From American comics to becoming the mastermind behind the scenes

"So there's a DNA chain from some organism in here," Starks thought.

"Based on the results analysis, it was human."

"so……"

"The liquid in the bottle is spring water that has been used to soak corpses."

Stark clapped his hands: "I'm still thinking about how to say it in a way that doesn't sound so disgusting. Set a schedule for me and let me create a more tactful way of putting it."

After all, I've drunk spiked champagne with hundreds of America's social elites.

"You have been scheduled for 3 PM on the 21st."

"Although we've analyzed the water's composition, it still doesn't explain the curse's mechanism." Stark flipped through the documents in front of him. "Could it be some kind of energy, or something related to the quantum realm?"

When in doubt, consult quantum mechanics.

When faced with things that science cannot yet determine, we can simply attribute them to quantum mechanics.

Stark shook his head. Thinking is a flame, but it also needs knowledge as fuel.

A flame without firewood cannot burn brightly.

"Unfortunately, I don't even know where to start, whether it's a curse from the West or the East."

There are even more detailed classifications of curses in both the East and the West.

Jarvis made me a cup of coffee; looks like I'll be staying up late tonight.

"Miss Natasha is looking for you outside. Should I contact her?"

"If she's willing to wear the dress I prepared for her, it's not impossible to contact her."

"Is it the set without underwear?"

"Jarvis?"

"gentlemen?"

"I really should have prioritized adding the euphemism module for you."

"Your appointment has been made for today..."

"Add a veiled insult." Stark sighed and went into the bathroom, wiping his face with cold water.

When I looked up and saw the mirror, I frowned slightly. There seemed to be something in the upper left corner, but upon closer inspection, it disappeared.

This made Stark wonder if he was hallucinating from drinking too much.

"I really should take a break." Stark yawned and turned to leave.

The intermittent sound of water made Stark stop in his tracks again.

"The faucet is broken? Didn't I just turn it off?" Stark frowned and walked over to try to turn off the faucet, but no matter how he tried, the water flow showed no sign of decreasing.

Pfft, pfft.

Like a high-pressure water gun, it sprayed intermittent streams of water, the color gradually darkening, and the water level rising continuously.

However, it had already reached Stark's calves in a short while.

"Fuck, what's going on!" Stark turned around to open the door, only to find it had vanished.

All that remained was a bare wall.

"Damn, there are still over three hundred people left, and it's my turn already?" Stark cursed, the water already above his knees.

He took off his bespoke suit and tried to plug the tap.

The black water emitted a suffocating stench. He blocked the tap, but a stream of water shot out from the gap and landed precisely in Stark's mouth.

"This tastes even more disgusting than blue cheese." Stark spat out a mouthful of yellow liquid; this was the first time he had ever been so disheveled.

"My love resides in my heart, while I am heartbroken; only the moon knows my sorrow. Meeting is difficult, parting is easy; now, all is too late for regret?"

A mournful, eerie Cantonese singing style began to play.

A female corpse dressed in a dark blue theatrical costume, with black hair covering her face, gradually emerged from the water.

The moment the female corpse appeared, Stark felt like one of the victims in Titanic, bathing in the iceberg.

The water was bone-chillingly cold.

"My lord!"

Stark shuddered. The corpse in the water had stood up, the water already up to its chest, and countless red, blood-like strands of black hair hanging in the water began to spread.

"My love is in my heart, while I am heartbroken!"

The voice was mournful and desolate, filled with extreme sorrow and pain, and the resentment beneath it was chilling.

"It seems you are the source of the curse. If I had a little more time, I might be able to figure out what it's made of."

The water had already reached above Stark's neck, and the powerful water pressure and foul odor made it difficult for Stark to breathe.

As the water completely submerged the room, Stark floated on the water, clinging to the last bit of air in his lungs, and saw the female corpse, resembling seaweed, drifting towards him.

A cold hand touched his face, and Stark could vaguely make out a face through the black hair.

It's like a piece of porcelain that has been smashed and forcibly glued back together by an unprofessional repairman.

"Mmm"

Stark tried to scream, but the hands had already pierced his cheeks, like burning red-hot coals.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, the foul-smelling liquid rushed in until there was no more air left in his lungs, and he was only one step away from death.

"Derech Elohim"

A chant, like a lightning bolt piercing the darkness.

Stark was like a puppy that had fallen into a washing machine.

The murky water carried him, slamming him heavily onto the floor.

The violent impact made him spit out the dirty water that was stuck in his throat, and when he opened his eyes, everything was murky.

All I saw was a man in a long black trench coat lighting a cigarette.

"Hoo," the man exhaled a smoke ring, his smile roguish, "No need to be polite, Mr. Stark."

"Who are you?" Stark opened his mouth to speak, but then coughed a few times before he could speak clearly.

"Constantine, John Constantine." Constantine exhaled a smoke ring, flicked his cigarette ash, "It wasn't for nothing that I took this taxi here."

"Oh my god, Stark!" Pepper Potts breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Stark was safe and sound.

Happy trotted away: "Mr. Stark, I'll go get you some clean clothes."

"How about it, Miss Natasha? I told you your money was well spent." Constantine winked at Natasha beside him.

"However, it doesn't seem to be over yet?" Natasha looked at the open "door," where a woman in a dark blue theatrical costume was grabbing both sides and tearing at the door that was trying to close.

Half of her body had already passed through the doorway, and one foot was already on the ground.

The poignant and sorrowful lyrics evoked a sense of unease.

"Hmm..." Constantine took a deep drag of his cigarette and frowned. "You only gave him money to help break the curse on Tony Stark."

"So?" Constantine did the math. "We need to add the cost for five more people."

"?" Natasha asked, puzzled. "How did you figure that out?!"

Constantine smiled: "The money for five people, including you, me, and the three of them."

"Didn't you remove the curse from Tony Stark?"

“Yes,” Constantine chuckled, expertly stubbing out his cigarette with his thumb. “She’s become a curse that kills indiscriminately now.”

"Fuck you!"

"Just tell me, have I completed the task you assigned me?"