Hell’s Kitchen, Hell’Kitchen.

The name may be some kind of vulgar food show elsewhere, but for the residents of Manhattan Island, the name means dirty, rundown, backward slums.

Hell's Kitchen is located on the west bank of Manhattan Island. It is a rectangular area with 59th Street and 24th Street in the north and south, facing Eighth Avenue in the east and Hudson River in the west.

The area is mainly lived by the Irish immigrant working class, and is famous for its chaotic and backward living quality, serious ethnic conflicts and high crime rates.

As night falls, the dazzling neon lights dye the sky in color, and the tall buildings cast huge shadows, covering the sparse crowds of people on the streets in groups of three or three.

Pick.

A pair of boots shattered the puddles on the road, and the sewage that refused to be accepted by the sewage pipes splashed all over the floor.

The owner of the boots is a young girl with long black hair.

Her face was delicate and small, but her heavy bags made her look quite haggard, and her inconspicuous pupils made her even more doubtful if she had just drunk too much.

The girl's steps were a little staggering. She reached out to hold the wall, and her white palm pressed against the dilapidated wall covered with graffiti on the street, stained with dust.

At the end of the alley, several young Irish-born men in loose sweatpants were leaning against the corner of the wall to suck the clouds and sucking mist - from the transparent plastic bags they stuffed in their pockets, it was not a cigarette, but a kind of banned consumer product for nettles of dicot.

The girl's throat made a muddy breath, and she stood up staggeringly, stepped on the mud accumulated on the mud surface, and kicked it soundly, slowly moving towards the end of the alley.

The Irish youth whistled, stared at the girl's curve and laughed maliciously. They stood up lazyly and casually against the wall, sealing the exit of the alley.

This is the Hell Kitchen, the slum with the worst security environment, so whether it is robbing money or robbing sex, it is a matter of course.

Surveillance cameras on the street corner have been dealt with long ago. Even the NYPD's notes don't want to spend more time in Hell's Kitchen and place more surveillance cameras - anyway, those cameras will be stolen and sold within a few days.

"Hey, girl, do you need help?"

The leading Irish young man raised his thin body, smiled slutty, and touched the blue stubble with his palms covered with gangster tattoos.

His eyes flashed across the girl's delicate face, like a scrutinizing the delicious lamb who was about to step into the death trap.

“…”

The girl raised her head in confusion, and her fair and gentle neck as white as jade, made the Irish youth swallow involuntarily.

"...people." She said, "I want to find someone."

"...Who are you looking for? We can help you find it." The Irish youths looked at each other and slowly surrounded them. One or two even put their palms into their pockets. Judging from the shape of the pockets on both sides, there were either switchblades or pistols inside.

"No need to worry."

The girl laughed happily and lifted her long black hair behind her ears, "I've found it."

The Irish youth were confused at first, but then this confusion quickly turned into fear.

The girl raised her head high, and the angle formed by her upper and lower jaws was far more than 90°. Her mouth was completely grinning to the ears and her mouth was exposed to the air.

As the "sniff" sounded, countless slender flesh spread and grew from the girl's throat and overflowed the outlet cavity.

These tangled flesh whiskers are as dense as the roots of trees, coiled and entangled.

The top can also bloom into four petals like a rose, revealing the hollow tubular groove inside the flesh whiskers and the serrated fangs inside and outside the groove.

Fear grabbed the hearts of the Irish youth at the first time. They had never seen such a terrifying scene, sweating on their spines, numb scalp, and fighting with their legs.

Fortunately, the banned drugs I just ate ensured the last hint of clarity, which made these young people choose to turn around, use their hands and feet, flee in panic, and scream with unknown meaning in their mouths.

However, the fleshy whiskers that extended from the girl's throat moved faster than they thought.

Just as a chameleon swallows and spits out the powerful tongue tip of the muscle fibers, the flesh thorns are pressed, contracted, and then stretched and relaxed, just like a long whip, wrapping around the necks of the young people.

It was like the powerful strangling force of the python, which made the Irish youth unable to break free.

They used all their strength and tried to tuck the gap between the fleshy whiskers and neck with their fingertips. However, their bodies, which had been squeezed out by alcoholic drugs, had no explosive power at all. They could only watch the fleshy whiskers slowly pried open their teeth and stuffed them into their throats without any doubt.

The touch of foreign objects invasion triggers the desire to vomit, but what makes the young people even more afraid is what the flesh beard does.

If a gastroscopy can penetrate into their stomach at this time, you can clearly see that the flesh whiskers have opened their top "petals", and countless pale and tiny insect eggs like rice grains were injected into the stomach...

After a few seconds, or half a century, the flesh whiskers finally slowly released their restraints and pulled them out of their throats.

The Irish youth fell to the ground with impotent swelling, reminiscent of the children in black Africa who had big belly due to malnutrition.

"vomit...."

The leading Irish youth clasped his throat, but found nothing but vomited a pool of clear water.

"Monster, monster!"

Someone pulled out his pistol, aimed the muzzle at the girl's raised head, and the trigger was pulled down in a series.

However, those pistol bullets whose initial speed had exceeded the speed of sound were intercepted by the flesh in the air, and none of them fell.

Dang chang.

The flesh whiskers loosen the bullets, and the copper warheads make a sound.

The girl leisurely put these tentacles into her throat, stretched out her green jade fingers, and wiped away the transparent mucus stained on her lips.

She raised her cuffs, looked at her watch, and said casually: "You still have... twenty seconds."

What twenty seconds?

No one really asked a question, so the girl added calmly: "In twenty seconds, you will complete the transformation and become apostles of God like me."

Obviously, this is not a good thing. The swollen Irish youth used their hands and feet, dragging their bloated bodies hard and moving towards the end of the alley.

One step, two steps, one step, two steps.

Twenty seconds, it's here.

The Irish youth who had just walked to the end of the alley stopped their pace. Their belly had returned to normal, and except for the occasional worm eggs that surged out from their eye sockets, nostrils, and ear canals, they were almost the same as ordinary people.

These young people who had completed the transformation turned around and half-kneeled on the ground at the same time, promising their loyalty to the girl.
Chapter completed!