The Comprehensive Evolution of American Comics.

Chapter 1231 The Scoundrel Constantine
Finding Constantine is both simple and difficult.

If Constantine hadn't committed any crimes, you would have a high chance of finding him if you went to the bars he frequented or other places that couldn't be discussed openly.

Of course, the state of Constantine you find is uncertain. He might be dead drunk, high on drugs, or possibly entangled in bed with a man, a woman, or something neither male nor female.

There's a saying that goes, "The more chaotic Constantine's private life is, the more capable he is at getting things done."

Of course, not everyone can accept the way he achieved his goal, or rather, even he himself can't quite accept it.

Constantine utterly despises demons, yet he deals with them constantly throughout his life, to the point that he despises his own existence.

Constantine's life was tragic, but anyone who has ever met him will advise you never to have any pity for him.

As Oliver pushed open the bar door, his eyes, hidden under his hat, scanned every corner of the bar, while Clooney, following behind him, did the same.

Both of them were looking for Constantine. This wasn't the first time they'd done it today, and this wasn't the first bar they'd visited, but they both hoped it would be the last.

If it weren't for the Justice League's high technology, the two wouldn't have been able to visit so many bars in such a short time. But even with the most convenient things, people get tired, not to mention that finding someone is a mentally taxing task.

Constantine's activities were so extensive that heaven knows how a guy who was poor most of the time managed to have such a wide range of activities.

It's a strange thing, as if you wouldn't find it strange to see Constantine in any country; this homeless man seems born to appear in any situation.

Fortunately, he didn't leave the United States this time.

After searching for a while, Oliver found Constantine near the bar. From behind, the guy was completely drunk again, leaning against his arm that was resting on the table.

Even through the clothes, you could see the other person's crooked spine; they must have managed to find a strange balance to prevent themselves from slipping and falling to the ground.

As for why Oliver could recognize Constantine just by looking at his back, it can only be said that anyone could see the difference between Constantine and the others at a glance.

In Mr. Zatara's words, very few people can dress so fresh and elegant.

Oliver patted Roy, who was still looking around, signaling him to follow before walking towards the figure with its back turned.

"Tuk-tuk."

Oliver tapped the bar and called the bartender over.

"Arbène whiskey, two glasses."

The bartender didn't say much, but skillfully took out a bottle of Ardbeg 10 from the liquor cabinet behind him. It was a relatively inexpensive whisky, not a high-end product, but it was one of Constantine's favorites.

Sure enough, upon hearing someone call his favorite wine, Constantine, who had been unconscious, slowly woke up.

However, he still had that unseemly demeanor, with his head resting on the table as he turned to look at Oliver, his droopy eyelids making one wonder if he could even see clearly.

Honestly, if Oliver hadn't been there, Roy would never have been able to connect the drunkard in front of him with the legendary Constantine.

Roy and Oliver flanked Constantine, the former giving the latter a questioning look: were they really looking for this guy who couldn't even stand up straight? Oliver could only smile helplessly. At first glance, no one would think Constantine was reliable, but he was indeed the person they were looking for.

“I wondered who it was?” Constantine’s words squeezed out from between his mouth and the table. “Oh, it’s Robin Hood. What brings you here today?”

As they spoke, two glasses of whiskey were poured, the amber liquid swirling gently in the glasses, a beautiful sight against the dim lighting of the bar.

“Have a drink first.” Oliver didn’t answer directly, but instead pushed one of the glasses toward Constantine.

The latter was equally unambiguous; upon seeing alcohol, he seemed to be injected with stimulants, straightening up, picking up the glass, and drinking it all in one gulp, completely different from before.

Well, actually there's not much difference; it's just that he went from being a drunkard to an alcoholic.

"Speak, boss, what do you need my help with?"

After finishing his drink, Constantine deftly pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, only to find it empty when he opened it.

Before he could even feel the craving for cigarettes, a pack of Silky cigarettes had already slid in front of him, which was his favorite brand.

Without hesitation, Constantine picked up the cigarette pack and tore open the packaging. His familiar appearance made it impossible to guess how many cigarettes he had smoked.

"Seriously, boss, you're not thinking of fucking my ass, are you? What? Your kept woman isn't satisfying you anymore?"

Constantine's tongue was as sharp as ever, but that wasn't enough to anger Oliver. He knew it was best not to play games with him, so he went straight to the point.

"This isn't the place to talk. Perhaps we can find another place to discuss this."

"You don't really want to do a colonoscopy on me, do you?" Constantine said, still with his usual nonchalant attitude, before slamming his cigarette pack on the table.

"Don't worry, from now on no one will hear what we say."

As if to prove his point, Constantine snapped his fingers, and a ball of flame appeared in his hand. He then manipulated the flame to move around in a circle, but the people around him remained unresponsive, like puppets.

“Magic is indeed very convenient,” Oliver remarked, noticing that the bartender who had been standing in front of him had also left.

Even though there were no new customers, the two of them didn't ask him to leave. A professional bartender should stay with the customers, so it seems to be the effect of Constantine's magic.

"Time is of the essence, so I'll get straight to the point, Constantine. I need you to help me find someone."

"Looking for someone again. It's true that quite a few people call me Hell Detective, but my main job is exorcising demons. Why do you guys in tight suits in this area always like to use me as a police dog?"

Constantine fiddled with the lighter in his hand, neither refusing nor agreeing, clearly waiting for Oliver to finish his sentence.

"Don't worry, I know the rules, you'll be well paid when the time comes." Oliver, of course, knew the rules and very sensibly offered his payment first.

(End of this chapter)