PFC Chapter 4017 MU Superbody Major Event (97)
Chapter 4017 MU Superbody Major Event (97)
Chapter 4017 MU: The Superbody Incident (Ninety-Seven)
Strange, disguised as Constantine, returned to the base's quarters with the real Constantine. Most of the Constantines hadn't come with the main force; they each had their own origins, so this was their first time at the base. Strange didn't need to worry about being exposed due to unfamiliarity with the area.
The base on Apokolips wasn't much better than the base in Asgard; neither was very suitable for human habitation. A room contained a hard bed, a table, and a chair, with a clock hanging on the wall—that was all.
At least the base in Asgard had a mattress; the beds here were entirely metal. It seems Darkseid couldn't understand the human act of sleeping, much less why humans needed a bed with the right firmness to rest well.
But upon reflection, Strange realized that few members of the Justice League were truly human. He suspected that the Batmen might not have had a break since the start of the fight, and for a moment, they were unsure who the real Superman was.
Strange chose to stay next to Constantine, and they specifically picked the edge of the corridor on the top floor. There were only two people living on this floor, and other people probably wouldn't choose it either; it was a very quiet place.
Strange tidied up his room briefly and asked himself, "Are you really going to contact Darkseid? Aren't you worried the deal will fall through and he'll sell you to Batman?"
“Then he’ll have to sell for a higher price,” Schiller said with a smile. “I’m very valuable, you know.”
“This is no time for jokes,” Strange said. “What makes you so confident that you can convince Darkseid?”
"The key is not what price I pay, but what kind of reward I want. If I were to get Darkseid to turn against Batman, the price would be too high; but if I just want the shield technology, it's not that difficult."
Strange sighed and said, "I have a feeling that the Guardians of the Galaxy will be the breakthrough point. The Batmen might use them as an opportunity to launch an attack. I need to find a way to get the message back."
“This is very risky,” Schiller’s voice carried a warning tone. “Darkseid monitors everything inside the Apocalypse Realm. You can monitor all energy changes on Earth through the magical defense network, but he can only do it better. No energy fluctuation can escape his eyes, and if you use magic, you will definitely be detected.”
“Then let’s not use magic,” Strange said. “If Constantine can do it without magic, why can’t I?”
"Instead of doing things you're not good at, it's better to delegate them to people who are good at them."
"What do you mean? You don't mean you want me to rely on Constantine, do you?"
"His use of magic will not arouse suspicion. As long as you can find a way to persuade him, you will not have to take the risk yourself."
“How is that possible? This guy doesn’t look like the type to betray us,” Strange said.
"Everyone has conditions they can't refuse; it's just a matter of whether you can find their weakness. Besides, he's the one who captured them, so he has the right to do what he wants with them; it's just a matter of whether he wants to make a fuss about it."
"he……"
"Cough cough cough cough cough cough!!!"
A series of violent coughs suddenly came from next door, startling Strange. He immediately said to Schiller, "What's wrong over there? Why is he coughing so badly?"
"If you smoke 30 cigarettes a day, you'll cough even worse than him."
"Hiss..." Strange couldn't help but show a disgusted expression. As a surgeon and a germaphobe, he couldn't stand anyone smoking. Thirty cigarettes a day—wouldn't he become like a pickled vegetable?
"Ugh... Huff... Huff..."
A very faint but low vomiting sound came from next door, followed by panting.
Strange paused slightly, knowing that many smokers would reflexively gag, but the breathing that followed was clearly off. Even as a surgeon, he could tell that the chest sounds were definitely wrong; they were almost like those of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
"Is there something wrong with his lungs?" Strange muttered to himself. But he was also somewhat aware of his own medical expertise, so he walked closer to the wall to listen more carefully.
With a "crash," it sounded like something had been bumped. Strange rushed out of the room and to Constantine's door. The door wasn't locked; he turned the handle and burst inside.
Constantine, stripped of his coat and wearing only a white shirt, collapsed beside the table. Strange rushed over and helped him up, but Constantine immediately launched into another violent coughing fit. Strange was flustered and unsure what to do.
Constantine pointed tremblingly to his suitcase. Strange walked over and took it. Constantine opened the suitcase and rummaged around inside, then pulled out a small bottle of medicine and poured it into his mouth. Strange took it and saw it was some kind of cough syrup with pain-relieving ingredients.
He was about to ask, but Constantine, lying on the bed, had another cigarette in his mouth. He reached into his pocket, couldn't find a lighter, and reached out to Strange.
Strange, being a non-smoker, didn't immediately realize what he was going to do, while Constantine, lying on the bed, turned his head to the other side and rolled his eyes.
Only then did Strange realize that he might want a lighter, and now it was Strange's turn to roll his eyes.
"Dude, you probably only have less than half of your lung cells still functioning, and you still want to smoke?"
“It’s not that I want to,” Constantine slowly turned his head and looked at him with a slightly vacant gaze, “it’s that I need to.”
Strange sighed, giving up on trying to persuade him, and instead asked, "You're not doing well, are you? Why don't you tell Batman?"
Constantine gave a half-smile, then shook his head and said, "Telling him won't do any good; it'll only get you a bunch of anti-smoking jingles in return."
"You mean you want to cure your lungs while smoking?"
"Can't you?"
As a doctor, Strange really wanted to punch him, but precisely because he was a doctor, he ultimately held back and asked, "Do you have the films?"
Constantine gave him a look, and Strange had no choice but to rummage through his trunk. After searching for a while, he found a tattered piece of paper hidden in a compartment in the lid of the trunk.
He took it to the window, looked at it against the light, and his eyes widened instantly when he saw the shadow that occupied most of the lung.
Although he hadn't watched a movie in a long time, even an ordinary person could see how outrageous this was. Let's put it this way: if you poured the whole plate of Sichuan-style braised beef and offal into his chest cavity, it wouldn't make his lungs any worse than Constantine's are now.
Strange covered his forehead and turned to look at Constantine with the expression one would give a rare creature. He genuinely wanted to know how this guy could move freely with 80% of his lungs covered by shadows; it was practically a medical miracle.
So he went over to look at the cough syrup Constantine was drinking, opened the cap, and smelled it. He frowned at the pungent odor. He was certain that cough syrup wouldn't smell so strongly of blood.
Strange looked into the bottle again and saw a clump of thick, blood-red fragments. He immediately had a bad feeling. Constantine, who was lying on the bed half-dead, coughed twice and said with a smile, "Looks like you're a novice. But it doesn't matter. Before long, you'll be able to taste the devil."
Strange swallowed hard. Although he had dealt with many demons, most of the demons on his side were energy beings without physical bodies. But it seemed that the universe on Constantine's side was different.
Then it suddenly dawned on him, and he looked at Constantine and asked, "So that thing in your box, it's your medicine?"
"I guess so, but after I caught him I got a rush job and haven't had time to deal with it yet. Cough cough cough... A little girl's mother came to me saying her daughter was possessed, and I was going to go check on her, but then Batman called me here."
"Can you heal him?" Strange asked Schiller in his mind.
"Perhaps, but if I rebuild his lungs, he'll have some of the gray fog on him. According to the rules of his universe, he won't be able to go to heaven."
You mean he could have gone to heaven?!
"It might not work, but he really wants to go to heaven. Or rather, he doesn't want to go to hell."
"If you recreate a part of his body, where will he go after he dies?"
"It's unclear, but it's more likely to disappear completely. Neither God nor Satan can stop it."
Strange felt a headache coming on. Looking at the box of things, he knew that Constantine's universe must be heavily influenced by religious factors, such as the struggle between angels and demons.
Whether a person can thrive in such a place depends not only on their fighting ability but also on the rules. If you don't follow the rules, no matter how capable you are, it's useless.
Obviously, to go to heaven in such a place, one needs to comply with Catholic rules, which means one cannot be sinful, cannot commit suicide, and, strictly speaking, must be in one's original body.
Using medical means for organ transplantation is one thing, but if an alien god were to come, especially if a part of the alien god were to replace one of his vital organs, it would have an immeasurable impact on his body and soul. Going to heaven would be out of the question, and he would probably have a hard time even going to hell.
If that's the case, lung cancer is really hard to treat. Wakanda has the relevant technology, but Constantine's situation is still a bit too complicated. With the composition of his body, even if you were given the most potent drug, he'd still be in serious trouble even taking one step.
“I can help you,” Strange said again, “or let’s make a deal: I’ll help you, and you help me.”
“Sorry, no need. I can take care of that thing tonight and make sure it doesn’t cause any trouble,” Constantine said, sitting up in bed and looking at Strange. “Don’t tell Batman about this, or you’ll be sorry.”
“I’m not talking about dealing with demons,” Strange said, frowning. He pointed to Constantine’s lungs and said, “Aren’t you going to resolve the problem here?”
"You have a way to solve this?" Constantine raised an eyebrow, looked Strange up and down, and then said, "It's quite surprising that you can stay this healthy if you're not a novice. Do you have any secrets?"
Strange sighed, took a few steps back, and said, "Could you set up a magic circle to block their spying?"
Constantine frowned, but he still took something out of the box, which looked like some broken pieces of porcelain, and placed them one by one in the corner of the room. Whispers echoed in the room, then complete silence fell.
Golden light gleamed in Strange's eyes as Constantine's disguise faded, revealing Strange's true appearance.
"Let me reintroduce myself: Sorcerer Supreme of this universe, Stephen Strange, who is also the best surgeon in the multiverse."