Chapter 1055: World-Shaking Commoner (32) (Patreon)

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The man didn't even bother to look at the package he had dropped, instead, he gently pulled on Schiller's shoulder, urging him to lean back and not huddle up, which could affect his breathing. Then he laid his arm flat and began to massage the joints of his elbows. His movements were extremely skilled, as if he had done it countless times before.

Eddie stepped forward, picked up the package, and upon opening it, found homemade explosives inside. They weren't overly powerful, but enough to easily kill a person.

It wasn't until Schiller had somewhat recovered that the man noticed Eddie had already picked up the package. Surprisingly, his attitude was much calmer than Eddie had imagined. The stranger took off his hood and looked at Eddie, asking, "...What are you going to do? Call the police?"

Eddie zipped up the leather bag and then tossed the explosives back to the stranger. Startled by his bold move, the man became flustered, hastily catching the package to ensure the bomb wouldn't suddenly explode due to such rough handling.

"What are you doing? Aren't you afraid the bomb will explode?!" he exclaimed.

"You're a dangerous individual carrying explosives, yet you're afraid of them exploding?" Eddie retorted, exploiting the flaws in the man's words, a skill he excelled at as a journalist.

"I..." The stranger seemed at a loss for words under Eddie's scrutiny, but at that moment, Eddie decided to lower his guard. He said, "Thank you for your help. Without you, my friend would have been in danger."

"I also know a bit about chemistry. The explosives you made are very unsafe. Even if you intended to use them to harm someone, it's more likely you would end up blowing yourself up while the other person remains unharmed," Eddie shook his head, recounting the knowledge Venom had shared with him about homemade explosives.

Eddie was a liberal arts student who barely understood anything about explosives, but Venom embodied the combined wisdom of two scientific and engineering geniuses.

Upon seeing the explosives for the first time, Venom had immediately told Eddie that they were too rudimentary. The direction and power of the explosion were uncontrollable, and it was even unpredictable when it would explode. Using such a device for a terrorist attack would fall far short.

The stranger looked down at his leather bag, feeling somewhat at a loss. He bit his lip, pulled his hood back on, and said, "What I do is none of your business. Don't mention seeing me, I'm leaving."

Eddie extended an arm, blocking his path. The man pushed Eddie's arm, finding it unyielding as if Eddie had suddenly gained strength. He pushed again, but Eddie remained unmoved.

Turning his head, Eddie glanced at him and asked, "...What's your name?"

"Why should I tell you?" The stranger retreated a bit warily. Eddie scrutinized him from top to bottom before saying, "I'm a journalist, and I've worked for major newspapers like the Daily Globe in New York."

The man's eyes lit up momentarily, but the spark faded as quickly as it appeared. He snorted and said, "A journalist? You're stretching the truth a bit too far. Would a journalist from a major newspaper come here?"

With that said, he attempted to leave. Eddie's expression turned cold as he watched the man. He touched his own cheek and said, "Mask!"

The next moment, a huge black monster with terrifying sharp teeth appeared above the man's head. Its crimson tongue dripped saliva, its white spider-like compound eyes narrow and malevolent.

"Aaaahhhhhh!!!!"

A high-pitched scream echoed in the community of Hell's Kitchen, but it didn't wake anyone. There were too many accidents here, and if the victim still had the strength to scream, it meant they didn't need help. The only one who wouldn't think that way was Daredevil, but he wasn't here.

A few minutes later, the stranger sat somewhat despondently next to Schiller, both leaning against the wall. Eddie stood in front of them, and the stranger held the package of explosives, saying, "...My name is Boles. You can also call me Bob."

"I have a son and a daughter. My son is studying elsewhere with his mother and is doing well, but my daughter..."

Bob took out a half-pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and upon turning his head, he saw a pair of gleaming eyes staring at him.

Bob glanced at Eddie, who gestured with his chin and said, "My friend is going through withdrawal. Let him smoke a cigarette; it'll make him feel better."

Bob glanced at Schiller, noticing his pale face and the muscles in his neck still twitching. It perfectly matched his impression of a hidden gentleman, so he didn't say anything, just handed a cigarette to Eddie. After Eddie lit it and passed it to Schiller, he walked over to Bob and squatted down. In the background, Schiller was smoking, and the two began to chat, with conversation being Eddie's strong suit.

Squatting by the roadside, holding a cigarette, frowning, wrinkling his nose, and pursing his lips, Eddie's appearance made Bob instinctively recoil and say, "Are you really a journalist? I've never seen a journalist like this. Are you sure you're not a gang leader from Hell's Kitchen?"

Eddie glanced at him, seemingly very dissatisfied with his assessment. However, he also remembered that before, when he cooperated with him to deal with Dr. Dora from the Life Foundation, she had also made such an evaluation of him. Did he really look that much like a villain?

"Compared to you, I'm much cuter," Venom commented, "In my hands, you'd just get your head bitten off. In yours, you might end up being sunk into the sea to feed the sharks..."

"Don't talk nonsense," Eddie immediately denied, then he adjusted his expression, relaxed his muscles, and showed a friendly smile. Then he asked Bob, "You mentioned your daughter earlier. What's wrong with her?"

Bob hesitated for a moment, then looked at Eddie and asked, "Are you going to write about my story in the newspaper?"

"Don't worry, I'm very professional. All the names mentioned in the interview will be replaced with pseudonyms..."

"No, what I mean is, you must write about our situation in the newspaper..." Bob suddenly choked up, saying, "We're at our wit's end!"

"The reason I could handle your friend's condition is because my daughter also has epilepsy, and it's hereditary epilepsy inherited from her mother." Bob took a deep breath and said, "When my youngest daughter was four, we got divorced, not because of the hereditary disease, but because my eldest son was too rebellious. We had major differences in upbringing, so we decided to separate."

"At first, she took both children with her, but not long after, my daughter's hereditary epilepsy flared up. Her mother's financial situation wasn't as good, and the medical conditions in the town she was in weren't great. So, she had to send Tina back to me. I have a stable job here, medical insurance, and better medical conditions..."

"You have medical insurance?!" Eddie said, somewhat astonished. It was extremely rare in this neighborhood. If these people had medical insurance, why would they end up here renting? Couldn't they afford to live in a safer area?

Some people believed that healthcare in the U.S. was free, which had some truth to it, but the prerequisite was having medical insurance. However, there were many tiers of medical insurance, and even the cheapest tier wasn't affordable for many here.

Moreover, lower-tier medical insurance only provided relatively basic services. Simply put, it could only cover minor illnesses, and even for common ailments in the U.S., medication might not be prescribed, mostly just recommending rest.

For major illnesses, treatment was possible, but it involved waiting in line. If lucky, you could get in quickly, but if unlucky, you might have to wait a long time, mainly depending on the richness of medical resources in various places.

Of course, if you donated a certain amount of money or had special membership services at the bank, you could jump the queue, but obviously, these were not things poor people could consider.

So, Eddie was very surprised to hear that this man actually had medical insurance. If he could afford medical insurance, he wouldn't have ended up here, right? Why not move to a better neighborhood?

But hearing his thoughts, Bob shook his head and said, "That's all in the past. The medical resources in New York are indeed abundant, and my daughter received treatment. Everything was stable at first, until... until..."

Bob suddenly gritted his teeth and said, "Damn Stark Industries! What did they make, a shuttle, and that... space train?"

"I was originally a dispatcher at the bus station. Since the bus company canceled dozens of routes within New York City, they didn't need as many dispatchers anymore, so I lost my job."

Eddie frowned and said, "In this kind of situation, shouldn't there be compensation for unemployment? Didn't your boss give you any?"

"He did, but my daughter needed treatment, and she's young and needs nutrition." Bob said somewhat regretfully, "Before, I didn't anticipate this situation, spent money recklessly, didn't leave any savings behind. After losing my job, the last paycheck and benefits were quickly spent."

"I couldn't afford rent, so I had to move further away. Finally, I moved to this peripheral area. But when I went to find a job again, as soon as people heard I lived here, they thought I was a homeless drifter and refused to hire me."

Eddie patted his shoulder and said, "I know, one misstep after another. I've been there too..."

He sat down next to Bob and said, "I don't know if you like reading newspapers and news, perhaps, you'll have some impression. I used to be a well-known journalist, interviewed many big figures, including the Tony Stark you mentioned..."

Upon hearing this, Bob immediately turned his head to stare at Eddie's face. He said, "...Didn't you wear black-framed glasses before? And you always liked to wear striped shirts and ties with polka dots?"

Eddie nodded, took out a pair of black-framed glasses from his pocket and put them on, then looked at Bob. Bob jumped up in shock and then said, "Eddie Brock?! The top journalist in New York. What are you doing here?!"

"This is the story I want to tell you, a story about me getting carried away but still not regretting it." Eddie turned his head to look at Bob, with a hint of pride in his voice, "Believe me, I'm a top journalist, much better at storytelling than you."

Bob indeed felt somewhat curious. Eddie leaned against the wall, looked up at the sky, blew out a smoke ring, and then said, "I heard about a guy doing experiments on homeless people. I punched him during the interview, got blacklisted, simple as that."

Bob was taken aback, his expression seeming to say "That's it for your storytelling?", but soon he felt a sense of sympathy and looked at Eddie, saying:

"Those rich people are always like this, aren't they? Clearly, they've already gained enough for themselves, yet they don't give us common folks any chance..."

Eddie nodded, then shifted his gaze to the bomb in Bob's arms. He pointed at it with the finger holding the cigarette and said:

"So, are you planning to make them pay?"

Bob also looked down at the bomb in his arms, pursed his lips, and said, "Isn't it possible? Anyway, my daughter and I can't survive anymore. They must pay for their actions..."

"Forgive my bluntness, you're brave, but foolish." Eddie squinted and said, "By doing this, you won't harm Stark, only yourself."

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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