Chapter 65 Chapter 65 "Elliot Smith!" About...
John bitterly accused Elio of not telling him in advance that the location was the sewer, and not telling him in advance that it was Killer Croc's territory. However, he still followed Elio around in the Gotham sewers for several circles, and finally found the specific location.
"This is it."
John turned on the flashlight, casually scanned the marks on the ground, and glanced at the scratches on the wall.
"Luckily the big crocodile wasn't home," he said, "otherwise we'd be in big trouble."
As he finished speaking, the pipe beneath them suddenly moved. It was only a slight vibration, but John and Elio's expressions changed immediately. The assassin blinked his eagle eyes and looked around cautiously.
"I really hope it was just an earthquake," John said quickly. "It was an earthquake, wasn't it?"
Despite his words, he showed no sign of fleeing. John grabbed the brushes and paint from his bag and began painting the ritual pattern on the ground, pushing Elio aside as he got in the way. The pipes rattled and vibrated. Elio, standing outside the ritual circle, took a deep breath—he'd never faced such a heavily fortified enemy before—and then coughed at the stench of the crocodile.
"How much longer do you need, John?" Elio asked muffledly, holding his nose. "It's almost turning."
John scribbled hurriedly, "Almost done!"
"You said we could use the ring," Elio said, turning around. "Just like when I came."
"Good memory, kid. But I want you to remember something else," John said, wiping the sweat off his face. "Don't use that thing unless it's absolutely necessary. Okay, come in!"
There was a resounding crash, and the accumulated water and debris fell down in a scattering, covering their heads and faces. Elio jumped into the circle. "What are you going to do?"
"Never mind," John shook a pendant off his wrist, "I'll find a way."
But just as he raised the pendant and pointed it at Elio, the continuous vibration stopped. Elio, standing in the circle, stared wide-eyed at John's back. There, a dark green crocodile face peeked out.
There was silence.
'He's behind me?' John asked silently.
Elio nodded slowly. "Are you sure..." You don't need me to stay and help?
But before he could finish his words, John shook his head at him and raised the pendant again.
"Souls of the past," he cried, "in the name of Kronos, I, John Constantine, command you!"
Killer Croc roared. Furious at being intruded upon, and a bit confused and panicked by the ritual these two men were performing, Waylon Jones momentarily forgot he was still hiding from Batman. He stomped his crocodile claws and pounced on the two intruders.
"Elliot Smith!" John said. "Go home."
There was something powerful in those words that caught Elio's attention. He had his hands tucked inside his windbreaker, about to strike, when he suddenly froze and met John's eyes. The master of the dark arts was also staring at him intently.
Time slowed down at this moment.
Dust filled the sky, the wind swirled wildly, and Elio's silhouette gradually became transparent; it felt incredibly light and gentle, though it was quite at odds with the chaotic mess that was Gotham's sewers. Killer Croc lunged, and John took off running. Amidst a rumbling sound, a massive hole suddenly opened in the actual "ground" above them, and the vigilante, with his black bat wings spread, slid in, landing heavily and perfectly between John and Killer Croc, who were being pursued.
"Waylon Jones," Batman warned darkly.
Killer Croc let out a frustrated cry. He hesitated briefly between turning and running and engaging head-on, but finally steeled himself and stood up. Compared to his size, Batman looked almost as small as a black cat.
John stopped running. He leaned against the wall and gasped. "Just in time, Bat."
Batman frowned at the familiar voice. But he didn't turn around. "Robin, get him out of here."
"Roger that, sir!"
John also heard the lively cry. He looked up and saw a brightly colored bird squatting on the ground, holding out its hand toward him.
"Grab my hand!" he yelled to John. "We have to get you out of the sewers first. Trust me, you don't want to be in there while Killer Croc goes berserk."
"I sure don't want to," John muttered in relief, taking Robin's outstretched hand.
"very good!"
Robin reached forward, placed his hands under John's arms, and lifted him to the ground like a cat. John, freed, sat down on the ground, exhaled heavily, and casually tossed his heavy windbreaker aside. Only then did Robin recognize the disheveled, filthy figure as Constantine.
"Constantine?" Robin asked in confusion as he was about to go down into the sewer. "Why are you here?"
"...That's a long story." John poked his head out and took a look below. Elio had vanished without a trace, and the circular pattern used for the ceremony had been completely destroyed in the battle between Killer Croc and Batman.
The magician relaxed and slumped to the ground, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. "It's quite a long story."
Robin shook his head, not believing he could get the truth out of him. He jumped into the sewer to help Batman. On the ground, John pressed his lighter several times but failed to light a fire.
"Ah," he muttered vaguely, holding a damp cigarette in his mouth, "what the hell!"
...And all of this no longer had anything to do with Elio. All of this happened ten years ago. When he woke up from his hospital bed again, Elio would remember all the details he had forgotten and ignored, like when he was a child sitting astride a short wall, afraid to jump, and he casually said, "Don't look down, it will scare you"; like when he left the orphanage and could choose a new name for himself, Elio casually scribbled the first surname that popped into his mind, a most ordinary surname - as long as it wasn't Shelt, anything would be fine -
"Smith".
Elio Smith, that was the name he chose.
He left the orphanage that had given him shelter at the age of ten, but someone told him not to investigate further. You want to know why? Because there was no point in investigating further. Do you truly believe there's a profound mystery behind your parents' deaths, or do you simply hope for the truth, that it can justify your loneliness and weakness, and provide an outlet for your anger and helplessness?
Okay, even if that's the case—even if your parents were murdered, what are you going to do? You're not even old enough to sign up for Robin tryouts. What can you do for them? Even if you could do something, what would you do? Would you find the killer?
Then what are you going to do?
You kill the killer, the bastard who planted the bomb in their car—assuming there really is such a person—and then what? You find the superior who ordered him to do it, you find the reason why they did it, the illegal business they ran, you find the entire criminal group and their boss, great, congratulations, you killed them all.
What happens after that?
Justice provides you with an excuse to do your best, and the rage for revenge drives you to kill - you will be convinced that everything you do is right, and I am sure that this will keep you moving forward - but what happens after that?
When the flames of revenge die out, what do you think will be left here?
The adult who called himself "Smith" gently poked Elio in the chest. Green eyes, much like his own, hung above the black mask, looking at him quietly and sadly.
"You're a smart kid," he whispered. "Think about it."
It was as if he had left Elio any clues to pursue. But Elio was indeed a bright child. He chose to return to the orphanage and continue his studies. Years later, the protection afforded to the orphanage by the Knights of Light gradually wore off. But soon after the Black Gang, a recruiting operation, connected with the orphanage staff, investigators from Wayne's charity arrived one day.
Elio thought back to that day, though he didn't know what had happened at the time.
Among the investigators was a young-looking man. He frowned and looked sullen, as if he'd known something all along, even before the orphanage staff's clever words. Elio, sitting by the second-floor window, unfocused on his painting, parted the curtains and looked down, only to meet his blue eyes, which stared up at him.
Those were a familiar pair of blue eyes.
Although he had concealed his appearance, Elio recognized who it was from his memory.
Those watery blue eyes looked very much like Bruce Wayne's, or rather, they were exactly like him. And the look hidden in those eyes, that serious, worried, and concerned look about everything - even if these things had nothing to do with him -
"Batman!"
Elio exclaimed.
He rolled over and sat up. Before he could wake up from the hazy memories and dreams, pain immediately struck his abdomen. Specifically, it was his spleen. A pair of hands immediately held him down, preventing him from making any strenuous movements.
"Gotham people?" the owner of the hands asked in a teasing tone.
Elio gasped softly, realizing this was an underground clinic. His memory gradually shifted back to the events of the past few days, his injuries in New York. As he sorted it all out, Elio relaxed as the doctor did, collapsing onto the bed.
"Yeah," Elio laughed, "Gotham."
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Author's words: Constantine: I knew Batman would be attracted by our movements (Plan Pass)
Batman:?
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