"That sounds like something a mother should explain to her daughter."
"Yes, I'm sure your foster mother must have talked about this. The educational philosophy of ancient Greece is still quite progressive even by today's standards." Bayonetta let out a long breath, as if trying to exhale all her worries. Situations like this were common in families with rebellious teenagers, yet she had never imagined such emotions would rise within herself. "But Lorna is too smart. She definitely has her own thoughts. Darling, I know you consider Constantine your child. How did you raise him?"
Solomon didn't even need to think before answering.
"Close combat, firearms, genetic alchemy, bloody trials, stealth assassinations, chemical brainwashing, mental adjustment, throwing him into the library… and the final step, battlefield slaughter—whoever survives passes." Constantine said softly, "Since you're so curious about the transformation process of the Praetorian Guard, I won't hide it from you anymore, because I'm tired of your probing."
"You told me he was both a father and a king to you."
"Yes, he is my king." Constantine removed his helmet and set it aside. The helmet's integrated communication system remained connected to the power armor, so even without it on, he could still operate via the neural synapse link. "In fact, I wasn't the first successful transformation subject of the Praetorian Guard, but I was the first to survive. I vaguely remember my companions from the training camps, but only I survived, and I can no longer recall their faces."
Constantine spoke expressionlessly of horrors that could drive a person insane.
On a planet covered in red sand, many blurry figures from memory stood side by side, all bearing wounds. Each day, their numbers dwindled. No matter how hard he tried, Constantine could no longer remember what they looked like. It was as if those memories had been deliberately erased during mental adjustments. He only knew that they had endured the long days of training camp together.
"In the words of my Lord, the Praetorian Guard's body must be utterly pure and eternally free from the decay of age. Their minds must be as indestructible as giant fortresses forged from vibranium. Only thus can the perfect human Praetorian Guard fight beside him on the most terrifying battlefields and help him realize his grand dream."
"That doesn't sound like a responsible father in any sense," Nick Fury scoffed through his nose with disdain. "Don't you have any desires? Wealth, women, power… Without desire, without emotion, how can that be called human? And you're completely indifferent to what you've been through. I really wonder if you have any thoughts of your own, Constantine."
"Of course I have my own thoughts. I've been granted vast knowledge—arts, sciences, geography, politics… My Lord encourages me to think independently, because that is one of my functions: to walk at his side and offer counsel." Constantine looked down at the documents in his hands. In front of him, rows of gray crates were stacked to the ceiling. Each crate was immensely heavy. Thanks to his superhuman physique, Constantine could effortlessly retrieve containers that normally required a forklift.
The warehouse was unlit, but the genetically enhanced eyes of the Praetorian Guard allowed him to read the words, numbers, and diagrams on the files.
These items were all collected by S.H.I.E.L.D. over countless missions. Many were objects secretly stored in various bases after the implementation of the Slingshot program—officially meant to launch dangerous items into the sun, but in truth, they had simply been stashed away. The architect of that program was now speaking to Constantine. Due to the loss of key logistics and administrative divisions, along with the massive data destruction following the Hydra uprising, the function of many items could no longer be determined. So they had been sealed in explosion-proof containers and shelved, awaiting the dust of time.
Constantine had no trouble locating what he was looking for. In fact, very few crates here had accumulated dust. He even discovered a Berserker Staff—an Asgardian magical tech artifact. He'd read about it in the archives of the Eternal City, and his power armor's database also held relevant entries. Unsurprisingly, the rune inscriptions meant to incite rage had no effect on him. Both his mind and body effortlessly blocked out the magical influence that would have affected a normal brain and nervous system, as if shielded by an unbreakable fortress.
"The word 'function' is only used when describing tools."
"Is that answer not obvious enough?"
"Then that's just sad, Constantine." Nick Fury pulled out a small hip flask, unscrewed the cap, and offered a toast to the void. "Though we didn't work together for long, I still pity you—and everyone who walks the path you've taken. I'm damn glad I'll only live about a hundred years. I won't have to witness that future full of monsters."
Constantine ignored Nick Fury's mockery, for the short-sighted could never grasp his Lord's ideals. He switched communication channels and spoke into the microphone embedded in the collar of his power armor. "Daisy Johnson, I hope you've acquired the target."
"Not yet! I can't believe I'm working with you people!" Even though the mixed-race hacker tried to keep her voice down, it still rang shrill in the empty old apartment. Fortunately, the noise from traffic outside drowned it out, making the floating dust in the air tremble from the vibration. Daisy Johnson didn't know who exactly she was angry with—herself or someone else. She wasn't even sure she had a right to be angry. Solomon's past behavior had been extremely shitty (interrogating her mother Jiaying for information about the afterlife and the Inhumans), but Constantine had helped her a lot. And anyway, they were the professionals in this sort of thing. The amateurs at S.H.I.E.L.D. only made everything worse.
"I'm deceiving my friend here. You better consider what this is doing to my mental state! Or are you just another cold-blooded bastard like your master?"
"I need you to access S.H.I.E.L.D.'s management system."
"I know, I know. Jemma's on her way to check out the apartment now." She carefully pulled back the curtain and peeked outside. Sunlight spilled generously across the street from right to left, cutting through the shadows cast by surrounding buildings, racing past the grimy windowpane. "It's not easy to trick a smart person. I had a hard time finding this place and deleted all the recommended listings from the real estate agency to make sure no one else would show up for a viewing."
There was a hint of pride in her voice—an emotion rarely seen in her since leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson had accepted the Eternal City's approach to dealing with Inhumans, and she could never forgive that.
Though many had forgotten, she was a hacker before she became an agent. "I looked into her budget. Based on the combined salary of her and Fitz, this is the best they can afford. The ad I sent her was highly tempting. She already called the poor landlord and scheduled a viewing at four this afternoon. She's definitely coming. Oh, I see her now… Don't worry, I'll convince her."
"Are you sure you can live with this?"
"I'm already lying to Mike and Fitz by working with you. Even if I weren't doing this… You know, I've already left S.H.I.E.L.D."
I cannot understand.
Constantine couldn't understand Daisy Johnson's weakness and self-pity. But he didn't say it aloud. Instead, he gave her enough time to convince herself. Sure enough, Constantine heard Daisy muttering softly to herself, repeating a string of unclear words. Then the other end of the channel went completely quiet, until he finally heard the harsh squeaking of dry hinges and Daisy Johnson's awkward, rollercoaster-like laugh.
"Hi, Jemma."
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