Other People's Problems
| Other People's Problems | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 09 August 2024 |
| Location: | Unknown |
| Synopsis: | Summary needed |
| Cast of Characters: | {{{Cast of Characters}}} |
Spawn wasn't planning to do anything but his part in picking up a donation from some kind soul and delivering it to a needy soup kitchen. He'd spent some of his precious Necroplasm to spend a few hours, in the afternoon, to look non-horrifying for the sake of decent folk he encounters during his daily penance. He'd met a guy who didn't even want the receipt to show the full value of his charitable donation, meaning retail price, but was happy just to break even and help a few dozen homeless eat a good meal. Not just food, but good food. Real restaurant food. Then the Hellspawn really couldn't help himself, and asked about local crime. Turns out the mutants in Bushwick have a worse problem than gangbangers and human trafficking, in the form of the Friends of Humanity. Rank terrorists targeting mutants in their own ghetto. Some locals hospitalized, some killed. The contact gave him a name, somebody in the community he could talk to about the problem, but later that night the Hellspawn went to have a look for himself.
Perched on a rooftop, more feeling the ebb and flow of energies and emotions in the area than watching any of the activities in the street below, Spawn decided it was a good place to haunt. Plenty of innocents, all afraid to go outside after dark. Plenty of greed and malice too, but just the local prostitutes and drug dealers holding contempt for their clientele. None of it worthy of being sent to Hell.
Around midnight the only audible sounds were the twangy whine from the jukeboxes of dive bars and the pulsing bass from the nightclubs, the excited chatter of drunks making their way between party spots, and the grunting of prostitutes with their johns in the back alleys below. The overwhelming emotional noise was at least as inoffensive what he'd find at any backyard barbecue.
Spawn decided that if abusing these people is somebody's idea of a good time then Hell is exactly where they belong. Whether the help of the Hellspawn, and the mess he inevitably makes of the ones he preys on, will be welcomed is uncertain. Soon, Bushwick residents will begin reporting sightings of glowing green eyes in dark places and a strange flying creature with wings that glisten like wet blood.