American comics: Starting with replicating Superman's talent

Chapter 114 A Deal

Midnight bar.

Located in a secluded area of ​​the metropolis, it has always been a favorite place for half-angels and half-demons.

Absolute neutrality, without favoring either heaven or hell, is the foundation of a midnight bar.

The owner of this bar, Midnight Daddy, is also a powerful African witch doctor and exorcist.

However, this man seemed to have grown tired of the endless fighting and killing. He had long since retired from the life of crime and had built a bar using magic in a secluded alley on the west side of the metropolis to earn some money for the rest of his life.

Inside the brightly lit bar.

Rhythmic music and lighting intertwine, enhancing the color of the wine glasses.

A diverse group of good-looking men and women chatted and joked with each other, occasionally pairing up and heading to a corner.

Chaos and decadence are the main themes of this bar.

The stiff-faced zombie opened the bar door.

Gino and Zatanna walked into the bar side by side.

The loud music made the girl frown slightly.

Gino, however, was observing everything around him with great interest.

Everywhere you look, there are pairs of eyes that glow red or gold.

"These are all hybrid angels and hybrid demons. Those with red eyes are half-demon, while those with golden eyes are angels. These guys are commonly known as the unclean ones. Neither angels nor demons like them."

While the two were observing the group of mixed-race people, many other mixed-race individuals in the bar were also observing Gino and his companion.

There is a unique bloodline connection between mixed-race individuals, but they did not sense it in these two.

In other words, are these two purebred humans?

This piqued the interest of many mixed-race individuals.

"Hello, handsome~"

A red-eyed, blonde woman with large breasts swayed her figure as she walked toward Gino in a black evening gown.

Zatanna's face darkened, and she stepped in front of Gino, staring warily at the half-demon: "Sorry, we're not here for fun."

Undeterred by the girl's advances, the mixed-race girl smiled seductively, pulled a warm card from her bosom, and slipped it into Gino's hand. She winked at the boy, saying, "Contact me anytime if you want."

"Oh."

Gino watched the woman leave, her full and rounded figure drawing attention.

It felt as if a cold gaze was fixed on my cheek.

Turn your head.

Zatanna stared at the boy expressionlessly: "As a professional, I need to remind you that half-demon will greedily drain a person's life force."

"What half-blooded succubus?" Gino chuckled lightly, tossing the card to the girl. "Let's get down to business."

The two people walked to the counter.

The bartender at this bar was a tall, muscular Black man who wore a strange bone ring on his hand.

Seeing the two approach, the bartender announced, "Drinks are five dollars, and we'll charge a 30% commission for the bounty."

Gino looked up at the blackboard hanging above the bar.

It contained all sorts of strange and unusual bounty requests.

"Seeking a skilled mixed-race angel, offering $3000."

"Find materials for the remains and ashes of a demon. Offer $5000."

Gino glanced around and realized that the owner of this bar was quite shrewd in business.

"Please put a bounty on my head."

Gino tapped the table: "Offer ten thousand US dollars to find the whereabouts of the psychic."

The bartender nodded, without asking the man's identity, and took out a card reader, saying, "Cash or card?"

Times are changing, and even the magical world is evolving.

"Swipe my card, use mine." Gino tossed a bank card from his pocket.

With a "beep" from the card reader, the bounty notice will be displayed on the blackboard above the bar, attracting widespread attention.

Constantine pushed open the door and walked into the bar.

"Yo yo yo~ Look who's here! Isn't this Constantine?"

The moment the man walked in, many mixed-race demons uttered sarcastic remarks.

"I heard you got lung cancer from smoking, and you only have a few days left to live?"

Before he finished speaking, mocking laughter erupted from the crowd, filling the entire bar with a cheerful atmosphere.

"Die, you piece of trash!"

"You don't deserve to live!"

Constantine remained silent, head bowed, and walked into the inner room.

Disliked by both humans and dogs is the best way to describe him.

Pushing open the door to the inner room, a luxurious office comes into view.

A magnificent yet bizarre skull, gleaming with a golden sheen, sits on an oak table crafted from precious wood.

A stocky Black man wearing a mink coat was leaning back in a chair, smoking.

Constantine entered the room, but the black man didn't even look up. He simply flicked his pipe, his deep voice echoing through the office: "Look who's here?"

"Our counterfeit dealer, Constantine."

Just a few months ago, Constantine tricked Midnight Dad into buying a batch of fake magical goods.

The price he paid was that three of his customers who bought Midnight Daddy's goods were killed in the explosion, and many people went to the store to cause trouble, which caused him a lot of trouble.

Enraged, Midnight Old Man even hired a group of thugs to give the other party a severe beating.

The reason he didn't kill Constantine was because Midnight Dad wanted to see the guy die a miserable death.

"I heard you have lung cancer."

The burly black man grinned, revealing a set of large white teeth: "Lucifer recently spread the word that when you die, he will personally go to the place of your death to collect your soul."

"I heard," Old Man Midnight leaned forward, a cold smile playing on his lips as he stared into those dark eyes, "that he built a devil's playground for you in Hell, where a hundred lustful demons are waiting to savor your tender, white body."

"Wow, I'm honored." Constantine smiled nonchalantly, but the seriousness in his eyes was unmistakable.

"I want to ask you, what is the way for me to survive?"

Rejected by the angels, Constantine can now only hope to prolong his life.

"Survive? Of course."

The black man grinned, his tone chilling: "See those zombies standing at the entrance of my bar? Transform your body into one of them, and you'll not only survive, you could live for five hundred years."

He sensed the sarcasm in Old Man Midnight's words; the other party didn't want to help him.

A shaman is a human puppet created by a sorcerer in Africa using a human body. Although it has its own thoughts, it is subject to the control of its master.

Living like this is worse than dying.

"Fuck you!"

He raised his middle finger, then took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, stood up, and left without looking back.

Since I can't survive, I might as well amass a fortune to live a life of luxury in my final days.

Constantine arrived at the bar, ordered a drink, and told the bartender not to spit in his glass before glancing at the blackboard above him.

"Find a psychic; reward: ten thousand US dollars."

Constantine's eyes lit up when he saw the news.

He remembered that the policewoman who had come to see him before seemed to be a psychic.

"Bartender."

Constantine pointed to the blackboard, a smile playing on his lips: "Cancel this mission. I'll take it."

Ten thousand US dollars is enough for me to live on for a long time.

(End of this chapter)