Under the streetlights, Walsh swallowed the donut in his hand. He casually wiped his palm on his uniform, then quickened his pace in the direction Matthew had disappeared. Matthew, at this moment, was still immersed in the joy of scattered [System Points] flowing in. He remained completely unaware of Walsh's 'tailing' behind him.
Of course, if that could even be called tailing. Walsh's massive body in the city was like the Michelin Man crawling out of a billboard. There was practically no cover on the streets that could hide his corpulent figure.
Under the rainy night, Matthew continuously pulled [Magical Gadgets] from a cardboard box. Soon, the needs of another block were met, and the cardboard box was empty, leaving only a hollow shell. After repeatedly checking, the homeless people on the street found that there was nothing left in the box that they wanted. They finally stopped loitering around Matthew and left grumbling.
For those dark-skinned homeless people who would rap curses when they did not get what they wanted, Matthew would lift his coat. He revealed the dark, hard Glock Pistol inside, making them face reality. Although Matthew no longer had cigarettes and alcohol in his pockets, he could still barely offer some peanuts as a snack to go with drinks. And they were the kind that made you dizzy after just one bite.
Matthew quickly flattened the cardboard box. Just as he was about to give it to a homeless person as a blanket, he caught sight of a small, emaciated, clearly malnourished figure standing not far away. She stared at him with longing eyes.
"...You want this?" Matthew shook the flattened cardboard box in his hand.
The little one opened her mouth upon hearing him, as if to say something, but then choked up. After a few seconds of silence, she cautiously asked, "Sir, do you have any alcohol?"
"Alcohol?" Matthew scrutinized the child before him. She was small, with sallow skin, clearly showing signs of prolonged hunger.
"Children can't drink alcohol. Besides, more than alcohol, I think you need bread, milk, or a hot hamburger and fried chicken."
Hearing "hamburger and fried chicken," the little one visibly swallowed. But she quickly shook her head. "Sir, thank you for your kindness... but, but if possible, I still want alcohol."
Seeing her persistence, Matthew became interested. He squatted down and beckoned her with a finger. Though timid, the girl eventually shuffled over.
"What's your name?"
"Nicole..."
"Alright, Nicole. Tell me, what exactly do you need alcohol for? If you tell me the truth, I might make an exception and buy you a bottle." As he spoke, he pulled out a few banknotes from his pocket.
The moment she saw the banknotes, Nicole's eyes lit up. But she immediately suppressed her greed and answered honestly, "Sir, I don't want the alcohol to drink... I just want to disinfect a wound."
"Disinfect?"
"Mhm." Nicole nodded, looking wronged.
"Three months ago, Mom was accidentally hit by a bullet during a street gang fight... We didn't have money to see a doctor, so she just kept enduring it."
"Until a week ago, Mom started burning up with fever. I asked Old Carter, who knows a lot, and he said if we don't find a doctor soon, Mom might..."
"So you want alcohol from me to disinfect it?"
"Mhm..." Nicole nodded, tears mixing with raindrops, tracing paths down her grimy face.
Matthew looked at her pitiful appearance, remained silent for a moment, then stood up and said, "Take me to see her."
"Anyway, I came here today to 'Benefit the People'. Benefiting those ungrateful guys is benefiting, and helping a poor person like you is also benefiting. Since that's the case, I might as well help you."
"But sir, you..." Nicole looked at Matthew, her words hesitant.
"What? Do you think I can't help you?"
"No, no!" Nicole quickly shook her head and explained. "You can definitely help! It's just... I live in Hell's Kitchen, and it's too dangerous there. You're a good person, I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."
"So, do you still want to save your mom?"
"If you do, then take me."
After he spoke, Nicole fell silent. After a moment of internal struggle, she finally turned around and led Matthew towards 'home'.
And behind the two of them, Walsh, hiding behind a public telephone booth, saw Matthew and a small girl walking into the distance. His expression became exceptionally serious.
"This is Walsh, I'm tracking an adult male."
"Based on my observations, this individual is suspected of having pedophilic tendencies, and is currently walking with a girl no older than ten towards another block."
"Previously, this male also distributed cigarettes, alcohol, and knives to homeless people. I suspect he not only has pedophilic tendencies but also suffers from mental illness."
"Walsh, what's his skin color?" A voice responded from the walkie-talkie.
"White."
"...Continue observing. I think your suspicions are mistaken."
Walsh: "..."
'Of course, if you have concrete evidence, you can report back to headquarters again, and we will immediately send you reinforcements.'
'What kind of people are these? Isn't political correctness all the rage now? How can they still judge people by their skin color...'
'That being said, according to usual practice, if a black person was on the street distributing knives, cigarettes, and alcohol, he would have long since rushed up, shouting: "Hands where I can see them!" followed by a thunderous sit-down on the person, preventing them from threatening him.'
...Hell's Kitchen, the center of crime in New York, is practically the capital of sin in the Marvel Universe. Although it's only eight small blocks, the wickedness here probably couldn't be matched by eight Satans. An ordinary person walking the streets of Hell's Kitchen, even in broad daylight, could at any moment encounter a black guy who walks up to you, pulls something hard and cold from his waist, presses it against your lower back, and says, "Bro, lend me some money."
Therefore, this is also one of the most dangerous areas in the Marvel Universe. Besides gang members operating here, the rest are the indigenous residents. And here, all kinds of crimes are almost constantly being enacted. As for the patrol officers who are everywhere on weekdays... "Sorry, whether I work or not, I only make five thousand dollars a month, it's not worth risking my life." It is this 'hands-off' attitude that allows the chaos of Hell's Kitchen to grow day by day.
The dim, yellow-lit streets were filled with all sorts of strange odors. If one had to describe it, it would probably be the smell of decaying corpses mixed with the stench of excrement. This then fermented for a period before finally wafting onto the streets. Taking a whiff, Matthew knew there were things in the world even more potent than surströmming and stinky amaranth stems.
"Do you normally live here?"
"No... no, this is the garbage disposal area of Hell's Kitchen. My place is a bit further inside." Nicole pointed in a direction.
Matthew, who had long had enough of the nauseating smell, immediately pulled Nicole and quickly walked in the direction she indicated. He did not want to stay for another moment.
~✦~ End of Chapter ~✦~
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