Chapter 6 [Dark Room—Upstairs]

[A/N: Sorry if I get the old school photo developing process wrong in advance.]

Peter swished a developing photo around in the developing fluid. Routine reduced this whole process to instinct. Often, he'd use that time to look over a recently completed battle. He'd see what some enemy pulled on him. He'd file any new trick away for a future confrontation.

With that particular batch, no new or noteworthy findings presented themselves. Thunderbolt Ross proved a JJJ lookalike with a chestful of medals and a vendetta to match. The Hulk…well…he was the Hulk…seven feet tall and half a ton of gamma-irradiated muscle. Just as with their previous standoffs, he'd managed to evade debris and those fists in addition to a near-drowning.

The tongs lifted a photo from the second stage tray. He allowed the solution to drip from it. Then he clipped it to the line along with the others from those rolls.

He moved one last photo from the first stage tray to that second tray. He used the tongs to swish it gently. Then he nearly stumbled. His eyes took a couple of heartbeats to focus again. He hacked a couple of deep coughs into his fist. He turned to the sink. There, lest he hear about it from the other staff, he soaped up his hands really well and rinsed them off.

Last thing he needed was old Jonah sending him a bill for everyone's hospital stay….

This stuff is bad enough for someone with my strength. What would it do to anyone else? He grimaced. At that moment, he could definitely see Gwen's point. I just have to finish the developing. Then I'm definitely heading home…especially for her TLC and that soup. He had to smile at that notion.

If anyone had a nurse like Gwen, they'd deal with the flu….

He saw that the last picture had stopped dripping. Finally! He took the whole batch down off the line. His fingers confirmed that each photo in turn was dry. He stacked them and slid them into a manilla envelope. He cleaned up the lab for the next person. Then he made his way back toward the bullpen. He got through the door. A quick look around found the area abnormally quiet for that time of day. "Maybe I should be grateful for small favors." He started toward Robbie's office.

Betty met his eyes. She grimaced and motioned behind him.

Now what? There's not a tingle from the Spidey sense. What in…? He looked around again.

"PARKER! WHAT IN BLAZES ARE YOU DOING HERE?" J. Jonah Jameson threw his hat down on an unoccupied desk. He chewed away on his trademark stogie. "LOOK AT YOU! LAST THING I NEED IS FOR SOMEONE TO INFECT THE ENTIRE NEWSPAPER!"

Now I know why. It's a danger sense not a pain in the rear sense. "Hi to you too, JJJ," Peter replied somehow restraining himself from a sarcastic quip. He turned to find the publisher glaring at him through intense eyes, thick dark eyebrows and a bushy mustache. "Just brought these for you." He waved the manilla envelope. "Don't worry. I washed my hands before I touched the envelope and developed shots. Don't want to be responsible for any outbreaks. Now do I?"

"HRUMPH!" Jameson curled his lip. "You young people! I swear!"

"Now, Jonah. Lighten up on Pete," Robbie interceded. "He just got off the plane with those pictures."

"Wait a minute." Jonah wheeled around on Peter. His mouth flip-flopped into a shark-toothed grin. His eyebrows raised. "You got 'em? We heard the Hulk was outside of Montreal."

"You bet he was!" Peter recognized the opening. Much as a poker player might manipulate the others at the table, he suggested, "You bet he was. I got him. I managed to get shots of the military including General Thunderbolt Ross engaging him in public."

"Parker, I'm not taking on the US Military…" Jonah groused. The smile faded ever so slightly.

Peter didn't let it sink too far into the frown. "And Spider-Man was there too! He and the Hulk damaged a dam…."

"It did happen!" Jonah danced a couple of badly-jigged steps nearly tripping over a wastebasket in the process. "Please tell me you got the shots!" He checked his watch. "Blast! I'll have to see them when I get back from Gracie Mansion. Robbie, look 'em over. See if Peter brought us the goods." He patted Peter on the shoulder. "Knew you had it into you, Parker." Triumph evoked several puffs from cigar. "I still want you out of here." He stomped back out the door brushing past Gwen and MJ. "Miss Stacy, make sure Parker stays home before he infects everyone!"

"That's my intention, Mr. Jameson. Is he finished?" Gwen agreed.

"He and Robbie are going over them now. I mean it, you two." Jonah squinted at MJ. "Parker, this isn't a social club! I don't need your friends hanging out here!" With that, he stormed toward the elevators.

"Social club? Like I'd hang out with him?" MJ scoffed off the idea.

"Don't take it personally. That's just the way he is," Robbie explained. He considered each photo. The smile spread further across his face with each one. "Unbelievable. Even the Toronto Sun and Montreal Inquirer haven't shared a single shot with the AP yet." He grinned.

"So I did good?" Pete supposed. Anticipation wanted the dollar signs to be plentiful on that voucher.

Robbie chuckled. "Good? You've scooped everyone. Nice job, Son." Congratulations beamed in his eyes. "I'll make sure this is worth your while. Just give me a minute to write out that voucher."

"I'm just going to hit the little boy's room. Then the ladies and I can get downstairs. A bed and some chicken soup await," Peter noted.

"Sure thing, Pete. The voucher will be waiting when you get back." Robbie watched Peter leave. Then he turned to Gwen. "Make sure that he picks up that check and goes straight to bed, Gwen. All right?"

"You bet, Mr. R. I know how Pete has that nose for trouble," Gwen agreed.

He nodded and headed back into his office. He sat down at his desk with the voucher pad. He scribbled out a generous figure guaranteed to give the penny-pinching Jameson a coronary. Still, quality photos were one thing. An exclusive was yet another. And getting sick for the cause still something more.

"ROBBIE!" Betty screamed.

The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the bullpen.

A mocking laugh irritated his ears. His nostrils threatened to clog up from some sort of exhaust. "Now what?" He stalked out into the main bullpen area.

And toward the madman floating just outside his door….