Just ten minutes ago, independent journalist Kit was passing the time chatting with his staff in his reporting car.
The so-called "independent journalists" are news hyenas who work alone. Jitter makes money by providing the most timely news content to major news organizations.
Car accident scenes, murder scenes, robbery scenes, scandal scenes. Uncovering the deepest inside story can earn countless dollars. What the 'hyena' has to do is to run ahead of all opponents and capture the best footage.
Gitte has a reporting car with a satellite dish and an unspecified number of subordinates. Their daily job is to run around looking for events worth reporting.
After the "Tragedy" of the "New York Times" happened, Kit pointed to the picture on the TV and said to his subordinates: "If I can capture such news, I can sell it for at least one million US dollars."
The subordinates laughed at this.
The U.S. dollar was still strong in 1993, and one million was not a small amount.
After the New York Police Department released the 'threat letter', Jeter immediately drove to Atlanta, but the situation here was not satisfactory. Firstly, there were too many reporters, and secondly, the situation was dealt with very quickly.
Jite could only take some pictures of the feces suction truck, but the media didn't care about it - this little thing had no reporting value. Unless he could really take pictures of the headquarters' "shit dripping from head to toe", otherwise it wouldn't matter.
People are willing to pay.
It is not a small business. There are now police detectives and security guards outside its headquarters. The entire two-kilometer radius has been searched, but no suspicious targets have been found.
The reporters from the regular media who came excitedly lost interest in this. Some left, some were discouraged, and some checked into the hotel and slept.
Only Git and his gang wanted to see chaos in the world. They stayed in their interview car, glancing at the brightly lit headquarters building outside the car from time to time.
At nine-fifty, Kit's cell phone rang. A guy with a changed voice spoke, like a toothless old lady chewing a hard walnut, slowly and with a crunching sound.
"Jit Harper?"
"It's me."
"Get your people and equipment out of the vehicle and aim at the headquarters building."
"Who are you?"
"The show is about to begin, don't blame God for not giving you a chance."
After hanging up the phone, Kit was stunned. Several subordinates in the car were playing cards. Seeing Kit's strange expression, they all turned to stare at him.
"Boss, what happened?"
"Get the camera out of the car quickly."
"Now?"
"Yes, all the equipment is moved out of the car. Arrange the camera position and aim it at the headquarters."
Kit opened the door and jumped out quickly. His subordinates were all veterans of following news for many years, and they cooperated very well. They moved two cameras and brought several long-focus cameras down.
It only took two or three minutes and everything was ready.
But the scene was still quiet.
"Head, what's going on?"
"Someone just said on the phone, 'The show is about to begin.'"
"Impossible. Is something really going to happen tonight?"
"I don't care, if I miss the shot later, I will smash your dog's head."
Several news hyenas were waiting. But they did not wait for something to happen. Instead, they attracted the nearby FBI. The latter hurried over and shouted: "Hey, what are you doing?"
The two agents showed their IDs, and Kit stood up and explained: "Someone just called me and said that the show is about to begin, and asked me to prepare."
Telephone?
"Who called you? What's the number?" the old detective asked.
Kit handed over his mobile phone, and two FBI agents immediately contacted their companions on the walkie-talkie to report the situation. However, the agents scattered around the building all reported that everything was safe and nothing was discovered.
At this moment, both the news hyenas and the federal agents were like vigilant prairie dogs, looking left, right, down, forward and back.
Kit raised his hand and opened his cuffs. The second hand on the watch rotated steadily and the minute hand jumped slowly. He whispered in a deep voice: "Ten o'clock, the suspect probably wants to do something big on the hour."
The police helicopter was roaring and hovering at a height of several hundred meters. The high-power searchlight attached to the fuselage was scanning the ground back and forth, trying to find something.
The FBI is facing a formidable enemy, with more than a dozen vehicles and dozens of agents rushing back and forth. The walkie-talkies are ringing one after another, informing each other of the situation. But there is really nothing at night. Except for dozens of fecal suction trucks still working hard, there is no
abnormal.
People waited nervously, but the hour hand jumped to ten o'clock, and the calm of the night was disturbed by a loud noise - in the outdoor parking lot of the headquarters building, a rainwater manhole cover was suddenly blown into the sky.
"Wow, it's really here."
Kit screamed with joy, and his subordinates quickly turned the camera lens. But he shouted loudly, "Aim one at the headquarters and don't move. The other one takes pictures of the exploding manhole cover."
Oh my God, I can’t believe it. I was attacked at the dispatch headquarters. This time I’m going to make a fortune, make a fortune! The media will rush to give me money, and all the headlines will be the exclusive news I provide.”
The explosion of the manhole cover seemed to be a signal, and then there were constant bang bang bang explosions on the road, and all the manhole covers on the same line were blown into the sky.
With the headquarters as the center, manhole covers in the surrounding streets exploded one after another. The underground pipes seemed to be filled with flammable high-pressure gas, and orange-red flames spewed out as the manhole covers exploded.
Kit screamed for this and danced excitedly. But he soon couldn't scream because the manhole covers that kept exploding were approaching him.
The flying manhole cover had hit several cars parked on the roadside. The sound caused by the explosion caused all the vehicles in the parking lot to sound their alarms.
If it was just rainwater and the manhole cover exploded into the sky, the situation would be okay. But with the chain reaction of the manhole cover, the real disaster struck.
Large septic tanks usually only need to be disposed of in about a year. The septic tank at the headquarters has been accumulated for more than half a year. For unknown reasons, all the inventory inside it burst out of the ground.
It's like a firecracker was thrown into the toilet in a rural area, and the shithole exploded.
The old detective whispered miserably: "Oh no, the criminal has hidden it from all of us. He has already arranged it, and the explosives are in the septic tank."
The rain of flowers flying all over the sky reached a height of 100 meters and filled the entire sky. Although it was dull and not brilliant in color, it broke through the limits of human imagination and brought a new and extraordinary experience.
This is an unprecedented spectacle, a stunt without any pretense, and a real miracle. It blooms in silence, blooms in the ordinary, and explodes in the darkness.
This is turning decay into magic!
The septic tank exploded, and the working septic suction truck also exploded. Countless human excrements flew up in their most primitive state. They left their dark and humid place of destination and returned to the mortal world with a fearless attitude.
The roar of the explosion was like bursts of cheers, and the sky was full of "rain of flowers" rushing into the air. After more than ten seconds, it gradually disintegrated into lumps and volleyed down with infinite power.
Kit and his cameraman were raising their heads to watch this rare and exciting news material. Suddenly, the field of vision went black, and he yelled, 'Oh, shit!'
The cameraman also felt the terror approaching and quickly wanted to hide back in the interview car.
But Kit hugged his waist, lowered his head and shouted loudly: "Brother, hold on. This is just some fertilizer. Take this picture, I will give you ten thousand dollars, hold on!"
The cameraman wouldn't do it, not even for ten thousand dollars. But he struggled desperately but couldn't escape, so he could only cry loudly - No...!
Flowers rained down, crackling.
"Words all over the sky fell on my ears, and you and I were silent and did not respond.
I hold your hand, but your eyes are red from crying.
The journey is long and endless.
I want to have the courage to take good care of you.
I am willing not to let you suffer any injustice.
Those painful memories fell into the soil of spring.
It nourishes the earth and blooms the next flower season.
Your tears in the wind fall into memories, let us call them cherish."