Dark Savages Come To the United States

"Speaking of which, shall we continue to go there now?"

Constantine tries to stop Steve and his party.

The previous battles let him know the combat effectiveness of these people, but he didn't think it would be a good thing to continue to act.

As a psychic, it is somewhat similar to the ability of foresight. Although it is not clear, Constantine believes in this feeling.

"This is our mission, and we will send people to take you away later."

As the most diplomatic person, Coulson made a statement to Constantine.

Coulson's tone is always gentle, which makes it easier for him to win the trust of others.

"Those guys are obviously not human, even those vampires are not as powerful as these soldiers."

Constantine wanted to stop the actions of these people, he felt that this matter did not seem so simple.

And it is likely to completely intervene in the field of mysticism.

Although he can always find a way to face those mythical beings, Constantine doesn't really want to see those things.

Besides, he had never even heard of vampires dressed as soldiers before.

"Besides, that Robin Hood has no arrows anymore, don't you really consider resting for a while?"

Constantine was still persuading Steve and the others, the cigarette in his hand was twisting between his fingers, very uneasy.

"I think he must know something, maybe we can interrogate first."

Melinda looked at Constantine with a cold tone.

Melinda and Coulson have known each other for a long time, and occasionally when encountering such a situation, it is she who comes to put pressure on each other.

Now that hell is completely blocked, Constantine is not much different from ordinary people when his strongest support disappears.

The ability of a psychic mage doesn't seem to be much different from a person with superpowers.

At least for these agents, who are primarily crime-faced with superpowers, there's not much of a difference.

"I said, I really don't know anything! You can ask him!"

Constantine pointed at John Wicker, trying to prove his innocence.

John Witkey can prove that he has nothing to do with the previous vampire soldiers, but the problem is that Coulson and the others will not believe John Witkey's testimony.

"I don't think your father will state the matter fairly." Hawkeye interjected, "Although I didn't expect Nightmare to have a son, and he doesn't look too young."

"He's not my son."

John Wicker's voice was a little angry, and he lifted the dog's body up with both hands.

"I just got married a few years ago, and I haven't done anything to offend my wife."

"Then what is the name of this gentleman?"

It was Coulson who interrupted awkwardly.

"John Constantine, Mystery Specialist."

Constantine took out his pocket and found a crumpled piece of A4 paper.

He doesn't even have a business card now.

The A4 paper was taken away by Melinda, and Melinda opened the A4 paper directly.

"I signed this contract in a fair and open manner, without receiving any existential coercion. I will exchange the soul of Cartersley to return to freedom in exchange for a marker pen. Signed by Mephisto. Witness S: John Constantine? What's this?"

"Ma'am, you need to know that taking things from others is not a good habit."

Constantine's tone was a little unhappy, and Mephisto's name on the piece of paper lit up.

Then Melinda felt a trance, and Steve just grabbed her.

"What did you do!"

Coulson pointed his gun directly at Constantine, and Hawkeye also took out a throwing knife to guard John Wilkey.

"Although hell and the world are completely sealed off, the name of the Lord of Hell is not something that mortals like you can say, especially if it is the name signed by it himself."

Constantine flicked off the ash, and seemed to be completely indifferent to the pistol in front of him.

"Again, John Constantine, mystic expert, you can count on me."

(As long as you don't team up with me)

Constantine looked calm, he knew that the people in front of him would believe him.

John Witkey does not intend to express his views.

He had seen the existence of Mephisto just now, and he didn't doubt much about it.

"Okay, Coulson, put the gun down."

Steve let go of Melinda, who regained her senses.

Melinda immediately picked up the pistol and pointed at Constantine. As for the contract, she didn't throw it down, but grabbed it together.

"I'm Steve Rogers, the Steve Rogers you know."

Captain America held out his hand.

He believed in the existence of hell after experiencing the pressure brought by Bul Kesso.

Constantine also held out his hand.

Clasp your hands, even if you know each other.

"You're Captain America? But where's your shield?"

Constantine was a little curious.

"Damaged in battle, repairing."

Steve didn't seem to think it was something that couldn't be said.

"Ah, I remember that the shield is not damaged..."

Constantine asked, absolutely which pot should not be opened and which pot should be lifted.

"The problem now is that if you don't share useful information, then you can only act with us."

Steve skirted that subject.

"If you are willing to tell me your purpose, I can probably do a divination."

Constantine didn't want to move forward, he regretted angering Angel now.

Otherwise, he would be sitting on the sofa enjoying the comfort of good health by now.

"I think you should call for backup first."

John Wicker said.

He didn't think there would be only one squad of soldiers in the formation.

...

Hellboy sat in his RV, waiting for the next news.

His size is really not suitable for appearing when it is still dark.

Although he also wants to put himself in the eyes of ordinary people, to become a hero like Captain America.

He's had enough of feeling like no one knows what he's doing.

As long as the breath he felt moves again, he can immediately find it.

It's just that that guy seems to have hidden his existence after coming to the world, and now he can only go to the nearby area and wait for the next move.

In fact, the aura that that guy showed was not that powerful for him.

At most, it is almost the same as him.

But Hellboy has never been good at chasing and investigating tasks. After all, this big man can't ask the victims for clues in person.

Maybe if he went to a cemetery, he could still find some existences that could help him, but there was nothing he could do about living people.

"I'm starting to miss Abel. I really don't understand why that bastard wants Abel to fight as a fighter. It's obviously better at psychic and data analysis."

Hellboy muttered to himself and took out a cigar from the table.

The sweetness from the chocolate bar calms him down better, but he feels like he's grown up long ago, so smoking shows his maturity more.