All Worlds Madhouse

This is probably the worst bar on the street but at the same time, it's also the most popular.

As for the reason, of course it's because most of the people wandering around on the streets are bad people.

They feel that those beautifully decorated pubs are completely incompatible with them. What they enjoy is this kind of dirty environment, dim lights, beer that does not taste good but is sufficient, and the unscrupulous people around them. joke.

[Splashing flames, warming the withered soul]

[Don’t ask Bansi who the banshee is mourning for.]

【Only for you】

【ah----】

This is a song with a pretty good melody, but when sung by a middle-aged man who smells of alcohol and is extremely drunk, it seems particularly disgusting.

"Hey! Shut your stinky mouth!" A bald man on the side seemed to be angered by the singing, and he shouted at the man.

[Crying for you——]

【Waiting for the day of death——】

【I'm driving the wedding car——】

The singing is still going on. In this environment, if you want to attract the attention of the people around you, cursing is not even as effective as a stinker.

Of course, it’s definitely not as good as a fist

So the big man over there suddenly stood up, walked over to the drunkard who was yelling at the top of his lungs, and grabbed him by the collar.

This drunkard's body is not strong, and his appearance has nothing to do with being handsome. Even the smell of tobacco and alcohol mixed together makes him smell worse than the rotten people around him.

He is of medium height, wearing a long wrinkled windbreaker, a unshaven chin, and gloomy eyes. This is a typical failed person. If there is anything else that is attractive about him, it is that he looks pretty good on his head. He had nice blond hair, but paired with that extremely decadent face, it made him look more like a drug addict who had just finished high.

"I said! Shut! Your! Mouth!" The strong man pulled the blond man up from the chair.

"Okay, unless you buy me another drink." The man said, but he couldn't even stand up straight.

What greeted him was not a wine glass, but a fist as big as a wine glass.

"Bang!" The drunkard was punched in the cheek, and then fell to the ground without the ability to resist at all.

"Hahaha" he smiled unpleasantly: "Do you want to fight? You know, when I was in my mother's womb, I strangled my brother with the umbilical cord - bang!"

With another kick, the man scraped against the floor and flew out.

"shut up!"

Underneath this roar, there was a burst of punches and kicks that were unorganized but powerful enough. In a place like this, there are too many people who would start fighting just because of a look or a belch, so no one would go. Stop, after all, everyone knows that as long as one person is lying on the ground, the fight will be almost over.

Sure enough, 5 minutes later, the blond drunkard was thrown out of the bar door with a bruised face and a bruised face.

I don’t know if he was beaten to the point of concussion or was already drunk. In short, he lay on the ground, motionless, hoping that he would not drown in his own vomit. Of course, even if he drowned, No one will care.

England in 1983 was so rotten that it was disgusting, but there was no way to escape from it. The lights on the huge tall buildings tore through the remnants of the night, and the sound of police sirens passed through the rows of streets and rushed into the alleys. It felt like the roar of a carrion-eating bird of prey, echoing between the buildings.

John Constantine's eyelashes trembled slightly, and the vomit stuck on them fell down, falling into the muddy water in front of him without causing any ripples.

He woke up, as usual, to a mixture of vomiting and overnight water accumulation, the stench from the pavement, and the biting cold wind at night.

All of this is very much like his life.

To be honest, Constantine felt a little disgusted with himself in his heart, because as he said in the tavern before, he strangled his brother with the umbilical cord when he was in his mother's womb. This is not A joke, but fact.

Although in the final analysis, this was because of the unformed chaotic consciousness and the damn fetal movement, the result would not change. Before he was born, his hands were already stained with the blood of his loved ones.

And at the moment of his birth, he also succeeded in taking away his mother's life.

After that, Constantine, who committed the crime of the evil star, could only grow up in the indifference of his father and the despair of losing his family. Fortunately, this miserable childhood did not last long, because soon, his father also died. He died in his own hands.

It was an unbearable past, so John didn't want to think about it. Anyway, under the circumstances prompted by various tragedies, little Constantine naturally became a gangster. He learned a lot of street tricks and sneaky tricks. Skills, and a little bit of magic.

At the same time, he also became addicted to tobacco and alcohol. Starting from the age of 15, he smoked two packs of cigarettes every day. As long as he was awake, he would smoke cigarettes all the time. This habit stayed with him all his life, and he probably couldn't change it even after he died and became a ghost.

Well, these are all things that are old and rotten. Now, Constantine has grown up. He is an adult, and his hobbies have also risen from simple smoking to smoking, drinking, and gambling. , and lingering over the bodies of the opposite sex, and his career did not turn into a glorious career like a fraudster or smuggling snakeheads, as he had expected.

Instead, he became a detective.

As for his scope of work, it also includes:

Helping the neighbor find the lost pet cat, helping the wife next door track her libertine husband, going to the private rooms of high-end hotels to catch little girls who have just stayed out all night for their parents, and solving some young men and women who have been possessed by demons. Bet against the gatekeeper of the ancient forbidden land, rescue the souls of some dead people from hell, deceive the king of the underworld, occasionally save humans around the world, and so on.

Of course, he is not very good at his job. For example, when he tracks down men who live in debauchery, he will always be bribed by the higher price offered by the other party. For example, after finding those girls who stay out all night, he will be bribed 8 out of 10 times. Jiu Hui would take one shot himself and send them home, and in order to save humanity, he would always sacrifice some of his teammates.

For example, his best friend, Gary Lester, died in front of him three days ago.

John knew that he didn’t have many ‘best friends’ left.

(Both of them are so popular. I finished writing Zha Kang first, and then I tried to write about Lao Mo. However, at Lao Mo’s level, he probably wouldn’t join Zi Liang. I guess they’re just using each other at best.)