Chapter 114: Chapter 81 Hell's Kitchen Travel Diary_1
In the early morning of New York, a beam of light streamed in through the gap in the curtains. Still fast asleep, Shiller was awakened by the voice of the symbiont.
"I'm so hungry, I'm so hungry, I want to eat brains... one brain, two brains, three brains..."
Shiller helplessly sat up on the bed and asked, "You can get hungry too?"
The symbiont didn't respond to him, only humming to itself. As Shiller got up to wash, the symbiont asked, "Are they not coming?"
"Who?"
"Those brains."
According to you, are superheroes just brains?
But if we have to say it that way, there's no problem. After all, among the superheroes, not many are brainy, and most of them are gathered here.
"I'm so hungry, I'm so hungry, I'm so hungry, I want to eat the blue-eyed brain first, save the brown-eyed one for the next day..."
Shiller found that the symbiont seemed to really get hungry. It constantly transmitted a sense of hunger to Shiller's mind through brain waves, making Shiller a little hungry as well.
He first headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and started eating some chocolate. But the symbiont showed no signs of stopping its hunger calls.
What Shiller found puzzling was that this time his stay in DC was relatively long. Consequently, he felt almost delirious from exhaustion on the evening he met with the Godfather.
Shiller isn't someone who sleeps a lot. Usually, he sustains himself with coffee, sleeping only four hours a day. He can maintain this routine for a week without feeling tired.
However, the day before he came to Marvel, he felt exhausted and sleepy just because he stayed up one day to accompany Gordon. This made Shiller wonder about his ability to shuttle between two worlds. Where did this ability come from? What are its limits?
After some thought, Shiller found that he couldn't get the answers from the existing clues. So, he decided to first address the symbiont's constant hunger.
The symbiote wants to eat brains, and Shiller doesn't mind finding some criminal brains in Hell's Kitchen to feast on. He's not Batman, after all, he doesn't abide by any sort of no-kill rule. Besides, in a place as weird as Hell's Kitchen, even though it's not as bizarre as Gotham, there are still plenty of ruthless outlaws to be found.
"Would you bite off a person's head in one go?"
"Is that what you want me to do?"
"No, of course not. You should know, there's a decorum to dining. We can't be so bloodthirsty, that's barbaric. You can just burrow into their heads and eat their brains, but don't make it all bloody and gore…"
"Alright, that works too…"
So, he really wanted to just bite the head off in one go!
Shiller thought, all symbionts have a common ancestor, so they share some startling similarities in certain aspects.
Shiller got dressed and stepped outside, planning to wander around Hell's Kitchen to see if he could find some unlucky robber.
Though Hell's Kitchen isn't quite as remarkable or quaint as Gotham, it's not lacking either.
As Shiller approached the corner shop, he saw a man dressed in a black down jacket with his hands in his pockets walking in. With his Mind Sensing Ability, he vaguely sensed the man's emotions. Shiller watched the man from across the street and saw him pull a handgun from his pocket and point it at the shop owner behind the counter.
Just as Shiller prepared to intervene, the shop owner produced a larger gun from under the counter and pointed it at the robber. The unlucky robber slowly backed off, hands raised, and scampered out of the store.
Well, it seems his luck isn't very good. The first robber he encountered turned out to be an inept and inexperienced one. Moreover, who dares to rob in Hell's Kitchen with just a handgun? It's a wonder he wasn't shot to pieces.
Shiller continued on, crossing a small bridge over a drain, and passing behind an old clothing store.
Hell's Kitchen is similar to Gotham in ways, despite its chaos and evil, filled with criminals. There's an attractive vitality and dynamism.
Not too far away from Shiller's office, there is a famous graffiti street. All the buildings here are vibrant and colorful. The architecture of some even looks as if they are stacks of multicolored shipping containers. The alleys are narrow, and the variety of storefronts exudes a retro vibe from the 1930s. Even the hot dog stand, with its iron canopy cart, is covered in an assortment of exaggerated colorful graffiti.
It's rather absurd to think about the presence of such vivid and vibrant styles in a slum. Yet, it harmoniously fits, bringing in more sunshine and vitality compared to Gotham.
If Gotham is a city full of people caught up in evil and sin, of souls struggling for survival through crime, then there's Hell's Kitchen. Apart from the criminals, there are many rebels here who willingly escaped from the conventional society, living freely and joyfully, bringing a unique vibrancy to the place.
With a sizzle, the hotdog flipped on the griddle. Wearing an apricot and vermilion apron, the young man had brown skin and blue eyes. He waved his spatula, then quickly scooped up the fries, asking in a lively Mexican accent, "Want some of my special chili? Guaranteed to keep you awake all day! No extra charge!"
"Are you from Mexico?" Shiller asked, standing in front of the hot dog stand.
"You wouldn't believe me if I said I was a born and bred American, but that's the truth. My mother smuggled me over here when I was young. We crossed the border."
The Mexican lad spoke cheerfully, just like his hot dog making actions, exuding the fiery charms of South America.
"She now works in a clothing factory on the east side of Manhattan. I've loved cooking since I was a kid, inheriting good skills from her. Gonzalez's hot dogs are truly the best in all of Hell's Kitchen! You won't find such authentic Mexican hot dogs anywhere else!"
"Aren't tacos Mexico's specialty?"
"Oh man, you Americans can't handle corn tortillas. I used to make some tacos, but no one bought them."
"You make them? Then make me one, then. When I traveled to Mexico, I enjoyed their corn rolls and avocado soup the most."
Gonzalez snapped his fingers and gave a warm smile, saying, "You have a good taste. The corn rolls from the Gonzalez family are also the best in Hell's Kitchen!"
As he prepared to make the corn roll, a few kids came running and kicking a football towards the hot dog stand, drawn by the delicious smell. Gonzalez waved his hand, saying, "There are no corn crunchies now. Come back later."
The kids peered at the stand, disappointed to find that there were no snacks they desired. They kicked the ball and ran away. As Gonzalez flipped the corn cake, he said, "These mischief makers come every day asking for my corn crunchies. They can finish a whole barrel in a few minutes. But I get it, when I was young, I always felt like I hadn't eaten enough…"
"Aren't they actually hungry?"
"Of course not. The black boy who is the ringleader, his father is a freight driver in Hell's Kitchen. Whatever little leftovers he brings home from his truck could feed his whole family. The other kids' parents also have steady jobs, so getting a significant meal isn't an issue."
"Although New York's slums are chaotic, they're much better than Mexico's. Most of the people here get enough to eat."
Soon, the hot dog, taco, and soup were ready. Gonzalez skillfully packed everything like a seasoned performer, passed them to Shiller, who paid the vendor and left a generous tip. Gonzalez was visibly delighted as he rapped the spatula onto the counter, saying, "You are a friend of the Gonzalez family now. You'll get a discount next time!"
Shiller waved at him and strolled down the graffiti-rich street.
During daylight hours, Hell's Kitchen doesn't see much criminal activity. The sunlight highlights the irregular architecture, casting shadows prettier than those on the orderly buildings lining the streets of New York. Messy power lines run atop, stretching into the distance. An assortment of flashily painted motorcycles and elaborately decorated cars are stacked high in the narrow alleys. One could even hear laughter and screams from children in the distance.
Shiller discovered that, like Gotham, Hell's Kitchen is chaotic but also teems with unique vitality.
If it could be said that many in Gotham feel trapped, then in Hell's Kitchen, many people aren't abandoned by society. Instead, they choose to abandon it.
Similarly, the hierarchical gang system here is not as rigid as Gotham's. In Gotham, if someone who just barged into a convenience store were to attempt a robbery, the store owner would ask him which gang he belonged to, who is he reporting to, and is this a declaration of war. This might even cause a minor gang brawl.
However, things differ in Hell's Kitchen. Here, store owners don't ask which gang you belong to. If you dare to rob them, be prepared to face a spray of bullets. It doesn't matter who you are; they will pick up their guns and defend their businesses to the death.
In some ways, the people here are even more simple and honest. Don't be deceived by Gonzalez's warm hospitality. Shiller saw two large guns behind his hotdog cart, an unfortunate gangster thinking of robbing Gonzalez would get a taste of Mexican heat.
But, Gonzalez also willingly pays protection fees to the local gang. The gang members in turn enjoy buying breakfast from him, even getting a discount.
In Hell's Kitchen, there aren't as many tragic stories like in Gotham. Most people here are seeking freedom, living as they please in unrestrained indulgence. This place has a distinct humor, much like the rock n' roll music often played in American road films.
If Satan were to enter Gotham, he would be thoroughly screened by the strict hierarchy of gangs, then the Godfather would invite him in for a "chat." A superhero would probably wallop him unconscious, and police officers would send him straight to a mental hospital. He will not be released without paying a hefty sum.
But in Hell's Kitchen, if Satan were to appear, the people here would grab their cookware, chop Satan into bits, then sauté, stir-fry, and deep-fry him. It could even turn into a gourmet competition among the diverse cuisines and cultures present.
Everyone here is a cook. Their cooking skills might not be top-notch, but they all enjoy the satisfaction of cooking up a devil.
This is Hell's Kitchen, a place in pursuit of absolute freedom, a chaotic, joyous, and wild place.
No one can become an emperor here, and neither is anyone the savior. Not even the biggest gangs.
All the people here and their ways of life represent the ultimate rebellion against the dull ordered society. It is the biggest piece of graffiti on the New York map, messy yet colorful, and no one can erase it.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone