Constantine's sub-personality really did have the kind of talent that could make people want to strangle him on the spot—just by opening his mouth.
The Enchantress thought she had already shown enough patience, but right now she truly wanted to snap his neck.
Yet just before she erupted, Constantine grinned and said, "Relax, just kidding. You didn't take that seriously, did you?"
"I'm just a third-rate mage. Why would Heaven and Hell personally come after me? Those rumors were all made up by my enemies to smear me. Nothing to take to heart."
"Alright, go on. I'm just here to watch the show, nothing else…" He put on an innocent look, like he was begging her not to hit him.
Half of the rage she'd worked up drained away, leaving her glaring at him with murderous eyes. But she didn't strike. She simply bent her head and went on sketching her magic circle.
What she didn't see was Constantine quietly shaking his head.
Old friend… I gave you a chance to turn back. But you won't take it. Don't blame me later, he thought with a sigh.
—
While Deadshot's sub-personality ruined one of the Joker's schemes, and Constantine's sub-personality tracked down the Enchantress, Raymond's group had already landed.
Through Task Force X's resources, a fleet of SUVs was quickly arranged, and they switched to ground transport.
In Raymond's car sat only four: Rick behind the wheel, El Diablo in the passenger seat, and Raymond with Harley Quinn in the back.
Earlier, during a bathroom break, Raymond had quietly released several shadow doubles—sending Constantine's sub-personality and the others on their way—while he stayed with the main squad.
He hadn't separated yet, because Deadshot's wish was to become the kind of superhero his daughter could look up to. The fastest way to achieve that was through Task Force X.
Batman's name had been built up through years of deeds in Gotham.
Raymond didn't have that kind of time—his system gave him only one month.
That meant he needed a single, decisive battle to make his name.
"Mr. Sharpshooter, aren't you worried my Puddin' might come after you for revenge?" Harley twirled her pigtails around her fingers, smiling playfully.
"Your power is unusual, sure, but my Puddin' has some pretty strong people under him… And if I'm not mistaken, you've got family, right?"
Her "Puddin'," of course, meant the Joker—her pet name for him.
Why she suddenly chose to "warn" Raymond, no one knew. Maybe not even her.
These days, Harley really was like the Joker—moody, unpredictable, doing things just because she felt like it. Sometimes, with no deeper reason.
What she didn't know was that Raymond had already released his sub-personalities in secret, and one of them had already spoiled one of Joker's moves.
Still—she wasn't wrong. She knew the Joker's patterns all too well. And she had guessed, right away, that his first move would be against Deadshot's family.
"Shameless!"
Before Raymond could speak, El Diablo suddenly turned around from the front seat and glared at Harley.
"What did you just say, clown girl?!" he snapped.
"What's it to you, freak?" Harley shot back with an annoyed pout.
"A real man fights head-on. Going after someone's family? That's garbage!" El Diablo's face twisted with fury. "I don't hit women, but if I ever see your so-called Puddin', I'll burn him into jerky!"
Clearly, he couldn't stand people who targeted family.
Maybe it was because of his own tragedy—his endless guilt.
If he had been given another chance, he would have thrown away everything, just to get his family back.
But that chance was gone forever.
So when he heard Harley admit that Joker attacked Deadshot's family, even though it had nothing to do with him, his rage boiled over.
If Joker stood in front of him now, he'd fight to the death.
"Pfft, whatever." Harley rolled her eyes, not interested in arguing further.
Raymond patted El Diablo's shoulder with a laugh. "No need to get so worked up, hermano. That Puddin' of hers won't have it so easy with me." (TL/N: "Hermano" is the Spanish word for brother)
Since the man himself wasn't upset, El Diablo forced down his anger, giving Harley one last cold look.
But Harley wasn't the type to be intimidated—she glared right back.
"If you're bored," Raymond said, turning to Harley, "why don't you give your Puddin' a call? Ask if he has any new tricks for me. I could use some entertainment."
"Hm?"
Harley picked up on the undertone in his words. Curious, she pulled out her phone and dialed.
Rick, driving up front, almost told her to stop. But remembering that Raymond and Diablo were both free of their bombs, and that Raymond was his only hope to save June, he bit back the order.
The call connected. Harley's voice instantly softened, sweet and girlish. "Puddin', did you miss me…"
But her smile didn't last. As she listened, her expression grew stranger.
"What? There's another Deadshot over there?!" she gasped.
Rick and Diablo, both eavesdropping despite themselves, widened their eyes.
They didn't understand the details, but it was clear: somewhere else, another Deadshot was already fighting the Joker.
But the first to notice the problem wasn't them—it was Joker on the other end of the line.
"Mm-hm, that's right… He's sitting right beside me now… He even told me to ask if you had any new tricks. He said he's looking forward to it… Okay, got it!"
She hung up after a few more words with Joker.
The first thing she did was whip around toward Raymond. "Why are there two of you?"
"Clones aren't such a rare power, are they?" Raymond replied casually.
"But you've been with us the whole time! Even if you had a clone, how'd it end up at Greenland Mall?" Harley pressed, her curiosity shining.
"Secret."
"Cheh. Stingy!" She crossed her arms, huffing.
"Anyway, Puddin' says—don't get cocky just 'cause you won once. The game's only just begun."
"Perfect." Raymond grinned, completely unfazed.
--
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