That's a Tricky Angle to Approach the Question From

"The killer didn't leave us much in the way of clues besides the shirt and pants. He was dressed neatly, probably planning to go out for some fun that night.

"The pants were polyester, durable, and just like the shirt, cheap, low-grade stuff.

"But both the shirt and pants were too big for him, so they were probably some kind of issued uniform.

"As for what job? There was a holster on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Subway driver?"

Natasha guessed.

"Security guard?"

Pulling a book from his crotch, Deadpool casually chimed in.

"That's right. You could tell from the victim's back.

"His back was loose and weak, which suggested he spent a lot of time sitting."

With a cigarette dangling from his lips and the air of a master detective, Constantine kept one hand in his pocket and spoke at length.

"But the varicose veins in his feet and calves suggested the opposite. So, he spent all day either sitting or walking."

Deadpool's sudden interruption caught Natasha's attention. He opened the book and pointed at a particular passage.

"Hey, Constantine, isn't this a line from the latest Sherlock Holmes novel? Why did you suddenly start using it? Did you pay the copyright fee?"

"Cough, cough, Wade, is it?

"You must've read it wrong."

Caught red-handed, Constantine hurriedly tried to deny it.

But Natasha gave him no chance at all. She took the book and carefully read that passage.

Good lord, what a find.

His words weren't merely similar to the novel's lines—they were exactly the same, word for word!

[Emotion Value from Natasha Romanoff +533]

She looked at Constantine with contempt and said, "You really went to a lot of trouble, Constantine.

"For the sake of the case, you actually memorized such a long passage in advance."

Raising both hands, Constantine decisively surrendered.

"Alright, alright. The atmosphere at the scene was so serious, I just went along with you guys a little."

Rolling her eyes, Natasha warned, "Constantine, please be serious!"

She pointed at the bloated corpse at their feet. "This victim is a little different. He didn't die in his own home, but on this shallow bank of the Hudson River."

"What's different about that?"

Suddenly interested, Deadpool crouched beside the body and pressed on its abdomen. River water and mud burst from its mouth with a puff.

"Whoa, Constantine, there are even little goldfish in his stomach?"

Deadpool had been sprayed in the face, but he didn't care. Instead, he shouted excitedly at the lively little fish in his hand.

"Idiot, shows how uncultured you are. That's an Asian carp."

With a cigarette in his mouth, Constantine gave this academic failure a disdainful look.

Natasha held her forehead with one hand and sighed. "Are you sure? That's obviously a bass!"

"Did you hear that, Deadpool?"

Turning his head, Constantine remained utterly calm. "It's a bass. Remember that next time you're trying to pick up girls."

"Heh heh, that's so you, Constantine. Even at a time like this, you don't forget to help your brother out."

As expected of an idiot, his train of thought was simply different from ordinary people's. Delighted, Deadpool pulled a small notebook from his crotch and diligently wrote down the word "bass."

Natasha was left speechless as she complained inwardly.

What a pair of idiots!!

Of course, as a mature agent, she had to learn to steer the conversation back to the main topic.

"Cough, cough. Let's get back to the case.

"Most of the previous victims died at home. Even when they didn't, they were still some distance from the Hudson River."

"Moreover, without exception, they all died when suddenly surging river water and mud blocked their windpipes, causing them to suffocate.

"More remarkably, these victims would revive precisely at midnight the next day, then eventually walk into the Hudson River and disappear."

Constantine gently exhaled a stream of smoke, his expression grave as he looked toward the calm, peaceful Hudson River.

"Your judgment was correct. This is a thoroughgoing—supernatural case!"

"So it really was."

Looking at the quietly flowing river, Natasha realized she could no longer view it through the eyes she once had.

Turning to Constantine, Natasha asked seriously.

"Mr. Constantine, is there any way to solve this case?"

"Yes."

"Great! What is it?" Natasha's eyes lit up, and she smiled.

Without saying a word, Constantine raised his head to look at the ceiling, a cigarette between the fingers of one hand while the thumb and forefinger of the other rubbed together.

Huh?!

Natasha's smile froze on her face: "..."

As expected of you, Constantine. You were damn good at shaking people down!

Even Deadpool, standing nearby, cried out that he had "learned something." He suddenly felt a little inferior; compared to Constantine, he seemed far too pure. He decided to carry this method forward properly in his future mercenary career!

[Emotion Value from Wade Wilson +666]

Bellwell Hospital.

Midnight.

The enormous hospital was deathly quiet, and not a single person could be seen on the streets outside.

In the basement morgue, the male corpse discovered that morning lay quietly on the autopsy table, sleeping peacefully.

Constantine leaned against the wall, smoking in silence.

Deadpool lay off to one side, bleary-eyed and yawning repeatedly.

"Constantine. Are you sure that evil spirit will come?"

After yawning, Deadpool found a topic to talk about.

He thought he was an idiot. Instead of staying in this creepy morgue without earning a cent, he could have gone out and taken on some jobs. At least then he would have gotten paid, right?

Thinking of his poor girlfriend Vanessa, all alone in an empty room tonight, made his heart ache.

Constantine gave him a casual glance and replied irritably.

"Relax. As a Hellblazer, I'm sure that thing will show up."

"Really?"

"More real than gold."

"No, I mean, do evil spirits really exist in this world?

"You know, even though I'm not a devout Catholic, if evil spirits really exist, doesn't that mean the old man upstairs exists too?

"Of course, I'm not questioning anything.

"I just heard that God made humans in His own image. If that's true, Constantine... does God poop?"

With his back against the wall, Deadpool seemed to have suddenly developed an interest in the subject and began rambling nonstop.

And you know what? Although his question came from a rather tricky—and vulgar—angle, and any believer who heard it would probably beat him to death...

It really was quite profound.

With a cigarette in his mouth, Constantine fell into deep thought.

"Wade Wilson, I have to admit, your idea is quite novel.

"But I must say this: beings on that level no longer experience such low-level physiological reactions as excretion unless absolutely necessary!"

"In a sense, their power truly is supreme."

Constantine wasn't making anything up. In his original world, he had dealt with Heaven and demons quite a lot.

The question was strange, and admittedly rather devious, but it was still within the scope of Constantine's knowledge.

Hearing Constantine's explanation, Deadpool seemed to think of something and wore a look of deep sympathy.

"Oh, my poor angels. Doesn't that mean they can't enjoy one of life's other great pleasures?"

Having inexplicably written this question, Snail would first like to add a disclaimer: religion in Marvel has nothing to do with religion in real life.

So if you're a Catholic, please don't take this personally. Thank you!