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In the basement of the Continental Hotel was a vast underground stage. To be honest, the atmosphere wasn't bad, but for some reason, Noah felt uncomfortable the moment he stepped inside. It wasn't because there was anything evil hidden here. He just didn't like this dark, chaotic, and wild feeling.
Constantine felt the same.
It was like being dragged back into the past. When he was in Los Angeles, there had been a club run by a damned guy named Midnite. The atmosphere there was almost identical to this place. He hadn't liked Midnite, so naturally, he didn't feel comfortable here either.
On top of that, Constantine couldn't even be bothered to wear that damned hat anymore. In his eyes, this guy named Wick was basically a pirated version of himself. If that was the case, why should he bother hiding his face?
So as they walked, he couldn't help but point fingers and mutter complaints, which only made him hate the place more.
"This is really annoying. Feels like going to Midnite's club."
"Who knows. I don't like that guy, and this place feels the same. They don't do anything good, yet they package themselves as gentlemen."
Noah and Constantine whispered their complaints as they walked. Neither of them cared if anyone heard. Even if someone did, they probably wouldn't dare say anything.
Besides, the place was too noisy. Chances were no one heard them at all. And even if they did, they might have nodded in agreement.
Soon, under Wick's lead, they arrived in front of Winston.
Noah looked at the old man with interest. It had to be said, Winston really did have presence. Sitting in a bar like this, he felt strangely out of place. While Noah was observing him, Winston was also observing them.
Charon had already told him that some strange people had arrived at the Continental Hotel today. Clearly, these were them. And just as Charon described, they gave off an oppressive feeling that was hard to explain.
Winston found it interesting.
He had never been afraid of anyone, not even the High Table. His position gave him unmatched connections, and he had absolute confidence in himself. What he was curious about was their identities.
"Jonathan. I didn't expect you to come back," Winston said, taking a small sip of wine and smiling faintly. "And I didn't expect you to be friends with Mr. Bourne, and to bring two more friends along."
"Hello, Winston," Wick nodded slightly. "I have something I need to ask you."
"Oh?" Winston didn't answer directly. He turned his head and looked at Noah and the others. "As far as I know, you're not someone who cleans up messes. And I didn't know you had a brother."
"Have a seat, gentlemen. This round's on me."
"First of all, I'm not his brother," Constantine sat down without ceremony. "Second, if I find out you're mistaken, I guarantee this place will have a new owner tomorrow."
"Oh?" Winston raised an eyebrow, then smiled again. "It seems your brother has quite a temper—"
Before he could finish, Constantine had already grabbed Winston by the neck and pressed a pistol silently against his forehead.
The moment he moved, the surrounding assassins reacted. The noisy bar went silent in an instant.
Noah tilted his head, completely ignoring the reactions around them. Constantine always had his own reasons for doing things. If he acted, there was a purpose.
When it came to dealing with ordinary people, Noah trusted him completely. He had no intention of interfering.
"I told you," Constantine said calmly, tightening his grip. "But you didn't seem to believe me."
Winston was close to suffocating.
"Now I ask, and you answer directly. Got it?" Constantine's voice was low. "Seeing you makes me think of someone else. And that makes me very unhappy."
He tossed Winston onto the sofa.
The next second, several assassins rushed forward.
Constantine didn't even look up. He raised his hand slightly, and the pistol fired in rapid succession. Each shot dropped an assassin to the ground. When all nine bullets were gone, no one dared to step forward again.
"You're doing this in the Continental Hotel," Winston said slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. "Do you know the consequences of what you're doing, young man?"
"You must have guessed already," Constantine said, crouching down. "We're not assassins. And we don't work for you. Do you really think I care?"
He pulled out the identification Fury had prepared and tossed it over.
"Take a good look," he whispered. "Do you really think you matter to me?"
Winston frowned and picked it up. The moment he saw it clearly, his expression changed.
The SHIELD emblem was printed clearly on it. The special badge was unmistakable.
No wonder this man dared to act so brazenly. No wonder he dared to open fire inside the Continental Hotel.
He wasn't afraid of Winston.
And he wasn't afraid of the High Table either.
In Winston's eyes, Constantine was now a SHIELD agent. An agent with terrifying personal combat ability. These assassins might not fear Winston, but SHIELD was a different matter entirely.
During the Battle of New York, SHIELD had been overshadowed by sorcerers and superheroes, but Winston had paid close attention to them. Sorcerers usually didn't bother with people like him. Superheroes caused trouble, but as long as you didn't cross certain lines, it was manageable.
Only SHIELD was truly dangerous.
They were organized. They were systematic. And they were capable of destroying them.
The High Table had existed for countless years, with an unimaginably vast network. No one wanted to provoke them lightly. But if SHIELD made up its mind, taking action against them wouldn't be difficult at all.
Even their protectors could fall first.
And since SHIELD had already sent someone like this, did that mean they had already decided?
"What do you want?" Winston finally asked. He motioned for everyone else to leave the area and slowly sat up.
"Viggo Tarasov," Constantine said, sitting back down and lighting a cigarette.
"You want that Russian?" Winston looked at Wick in disbelief. "For Jonathan?"
"Sort of," Constantine replied, exhaling slowly. "And we'll also let him enter the desert in Jerusalem."
"He's unlucky. Forced into this life. We don't care about his past. As long as he helps us, he can live however he wants afterward."
The meaning was clear.
Helping Wick was secondary. Their real target was someone on the High Table in the desert.
Winston understood immediately.
He didn't doubt they could do it.
"Viggo is staying in a hotel he operates himself," Winston said after thinking for a moment. "That's deliberate. It's already filled with assassins."
"Go on," Constantine smiled faintly. "You're starting to interest me."
"Most of them are Wick's old acquaintances," Winston continued. "About fifty people. Hard to say exactly. As for the man in Jerusalem… he's hard to find. But I can give you a route. A path he has to take."
"Very good, Mr. Winston," Constantine said, finally showing a real smile. "I like working with smart people."
"If you stay silent, then no matter what happens in the future, this will remain your territory."
"Of course," he added lightly, "if I find—"
"Pleasure working with you, Mr. Marston," Winston cut in, raising his glass and taking a sip.
"Very good. Pleasure working with you, Mr. Winston."
Constantine stood up and turned to leave. Noah and Jason followed immediately. Wick stayed behind. He clearly still had things to discuss.
As they walked out of the bar, no one dared to touch them. Without Winston's orders, the assassins had to follow the Continental's rules.
Once they reached the elevator, Noah finally spoke.
"I have to say, that was impressive," he said. "You were that sure he'd help?"
"It's SHIELD's problem," Constantine replied indifferently. "Why should I care?"
"And that guy is ambitious. I've met plenty like him. People like that want a new identity. One that isn't stuck in the shadows."
"So you just used SHIELD to push him?" Noah shrugged.
He knew exactly what kind of person Winston was. In the future, Winston would openly defy the High Table. He would even deliberately let Wick go, knowing exactly how it would end.
Constantine had just accelerated the process.
"Big trickster," Noah sighed.
At that moment, his phone rang.
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