Chapter 1 Humanoid Plant
"A giant Humanoid Plant? What is this, some new Halloween Joke?" J. Jonah Jameson frowned as he looked at the File his subordinate handed him.
"This is recent news circulating in the New York Streets, originating from drug addicts and gang members, saying that a giant Humanoid Plant attacked them." The reporter sitting across the desk carefully explained to Jameson.
While listening to the reporter, James's hands weren't idle either, constantly flipping through the File in his hands. Besides the Testimony, there were also some Photos, including the victims and the so-called Scene of the Incident. The Withered Branches and Rotten Leaves on the ground seemed to indicate that something had happened here.
Jameson flipped the File back to the first page, frowning as he looked at the expectant reporter.
"Garbage! Garbage! Garbage!" Jameson, while flipping through the File to the editor, evaluated the News brought by the editor.
After saying "Garbage" three times in a row, Jameson threw the evaluated File onto the desk, completely ignoring the reporter's ugly expression.
Jameson took a sip of the Coffee placed beside him and continued to say to the reporter, "Tom, what we at the Daily Bugle want is News, not some Japanese Tokusatsu filming progress."
Reporter Tom hurriedly explained upon hearing Jameson's words, "Mr. Jameson, this is not some Tokusatsu drama filming progress, but Information I spent many days collecting from the streets."
Facing Tom's explanation, Jameson simply lit the Cigar in his hand, appearing nonchalant.
Jameson's attitude made Tom even more anxious. Tom stood up from his seat, eager to explain to Jameson.
"Alright! Tom." Jameson exhaled the smoke from his mouth. The smoke blurred his face, but Tom still saw the mockery on his face.
"You said you brought earth-shattering News, that's why I let you waste my... uh... five minutes of time." Jameson looked down at his watch and estimated the time.
"But what you showed me is indeed a pile of Garbage." Tom knew Jameson's mouth was famously harsh, but he still felt that Jameson's arrogance was the most hurtful.
"Mr. Jameson, this is not Garbage. This is evidence I collected, and there are people's Testimonies on it..."
"How can you believe the words of drug addicts whose brains are damaged by drugs?" Jameson interrupted Tom. "Maybe it's just a hallucination they conjured up. They mistook a pile of Fresh Flowers placed in the Garbage dump for a Monster that attacked them. In reality, when they sobered up, they found a pile of Petal stuck to their faces."
"But besides drug addicts, there are also testimonies from gang members here." Tom was obviously unconvinced by Jameson's words and still intended to argue his case.
Jameson shrugged, not even bothering to lift his head.
"How many of those gang members aren't on drugs? Who knows how many needle holes are hidden under those baggy hip-hop clothes. Instead of these hallucinations, why not make 'Gangs' Excessive Drug Use Damages Brains' the Front-Page Headline."
After Jameson finished speaking, as if he had thought of something, he pressed the Intercom on his desk.
"Sir, did you call me?" The secretary pushed the door open and walked in.
Jameson tore off the pages about drug addicts from the evidence Tom collected and handed them to the secretary.
"Publish these in the next issue of the Newspaper. The headline will be, 'Urgent! They are Ruining Your Brains!' Although it's not very useful, those drug addicts won't listen, but it can earn my Newspaper some good Reputation among the Public." Jameson said as he threw the remaining File to Tom, who was standing aside.
"Yes, sir." The secretary took the papers and walked out.
"And you." After the secretary went out, Jameson turned to Tom and said, "Go out and collect 50 Dollar Salary, and then take that pile of Garbage and get lost."
"50 Dollar? But sir..."
"Enough!"
Tom's words had just begun when Jameson interrupted him.
Jameson was obviously very impatient. His furrowed brows could even pinch a coin.
"I don't want to hear any more stories about Vegetative State Patient, Tom. You should thank the clever Mr. Jameson for being able to pick out the useful parts from your Garbage pile, allowing you to receive a 50 Dollar Tip." Facing Jameson's sharp words, Tom's face turned ashen, his mouth twitched, but he couldn't say a word.
However, the arrogant Jameson didn't care. He continued to scold, "You want me to believe in your terrifying Vegetative State Patient, but you don't even have a Photo of a Vegetative State Patient in the ICU. Why do you look down on that 50 Dollar? As long as you bring back a Photo of that mini Biollante, what's wrong with giving you a lot of Cash?"
"So, since you have the leisure to act like a drowning Quail here, why not go and bring back the Photo right away!"
---Divider---
"Damn JJJ!" Tom cursed in a low voice, his hands not idle either. He took out his Wallet from his pants pocket, about to stuff the 50 Dollar he had just received into it.
Opening his Wallet, Tom found that the 50 Dollar in his hand was actually the Only Dollar. The cold water of reality extinguished the anger in Tom's heart.
After thinking it over, Tom put the Wallet back. He planned to use the 50 Dollar to fill his stomach first, after all, only when you are full can you work.
After eating a Hot Dog, Tom, who didn't dare to order a Drink, used the remaining money to buy new Film Roll. He was ready to make a big splash.
Tom walked on the street not far from Hell's Kitchen. The legend of the Plant Monster originated from this vicinity.
Driven by life, Tom had to take risks. The reputation of Hell's Kitchen, even outsiders have heard of it, let alone him, who makes a living in New York. Even a Dog passing by here might have its Kidney cut out.
Even during the day, you could see some bad things in the Alley by the roadside. Tom knew that as dusk gradually approached, these bad things might not increase in number, but they would definitely escalate.
Tom stood in front of a Newsstand waiting for nightfall. Besides Tom, there were still two or three people gathered in front of the Newsstand. These people talked about everything under the sun. The owner of the Newsstand also occasionally chimed in.
Tom was not interested in their political chats and price discussions. Holding a Newspaper in his hand, he looked at the Sudoku Game on the Newspaper to pass the time, until an old man's words caught Tom's attention.
"Do you guys know about the Rumor circulating recently?" One of the balding old men asked the people around him.
"Are you talking about that Humanoid Plant?" another person chimed in.
"Yes, that's the one. I heard that near us, at night, there will be a Humanoid Plant about 7 or 8 feet tall. It will hide in the Alley and attack people passing by at night." The balding old man said gloomily, looking like the senior classmate who always loved to tell horror stories to scare young girls at Tom's previous gatherings.
Although the balding old man intentionally created a terrifying atmosphere, it was still early before dark, and there were still pedestrians around. His horror story didn't scare anyone present.
"Come on, Steven, none of us here are under 50 years old. Keep your lousy horror stories for home and let your son have a grandson. Then you can tell your grandson." Another hat-wearing old man, who knew the balding old man, said loudly.
The hat-wearing old man, having debunked the story, seemed to be still enjoying himself. He continued to say, "Besides, everyone knows that only Scoundrel haunt this place at night. Maybe it's just some Lunatic wearing a Costume robbing people along the way."
Others also felt that what the hat-wearing old man said made sense. Everyone discussed it noisily for a while, and as dusk approached, they also left one after another.
Watching the pedestrians around him becoming fewer and fewer, Tom left the Newsstand with the Newspaper that was about to be worn out in his hands.
Tom took out his Notebook from his coat pocket and began to patrol according to the Vegetative State Patient sighting locations recorded in the Notebook.
"Come on, my 'Money Tree'." Tom licked his dry Lips, his right hand touching the Camera in his pocket as he walked vigilantly on the street.
---Divider---
Tom fell heavily to the ground. The Loose Change in his pocket clattered out. The Camera also fell to the ground, making a crisp sound. Tom only hoped it wasn't broken. It was his only Camera.
Tom had just wanted to struggle to get up when he was stepped back down by a foot. The dirty Canvas Shoes and the ground pressed against Tom's Head. Tom didn't know who stepped on him. That person attacked him from behind. He was thrown into confusion and didn't even have time to see the attacker clearly.
"Hey!" Just hearing this sound, Tom knew that the person who attacked him should be a black man.
'A Dude who can't afford Air Jordans.' Tom cursed fiercely in his heart, but his words were not tough at all. Because he was being stepped on, he could only raise his voice in a strange accent, "I'm just a Pauper. I have no money. What fell on the ground is all my Property. And that Camera, if you want it, take it all. Please don't hurt me!"
"Don't play dumb with me, Dude! MTF! My men saw you wandering around here all day. Say, who sent you?" Speaking with a classic West Coast accent, the thug sternly questioned Tom.
As a reporter, Tom could be considered experienced. Even in a dangerous situation, Tom didn't panic. He was just about to continue begging for mercy, but another voice made him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave.
"Boss's Goods can't have problems. Don't care who he is. Just tie him up and throw him into the Sea." As soon as the person finished speaking, Tom saw several pairs of feet walking towards him, obviously about to take action.
Tom was about to shout and struggle, but the person stepping on him was obviously prepared. He retracted his foot and kicked him in the Lips.
A burning pain came. Tom's even wails were kicked back into his stomach. Panicked, he wanted to get up, but he was pressed to the ground by several other people. Before he could see clearly, another person put a Bag over his head, and then they carried him up.
"Help—Ugh..." Tom, through the Bag, had just asked for help when he was hit in the abdomen. This blow almost made him vomit Gastric Juice. Luckily, he was broke and only ate a Hot Dog, otherwise, he might have already vomited profusely.
However, the thugs didn't let him go. The people carrying him gave him a few more hits. When he became obedient, they stopped attacking.
Tom was in despair. His Head started to wander, and he even hoped that Captain America, who had passed away long ago, would come to save him.
"Did you guys smell a Stench?" Tom heard one of the thugs say. Tom thought it might be that he had lost control of his bladder, but he was so scared that he couldn't feel whether it was big or small.
"Couldn't it be that this guy peed his pants from fright?" One of the thugs carrying Tom looked at Tom next to him with disgust.
"Alright, Dude! Hurry up and get rid of him." The leader urged impatiently.
Before being dragged a few steps, Tom heard a terrified voice.
"Th-th-that's what!" Tom, with his head covered, had no idea what was happening. He could only hear the thugs' terrified voices.
"I can be anything, but I am definitely not excrement!" A muffled voice sounded. Tom was very clear that it was not the voice of the thugs who had kidnapped him.
"Quick, shoot! Don't care what it is! Quick, shoot!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Violent Gunshots rang out, scaring Tom into a shiver. Now Tom could be sure that he had really lost control of his bladder.
"Of course, you can also call me Swampfire."
The muffled voice sounded. Then Tom could only hear the thugs' screams and chaotic footsteps.
After a while, the sounds disappeared. Tom waited for a moment before tremblingly taking off the head cover.
Regaining sight, Tom only saw a few black men lying unconscious on the ground, and thick Vine tied to their bodies.
"It seems to be the smell of Methane..." Tom also smelled the Stench the thugs mentioned.
Tom, regaining his senses, found his Camera that had fallen on the ground, quickly took a few Photos, and quickly left the Scene of the Incident.
(End of Chapter)