The man didn't glance at his discarded package; instead, he gently pulled Shiller's shoulder, asked him to lean back and not to curl up, which troubles breathing. He then laid Shiller's arm flat and began to massage the elbow joint. He moved with great familiarity, as if he had done it countless times before.
Eddie stepped forward, picked up the package, opened it, and found it to be homemade explosives, not very powerful, but more than enough to kill a person.
Only when Shiller came around a bit did the man notice Eddie behind him, who had picked up the package. However, his reaction was much calmer than Eddie expected. The stranger removed his hood and looked at Eddie, "...What are you planning on doing? Calling the cops?"
Eddie zipped the bag and casually tossed the explosives back to the stranger. Startled by Eddie's bold move, the man fumbled to catch the package, ensuring that the bomb would not detonate abruptly due to such brutal handling.
"What are you doing? Aren't you afraid of the bomb exploding?" he shouted.
"Are you scared of a bomb going off, even though you're a dangerous individual carrying explosives?" Eddie retorted. As a reporter, he had a knack for finding holes in other people's narratives.
"I..." The stranger seemed to be at a loss for words, and he stuttered. At this point, Eddie lowered his guard and said, "Thanks for your help. Without you, my friend would've been in danger."
"I know a thing or two about chemistry. The explosives you made are very unsafe. Even if you are planning to blow something up with them, it's more likely you'll blow yourself up and leave your target untouched," Eddie shook his head and repeated the knowledge about homemade explosives that Venom had just told him.
Eddie, a liberal arts student, had little understanding about explosives, but Venom had the knowledge of two geniuses in science and engineering.
Venom had told Eddie the moment they saw the explosives that it was crudely made--unpredictable direction and power of the explosion, even the timing of the detonation is uncontrollable. It's seriously flawed for a terror attack.
The stranger looked down at his bag, seemingly lost. He lips pursed, pulled the hood back up and said, "What I'm going to do is none of your business. Don't say you've seen me. I'm leaving."
Eddie extended an arm, barring his way. The man tried to push Eddie's arm away, but it didn't budge. He pushed harder, but Eddie still didn't move.
Turning his head, Eddie glanced at him and asked, "…What's your name?"
"Why should I tell you?" The stranger cautiously stepped back. Eddie sized him up and then said, "I am a reporter who's worked for major newspapers like The Global Times and The New York Daily."
The man's eyes lit up for a moment, but dimmed quickly. He snorted and said, "A reporter? You're kidding me. Would a reporter from a major newspaper be here?"
Once he finished speaking, he tried to leave again. Eddie's face darkened. He looked at the man and touched his own cheek, then said, "Face mask!"
The next second, an enormous black creature appeared, its menacing fangs hovering over the man's head, its long, scarlet tongue dripping saliva, its white, spider-like eyes, elongated and malicious in appearance.
"Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!"
A piercing scream echoed in the neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen, but it didn't stir anyone. Too many accidents happen here. If a victim can still scream, it means he doesn't need help. Daredevil Matt would be the only person to think otherwise, but he wasn't here right now.
A few minutes later, the strange man slumped down next to Shiller. They leaned against the wall together while Eddie stood in front of them. Bearing the explosive package, the stranger said, "...My name is Bowers. You can call me Bob."
"I have a son and a daughter. My son is doing pretty well studying in another city with his mother, but my daughter..."
Bob took half a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. As he turned his head, he found a pair of shiny eyes staring at him.
After exchange glances with Eddie, Eddie indicated with his chin, "My friend is in withdrawal. Give him a cigarette. It'll make him feel better."
Bob looked at Shiller, noted his pale face and twitching neck muscles, which aligned with his impression of a gentleman. Without a word, he handed a cigarette to Eddie, who lit it and passed it to Shiller.
Eddie then squatted down next to Bob, his back to Shiller's smoking silhouette. The two started chatting, which was Eddie's forte.
As he squatted beside the road with a cigarette, furrowed eyebrows, a wrinkled nose, and a sarcastic grin, Bob shrank back instinctively, "Are you really a reporter? I've never seen a reporter with this look. Are you sure you're not a mob boss from Hell's Kitchen?"
Eddie flashed him a glance, apparently dissatisfied with his comments. But he also remembered that Dr. Dora from the Life Foundation, who had worked with him against the Life Foundation, had also remarked about him. Did he just not look like a good person?
"Compared with you, I'm much cuter," Venom commented. "If you fall into my hands, you'll just get your head bitten off. But fall into your hands, one might end up drowned in the sea and fed to sharks...."
"Don't talk nonsense," Eddie immediately denied. Then, he adjusted his facial expression, relaxed his muscles, showed a kind smile, and asked Bob, "You just mentioned your daughter. What has happened to her?"
Bob hesitated for a moment, then looked at Eddie and asked, "Will you write about me in the newspapers?"
"Don't worry, I'm very professional, all the names of interviewed individuals will be replaced with pseudonyms..."
"No, I mean, you must write about us in the newspaper…"" Bob suddenly choked up, saying: "We're out of options!"
"The reason I could handle your friend's condition is because my daughter also suffers from epilepsy, a genetic condition she inherited from her mother." Bob took a deep breath and continued: "We divorced when my younger daughter was four, but it was not because of her genetic disease, but because our older son was too rebellious, and we had too many disagreements about how to educate him, so we decided to part ways."
"At first, she took the children, but shortly after that, my daughter's inherited epilepsy kicked in. My ex-wife's economic situation was much worse than mine and the medical facilities in her town weren't good, so she had no choice but to send Tina back to me. Here I had a steady job, I was covered by medical insurance, and I had better access to medical care…"
"You have medical insurance?!" said Eddie, surprised. In this part of town, this was extremely uncommon. If people had medical insurance, they wouldn't end up here.
Some people believe that healthcare is free in America, which is partially true. However, the precondition is that you need to have medical insurance. And medical insurance comes in many different packages. Even the cheapest package would be beyond the means of many people here.
Plus, the cheaper insurance packages only offer basic services. Simplistically put, it only covers minor illnesses like headaches and fevers. And in America, most common illnesses are treated with advice to rest more, rather than medication.
Major illnesses can be covered too, but only if you're willing to wait in line. If you're lucky, you'll get your turn soon, but if you're not, the wait could be long, depending on the abundance of medical resources in your area.
Of course, if you donate a certain amount, or if you have special membership benefits with your bank, you can jump the queue. But obviously, that's not an option for the poor.
So, Eddie was shocked to hear that Bob had medical insurance. If he could afford it, why would he rent a place in this slum? Why not go to a neighbourhood with better security?
Bob shook his head at Eddie's thoughts and said: "That's all in the past. It's true, New York has abundant medical resources. My daughter was receiving treatment. Everything was stable at first, until…until…"
Bob suddenly gritted his teeth and said: "Damn Stark Group! They've gone and built a shuttle and a...what? Sky train?"
"I worked as a dispatcher at a bus station. Ever since the bus company canceled the New York City Loop Line among dozens of other routes, they no longer needed as many dispatchers, and so I lost my job."
Eddie frowned and asked: "You should have received compensation for losing your job like this, didn't your employer provide any?"
"They did, but my daughter needed treatment. She's so young and requires nutrition." Bob spoke with a hint of regret. "I didn't save any money because I never foresaw this situation. I spent carelessly. My final salary and compensation were quickly used up after I lost my job."
"I couldn't afford the rent, so I had to move somewhere else, eventually settling on this edge of town. However, when I looked for work, people would typecast me as an aimless tramp as soon as they heard where I lived and they wouldn't hire me."
Eddie patted his shoulder and said: "I know how it feels when one step goes wrong and every step after follows. I experienced the same thing…"
He sat down next to Bob and said: "I don't know if you like reading newspapers or the news, but perhaps you may remember. I used to be a well-known journalist who interviewed many famous figures, including Tony Stark…"
Upon hearing this, Bob quickly turned to look at Eddie's face and asked: "Did you used to wear black glasses? And you always liked to wear striped shirts and polka-dotted ties?"
Eddie nodded, pulled a pair of black-rimmed glasses from his pocket, and put them on. When Bob saw this, he was stunned and said: "Eddie Brock?! The gold-medal journalist from New York, what are you doing here?!"
"That's the story I want to tell you, about an impulsive decision I made which I still don't regret." Eddie looked at Bob smugly and said: "Trust me, I'm a good storyteller indeed."
Bob seemed curious. Eddie leaned against the wall, looking up at the sky, he breathed out a smoke ring, then said: "I heard about a man who was kidnapping the homeless for experiments. I punched him during my interview and was banned from coverage. Simple as that."
Bob was taken aback, his face expressing his unspoken disbelief: "That's your idea of a story?", but soon he felt a sense of shared misfortune, looking at Eddie he said:
"The rich guys are always like this, right? They're already taking more than their share and they still won't give us a chance to live…"
Eddie nodded, then directed his gaze to the bomb that Bob was still cradling. He pointed to it with his cigarette-hand and said:
"So, you plan to make them pay?"
Bob glanced down at the bomb in his arms, pursed his lips, and asked: "Is it wrong? I'm already at my wits' end, they must pay for what they've done…"
"No offense, but you're brave and foolish." Eddie squinted and said: "Doing this won't hurt Stark, it will only hurt yourself."