Betty typed up the last bits of her story. She was nearing her deadline, but it was just about done. Any moment now she'd-
"Betty!" shouted Kat, "Phone duty! Now!"
"One second," said Betty, not really caring if she heard her.
Moments later Kat was standing over Betty's desk. Betty sighed.
"I have to get this done by deadline," she explained.
"Your inability to prioritize your tasks is not my concern, Betty," said Kat firmly and loudly, attracting the attention of most of the office, "You were on phone duty, effective five minutes ago. Don't make me tell you again."
Kat stared down Betty. The entire office was looking at them. Betty had little choice. She meekly stood up and made her way to the reception desk, where the phone was constantly ringing. This would be Betty's next couple of hours.
Betty couldn't believe how everything had turned out. When The Daily Bugle lost their suit against the recently unmasked Peter Parker, everything changed. Between animosity toward the paper for suing Peter to begin with and the loss of one of their selling points, excellent pictures of Spider-Man, the Bugle's subscriptions had plummeted. What was more, they were being hit hard by court fees for the Parker suit. Jameson had had an absolute breakdown, neglecting his duties as publisher. VP after VP began announcing their resignations. Soon Jameson himself was fired by the board, but by then the Bugle was already deep in the red. None of them knew if their jobs would last the month.
Melita Garner had quit when Jameson left, causing the office to have to rotate reception duties. Betty was assigned the most often.
Betty yelled out as an iced coffee splattered down onto the reception desk and splashed all over her. She looked at the empty cup on the table and then up at her coworker, Irene Merryweather. She offered Betty half a shrug.
"Oops," she said lazily, "Dropped it."
Betty sighed as she got up to clean herself off.
"Ah, ah, ah!" said Kat, stepping out of her office to cut Betty off, "Phone duty, remember?"
"You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking, Betty?"
Betty looked around. Everyone was looking at her with just as much contempt as Kat. She clenched her teeth in frustration and returned to her seat, dejected and still covered in iced coffee.
The office's attitude toward Betty was not kind at the moment. Her testimony had been a turning point in the trial, thought by some to be the nail in the coffin that assured the Bugle's loss. Though Betty had initially been furious at Peter for lying to her, she ultimately testified that he was a good man and that the Bugle had misrepresented him. Most of Betty's co-workers blamed her for their current predicament.
No one was angrier with her than Kat Farrell. This made it all the more difficult that she had been made editor-in-chief in the interim of Jameson's absence. Since that, she had taken every opportunity to demean and belittle Betty.
Betty sat through the rest of her phone shift, ignoring the smell of overpriced sweet coffee and the feeling of it seeping into her shirt and the crotch of her slacks. Finally having waited it out, Betty immediately got up to clean herself off in the bathroom.
Betty's shirt had long since been stained, but now she could change into the T-shirt she kept in her bag. Betty cursed to herself as she realized she had left her bag at her desk. She walked back out of the bathroom and back to her desk, only to find her bag missing. She heard someone near her snort out a laugh. Betty sighed.
"Alright," she said, "Where is it?"
"Where it belongs," she heard someone whisper.
Betty snapped her head over to see who had said it, but couldn't figure it out. Annoyed, she peered over at the garbage can. Sure enough, she could see the brown strap of her bag sticking out from under the trash.
"Real mature, guys."
No one responded. Betty sighed again. She walked over to the garbage can to pull out her bag, only to find they had opened it before shoving it in. Now all of Betty's papers and personal belongings were scattered in the trash like needles in a haystack. Betty withheld her frustration as she began to slowly make her way through the trash, ignoring the laughs of her coworkers.
"Everyone," said Kat somberly as she walked out of her office, "I have important news."
Everyone turned to listen.
"As of now, The Daily Bugle has been bought out by The New York Bulletin."
The office burst into gasps and murmurs. The New York Bulletin was one of their main competitors. No one knew what it meant that they had bought them out. Were they going to be laid off? Would they be employed by the Bulletin now? Kat could hear these questions among others in the whispers of the employees.
"I wish I had more information for you," she said, "but I've been instructed to put all stories on hold until further notice."
"What does that mean?" asked Irene.
"It means take the rest of the week off," sighed Kat, "We won't know what happens next until their representative comes in on Monday."
"Will we lose our jobs?" asked someone else.
"I don't know," said Kat, before glaring at Betty, "Anything could happen. See you all on Monday."
Everyone began to gather their things and head out. Betty continued to dig through the trash, finding her papers and office supplies one by one within the trash. More than a few employees roughly pushed past her on the way out. Someone even swiftly kicked her in the butt, but when she turned around there were too many people behind her for her to tell who had done it.
"Way to go, Brant," muttered someone under her breath.
Betty sighed as she checked her bag for the missing supplies. She should have known this would happen. She knew the moment she gave that testimony that she was damning the Bugle. But she had felt that the truth was the truth and if the truth meant the Bugle would go under, so be it.
She hadn't fully considered the effects of that. Now the jobs of all her coworkers were in jeopardy. They all hated her and she could hardly blame them. Was all of this worth it just to defend Spider-Man?
In truth it was more complicated than whether or not she had done the right thing. Peter Parker had worked at the Bugle for years. He and Betty had grown close. Betty had even developed feelings for him, though he never opened up to her. Knowing now that he was Spider-Man, that made more sense, but it was still hard not to feel ignored and deceived by him. She considered that it may have been stupid to turn on all of her friends for someone like that. Sometimes it felt like she had no one left.
"Hey."
"Hey," sighed Betty with a smile, turning around to see Ned.
Ned had a gentle smile on his face as he looked at Betty digging through the trash. Ned had been the only one not to completely turn against Betty following the trial. He continued to say hi to her every morning, offer his help, and ask her advice on stories. His wide, almost dopey smile had become comforting.
"Need some help?" he asked.
"No," chuckled Betty nervously, "I just got the last of it."
"Who did that?" frowned Ned.
"I don't know," sighed Betty, "These days, it could have been anyone in the office. And I can't blame them."
"Hey," assured Ned, "Sure, you can! You did the right thing, Betty. You told the truth, not just the story your peers wanted you to tell. If you ask me, that makes you ten times the reporters that any of them are. Plus, you might've ensured Spider-Man's continued career in heroism. As far as I'm concerned, we owe you."
"That's very sweet, Ned."
"Walk you to the subway?"
"...sure," nodded Betty after a moment, "That sounds nice."
Betty sat nervously at her desk. It was Monday morning, the day they learned their fates in the wake of Bulletin's buyout. Every few minutes Betty would peer over at Kat's office, where she was speaking with the representatives from the Bulletin.
Betty recognized one of them: Mitchell Ellison, the editor-in-chief from the Bulletin. The other was some gawky young guy that Betty had never seen before. She had no idea what they were talking about, but she knew they'd find out soon enough.
Betty wasn't the only one fixated on the conversation. Irene, Ned, Sally Floyd, and most of the rest of the office were staring too. Betty was certain that it had been noticed. That didn't stop her. This could be the end of her job too, after all.
Kat, Mitchell Ellison, and the other Bulletin representative emerged from the office a few moments later. Everyone watched them so intensely that Betty could hear the room collectively hold their breath as they awaited the news.
"None of you are losing your jobs," said Ellison, sensing the tension in the room.
Betty joined the collective exhalation of relief across the room.
"Now that that's out of the way," continued Ellison, "Hi, my name is Mitchell Ellison. I'm the editor-in-chief for the New York Bulletin. This is Claxton J. Ford, one of our best reporters."
Claxton casually waved at them.
So that's who that is,realized Betty.
Betty knew the name. He really was an excellent investigative reporter. Following the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., he had released countless articles detailing the crimes committed by S.H.I.E.L.D. The articles were all heavily backed up with evidence acquired through ruthless investigation. What in the world was he doing here?
"I can't say too much now," said Ellison, "but there will be some pretty substantial changes around here. First and foremost, this office needs a permanent editor-in-chief. Claxton will be conducting interviews later this week for the position. You seem like a qualified bunch. I suggest going for the position yourselves."
Betty held in a smirk as she watched Kat cross her arms. That meant that Kat wasn't keeping her position. If she wanted it, she'd have to compete with everyone else interested in the position. That included Betty.
Betty was confident in her chances. She was one of the best reporters at the Bugle and was excellent at interviews. This was great. It was the perfect chance for her to rise out of the muck and get everyone's respect again.
"I look forward to speaking with the applicants," said Claxton, adjusting his glasses, "I'll be setting up in this office for the week. Let me know if you're interested and I'll schedule you for an interview."
"I eagerly await to see what will come from this office," said Ellison, "You're a part of the Bulletin family now and I can't wait to see what you bring to the table. I'll be around next week to check on things. It was great meeting you all."
Ellison bid farewell to Claxton and Kat before heading out. Kat meekly returned to her old desk as Claxton began to set up in her old office. Betty couldn't help but feel smug. Kat was sure to interview for the position as well, but it felt good to see her undercut like that.
"Don't say a word," muttered Kat, catching Betty's glance.
"I didn't," smiled Betty.
Everyone continued about their day as Betty prepared her resume and cover letter for the interview. Not long after she finished getting it ready, Ned walked up to her.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"You going for the position?" asked Ned.
"Of course," grinned Betty.
"Good," said Ned, "You've got a really good shot at it."
"Thanks," said Betty, "I think so too."
"You know, I'm interviewing for it too," added Ned.
"Really?" asked Betty, trying to hide her perplexity.
Why would he do that? wondered Betty, He's a sweet kid, but he's nowhere near qualified.
"I know, I know," sighed Ned, "My chances aren't great. But I figure it's good practice, you know? What harm could it do?"
Betty smiled and nodded.
"Good luck," she said.
"Same to you," responded Ned.
Kat scoffed. Betty and Ned both looked over at her, but she refused to make eye contact. This was going to be a tense couple of days.
Claxton opened his notebook to a fresh page. Today was the day. Ellis had given him a big responsibility with this. His choice of editor-in-chief may very well determine the future of what was left of the Bugle.
Dozens had applied for the position, but Claxton had already disregarded most of the applications on account of lack of experience in the industry. Besides, he was inclined to hire someone who was already familiar with this office. That's what made today's interviews so important.
Claxton took a sip from his water bottle, opened the office door, and leaned his head out.
"Kat Farrell?" he called out, "I'm ready for you."
Claxton saw Kat begin to gather her things from her desk. He returned inside and took his seat in the office chair. Moments later Kat had entered the room and sat across from him, laying a manilla folder of papers out in front of her.
"You came prepared," noted Claxton, picking up the manilla folder.
"Always," smiled Kat.
"Excellent," said Claxton, making note of that in his notebook, "So Kat, tell me a little bit about your experience. What first got you into journalism?"
"I've always had a passion for reporting," explained Kat, "When I got to college, choosing a major in journalism was no question."
"That's right," said Claxton, eyeing the resume in the folder Kat had handed him, "You graduated with honors, correct?"
"Yes," chuckled Kat, "but don't get the wrong idea. I'm not some eggheaded nerd."
Claxton tilted his head in confusion. He adjusted his glasses.
"Uh…" muttered Kat, "Not that there's anything wrong with nerds. I love nerds. Some of my best friends are nerds!"
"Kat," sighed Claxton, "are you insinuating that I'm a nerd?"
"Of course not!" laughed Kat uncomfortably, "Unless that's how you self-identify. I know a lot of nerds are openly bragging about it these days. Not that you're bragging. Or a nerd."
"...you got your start writing columns for The Daily Globe," said Claxton, moving on, "Correct?"
"Yes!" affirmed Kat, "Mostly fluff pieces at first, then stuff I had to look into more."
"Was that your first experience with investigative journalism?"
"First hands-on experience, yes," said Kat, happy to have regained some degree of control over the interview, "By the time I got to the Bugle I had done a great deal more."
"I see that," said Claxton, sorting through Kat's published articles from her folder, "Tell me: what was your first impression of the Bugle?"
"Pardon?"
"Your boss, your coworkers," explained Claxton, "Did you have a high opinion of them?"
"Most of them," said Kat, "I will say, I suspected Betty would be a problem from the start."
"Betty?" asked Claxton, surprised, "Betty Brant?"
"Oh yeah," continued Kat, "I knew she couldn't be trusted. She has no sense of loyalty, especially not to her employers. I could see that on day one."
"Are you referring to when she testified at Spider-Man's trial?" asked Claxton, "The testimony that got the charges dismissed?"
"And threw The Daily Bugle completely under the bus," said Kat, "Yes. That little loser's testimony almost sank us!"
"It also saved Spider-Man's career."
"So?"
"Spider-Man saved my dad from a burning building."
"...oh."
There was a long, awkward pause.
"Do you have any questions for me, Ms. Farrell?" asked Claxton after some time.
"...no."
"It was lovely talking with you," smiled Claxton, shaking her hand, "Tell Ned Leeds I'm ready for him."
"I- Ned? Really?" asked Kat, "You're taking his interview?"
"Yes," said Claxton, growing impatient, "Did you want to speak ill of him before leaving as well?"
"Nope!" chirped Kat as she rushed out, fully aware that she had bombed that interview.
Claxton chuckled to himself and put away Kat's folder. Then he pulled out Ned's resume. Frankly, it left a lot to be desired. Ned had a bachelor's degree in journalism, but hadn't done anything before his position at the Bugle. He hadn't even written much successful work since joining.
"Mr. Leeds," smiled Claxton as Ned entered the room.
He stood to shake the man's hand. Ned was wearing a grey three-piece suit with shined shoes and carefully combed hair. He seemed uncomfortable with the look and his hand was clammy when he shook Claxton's.
"Have a seat," offered Claxton.
"Thank you."
"So," said Claxton, "Let's start with this: why are you interested in being editor-in-chief?"
"That's easy," laughed Ned nervously, "Who wouldn't want to be in charge of the publications from an office like this?"
"How do you mean?"
"Are you kidding me?" said Ned, smiling widely, "This is the office that put Spider-Man on the map! Not to mention the fact that both Betty Brant and Kat Farrell, some of the best investigative reporters in the business, are still putting out their best work."
"You have very high opinions of them," noted Claxton.
"Absolutely I do."
"Do you find the other reporters in the office equally qualified?"
"Um…"
Ned thought about it for a moment. He wasn't sure how to answer. He wanted to make sure he came across the way he wanted to. He spent almost an entire minute thinking of an answer.
"What about you?"
"Me?"
"Yes," said Claxton, "You hold this office in high esteem. Do you think you deserve to be a part of it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've been here… almost a year?" said Claxton, "Yet you have a fraction of the number of published stories as your peers."
"Uh…"
"None of your stories got many hits on the site either," continued Claxton, "The only exception was your first-hand account of being wedgied by Jessica Jones."
"...yes."
"Are you happy with that?" asked Claxton, "Being best known for the people who pick on you?"
"I… I never really thought about it like that."
"What did you think of your accomplishments at the Bugle?" asked Claxton, "Did you think you were thriving?"
"I… I guess not."
"So would you say that you have always been underqualified compared to your coworkers?"
"I… Um… Maybe."
"So what makes you think you deserve this position?"
"You know what?" said Ned sadly, "You're right. Let's just end this now. I might as well quit while I'm not so far behind."
Claxton watched patiently as Ned dejectedly stood up and walked for the door. He hadn't expected this man to crumble under the interview questions so quickly.
"Could you let Elizabeth Brant know that she's next?"
"She goes by Betty."
"Noted," said Claxton plainly, "Please send her in."
Betty entered a minute layer, wearing a sharp, slim fit, black pinstripe pantsuit. She gently placed a pile of papers on the table in front of her as she took a seat.
"Ms. Brant," greeted Claxton, "I've heard so much about you."
"Should I be flattered or nervous?"
"That's for you to decide," said Claxton, "Let's begin. You've been working with the Bugle for… seven years now, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about when you first started," said Claxton, "Your first impressions."
"Well it was certainly a lot to take in at first," said Betty, "but then again I was still in college at the time. It got easier once I graduated."
"That's right," said Claxton, looking over Betty's resume, "You interned here as part of a program with Empire State University."
"Yes."
"You were also the lead editor of your college's newspaper at the time," said Claxton, "but I noticed you didn't mention that on your resume."
"Oh, you know," said Betty dismissively, "It was just college stuff. I prefer to focus on my career post graduation."
"Is that the only reason it's not listed on your resume?"
"Yes."
"So it has nothing to do with the article about the financial director?"
"...it had something to do with the article about the financial director."
"Tell me about that."
"I maintain that I made the right call at the time," said Betty quietly, "Based on the information we had, we published as accurately as we could."
"Please be specific."
"Funding was being cut left and right," explained Betty, "Program after program was being shut down at ESU. Our paper was going to be shut down next, so we looked into why this was happening. That's when one of our web developers found out about the amount of online videos being purchased by the financial director. Almost entirely porn. It was easily worth the amount of money it would have taken to fund the programs."
"So you published it?"
"Not the porn itself!" exclaimed Betty defensively, "But we reported that he was using school funding on adult material for himself, yes."
"What happened next?"
"The director proved that he had only spent his own money on the porn," sighed Betty, "The slashing of funding was entirely coincidental."
"So you had published a humiliating article of defamation about an innocent man?"
"...yes."
"Tell me about the following week's publication."
Betty let out a long sigh.
"It was my responsibility," she said, "I gave the green light on the article. I was the one who was supposed to know better. So I published an article addressing it."
"You accepted responsibility," noted Claxton, "How did you make it up to the director?"
"I…" said Betty slowly, "Published a list of embarrassing secrets about myself as well."
"Including your sexual inexperience," noted Claxton uncomfortably, pulling up the article in question on his computer.
"At the time!" clarified Betty, "I've had a lot more experience since then. I mean, not that I'm trying to- I didn't meant to imply- I'm not-"
"That's alright, Ms. Brant," said Claxton, "Just explain to me how I can be sure you won't make a similar mistake with this position."
"That was seven years ago," reminded Betty, "I screwed up, but learned a lot from it. As a result, I am significantly less likely to make that mistake than others in the position.
"Thank you," smiled Claxton, "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss before we wrapped up?"
"...no."
"Very well," said Claxton, "Thank you for your time."
Betty walked out. Claxton looked down at the pile of resumes. He had spoken with everyone now. All that was left was his decision. He gathered his things and put them in his bag. He would sleep on the decision, discuss it with Ellison, and announce his decision later that week.
"Alright everyone," announced Ellison as he emerged from the office, "Thank you for your patience."
Claxton emerged behind him. Everyone stopped what they were doing and gave the two their undivided attention. It had been almost a week since the interviews and none of them had been given definitive answers on what their jobs would entail following the acquisition.
"First of all," he said, "we're forgoing the name of The Daily Bugle. You are now all employees of The New York Bulletin. There will be some pretty substantial changes to operations around here. This office is going to become our investigative journalism division, a section of the paper we're calling The Pulse."
Everyone in the room began nervously muttering to one another. Not everyone there was an investigative journalist. Would they lose their jobs? Would they be moved elsewhere?
"With that in mind," continued Ellison, "several of you will be relocated to the central Bulletin office. Consequently, several investigative reporters from our central office will be relocating here, including Claxton. You will receive your new assignments by the end of next week."
"Let's not forget," added Ellison, "The Pulse is going to need its own editor-in-chief. Claxton has walked me through the interviews and let me just say that the applicants from this office were far and away above the rest. I have high hopes for this office. Ned Leeds!"
Ned looked up from his desk, surprised.
"Yes?"
"We would like to formally offer you the position of Editor-in-Chief of The Pulse."
The room went completely silent as everyone turned to stare at Ned. He sank into his chair in anxiousness.
"...you sure?" he asked.
"Of course," chuckled Ellison, "Do you accept the position?"
"...yes!"
There was a distinct snap! through the silence. Folks looked over and saw a furious-looking Kat holding half of a snapped wooden ruler in her hand. Ned sank deeper into his chair.
"You can move into your office tomorrow," said Ellison, "Congratulations, Ned."
"...thanks."
Ellison motioned for Claxton to follow him back into the office, where he sat across from him at the desk.
"That's him?" asked Ellison as soon as the door was closed, "That's Leeds?"
"Sure is," said Claxton, sitting himself.
"You're telling me that guy is more qualified that Brant or Farrell?"
"Oh no," scoffed Claxton, "He's probably the worst reporter who interviewed."
"...so why the hell did you give him the job?"
"This office doesn't need one of its ace reporters at the helm," said Claxton, "It needs its ace reporters on the front line writing stories."
"Why him though?"
"You should have heard him talk about his coworkers," said Claxton, "He might be the worst reporter here, but he knows that. He knows just how good this team is and he respects that. He'll hold this place together."
"I hope you're right," said Ellison, "We're throwing some of our best reporters in with them: Ben, Karen…"
"Me," added Claxton smugly.
"You," conceded Ellison, "We're risking a lot on your decision here, Claxton."
"Leeds will do fine," assured Claxton, "and if he doesn't, you can always fire him."
"Yeah," said Ellison, "We can always do that."
