"HE BROKE YOUR CAMERA?"
Peter Parker stood at the desk of J. Jonah Jameson, whose face was becoming more and more pink with anger by the second.
"You had the photos taken!" Jameson bellowed. "You had the photos taken of the crime scene! You were the only cameraman who had snuck into the studio! And he exposed your film and broke your camera!"
"I know," Peter said calmly. "It really wasn't like Captain Barbera. He was acting very strangely tonight when I was there taking-"
"I don't care about Barbera's temper tantrum!" Jameson said, his face turning from pink to red. "You had a job to do, Parker! You were supposed to get those pictures for the front page! Did you at least get a comment out of one of the witnesses?"
"Not really," Peter said, again totally calm. "I didn't get to speak for very long to -"
"Well, that's just DANDY!" Jameson snapped, still upset. "You seem pretty smug for kissing your assignment goodbye!"
"But Mr. Jameson, if you'd just let me explain," Peter said, "you really don't understand what I'm trying t-"
Just then, the door to Jameson's office opened and Robbie Robertson entered, clearly confused.
"What's going on?" Robbie asked, walking in.
"Not now, Robbie!" Jameson snapped, his eyes still on Peter. "You haven't a photo to show for it! If you weren't a freelancer, I'd have your -"
"Who said I didn't get a photo?" Peter asked, puzzled.
"Your camera was destroyed, Parker!" Jameson said. "Whatever photos you DID take we clearly can't use!"
Peter smiled, reaching into his jacket. "What about these photos?"
He pulled out a camera from within his jacket, hidden in a pocket. Jameson's eyes went wide at the sight of the camera.
"A second camera?" Jameson snapped.
"I tried to say so before," Peter said, apologetically. "I brought a spare in case any of my film was exposed by the police. I thought it'd be wise to bring it along-"
"Never mind!" Jameson said, leaning back in his chair. He started to calm down and rubbed his eyes with a groan. "Look, I need those pictures for the front page. How soon can you have the photos ready?"
"About an hour," Peter said.
"Well, go get started," Robbie said, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder and walking with him to the door. "The sooner we get the pictures developed, the sooner we can get them to the presses for next morning's paper."
"Yes sir, Mr. Robertson," Peter nodded.
"Go on," Robbie said, opening the door. "Jonah and I need to go over the story for page two."
Peter left and let the door close behind him. Robbie turns and looks at Jameson. Robbie smirks.
"You okay, Jonah?" Robbie asked.
"I am now," Jonah said, relaxing. "We need those photos, Robbie. There's more to this story than Peter knows."
Robbie gave Jonah a puzzled look. What did he mean? And why did he suddenly have a feeling things were worse with the robbery than he knew?
It was nearly eight thirty when business at Roy's Pizza Parlor had finally settled down. In the back room, most of the workers had just taken a much-needed break. Only Dawn and Bobby were left helping Roy handle the food. David peeked his head out of the back room to see that there were now only two people left in line. Every table in the parlor was still filled with customers. David smirked and walked back to the large, round dinner table where Jessica, Vince, Ben, and Wendy already sat. Three large pizzas were on the table - one pepperoni, one cheese, and one with mushrooms.
"Are all of the tables still full?" Jessica asked.
"Yes," David said, sitting on the last empty seat. "Is it always this busy?"
"Some days it's busier," Ben said. "If you think this is bad, you should see the Monday crowds. Every Monday, every large pizza is just four dollars."
"Four dollars?" David asked.
"The boss has to compete with the other pizza chains," Wendy explained, setting a large slice of pepperoni pizza down on a paper plate. "Roy's Pizza Parlor is the most successful pizza place in this part of the city. The lower prices and special deals he puts up helps keep his place open. Having the best-tasting pizza around here doesn't hurt, either."
"And since you're the new guy," Jessica grinned, "I assume you have never had the honor of having one of our famous slices."
"I'm afraid not," David said.
"Well, we need to fix that," Jessica said. "What kind of slice would you like? Pepperoni? Mushroom?"
"A pepperoni pizza slice is fine," David said.
Jessica smiles and she grabs the biggest slice of their large pepperoni pizza. However, as the large pizza was 20 inches, every piece was big. Jessica sets it down on the plate and sets the plate down over at David's spot. David picks up the slice of pizza and takes a bite out of it. He swallows his bite, he looks at his co-workers and he smiles.
"That is very good," David said, impressed. He wasn't much of a pizza eater, but this was easily the best pizza that he'd even eaten.
"What'd we tell you?" Wendy said.
David and his co-workers started eating together. Jessica took a bite out of her own pepperoni pizza slice, while Ben took a sip from his large cup of Coca-Cola.
"Anyone need a refill on their drinks?" Wendy asked.
"Not me, thanks," Vince said, setting down his own large cup back on the table. "I just re-filled my Dr. Pepper."
"So, David," Ben asked, "how long have you been here in New York?"
"Not for very long," David said, grabbing his large cup of Coca-Cola. "I was going to check into a hotel and then I was going to look for a place to live."
Everyone at the table suddenly stopped what they were doing and glanced at David. David stopped sipping his drink as he noticed that all of his co-workers were staring at him.
"Are you serious?" Jessica asked, shocked.
"Yes," David said. "Is that a problem?"
"Finding a place to live around here isn't an option anymore," Vince said. "There isn't a home or apartment available to live in this part of town. The closest place to find a place to live is fifteen miles south of here, and even then the prices are incredibly high."
David frowned. He didn't have that kind of money for a place to stay. Heck, he barely had enough for a week's stay at a hotel. Ben glanced at David and smiled.
"Listen, David," Ben said, "I had a roommate that was staying with me at my apartment. He had to move out last week and he's in Boston now. I could use a roommate, if you don't mind me offering. Would you be interested?"
David smiled at Ben, pleased with the offer.
"Yes," David said.
He took another bite out of his pizza slice and, for the first time in days, was able to relax and enjoy his dinner. David felt content for the moment. He had a new job, and now, he had a new roommate. It seemed like his luck was starting to change for the better.
At Wonder Studios, security guard Davison walks into the back of a large make-up room. He opens a drawer of a make-up table and sees a large make-up tutorial book kept inside. Davison smiles, pulls the book out and sets it on the table. Davison opens the book and thumbs through a few pages. He stops as he hears a door unlock from the outside. The door opens and a mid-50s, thin night watchman, Luis Stevens, enters the room. He sees Davison at the make-up table and Stevens steps back, startled.
"Geez, Davison!" Stevens said, shaking his head. "What're you doing back in here? I thought you left the studio after the police came over."
Before Stevens can answer, he is struck on the back of the head with a club by a masked man. Stevens drops to the floor, unconscious, and the masked thug looks up at Davison. Davison smiles at the unconscious Stevens.
"He did," Davison said.
"You have what you want, Chameleon?" the masked thug asked.
"Almost," said the fake Davison, speaking in the Russian accent of the Chameleon. "I just need to load up the last of the equipment and make-up supplies. Is the guard still unconscious?"
"Yeah, I got him," the masked thug said. "I still don't get why I didn't kill 'im too."
"Because," the fake Davison said, irritated, "you were only supposed to drug that policeman, not take his life. Now we have a body to dispose of, no thanks to you. Can you get Russell to assist me, please? I need all of the help I can get unloading the supplies."
"Coming right up," the masked thug said, sneering through his mask.
The thug turns and walks off. Chameleon, still disguised as Davison, walks to the make-up table and looks at the various notebooks, journals and catalogues set on it. He opens a catalog and looks at the index page. It shows the complete listings of make-up for face pieces, false noses, wigs, scars, and every other item needed to transform an actor into their character role. The Chameleon smiled. He had a whole new listing of faces to use, to adapt... and to wear.
At midnight, in a cell of an abandoned warehouse, Jennifer Simmons - 25 with long brunette hair and a lean physique - and Donny Burke - 26 years old with brown hair and a lean muscled physique - lie unconscious on the floor, both wearing T-shirts and jeans. Their arms are behind their backs and their wrists are handcuffed.
Mr. White and the Chameleon, in normal clothes and wearing his trademark white mask, stand out and look through the barred door of the cell.
"You've done well, Chameleon," Mr. White said. "You've got the assistants I needed."
"Why them?" Chameleon asked. "Why do you want them kept here?"
"You'll find out in due time," Mr. White said. "Your job's only half done. You still have two more targets left to find... and one more robbery left to commit."
"When do you want me to start?" Chameleon asked.
"Tomorrow night," Mr. White said. "There are a few more items I need to collect to make the job work."
The next morning, Ben awoke on his bed in his apartment. It wasn't very big, but it had enough space for his bed and his new roommate's. Outside of the open bedroom door, the door to the kitchen was at the left side, while the door to the living room was at the right. Ben looked at David's bed, finding that it was empty and had already been made. Ben sniffed the air. Something smelled good. He got out of his bed, walked out of the open doorway to the kitchen and he walked through the open door. Ben saw David was already in the kitchen, dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, socks and shoes. He was already hard at work cooking breakfast. Two plates filled with plain toast, bacon and scrambled eggs were on the counter to David's left. His attention to cooking the next batch of eggs was briefly interrupted as he glanced to his right and saw Ben.
"Good morning," David said, smiling.
"Good morning," Ben said. "Did you sleep well? Was your bed comfortable enough?"
"Yes," David said. "I've got breakfast almost ready. Hope you don't mind bacon and eggs. Do you like your eggs scrambled?"
"Scrambled sounds just fine, thank you," Ben smirked, pleasantly surprised. "It was really nice of you to do this."
"It's no problem," David said, turning his attention back to the eggs he still had cooking. "You were nice enough to let me stay here as your roommate. It was the least I could do."
"Like you said," Ben said, "it's no problem."
David smiles and grabs one plate of food. He hands it over to Ben.
"I didn't know how you liked your toast, so I just left it plain," David said.
"Thanks," Ben said. "After breakfast, we'd better get moving to Roy's if we want to make it on-time."
"All right," David said.
He took the plate in his hand and walked over to the dining table. He took a seat, set his plate down and saw that a jar of jam and a small plate with a stick of butter were already set there. Ben picked up a piece of bacon, took a bite out of it, and smirked. His new roommate was polite, considerate, and had actually done something his previous roommate did not: make and serve edible food.
In the abandoned warehouse, Donny and Jennifer lay asleep on the floor. Donny stirred and moaned, trying to move his arms. Finding that his wrists were handcuffed together behind his back, Donny opened his eyes and quickly looked around the room. He saw Jennifer asleep beside him.
"Jennifer?" Donny asked.
Jennifer didn't awaken. Donny tried to reach her, but couldn't.
"Jennifer!"
Jennifer moaned and opened her eyes, awakening. She turned her head and looked at Donny.
"Donny?" Jennifer asked groggily.
She felt the handcuffs on her wrists and tried to move, but couldn't. Jennifer opened her eyes and looked around the room.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"I was hoping you knew," Donny said.
Jennifer squirmed and managed to push herself up into a sitting position. She looked around the room and saw that the door outside of their cell was open. Distant footsteps could be heard in the hall, and they were getting closer.
"Someone's coming," Jennifer said.
Donny managed to sit up and he saw Mr. White walk into the room. He stood outside the front of the jail cell door and he smiled at Donny and Jennifer.
"Good morning," Mr. White said. "Did you sleep well?"
"Who are you?" Jennifer asked. "Where are we?"
"Who I am is of no real importance, young lady," Mr. White said. "As to where you are, you're in a little hideout of mine."
Donny looked at Mr. White in realization. "Wait a minute. You're Mr. White. I remember reading about you in the paper."
"How clever," Mr. White said, smiling. "You know your stories, don't you, Mr. Burke? You're more than you appear, especially to your co-worker."
"What is he talking about?" Jennifer asked Donny.
"That's a conversation for another time," Mr. White said. "I've ordered my chef to cook you breakfast. Rest assured, I have no intention of starving or poisoning either of you."
"But you still haven't explained why we're here," Donny said firmly. "What do you want with us?"
"Not just you," Mr. White smiled. "I have a few more targets I need to find. When I do, you'll have more company."
"You mean you'll have more prisoners," Donny said.
Mr. White chuckled. "All in due time. Enjoy your breakfast."
Jennifer and Donny watched as Mr. White walked away and out of the doorway. He shuts the door behind him.
Though the clock said eight A.M., Peter Parker had been awake in his bedroom for nearly two hours now. Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, Peter was seated at his desk and was making the latest modifications to his newest model of his web-shooter devices. Like he had designed them originally, they were thin enough to be worn under the gloves rather than on top of them. These new bracelet models were slimmer than the past design and they had far more storage capacity to hold nearly thirty web cartridges.
Speaking of the webbing, Peter looked at a full cartridge and held it in his hand. He'd since manage to make his web more durable than he had before. It was going to be a lot harder to break now, in a material similar to Nylon but it was almost as strong as steel.
Peter put one web-shooter on his left hand, fastening the bracelet around his wrist and locking it into place. A slim trigger band goes down to Peter's middle and ring fingers, with its flat red button in range. Peter tapped his two fingers to the trigger's button, and heard the nozzle click. Peter looked at the band, and found it empty.
"Great going, Parker," he thought. "How do you expect a successful test if you didn't put the cartridges in the shooter first?"
Peter grabbed a cartridge and slid it into the storage space in the middle of the bracelet, directly in front of the trigger. When the catridge locked into place, Peter turned around and looked at his nearby lamp. He tapped his middle and ring fingers again, and with a loud THWIP, he sent a gooey string of webbing shooting out of the nozzle. As it hit the shade of the lamp, the web expanded out and stuck the lamp to the wall.
Peter smirked, unable to believe his eyes. It worked. He'd actually gotten his new model to work.
"That should do nicely," Peter thought.
With that, Peter turned his attention to his new Spider-Man costume he had made, which was now on his bed. He stood up, walked to his bed, and glanced down at his new costume. It was identical to the old one in design. It was still the usual red-and-blue look with a web pattern sown onto the red gloves, boots, mask, and red areas of his costume. But now the skinny black spider emblem sown on the chest was in a different design than before, still of a different design than the rounder red spider emblem on the back of his costume. The fabric of the costume was still like spandex, but looked it somehow tougher, more durable, and looked less like a knock-off Halloween costume. The eyepieces on his mask were made of white one-way lenses rather than mirrored lenses, and they were no longer round shaped, but rather a slimmer, thinner looking design.
Near the costume lay his unbuckled utility belt. Like the web-shooters, it was a leaner model with more pockets to store his new, skinnier web-fluid catridges. Also like his new web-shooters, Peter planned to wear it under his costume rather than over it. But there were some improvements to this new belt. On the buckle, he had a round red flashlight projector with an image of his Spider-Man mask's face. He also had several pouches on the belt to store his special spider-tracer devices.
For a moment, Peter was so busy in thought of what to do with his new utility belt that he didn't even hear the first ring of his telephone. The second ring caught Peter's attention and he turned to it. Peter quickly raced to the phone, and on the third ring, he picked it up and held it to his ear.
"Hello?" Peter asked.
"Good morning, Peter," May said on the other end of the phone. "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
"I was just about to grab a bowl of Cheerios," Peter said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, dear," Aunt May said. "I'm calling because I have some good news. Anna Watson just came by the house and told me that Mary Jane was coming into town tonight. She wanted to know if you're free for dinner tonight."
Peter frowned. "And where's the good news?" he thought.
"Uh, I'm not sure, Aunt May," Peter said. "I've got some work to finish up for Mr. Jameson and I still have to study for my history exam on Monday."
"It'll only be for an hour," May said. "She's really been looking forward to meeting you. Please, dear. Won't you drop by for a short while tonight? It'll just be dinner."
Peter glanced at his work table and then lowered his head. He'd rather be dodging some crook's gunfire than sit at a table with a girl he'd never met.
"All right, Aunt May," Peter sighed. "What time is she coming over for dinner?"
"Seven o'clock," Aunt May answered, clearly excited. "I'll see you at my house again tonight."
"All right, Aunt May," Peter said. "Good-bye."
Peter hung up the phone and grimaced at the thought of having a blind date to look forward to. He was about to walk away when he heard the phone ring again. Peter picked up the phone and held it to his ear.
"Hello?" Peter asked.
"Hey, Peter," Robbie said on the other line.
"Hey, Robbie," Peter said. "What's up?"
"Jonah wants you to come down to the Bugle," Robbie said. "There's more news about that robbery at Wonder Studios you need to know about."
