Jack looked at the newspaper, staring at the photo of Spider-Man on the front page. After a few moments, Jack glanced back at his friend Mark.
"This is what you think I should spend my time on?" Jack asked. "A wannabe freak in tights?"
"Why not?" Mark asked. "Think about it. Here's a guy in a costume, with superhuman powers, who stays in one place and never runs away. Besides, his stories have been making a small fortune for the Daily Bugle. If you find this guy, you can get an exclusive out of him. Even the Bugle hasn't gotten a single quote from this guy."
Jack looked at the picture and fought like hell to hide his smirk. Mark had a point. Chasing after the Hulk was expensive. He had put quite a bill on the Register's payroll to go out from city to city, everywhere from warehouses to homes, and he'd usually come up empty. Spider-Man was ideal in that he'd barely left the cities of New York. Unlike the Hulk, he could be talked to, reasoned with... could talk back.
"A-ha!" Mark said, pointing at Jack's small smirk. "I knew it! You are interested! The boss wants you to get one story on this guy! Concentrate on Spider-Man! Forget the Hulk, Jack!"
And just like that, Jack shot a nasty glare at Mark. Forget the Hulk? He couldn't possibly be serious. He wasn't going to let all of his time and efforts of chasing after that creature be for nothing, especially not for a crackpot in red and blue pajamas.
"Now wait a minute, Mark," Jack snapped. "We've been friends for a long time. I trust you, I respect you. But don't expect me to be so stupid as to drop a story as big as the Hulk! When that creature shows itself again, and believe me he will, that's my next story! That's what I'll turn my attention to! Spider-Man is my job for now, but I'm not replacing him over the Hulk!"
"Look, it's your call, Jack," Mark snapped back, equally irritated. "But the fact is, you just don't have as good of a chance at getting to the Hulk than you do with this Spider-Man character. All our boss is talking about is getting through one story! If you get something out of it, great! I'll be the first one to help you tell the boss that the Hulk should be your main assignment! But this is what you've got, Jack, and you're not getting much attention at the rate you've been going on about the Hulk! It's up to you."
With that said, Mark turned and walked away. Jack watched as his friend walked off. Jack may have been an employee of the Register's for some time, but even so, that didn't mean he'd made a whole lot of friends. Jack kept to himself mostly, did his job, shut out everyone and everything so that he could focus his attention on the Hulk.
And now, after more months than he would've liked to remember chasing after John Doe and his green-skinned alter-ego, he had to get a story about Spider-Man or possibly lose his chance to find the Hulk.
Jack rubbed his chin and then got up from his desk. He rushed after Mark, who was standing and waiting for the elevator. Jack grabbed his friend by the arm gently and turned him around to face him.
"Mark, wait," Jack said, having calmed down. "I know you're just trying to help out. I get that. I appreciate it. I really do."
"Yeah," Mark said, puzzled. "So?"
"So," Jack answered, "you look like you know more about this Spider-Man than I do. Why don't I grab us some lunch and you tell me a little more about where I can find this guy? I'm buying."
Mark smirked. It was the first time he'd remember Jack ever wanting to buy him lunch, let alone sit at the same table with another person.
"Okay," Mark said, as the elevator doors slid open. "You buy the burgers, I'll give you all the information I've got on Spider-Man."
Back in New York, inside the upper level of the Daily Bugle, amid the secretaries and journalists and other staff members, a familiar African-American man was rushing down the hall and to the office of J. Jonah Jameson. He knocks on the door and waits.
"Yes?" Jameson called out.
The door opened and the man entered. J. Jonah Jameson was at his desk, having just lit his cigar. Jonah smirked as he saw the man enter the room. "Robbie!"
Joe "Robbie" Robertson walked over to Jonah's desk. He had been away on vacation for a while, and it felt good to be back in the Bugle once again.
"Hey, Jonah," Robbie said. "I was hoping I could speak to you a little bit about that update in the new science lab over on Empire State University."
"Just a minute, Robbie," Jameson said. "I'm waiting for our resident shutterbug to come in to hear about the story."
"What story, Mr. Jameson?" Peter asked, having entered the room. He smiled as soon as he saw Robbie. After all, he'd known him back when he was first hired to work at the Bugle. "Mr. Robertson! It's been a long time!"
"Hey, Pete," Robbie said, shaking Peter's hand. "How're things going with your old buddy Spider-Man?"
"Pretty busy, I'd imagine," Peter shrugged. "We don't really get much time to talk face-to-face."
"Well, I heard you just got back into town too," Robbie said. "You ready for your next assignment?"
"What is it?" Peter asked, looking at Jameson. "I'd love to get whatever photos you need, Mr. Jameson."
"I'm glad to hear it," Jameson said. "It's actually right up your alley. You'll be going to the new science lab at Empire State University. There's some kind of big demonstration that's going to take place there. Some scientist is going to show off his new invention designed to help treat patients suffering from radiation poisoning."
"Really?" Peter asked. "How?"
"Well, don't ask me how," Jameson said, handing Peter a folder. "It's not my invention! I don't know how it works! Robbie, I want you to go get Carson and have him cover the story with Parker. Carson will do the writing and Parker will get the photos."
Peter opens the folder and looks at the photo of a mid-40s, mustached man with short black hair. "Samuel Sterns?"
"You've heard of him?" Jameson asked.
"Oh, well yes, sir," Peter said, "I wrote a paper about him last year for my science class. He's one of the leading experts today in studying, cosmic radiation, x-rays, gamma rays..."
"All right, that's enough," Jameson said, waving Peter off. "I get it. He knows x-rays and y-rays and everything else. Just make sure you get some good pictures of him for the weekend edition."
"I will, sir," Peter nodded. "Thank you, sir."
Peter turned and quickly rushed out of the room. Jameson smiles and looks over at Robbie. Robbie smirks at Jameson, and Jameson's smile quickly vanishes.
"Well?" Jameson asked. "What're you smirking at? Go get Carson!"
At a business center in downtown New York, at 2:30 that afternoon , bus 710 slows down and stops at a bus stop. The bus driver opens the bus's door and a few passengers step off the bus and outside. The first is a pretty blonde in her 20s, carrying a bag over her shoulder. Following her out is a portly man with a beard and a suitcase in each hand. The last to exit the bus is a familiar man in his 30s, average looking with brown hair, and wearing a jacket over his shirt, blue jeans and boots. The man, Dr. David Banner, carries a lone bag over his shoulder. He looks left and then right, looking at his new surroundings. David walks off to the right side of the sidewalk, walking over to a new part of the business center. As the bus door closed and the bus drove off, David walked on down the sidewalk and over to a small pizza shop. The sign reads Roy's Pizza Parlor.
As David got closer, he glanced at the window. A help wanted sign was hanging in the window. David smirked. It wasn't an ideal place to work, but still, a job was a job. David grabbed the door, opened it and walked inside.
As David entered Roy's Pizza Parlor, he was quite surprised to find that it was much larger and longer than it seemed from the outside. It was also three times busier than he could've dreamed this store was capable of handling. By the looks at the men, women and children seated at the various tables, it was apparent there wasn't a free seat left out of the fifty-plus tables David could see. And judging from the people in line that reached from the cash register to the window to his left, David could tell that it was going to be a rather busy job at that.
"Hey, buddy!"
David turned and found that a taller man twice his size was in line to his right, along with at least fifteen other people David could see waiting. The taller man glared down at David, who was now in the middle of the line of customers.
"If you want a slice," the taller man added, "you have to go to the back of the line like the rest of us!"
"Excuse me, I didn't see the line," David quickly apologized, stepping out of the line. "I'm not here as a customer, I'm here for a job application."
Just then, a blonde waitress no older than twenty poked her head out from behind a busy table of customers and spotted David. She smiled at him like she'd just had her prayers answered by an angel.
"Hallelujah!" the waitress exclaimed.
The waitress, Jessica Cassidy, rushed over and shook David's hand, catching him by surprise.
"Sorry," Jessica said, ending the handshake. "It's just that most people don't willingly come down here to serve food at Roy's Pizza Parlor. They come here to be served food. I'm Jessica, by the way. And believe me, I'll back you up for getting the job. Three of our workers are home sick with a virus and we're grossly short on people serving out pizzas."
"Well, if your boss has a minute, maybe..."
And on the "maybe", David found that Jessica had grabbed his arm and was excitedly pulling him over to the register. David found that the people working on the other side of the bar were rushing to make as many pizzas as were being ordered, and there were only five people in the back that David could see. At the bar, working the register, was a mid-40s man with thick glasses. The man was Roy, as David could see from his name tag.
"Hey, boss!" Jessica said. "We've got a nutcase who wants to come and work for us!"
Roy Hill instantly turned away from the customers to see David. "Seriously? You're a life-saver for wanting to work here! You're hired, Mister...?"
"Uh, my name is I'm David Bel-" David said, wanting to finish by saying "Belson". But before he could, Jessica had grabbed him by the arm and was moving him to the back room.
"Good to meet you, Mr. Bell," Jessica said. "Sorry to push you around back like this, but trust me, you're safer in here than out there, especially during our buy-one-large-get-a-second-half-off offer we've got tonight!"
Jessica walked David over to the kitchen, where he saw an African-American girl of 18 named Dawn, a portly bald African-American man named Vincent, a bearded musclar man in his 30s named Bobby, a lovely mid-30s Asian woman named Wendy, and a mid-20s man with short brown hair named Ben Matthews were all hurrying up to make food.
"Dawn, Vince, Bobby, Wendy, and Ben," Jessica said, pointing at each employee one by one, "this is David Bell. David Bell, these are your fellow under-paid, over-worked pizza slaves. You're gonna love them."
"Hey, Bell," Ben said, shaking David's hand. David ended the handshake and found pizza sauce was all over Ben's hand, and now, his own. Ben frowned, noticing his accident. "Sorry about that. Have you ever made pizzas before?"
"Yes, I have," David said.
"Great!" Bobby said, waving for David to approach him. "Put on an apron and come over to table three. We've got twenty extra-larges that need to be made in ten minutes, or they get a refund on their order."
With that, David grabbed an apron and rushed over to table three. He wasn't about to mess up on his first day on the job. And having little money left in his pocket, no thanks to his last need to spend money on new clothes from his last metamorphosis, David needed every dollar he could get, especially now. For now, he wasn't former physician and scientist David Banner. Now, he was newly-employed pizza worker David Belson... or rather, David Bell, as he'd been re-named by his new young friend.
As David began to spread the tomato sauce on the dough of an extra large pizza, he was hoping that he'd be able to find a job working in a lab again. As much as he really needed to get a paycheck, he much rather wished he could find a way to cure himself of the curse he'd been living with for the past few years. Maybe later he could find a newspaper and see if any other jobs were available. Maybe something in radiology. Maybe something soon.
Maybe...
