"Currently, there's a very troublesome issue," Primary Universe Batman said. "We're fighting on enemy turf, which means we have no footing in their territory. All equipment and energy need to be brought over by ourselves. Equipment is easy to handle; it can be transported directly through the portal. However, the energy will probably have to be exchanged through the exchange system. The current exchange rate is not optimistic."
Other Batmen began discussing this issue. In reality, if you only look at the numbers, the exchange rate is actually quite good, roughly 1:3~1:4, meaning one DC energy can exchange for 3~4 Marvel energy portions. Seems like a profit, but in fact, it's not quite like that.
The universe on the DC side is too young. Since New 52, the universe hasn't experienced any major events, so there's been no energy level upgrade and has always been in a state of deflation. Moreover, the cost of magic energy here is significantly higher than next door. Every expense corresponds to every energy portion; a part of the cost only exchanges for a portion of energy.
On the Marvel side, there are many roaming cosmic sorcerers, so the universe's energy level is inherently higher than DC's. The mages can also use strong-arm tactics, getting three or four energy portions without much cost. So, this exchange rate is reasonable.
However, if we're going to war, we're at a loss. Because it's hard to get energy on our side, and the energy next door is not valuable. Exchanging over might lead to our side having no energy to use and potentially causing inflation next door. The universe administrators on the opposing side might not allow it.
Batwoman thought for a moment and said, "We can't rely entirely on exchanging energy; it'd be best if we could gather some locally. If mages in their universe can snatch, we can snatch too, right?"
"The key is how to snatch," Big Adventure Batman said. "The other side certainly won't allow us to snatch indiscriminately, and those demon gods next door aren't pushovers. The fact that their mages can fight doesn't mean our mages can. If we fail to snatch, we'd suffer double loss."
"If snatching hard is difficult, we can also deceive," Primary Universe Batman said. "In magical school, we learned that contracts have a lot of operational space. Deceiving some energy as start-up capital isn't impossible."
"That works, but we're unable to detach from preparations. Wonder Woman and Superman don't seem skilled in such things. Who should we let go then?"
Primary Universe Batman silently looked at the group. Big Adventure Batman crossed his arms, somewhat incredulously saying, "You can't be serious, right?"
"The thoughts in your mind are a bit disrespectful," Batwoman said more bluntly. "I know your intention is good, but don't act on it just yet."
"Constantine, without a doubt," Primary Universe Batman still said the name. "Besides him, is anyone really better at such things?"
What could Batmen say? Constantine's abilities are certainly not in question. Otherwise, he wouldn't be playing the mysterious entities of the multiverse. Even if he can't say he's perfectly fine, he's living well enough, showing his skills.
But this person is exceptionally unruly. It's one thing in his own universe, but throwing him into the neighboring universe might severely lower our reputation on this side?
"John is reliable with important matters," Primary Universe Batman said. "And as far as I know, those frequently appearing in the opposing universe aren't his type. Plus, looking for demon gods in the universe should not provoke anyone."
"Moreover, let's not let him go alone; pairing him with a teammate focused on completing the task should work. Even if he wants to do something else, he'd be pulled back."
Dingling! Dingling!
The phone on the coffee table rang loudly, almost knocking over a wine bottle. The white pills danced on the table, stirring up a fine dust. A somewhat weathered hand emerged from a mountain of clothes on the sofa, shakily grabbing the phone, pressing a button to silence it, then tossing it away.
With a bang, it landed perfectly on the cabinet by the door. The shadow entering through the door paused momentarily, then stepped forward to pick up the phone.
"Batman has called you over 80 times," a voice came from the doorway.
"Let him go to hell," the person on the sofa muttered, flipping over and covering his head with a jacket, continuing to sleep.
The figure quickly walked into the room. It was a rundown apartment, the living room barely about twenty square meters, struggling to accommodate a sofa and coffee table. An unidentifiable creature covered in clothes lay on the sofa, surrounded by wine bottles and pills on the coffee table. There were some unidentified ashes within the sofa, and the room was filled with the smell of smoke and a stench similar to sesame oil.
One hand picked up the bottle containing pills, examining it.
"Painkillers? You're still taking these?" The other person's voice carried a hint of disdain. Half-awake, Constantine finally realized it was a stranger's voice. He jolted awake, yanked the clothes off him, and turned his head toward the direction of the figure.
"Damn it," Constantine cursed, sitting up on the sofa, rubbing his eyes forcefully, and knocking his forehead before looking at the silhouette standing against the light by the living room window. "Am I dreaming, or is time messed up again? Shiller, why the hell are you here, and so young?!"
"I'm not the one you know," Shiller said casually. He leaned against the window sill, slowly pulling a cigarette from his pocket and putting it in his mouth, then tossing his credentials onto the coffee table.
Constantine squinted in disbelief, picking up the credentials and cursing again before saying, "You son of a bitch, you're actually a cop?! I must still be asleep!"
He threw the credentials aside, reaching for the pills only to find the bottle gone. He extended his hand towards Shiller and said, "Give me back my medicine."
"I'm not here to arrest you," Shiller suddenly said.
"Right, but that's only because I haven't committed a crime. If I show even a slight criminal tendency, you'd cuff me immediately. Damn blue skin dogs!"
"I mean, I'm not here to arrest you, yet I still showed you my credentials. Why do you think that is?"
"For God's sake, stop acting like Holmes, will you? Oh, I'm mistaken, you're Scotland Yard," Constantine shook his head.
He had just finished speaking when the cold barrels of a gun directly pressed against his forehead. Constantine immediately raised his hands and said, "Alright, you're the police, you have a gun. I get it. Why have you come to me?"
"I told you, Batman called you dozens of times and you didn't pick up."
Constantine showed that exasperated expression again. "Come on, it's not my duty to take his calls. Who does he think I am? His blue-eyed little sidekick? Sharing heartfelt words with him under the covers?"
"He has a task for you." Shiller put away his gun, took a letter out of his pocket, and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of him.
Constantine sighed deeply, picked up the letter, and read it. The more he read, the more his brow furrowed. Then he reached out to Shiller, who threw him a cigarette. Constantine bit it, used magic to light it, took a deep drag, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke before saying, "Not easy, pal."
"If it were easy, would he need you to do it? Do you think every Batman is willing to embarrass themselves across worlds?"
Constantine suddenly laughed, grinning while speaking in a somewhat muffled tone, "Oh yes, our Bruce Baby. I'm his pride, right?"
"If you talk any more nonsense, I'll record you and send it to Joker. Get dressed and let's go." Shiller turned and went outside.
With a few quick moves, Constantine got dressed, threw on his trench coat, gathered the pills from the table, and stuffed them into his pocket. He then rummaged through a cabinet to find a bunch of miscellaneous items, almost a bagful. But with a wave of his hand, the items quickly disappeared.
He also pulled out a tattered piece of paper, scribbled a few words on it, tossed it onto the coffee table, and walked out the door.
Shiller was waiting for him in the hallway. As Constantine walked out, he got a good look at him. Unable to resist staring for a moment, he said, "Honestly, you looked better when you were older. Of course, this is fine too, but it lacks the charm of maturity."
Shiller rolled his eyes so dramatically that not even the whites were visible, then said, "Time is tight, and the task is urgent. If you keep babbling, I'll have to show you what a real cop looks like."
Constantine grinned again and started laughing, but at least he quickly went down the stairs. The two of them passed through the teleportation portal of Battleworld and arrived in the central universe over in Marvel, but not on Earth. Because of the existence of the Magical Defense Network, no foreign creatures can teleport directly to Earth, even those from Battleworld.
Their landing spot was the bustling Centaurus. It's the second liveliest place in the cosmos, the first being the area near the Great Teleportation Gate. However, because the Three Great Empires have recently suffered heavy blows and are now under near-total lockdown, only this unregulated area maintains its usual hustle and bustle.
Yet there isn't any particularly advanced civilization here; most of the settlements have been established by interstellar pirates and black market traders. The cities have developed on this basis, looking less like advanced alien civilizations and more like a medieval town.
Constantine and Shiller walked down a street. Constantine looked around, seeing two bars on the left, three dance halls on the right, and a medley of creatures on the road. He first sidestepped a tall, skinny plant humanoid, then quickly ducked under the tentacles of a plump creature, nearly being whipped into a fruit pile by something resembling a horse's wing.
"My God," Constantine said, "Isn't your biodiversity a bit too rich here? I never saw so many strange creatures even in Maya."
"To them, we also look quite strange. More precisely, extremely dangerous…"
Before Shiller could finish, three moving walls approached them—three giant, four-legged creatures, each with an average height of 2.5 meters and nearly 2 meters wide, walked toward them.
"What's this? Giant antelopes?" Constantine looked up at these big guys and then said, "Have they migrated here?"
"Hey, you." A standard English voice came from the translator device on one of them, "Come over here and register with us, otherwise you can't enter the market."
Shiller compliantly walked forward. Constantine nudged him with his elbow and said, "There's even customs here, are they going to lead us into a little black room?"
"Just keep quiet," Shiller said, "Here, all the civilizations have a consensus that any carbon-based creatures with two legs are potential troublemakers and must be strictly registered wherever they go to prevent any sudden chaos."
Constantine pouted, clearly not taking it to heart, and kept looking around. Once inside the rather massive room for humans, his gaze quickly settled on the tapestry and the cabinet beneath it.
"Which civilization?" the lead giant antelope asked.
"Nine Major Kingdoms."
"Which specific kingdom?"
"Midgard."
"Which part of Midgard?"
"Earth."
"Official name, no vernacular."
"Alright, Earth."
After speaking, you could hear a pin drop in the room. The four antelopes took a step back in unison, their initially slit-like eyes widening like copper bells.