"Until that evening..." Grace's voice dropped to a horrifying whisper. "I heard some movement in the kitchen. When I quietly went downstairs in the dark, I discovered...!"
She choked on a sob, her hands trembling violently.
"Lila! Lila was... she was eating a stray cat! It was alive, Mr. Constantine! A living cat!"
By this point, Grace was shaking all over. Whether it was from agonizing worry for her child or the primal, terrifying fear of what was living inside her house, she was at her breaking point. Grace lifted her tear-streaked face to look at the chain-smoking occultist sitting opposite her. Though she hadn't spoken another word, the desperate hope in her eyes was nearly overflowing.
Constantine took a long, slow drag of his Silk Cut. He exhaled a plume of gray smoke over the photograph of the sleeping girl.
"With just a photo, I can't give you a definitive diagnostic," John said, his expression completely unreadable. "But, everything you just described... if it's true? Then I can be certain. Your child has been possessed by a demon."
Upon hearing John's blunt confirmation, Grace's last thread of composure snapped. She slumped forward onto the cluttered desk, breaking down into heavy, wrenching tears.
John waited. After a good while, Grace's emotions finally settled. She sat up, wiping the corners of her eyes with a silk handkerchief, and looked solemnly at John.
"I can give you anything you want!" Grace pleaded. "Anything! As long as you can help me save Lila!"
John showed no immediate reaction. His cynical eyes casually swept over Grace's clothing and jewelry—all of which were world-famous, bespoke designer brands. From this quick appraisal, he was simply confirming she had deep pockets.
He was just about to state his standard exorbitant fee when Grace spoke, her voice tight.
"If you want..." Grace swallowed hard, completely misinterpreting his slow, sweeping gaze. "Five hundred thousand dollars."
Constantine's gritty, measuring look had successfully made Mrs. Grace misunderstand his intentions. She threw out a massive number to ensure the transaction remained strictly financial.
John didn't mind the misunderstanding in the slightest. The two exchanged a brief, knowing glance. They were both adults navigating a dirty world; money was the ultimate universal language. Some things didn't need to be spelled out.
After leaving her phone number, the Brooklyn address, and writing a hefty deposit check, Grace pushed open the frosted glass door and practically fled the agency.
Seeing the door click shut, Wade immediately popped up from his chair and scrambled to John's side.
"This commission has a share for me too, right?!" Wade demanded, jabbing a finger at John's chest. "You know, if it weren't for my relentless, high-quality grassroots marketing, no one would ever come to this dump!"
Amidst Wade's incessant, greedy chatter, the agency door was violently pushed open again.
This time, the visitor was an old friend. Tony Stark.
As soon as he stepped through the threshold, the Iron Man armor disengaged, folding backward to allow Tony to step out in his rumpled clothes. He walked quickly up to Constantine's desk, ignoring Wade completely and not even bothering to sit down.
"I found Rhodey," Tony said, his voice hollow and frantic. "But just as you said... he's been brainwashed by the Joker. I've brought in all the top psychiatrists in New York, but nothing worked. Human science can't fix his brain. Now, you're my last hope."
Having survived the horrific events in Afghanistan together, the two men had a mutual, grudging respect. But at this moment, Tony Stark had absolutely no mood for pleasantries.
"So, what do you want me to do about it?" John asked directly, seeing the desperate, manic exhaustion on Tony's face.
"Save him."
John tapped his cigarette ash into the tray. He didn't blink.
"Give up."
Tony froze. The billionaire, who had never shown such a broken, humble demeanor before, was genuinely begging for help for the first time in his life. Yet the answer he received was a cold wall of despair.
Tony's emotional control shattered. He slammed both palms onto Constantine's desk, leaning over the wood to roar directly into the occultist's face.
"You come from the exact same place as that psychopath!" Tony bellowed, the veins bulging in his neck. "You're the one who warned me about the Joker's danger in the first place!! And now you're telling me to just give up on Rhodey?! You know exactly why he became like this! It's my fault! And you're telling me to abandon him?!"
Facing the roaring, broken Tony Stark, John neither got angry nor lost his temper. He simply sat there, looking Tony straight in the eye, silently absorbing the billionaire's blinding fury.
Slowly, the adrenaline burned out. Tony's raging chest heaved as he stared into John's composed, weary eyes.
And in that silence, Tony finally understood what lay behind Constantine's gaze. It wasn't apathy. It was profound helplessness. It was the agonizing awkwardness of genuinely wanting to help a friend, but being utterly powerless to do so.
"The Joker... he's a poison, mate," John said softly, his gravelly voice filled with grim finality. "An incurable poison."
Under John's calm, defeated gaze, Tony slowly stood up straight. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a folded check, and tossed it silently onto the desk.
Without another word, Tony stepped backward into the Iron Man armor. The faceplate slammed shut, and he blasted out into the night sky.
"Is this his consultation fee?" Wade asked, instantly darting in front of John the second Tony was gone. He snatched the casually discarded check off the table. "Or is this compensation for your psychological distress?"
Wade unfolded the paper. His white lenses widened to the size of dinner plates.
"Oh, shit! Damn! That rich bastard!" Wade shrieked, waving the paper frantically in front of John's face. "Do you know how much he just wrote this for?! One million!! A full one million dollars!!"
Wade's voice cracked with pure indignation. How many bloody, bone-breaking mercenary commissions would he need to take to earn a million bucks? And this money was just casually tossed onto a dirty desk by Tony Stark for a three-minute conversation!
John Constantine stood up and smoothly snatched the check right out of Deadpool's trembling fingers.
"This isn't just a consultation fee," John said, staring at the zeroes. He flicked the crisp paper with his thumb. "It's also that man's dignity."
John knew exactly what this was. It was unspoken hush money—a silent, desperate apology from a proud Tony Stark who was completely unwilling to apologize verbally for his outburst. After all, nobody likes being screamed at for no reason.
"Gather the gear, Wade. We're heading out," John said, pocketing the million-dollar check.
"Hey! You just made a million bucks in three minutes!" Wade whined, trailing behind him. "That little fifty-thousand-dollar deposit job... why don't you just leave the whole cut to me?!"
Amidst their bickering, the lights flicked off, and the rundown agency fell quiet.
[Evening - Brooklyn Heights]
Wade and John stepped out of the cab. John glanced at the address scribbled on the notepad in his hand.
"I'm telling you, you asked for way too little!" Wade complained, adjusting his katanas. "Here's the plan: Later, I can play along and act like it's really tough to handle the target. Put on a whole show. Then you can seize the dramatic tension to raise the price! How about it? Isn't that a great idea?"
John kept walking.
"Hey, wait! Listen to my business strategy!" Wade yelled, jogging to catch up.
As soon as they turned the corner, a magnificent, sprawling, historic estate came into view. The wrought-iron gates alone probably cost more than Wade's apartment.
'No wonder the client didn't even hesitate to give five hundred grand,' Wade thought, staring at the mansion. 'For her, this might not even cover the cost of one of her handbags.'
Seeing John already walking up to the gate, Wade sighed helplessly. He had no choice but to give up on his brilliant extortion idea.
John rang the estate's brass doorbell. With a heavy mechanical click, the massive gates swung inward.
The two stepped onto the grounds. Compared to Constantine's completely calm, business-as-usual demeanor, Wade—creeping along in his red-and-black tactical suit—looked less like an invited guest and more like a cat burglar casing the joint.
The vast, manicured estate was eerily, oppressively silent as they walked up the cobblestone path to the main entrance.
Grace was already waiting for them under the porch light. She looked pale and tightly wound.
"I gave all the servants the day off today," Grace whispered, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself. "You know... if this kind of thing were maliciously spread to the tabloids, it wouldn't be good for Lila's future..."
.....
.....
.....
Support me and read advance chapters on patreon.com/ImmortalDaoWriter