Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 247 Your name is known from London to Gotham
P.S.: Chapter 2 will be delayed.

It feels like bugs are crawling on my body?
Damn, this isn't just a "feeling," it's like bugs are actually crawling all over me!
boom!
In that instant, the bathroom door slammed shut with a loud bang—the speed and force were great. Faced with the horrific scene in the bathroom, Constantine turned and left without looking back, as if he had made up his mind.

"Jesus, the Christ of all men, has Beelzebub, the king of flies, descended to earth?"

"John, don't leave me!"

Amidst the groans emanating from the bathroom, Constantine was dazed and his eyes were lifeless. The scene he had just witnessed had truly traumatized him. Just a moment ago, he felt like Benny from "The Mummy," surrounded by swarms of disgusting worms, who had almost burrowed into his flesh and bitten him to death.

After several minutes of dazed silence, the wailing from the bathroom still hadn't stopped. Lester's desperate cries finally brought Constantine back to his last shred of reason. He took a breath and finally put on his trench coat and went out.

He hurried across the street, past walls covered in graffiti, and headed toward a shop on the corner. Just then, a passerby brushed past him, marveling at the graffiti of a sunset over mountains and sea on the wall.

"The artistic elements here, wow, they must be three or four stories high."

An Asian man with an American accent, newly arrived in London, and dressed reasonably well. Constantine thought that in the past, it would have been possible to squeeze some money out of this easy target.

But not now, there are more important things to deal with now.

Constantine's gaze swept quickly over the man, and then he hurried over and pushed open the door of the small shop.

"boom!"

"Hey Ali, I want to buy something!"

Hey! Do you have eyes?!

The store wasn't large. A bald hippie was searching for merchandise on the shelves behind the door when he was slapped on the shoulder by the door. He immediately glared angrily at the blond man who had stormed in. As a liberal hippie who rebelled against tradition and the mainstream and advocated unrestrained desires, how could he tolerate such an insult?
"Get out of here, you scoundrel."

Constantine didn't even glance at him, merely retorted with a curt retort, and walked straight to the counter. At the same time, another bald hippie reached out and tugged at his companion: "Forget it, Kenny, let it go—that's Constantine."

Reputation is mixed, both good and bad, but Constantine's infamy, while not universally known in the area, is certainly legendary. In the shadows, everyone knows there's a thug in a suit on this street who can inflict unbearable pain with all sorts of evil and dirty black magic.

"Ali, give me ten packets of scal, and six cans of insecticide spray—no, twelve cans will do."

“No problem, John.”

The shopkeeper shrugged, turned back to get the goods from the shelf, and at the same time, Constantine took out his phone and started making a call, completely ignoring the hippie's provocation before he left.

beep - beep -

After two brief rings, a deep, steady middle-aged male voice came from the phone, asking concisely.

Hello, who are you looking for?

“Chas?” Constantine said, “I’m John. Don’t ask too many questions. Come to my apartment as soon as possible—and remember to bring some medicine. A friend of mine is sick and lives in my apartment.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment.

“Don’t tell me you’re busy right now. Just do it, Chas.”

"Row."

The call was abruptly cut off, but Constantine breathed a sigh of relief. He was used to Chas's sparing use of words. In any case, this taciturn old friend was always reliable. As long as he promised something, there was no need to worry about him breaking his promise.

But when Constantine returned to the apartment, Mrs. M was waiting for him downstairs again.

“Constantine,” she whispered, “someone came looking for you. He seemed to be Asian, in his twenties. He looked young and was well-dressed, so I had him wait for you in the room.”

Asian?
Constantine immediately recalled the Asian man who had brushed past him in front of the graffiti wall earlier; he hadn't expected that the man had come for him.

But strangely, he didn't recall ever seeing such a person before, meaning the two of them shouldn't have had any interaction before today—so why did he come looking for him?

A sense of unease rose in Constantine's heart.

Knowing that Lester was still in the bathroom, Constantine immediately ran into the room, hoping that the unfortunate fellow wouldn't have any strange chemistry with the uninvited guest.

"Slow down! Good heavens!" the old lady sighed. "It's so undignified. This child really needs to learn manners."

When Constantine opened the door, he found himself in an ordinary living room, but there was no sign of the visitor Mrs. M had mentioned.

"What about people?"

Constantine glanced at the other rooms but heard nothing. He then realized that the hysterical wails coming from the bathroom seemed to have disappeared.

This is not normal.

An ominous premonition immediately welled up in his heart, so he lit a cigarette, walked quietly to the bathroom door, and suddenly pulled the door open.

Swah——

However, the scene before Constantine's eyes after opening the door was completely unexpected.

"My God, this place looks absolutely awful."

The Asian man standing in the bathroom was the same one they had met on the street. He was holding a bottle of green insecticide, spraying it on the house, and also holding a clover.

The bathroom window was wide open, and at that moment, a strong wind was blowing, carrying with it a mist of insecticide, swirling up countless dead mosquitoes and blowing them out the window.

"Luckily, Dave's insecticide works well and is harmless to humans, otherwise I would have had to try Pokémon's insect repellent spray—by the way, how are you feeling?"

Lester sat in the bathtub, not answering a word. He stared blankly as the bugs on his body were swept away, a look of relief on his face. But his body remained curled up, not relaxing, until he saw Constantine open the door, at which point a glimmer of light finally appeared in his eyes.

“Alright, sir.” Constantine casually tossed the insecticide he had just bought into a corner of the room and patted the man on the shoulder. “I appreciate you helping me with the pest control, but my friend and I have some personal matters to discuss now—I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

"Leave?" The man turned to look at Constantine. "You are John Constantine, aren't you? Your name is known from London to Gotham, and that's why I'm here."

Constantine scratched his head impatiently. Whether this guy was here for revenge or to ask him to do dirty work, he was a nuisance.

"I have to get rid of him," Constantine thought.

However, the other person's next words made him give up the idea.

(End of this chapter)