with two detectives, and they have a question they must get the answer to from you, how can you stay in the car without answering?"
Peter saw Constantine clearly taken aback, then he smirked and said, "Is this some kind of intelligence test riddle?"
Clearly, Constantine doesn't believe that this mysterious Guest in the Fog could be bothered by the police — the arcane circles are not usually subject to the law of ordinary human society, and even if ordinary people wanted to control them, they would be unable to. How could they handcuff a mage who can teleport to escape at any time?
It's one thing for a mage, but why would this Guest in the Fog, who appears not even to have a human shape, ask such a question?
Of course, Constantine could give a very unfocused answer, like "You could try to pretend you don't know," or "Give them a wrong answer," these answers that ordinary people could come up with.
But Constantine is quite interested in this Fog Guest. The guest gives him a very contradictory feeling, making Constantine feel as if he is facing a combination of god and man, mysterious, holy but homely like a small character.
"If they demand an answer from you, you can try to bargain with them." Constantine touched his chin and said, "Everything in this world can be bargained for, just like what we're doing now."
"You don't have to explicitly ask them 'how much are you willing to pay for my answer', but you can say, 'I'd like to help, but I'm not sure if I can', which can get you more information."
Peter immediately pressed down to maintain the call without interruption, his consciousness returned to reality. Facing the double annotation from Gordon and Brock in the front row, he cleared his throat, put on an innocent expression and said,
"I'm very willing to help, Chief, but I'm not sure if I can."
"At least you can tell us what your city is like, which would prepare us mentally and perhaps save many lives."
Peter opened his mouth. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer, but the question was too hard. He couldn't describe the living conditions of New Yorkers to anyone. Few people in the world could clearly explain what kind of city New York is.
"It's a long story." Peter could only respond that way.
"And what's going on with Bruce Wayne?" Gordon asked knowingly, just having heard someone mention Bruce Wayne's name.
"Oh!" Peter suddenly realized, and he immediately began to speak quickly, "Chief, let's discuss city fusion later, there's a very important matter right now."
"You have to hurry and get me to Bruce Wayne. He forgot a very important piece of equipment that could prevent him from stopping a dangerous explosion caused by a terrible criminal."
"Maybe you've heard, there's been a big electrical explosion somewhere in the city, it's not due to any aging circuit problem at all, there's a super criminal behind it."
"His name is Max Dillon, alias Electro, also called Electro, his ability is to become a current and manipulate it, when he needs to draw electrical energy, he often triggers explosions in places where circuits are dense."
"Also, behind him, there's a super criminal organization called the Sinister Six. They're causing various super-powered crimes in New York all year round. The current Sinister Six are Hobgoblin, Sandman, Mysterio, Electro, Vulture, and Hunter."
"Wait, Sandman?" Gordon caught a familiar name, "What's this guy's ability? Is it making sand?"
"Absolutely correct." Peter said somewhat astonished, "Have you heard of him?"
"Not before, just now."
Meanwhile, Brock's focus was on another vocabulary. He said, "'The current Sinister Six'? So there are other Sinister Six?"
"There are indeed. If I remember correctly, many of their members plan to form their own Sinister Six. Most of them were brief, but they did cause trouble."
"And the members of the Sinister Six often change, and there are also some super villains outside of the six who are prime candidates."
Peter, who had been in big events before, didn't even need to think about it and started counting on his fingers.
"Bee Queen, Furnace, Eight-Ball, The Squid, Shrike, Vampire, Scythe Reaper, Gogo, Iron Spider, Splinter, Chameleon, Shocker, Tombstone, Spot, Lizard, Rhino, Hydro-Man, Venom, Scarlet, Carnage, Shriek…"
"I fight about three of them every day." Peter spread his hands and said, "I fought even more just after graduation, an average of four to five a day. Later, I got too busy with work, so they all formed alliances and came out in groups, which saved me some time."
"Of course, the most troublesome ones are The Kingpin and the Green Goblin. Apart from fighting them, one increases my rent and the other docks my wages."
"That's mostly the super villains I've dealt with on my own, without counting the enemies of the Avengers, Hydra who cause trouble once every few months, mutants who go out of control every week, aliens who invade every other day, and superhero teams that have problems every single second…"
Screech——
A sudden braking almost hit Peter against the back of the front seat.
He rubbed his sore forehead from the impact and saw Gordon in the driver's seat frantically pulling out his cell phone, dialing a number and then yelling into it.
"Oswald Cobblepot! The election is just two months away, what are you doing?!!"