In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group

A British folk song played from a dimly lit bar, accompanied by the soft sound of a cassette tape being rewound. The music abruptly stopped, and the long-haired bartender placed a hand on the radio, sighing as he shook his head at the malfunctioning device.

A patron rang a bell on the bar, calling the bartender over. As he turned, he saw a blond man passed out at a nearby table. The bartender sighed again and walked over to nudge the man's shoulder. "Mr. Constantine, are you alright?"

"Why isn't the radio working?" slurred Constantine. The bartender retrieved a glass from the shelf and wiped it clean as he replied, "That old radio belonged to the owner's father. It's ancient and breaks down often."

Constantine didn't look up, only slowly raising a hand. In the dim light, the joints in his slender, elegant fingers were clearly visible and stood in stark contrast to his despondent demeanor.

He snapped his fingers and the radio sparked to life, the music resuming. The bartender jumped at the sight but didn't move away; Constantine was a regular, and those who frequented the bar knew he possessed a unique power.

The bartender placed the clean glass on the counter. "The usual?"

"Yes, and add some ginger juice."

"Ginger juice?" The bartender looked hesitant and said, "You mean the cold remedy? We only have alcohol here..."

"Just give me a glass."

Constantine finally sat up straight, holding his head. The dizzying effect of the medicine hadn't worn off yet, and his vision was still blurry. He saw a glass reflecting the flickering lights placed in front of him and lightly gestured with his hand. The glass was suddenly filled with ginger juice.

Once he had finished, a shadow appeared in the corner of the bar. Constantine didn't turn to look, merely shifting his body to make room for someone else.

The shadow approached - a man in black armor with a black cape and two pointed ears on his head. Constantine leaned his head against his arm and turned to him, saying, "If I were designing a uniform, I'd make sure to leave the chin exposed so I could still drink. cough cough..."

Batman picked up the glass but had already smelled the strong scent of ginger. Constantine laughed lightly when he saw Batman's expression and said, "Don't you like to drink ginger juice instead of alcohol? Don't you want to try it?"

Batman set the glass back down, and Constantine reached for the glass of actual alcohol that the bartender had just handed him. After taking a sip, he winced and shivered, feeling as if he had been frozen. "Amazing, I've never had such a cold drink anywhere other than Gotham's bars."

Constantine looked at the bartender and asked, "Do you have any secrets?"

"Gotham's cold chain is famous nowadays," the bartender replied, continuing to wipe the glasses. "Four large ice factories were built at the beginning of the year, and the quality of our ice is excellent. It's not only cold, but it doesn't melt easily."

Constantine took another sip of his drink, and Batman stared at him. Constantine shook his head and said, "I know what you want to ask - magic...magic..."

He leaned to one side, resting his head on his arm as if he were drunk. "You've been following me for days, hoping to get an answer from me. But I've already told you, kid, don't try to use magic to resurrect someone..."

Batman remained silent, continuing to stare at him. Constantine spoke again, as if he were a prophet, "I know how you and people like you are. If you don't understand the principles, you won't completely deny the possibility of something."

"But the price you have to pay to understand those principles is much higher than you can imagine."Constantine picked up the glass but didn't drink from it. Instead, he pressed it against his face, as if the coldness could clear his mind a little. He said, "I used to be like you, full of curiosity about these things. I thought, if I didn't really pursue them, how could I know that they weren't my way out?"

"But this is magic. It lures you to explore, to seek proof, and then makes you lose everything in the process. In the end, you realize that the process of losing everything is magic itself."

"It's not an equal exchange." Constantine shook his head and continued, "It's not that you can resurrect someone by paying something. It's that in the process of resurrecting someone, you have already lost everything."

The British folk song continued to play, and Batman's hand holding the glass looked even younger. Although his body had grown to be no different from an adult, his finger bones still revealed that he was a teenager.

Seeing his hand, Constantine recalled his younger, naive, healthy self, like a summer oak tree.

He thought that it was fortunate that he had met the young Batman at this time. If their ages were swapped or if they had met each other at the same age, it would have been a real mess.

It was the first time Batman had spent so long in a Gotham bar. The tune continued to ring in his mind, reminding him of the English countryside. He couldn't remember when he had heard such a tune from Alfred's mouth.

When the face of the butler appeared in front of Batman, he stood up from the bar stool, put down the glass, and left.

On the way back to Wayne Manor, Batman keenly felt that this winter was particularly cold. When he saw the familiar buildings of Wayne Manor, he felt a slight warmth from within.

But when Batman opened his own front door, his actions seemed particularly cautious. Even when he passed through the courtyard, he didn't have the wind-like posture as before. Instead, he walked lightly and slowly towards the inside.

When he reached the stairs of the Manor, Batman looked at the grappling hook fixed to his hand. In the past, he would shoot the hook directly onto the balcony, then leap up and jump onto the balcony to return to his room.

But this time, he chose to take the stairs.

Expecting Batman to walk up the stairs properly was actually a difficult thing, as he was always good at using various methods to appear in places where he shouldn't be, regardless of whether there was a way up or not.

Therefore, when he was walking up the stairs with some caution, he didn't notice that some of the old stair railings in Wayne Manor had come loose. Just as he reached the third floor, and was about to take the last step up, his instinct made him grab the railing. Then, the wooden railing made a very slight creaking sound under his hand.

Batman suddenly felt a jolt in his heart and quickly turned his head. Sure enough, he saw a small black shadow rushing towards him from the end of the second-floor corridor like the wind.

It was a little girl with black hair and blue eyes, who looked very much like him. At the moment, she was wearing pajamas and rubbing her eyes in confusion. Then, in the darkness, she looked at Batman with her shining eyes.

In theory, in this situation, Batman's first action should be to reach for the batarang at his waist and then immediately open his night vision goggles to gain a visual advantage.

But this time, his first action was to stretch out one hand, curling all his other fingers except his index finger, and then put it to his mouth, making a "shh" gesture towards the little girl.

The little girl frowned, sniffed hard, showing a somewhat puzzled expression. Then she ran up the stairs "clack clack clack" and came to Batman's side, taking two deep breaths.Batman shook his head at her and just as he reached out to cover her mouth, the little girl opened her mouth full of sharp teeth and let out a thunderous scream.

Instantly, the lights at Wayne Manor turned on.

A few minutes later, Batman appeared in the mansion's living room holding Aisha. She was biting his wrist guard with her sharp teeth while Batman had a stern expression. He faced Alfred, who was across from him and said, "No, I didn't drink."

The butler's gaze fell on Aisha, who couldn't understand human language very well. Suddenly, it was as if she had awakened infinite wisdom. She let go of Batman's wrist guard, jumped to the other side of the couch, and while bouncing up and down on the couch, she pointed at Batman and kept screaming.

Dick walked out of the upstairs with his eyes closed, holding onto the railing and staggering down the stairs. He was obviously very tired.

After coming down, he stretched lazily and yawned. Alfred walked over and patted his back before saying, "Go back to sleep, Master Dick. There won't be any more noise to disturb you."

Dick rubbed his eyes and shook his head before walking up to Batman and grabbing his arm. "You didn't go to those kinds of places again, did you?"

"I didn't," Batman immediately denied, but Aisha continued to raise her voice, screaming uncontrollably. Batman walked over helplessly and picked her up. Dick rubbed his eyes and said, "Aisha said you smell like alcohol. Did you go to the bar?"

Batman remained silent and looked down at Aisha, who continued to scream incomprehensibly.

Batman glanced at Aisha, then at Dick, and then at Alfred, who had been staring at him. He suspected that the three of them had some kind of secret language to communicate with. He couldn't make any sense out of Aisha's screams.

Aisha struggled to jump out of Batman's arms and ran to Alfred, pulling at his pants leg and pointing at Batman while continuing to scream.

As soon as Alfred picked her up, she stopped screaming. Alfred held Aisha and said to Batman, "Sir, although you are now the father of two children, in reality, you are not yet an adult."

"Always going to places that are not good for the physical and mental health of minors, I'm afraid it will be difficult to set a good example for the two children."

Batman wondered if it was his imagination, but he sensed a hint of killing intent in Alfred's tone. He heard the butler say, "I don't know how that scum from London, Constantine, managed to lure you, but I hope that in his remaining time, he won't further tarnish the reputation of his hometown."

"Otherwise, as his fellow countryman, I feel that it is my duty to teach him the etiquette of a gentleman."

Meanwhile, Constantine was still heavily drinking at the bar and for some reason, he felt a chilling sensation behind him. He shuddered and surveyed his surroundings but did not find any danger.

That cold feeling was constant, but its source was unknown. Constantine helplessly turned his head and suddenly saw the ginger juice he had conjured up. He picked up the glass, pinched his nose, and drank it in one gulp.

The spicy drink finally made him feel warm. He coughed twice and sneezed, breaking out in a cold sweat.

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