TWIN DEMONS by Georgia Kennedy
Author's Notes
Special thanks go to Htbthomas for her wonderful story, It Has Always Been You, which was the inspiration for Peter's almost-confession in J. Jonah Jameson's office. Likewise, your idea of M.J. and Louise having lunch at an outdoor café in Enquiring Minds was so fitting that I just had to borrow it.
The reference to Barney's is drawn from: Peter David, Spider-Man 2 - The Official Novelization of the Movie, (New York, Random House Publishing Group 2004), p. 184. This scene did not appear in the film.
Mata Hari was an exotic dancer who was accused of spying for the Germans during World War I. She was executed in 1917.
In his conversation with Peter, John refers to the duel that took place in Weehawken, New Jersey, between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr on July 11, 1804.
The name of Bob Cramer's company, Lorelei Communications, is taken from The Gilmore Girls. It's flagship publication, Weekly World News Update, is inspired by U.S. News And World Report.
The line about Jameson "going Ahab," is a reference to Captain Ahab, the megalomaniac sea captain in Herman Melville's Moby Dick, who obsessively seeks revenge against a white whale for maiming him.
Mama Leone's was a famous Italian restaurant on West 48th Street, in New York City.
Molsons is the name of a fine Canadian ale. The reference is included to honor two Canadians in our little fanfic community, one for whom I serve as a beta, and the other who serves as a beta for me. You know who you are. Thanks for the education.
Disclaimer
This is a derivative work of fiction featuring characters copyrighted and trademarked by Marvel Characters, Inc. It is based upon: Spider-Man, copyright 2002 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Spider-Man 2, copyright 2004 by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., all rights reserved; Daredevil - Director's Cut, copyright 2004 by Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, Inc., all rights reserved; and Hulk, copyright 2003 by Universal Studios, all rights reserved. The author is not connected with nor is this work authorized by Marvel Characters, Inc., or any of the aforementioned motion picture studios. This work is intended solely for posting on Fanfiction, for the benefit and enjoyment of its intended audience. No commercial or financial benefit accrues or is intended to accrue to the author as a result of said posting. Any unauthorized copying or redistribution of this work might subject the party responsible for such unauthorized copying or redistribution to legal action by the owners of the aforementioned copyrights and trademarks.
XV
COLLATERAL DAMAGE
"Come on Mary Jane, pick up," Peter whispered impatiently into the phone at N.Y.U.'s student center. He had finished his biochemistry final thirty minutes early and had walked out with a quiet confidence that he'd aced the exam without breaking too much of a sweat. All he wanted to hear at the moment was M.J.'s voice.
He got his wish, literally, in the form of her voice-mail recording. "Damn!" he muttered just before hearing the beep. "Hey M.J . . . It's Peter . . . Um . . .Everything's all right. . .I just had a bit of trouble with . . ." He suddenly stopped, tired of getting tongue-tied telling Mary Jane how he felt about her. "Aw hell, M.J., I really hate being apart from you. You were all I thought about yesterday. I'll be free tomorrow night around five, after I hand in my final project for American Lit." He glanced quickly at his watch. "Three hours until my next final. Guess I'll go shoot some pool. Just kidding . . . I love you." Mildly disappointed at not being able to talk to her in person, he hung up the phone and hurried off to the library for a final review of quantum mechanics.
XXXXXXXXXX
Mary Jane was not at home when Peter called. She was at Zaire's, a well-known outdoor café in Greenwich Village, about five blocks away from the N.Y.U. campus. Unlike the day before, however, she had some much-welcome company.
Louise was already sitting at a table for two when Mary Jane arrived. The two women gave each other a long, drawn out hug, happy to see one another after the tumultuous events of three days earlier. To M.J., those three days seemed like a lifetime.
Louise's eyes were immediately drawn to the new engagement ring on Mary Jane's left hand. "Wow girl, you don't waste any time," she said excitedly as she gazed at the heart-shaped diamond. "Is it him?"
"Who?" Mary Jane asked coyly, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
"That guy. The one you had the perfect kiss with."
A huge, sparkling smile broke out on Mary Jane's face and her eyes lit up like twin stars. "Yes," she said giddily, recalling an earlier conversation they had in the shoe department at Barney's, in which she had told her friend half-heartedly that the perfect kisser was just a fantasy. "My Flying Dutchman came home to me at last!"
As Louise looked into Mary Jane's iridescent green eyes, she saw a radiance that she'd never observed even once during M.J.'s entire engagement to John. She knew instantly that Mary Jane was deeply in love with whoever had given her that ring. But she was a bit puzzled by M.J.'s reference to the legendary sea ghost.
"Did I get it right this time?" Mary Jane quipped softly.
"Absolutely," Louise replied. "That stone says it all. It's really beautiful. Congratulations, for the second time."
Their orders arrived. As they ate their rather large arugula salads, Louise pulled Sunday's New York Post out of her handbag.
"I saved this for you," Louise said as she handed the paper to Mary Jane. "I wasn't sure if you had seen it or not." The huge headline read, BUGLE PUBLISHER'S SON DUMPED ON WEDDING DAY. To M.J.'s surprise, the focus of the story was not the runaway bride or the jilted groom, but rather on how John leapt to her defense after his father had threatened to ruin her and her new beau.
"Is that what really happened?" a stunned M.J. whispered.
"Uh huh," Louise told her somberly. "He really went to bat for you. Shut his old man up in front of five hundred people. Now that's class."
Mary Jane suddenly lost her appetite. She felt troubled, not by her decision to break off her engagement, but rather by her timing and the very public way in which she had done it. No one deserved to be humiliated like that, especially not a good and decent man like John Jameson. "How's he holding up?" M.J. asked quietly, hoping that John had already gotten over her somehow.
"Better than most guys in his situation." Louise noticed that the glow on Mary Jane's face had dimmed. "You know," she said, trying to cheer M.J. up, "the last guy I broke up with got so drunk afterward that he was picked up by the police at four the next morning, naked, shouting obscene things about me in the middle of Mulberry street."
That got a soft chuckle out of Mary Jane, but not enough to wipe away the guilt she was feeling. I've already been around Peter too long, she thought soberly. He's starting to rub off on me.
Louise gently took M.J.'s hand in hers, thinking that her best friend was being plagued by second thoughts about what must have been a profoundly difficult decision. "We talked for a few hours afterward. I think he already knew," Louise said with as much reassurance as she could muster. "After you got rescued, it became pretty obvious to both of us that things between you and John were heading south."
"I shouldn't have let things get as far as they did," Mary Jane said sadly. "God knows he certainly gave me enough openings to bail out. I was just so confused at the time . . . I really didn't know what I wanted."
"He understands, M.J., believe me."
"I hope we can still be friends."
"I think he'd like that." Louise responded, smiling slightly.
Mary Jane noticed the smile. "Any chance the two of you could hook up?" she inquired hopefully.
Louise hesitated for a moment. "I don't know," she said wistfully. "He sort of hinted that he'd like to see me again, but . . ."
"But what?"
"Well, I've never had a good track record with guys on the rebound. And, to tell you the truth, I'm not that crazy about his line of work."
Mary Jane smiled, feeling that it was finally safe to let her true feelings about John's profession be known. "Neither was I," she admitted.
"He did call me last night, though," Louise continued. "He wanted to make sure that I wasn't caught in the subway. You heard about that terrorist attack, didn't you?"
"Of course," Mary Jane answered. "It was unbelievable. I hate to think of where we'd all be right now if it weren't for Spider-Man and Daredevil."
Louise nodded her head in agreement. "So now New York has two super. . ." She suddenly went silent, staring intently at Mary Jane for a few seconds, looking as though she was rapidly solving a very complicated puzzle. Mary Jane instinctively braced for what was coming next, silently kicking herself for underestimating Louise's perspicacity.
Looking around and lowering her head to make sure that she was not heard by anyone else, Louise whispered, "It's Spider-Man, isn't it?"
It was a perfectly logical question. After all, Louise and most of New York knew that Spider-Man had saved Mary Jane from Doc Ock. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that M.J. had probably fallen in love with her rescuer. But M.J. did not lose her composure. Peter was depending on her to guard his deepest, most precious secret, and she could not let him down under any circumstances. This was her first big test, and she was ready for it.
Without hesitating, M.J. threw back her head and laughed. "Don't I wish!" she giggled. "Spider-Man will rescue anyone who's in trouble. I can't imagine that he'd ever have time for girls. No, no. My guy is really quite ordinary." She laughed silently to herself, knowing full well how far from ordinary "her guy," really was.
Mary Jane could tell from Louise's body language that her friend had bought into her fib. "Silly me," Louise said a little sheepishly.
Inwardly, M.J. breathed a huge sigh of relief at having pulled it off. Keeping Peter's secret demanded an Oscar-caliber performance, and she did not disappoint. Mary Jane Parker's stellar debut, she thought with a smile. For the first time, she truly understood what must have been going through Peter's mind as he was making up all those clumsy excuses. And she no longer had any misgivings about lying to people she was close to. She was in Peter's world now. And in Peter's world, such white lies were necessary to keep her family and friends out of danger. The more M.J. thought about it, the more she realized what a no-brainer it was. Anyone who discovered Spider-Man's identity became a target. Mary Jane had willingly assumed that risk. Louise had not. M.J. had no right to jeopardize her friend's life. It was as plain and simple as that, and she would not lose any more sleep over it. Having Peter around will definitely improve my acting technique, she thought wryly.
Meanwhile, a server brought them their bill. Mary Jane opened her purse, but Louise held up her hand. "My treat," she insisted, "In honor of your second and hopefully your last engagement."
M.J. beamed. Her friend's support meant a lot to her. "Thanks so much Louise. You're such a good friend."
"I'm so happy that things are finally working out for you, M.J. You deserve it."
They exited the café and stood on the street corner, waiting for the crossing signal.
" Hey, you want to walk for a while?" Louise suggested.
Mary Jane looked at her watch. She decided she had plenty of time before the show. "Okay."
"So, tell me a little more about your mystery man," Louise wanted to know as they strolled leisurely along Bleecker Street, not even noticing M.J.'s billboard overhead.
"I guess you could say he's the boy next door, literally. We've known each other since we were six. He's a sophomore at N.Y.U., pre-med, a real science wiz, with an IQ that's off the scale."
"Whew," Louise whistled, impressed. It didn't escape her notice how animated and radiant Mary Jane became when she started talking about her new boyfriend.
Mary Jane smiled as she recalled a pleasant memory from her high school days. "Our bedrooms were perfectly lined up across the alley between our houses. Every now and then, I'd peek into his window and see the Albert Einstein poster he had on his wall."
"Did he ever peek into your room?"
"I'm sure he did," Mary Jane blushed. "But I never caught him."
"How come you never mentioned him before?"
"We sort of went our separate ways after high school," Mary Jane answered. "He's working his way through college, holding down several jobs to support himself and his aunt, who's a widow."
"But you finally noticed each other at some point?"
"Yes. He's been in love with me for a long time. And to tell you the truth, for the last two years, I sort of felt the same way about him." M.J. smiled reminiscently.
"Then why did you accept John's proposal?" Louise asked, clearly perplexed.
"Because I didn't think he cared about me anymore. Plus, he was always so busy we never saw each other, and I assumed that he'd lost interest. It wasn't until he . . .until I was rescued . . . that I realized he loved me all along." Mary Jane's voice broke ever so slightly. It still bothered her to some extent that Peter would have let her go if she had not taken the initiative. "He didn't think we could be together because of all his responsibilities," . . . like rescuing people from burning buildings, muggers, rapists, and terrorists . . . she added silently. "But I forced him to realize how much we both need each other."
That was enough to satisfy Louise's curiosity. "In all the time I've known you, Mary Jane, I think this is the first time that I've ever seen you really happy," she said warmly. "It's like night and day compared to how you were last week. Am I ever going to meet this mysterious Flying Dutchman of yours?"
"Well, he finishes school later this week. Maybe we can meet at a club or a lounge or something, and I can introduce you."
"I'm looking forward to it."
They bantered on for a while longer, mostly about Mary Jane's secret lover. Then Louise casually mentioned how relieved she and M.J.'s other cast mates from Earnest felt when they heard she was coming back for Tuesday evening's performance. While Rebecca Kitt was a talented and well-regarded actress, she did not have M.J.'s charismatic sparkle or her natural instincts for feeding her fellow performers their cues in ways that made them shine.
Mary Jane quickly glanced at her watch. "Louise, I've got to do a little grocery shopping before the show."
"Okay, M.J. See you tonight." Louise said as she hugged M.J. and congratulated her once again before they headed their separate ways. As Mary Jane was walking toward Safeway, she suddenly realized, much to her bemusement, that she had never told Louise Peter's name. Mystery man, indeed! she thought.
Two hours later, Mary Jane arrived home lugging three large grocery bags. As soon as she opened the door, she caught sight of her caller ID flashing. Her heart started pounding as she picked up the phone and dialed into her voice mail message center. "You have one new message," the computerized voice messenger droned, "from phone number 212 . . ." She hit play before the voice could finish reciting the number. "Hey M.J . . . It's Peter . . ." With a smile and a sigh, she replayed the message five times before finally returning Peter's call.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Fifteen minutes to deadline and we still don't have page one!" Joe, "Robbie" Robertson shouted, sticking his head into his boss's office. Ted Hoffman, the Daily Bugle's long-suffering advertising manager stood in his customary position, a few steps behind Robbie, nervous as always. The last three days had been miserable for J. Jonah Jameson, and hell for those unfortunate enough to be working for him.
"Not now!" Jameson barked out, the air in his office thick with cigar smoke. "I'm still talking to my son."
They were actually in the midst of a shouting match, the same one that had been going on since late Saturday night, when John had returned to his parents' house after taking Mary Jane's maid of honor home. He felt better after that long conversation he'd had with Louise. She helped him put things into perspective. He realized that there was one more person he needed to talk to before he could get closure and put the whole sordid episode behind him.
But no sooner did he walk in the door when his parents, his dad in particular, had started lacing into him. He cut them off sharply, telling them that he was too tired to talk about it any more.
John had spent Sunday and Monday personally returning all of the wedding gifts, calling as many of the guests as he could to apologize for having inconvenienced them. Everyone he spoke to offered their sympathies, and more than a few gently pointed out the pitfalls of getting involved with "artsy" types. He'd also called his flight commander at NASA and asked if he could return to duty right away. The commander was only too happy to oblige.
Now it was Tuesday evening, and John had his bags packed, ready to catch a flight back to Houston in a few hours. He had hoped to have a quiet dinner with his father before leaving, but the pressures of meeting the deadline and Jonah's inflexible attitude were making that less and less likely.
"You don't know that Dad!" John shouted, exasperated at having to go through the same conversation for the seventh time since Saturday.
"Pull your damn head out of the sand, John, and open up your eyes! Who else could it have been?"
"Even if it was him, what did you expect? He saved her life, twice!"
"The hell he did! It was a set up. . . .a set up, I tell you!" Jonah roared. "That weasly wall-crawler somehow ginned this whole thing up, just to make me look bad!"
"What?" John exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. This latest accusation against Spider-Man was a new low, even for his father. "Dad, you can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious in my life!" Jonah shouted back.
John was shocked. "How can you even think that?"
"Very easily. Mary Jane admitted that Spider-Man saved her from the Goblin, right? They had to have been seeing each other ever since. So, what happens? Spider-Man tells that two-timing Mata Hari to get involved with you, get you to propose to her, and then jilt you at the last second. . . just to make a fool out of me in front of everyone that matters in this town! And I swear, he's going to answer for it."
John felt appalled that his father could actually believe that nonsense he was spouting, especially after Spider-Man had just saved the city from a massive terrorist attack. He was equally angry at his father's insinuation that he'd let himself be duped. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that M.J. was not the trickster that his dad was making her out to be, and that she really did care for him. But he understood that his father was frustrated because he couldn't punish Mary Jane.
"Jonah," Robbie Robertson pleaded, desperately trying to focus his boss's attention on the six o'clock deadline, now less than ten minutes away. Unlike John, Robbie was beyond shock, having been forced to listen to Jameson's latest and most outrageous conspiracy theory for the better part of three days. This sort of tirade was all too typical, Robbie reflected. When things went wrong for Jonah, he needed a scapegoat on which to vent his frustrations. And who better to fulfill that purpose than his favorite scapegoat, Spider-Man?
"Dad, I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," John snapped dismissively. "I know you mean well, but, godammit, lay off! You made a promise to me that you would leave Mary Jane and her boyfriend alone."
"Yes, I did, and I'll keep my promise as far as Mary Jane goes. But my problems with Spider-Man predate yours, and as long as Spider-Man's involved, I'm going to continue to do the job I need to do to wake this city up about that public menace. Understood?"
"You have no proof that it was Spider-Man!" John shouted, getting dangerously close to the boiling point.
But Jonah was on a roll. "I've got all the proof I need! I've been too damn easy on the slimy arachnid! He thinks he can put one past me, does he? I'll make him rue the day he ever showed his masked face in this city!"
John realized that this was as far as he was going to get and attempted to change the subject. "You want to go to Sardi's?" he asked his father, trying to cool him off.
"Can't!" Jonah snapped abruptly. He glanced up at Robbie and Hoffman, who were waiting impatiently to see him. "Page one. Spider-Man Involved in Terror Plot! How does that grab ya?"
John shook his head in disgust.
Ted Hoffman's face fell.
Robbie thought that he might need a hearing aid. "You're kidding, right?" he asked Jonah, incredulous.
Jameson glared at his number two.
"Jonah, you can't print that!" Robbie shouted when he realized that his boss was serious. "Didn't you see this morning's Times?" Before Jameson could answer, Robbie snatched the copy of the New York Times that had been sitting on Betty Brant's desk and handed it to his boss. Spread across the front page was an article by Ben Urich entitled, VIGILANTE HEROICS FOIL AL QAEDA ATTACK. It was a measured, fact-based piece that accurately described how Spider-Man and Daredevil had uncovered the terrorist plot and neutralized a bunch of radiological devices scattered throughout the subways. As Jonah stared at his one-time collaborator's handiwork, his face turned deep red and the veins in his head and neck bulged out. Robbie and Hoffman braced themselves for the explosion that they knew was coming.
"I'll have that cop's badge!" Jonah bellowed, furious over the fact that Captain Manolis had given Ben Urich an exclusive while shutting out Eddie Brock. "I'll go all the way to the mayor's office! By the time I get done with that graft-grabber, he'll be a crossing guard at some elementary school!" With each word, he pounded the desk more vehemently.
Robbie and Hoffman exchanged glances, dismayed at their boss's overestimation of his influence at City Hall. To Robbie, who had known his editor for nearly fifty years, it seemed as though Jonah was losing touch with reality. Captain Manolis was one of the toughest, bravest, most honest, and most widely respected officers in the NYPD. Nobody was going to touch Manolis, least of all Jameson. He could complain to the White House, for all the good it would do him.
"Come on Jonah, you're talking nonsense," Robbie implored, desperately trying to dissuade Jameson from making a huge blunder. Ben Urich had set his profession's standard of integrity. To butt heads with Urich was like challenging Walter Cronkite; you didn't dare do it unless you had a mountain of facts to back you up, and Robbie knew the Bugle did not. "If we go ahead with this, it will be a public relations disaster," Robbie warned. "I guarantee you that we'll lose whatever credibility we've got left. Spider-Man and Daredevil saved the city dammit . . ."
"Don't talk to me about Daredevil!" Jonah interrupted sharply. "There is no Daredevil! That bald-headed bozo Urich made him up to throw everyone off his trail and out-scoop us on Spider-Man!"
Ted Hoffman, normally obsequious, often found the courage to speak up when the facts were on his side. "Uh . . . Chief . . . Ben Urich's been reporting on Daredevil for years. With that much smoke, there's got to be some fire."
But Jameson did not want to hear anything that contradicted his view of the world, or of Spider-Man. He brushed Hoffman off as though he were nothing more than an irritating fly. "Miss Brant!" he roared.
Betty's head shot up. "Yeah, boss?"
"Get Eddie up here fast!"
"Hold for a moment please," Betty said regretfully to a caller who she knew had been trying to get through for three hours. Dialing Eddie Brock's extension, Betty snapped, "Boss wants you," before hastening back to her long-suffering caller. Brock materialized in less than thirty seconds.
But Hoffman wasn't finished yet. He looked at Robbie, who gestured at him to continue. "The circulation figures are down another five percent," the mousy ex-accountant said in a hushed voice. "That makes a twenty-point drop from this point last quarter. Macy's, Microsoft, and Wachovia are all threatening to pull their ads. . ."
"I don't want to hear about that now!" snapped Jameson. "I've got more important things to worry about. And where the hell is Parker? Haven't seen him in days! Goofing off again when he should be bringing me pictures."
Robbie involuntary glanced back toward the door. "Um . . . Jonah, I think he's here." Jameson looked up in time to see Peter Parker, who had appeared as if from nowhere, hand something to Betty Brant, probably a request for another advance. "Parker!" Jonah shouted. "It's about time! Get in here! Got a job for you and Eddie." Although Jonah was looking straight at Peter, he failed to notice the young man's eyes widen as he entered the office.
XXXXXXXXXX
Peter had just finished his second and last final examination of the day. Quantum mechanics had turned out to be a breeze, just like biochem. In what was fast becoming a routine for him, Peter Parker was once again the first person to finish his exam. He quietly handed his papers to the proctor and walked out of the test center, quite confident and relaxed about his performance.
On his way to the Bugle, his press pass in his pocket, Peter suddenly remembered a very important piece of business that Matt Murdock had urged him to take care of. "Parker," he said to himself in the voice he normally used for Spider-Man. "You're no longer my photographer. I'm not letting anyone take any more pictures of me. Ever."
"Oh, please Spider-Man, give me another chance," he laughed softly in his own voice. He smiled at the sweet irony of one of his selves giving the other the boot. It was a huge burden off his back. A week ago, he'd been alone and broke. Now, he had the girl of his dreams and two jobs that, together, would pay him ten times the measly handouts that Jonah had been giving him. He would never again have to prostitute himself to pay his bills.
He also had a very powerful ally. With Matt Murdock as his attorney, he was no longer afraid of telling Mr. Jameson the truth about himself and Mary Jane. After so much suffering and hardship, Peter Parker's fortunes were finally turning the corner.
"Hi Peter," Betty greeted him as he the elevator door opened. He hadn't gone two steps when Eddie Brock flew past him toward Jameson's office. There would have been a collision if Peter had not wisely stepped out of the way.
"Hi Betty," Peter said warmly. He'd always liked Betty Brant. She and Robbie Robertson were always good to him, even when Jameson was putting him down. On the other hand, he detested Eddie Brock, who made no secret of either his ambition to one day run the Bugle, or his contempt for Peter Parker. Peter had just fished his press pass out of his pocket and was about to hand it to Betty when he heard Jameson summon him with his customary holler. Still holding his badge, Peter confidently strolled toward his soon-to-be-former boss's office, his resignation speech ready. All of a sudden, his eyes locked on a strikingly handsome young man in an Air Force uniform.
"Where the hell have you been?" Jameson barked as Peter fell in line next to Ted Hoffman. "Been trying to get in touch with you since Saturday. You better have some pictures for me or you'll be cleaning the men's room!"
"Sorry Mr. Jameson," Peter said quietly, "But Spider-Man won't let me take any more pictures after what happened yesterday. He says it's too dangerous."
"Oh really?" Jameson sneered. "Well, we're just going to have to find him, that's all. I'm teaming you up with Brock here. You two are going on a stakeout, every day and every night, until you bring back pictures of that webslinging weasel and his flaky little tart girlfriend!"
"Dad!" John snapped angrily. "Enough!"
But Jameson went on as if his son wasn't even there. "And I'll give you a thousand dollars each if you catch them making out on a rooftop!" Brock started salivating at the prospect of a nice fat bonus for a short night's work.
The only visible signs of Peter's fury at Jonah's rude remarks about his fiancée were a brief flaring of his nostrils and a narrowing of his eyes. More than anything, Peter wished he could web up Jonah's big mouth, like he did during the Goblin's attack. He quickly reigned in his temper, knowing that it was time to play his trump card and put out this fire before it got out of control.
"Spider-Man had nothing to do with Mary Jane's decision," Peter said resolutely. "It was m . . ."
"DAD!" John shouted even louder, cutting Peter off sharply before he could finish the sentence. "I said drop it!" It was enough to make Jonah jolt in his chair, as if he'd been electrocuted.
Peter briefly glanced at John, who seemed to be staring at him intensely, an expression of comprehension playing across his features. Did John just run interference for me? Peter wondered anxiously. Does he know? Jonah, meanwhile, remained completely oblivious to the silent exchange between his son and his soon-to-be former photographer. Peter had recognized the opening John had apparently given him, and decided that retreat was the better part of valor. He tossed his press badge across Jameson's desk.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Parker?" Jonah demanded, already recovering from his son's harsh reprimand.
"Quitting, Mr. Jameson," Peter retorted.
"You can't quit! We have an exclusive deal! So help me, if you go to another paper, I'll sue your little keister off! You'll never work in this city again."
In truth, there was no exclusive deal. That was just more of Jameson's bluster. "I have a new job with the law firm of Nelson and Murdock." Peter said with a quiet but firm resolve. It was a veiled warning. Jameson had gotten the message. He opened his mouth to yell at Peter again, but quickly thought the better of it. Apparently, Matt Murdock was one of the few people in New York City who was genuinely capable of striking fear into J. Jonah Jameson's heart.
Just before Peter turned toward the door, he said, "Oh, and by the way, Mr. Jameson, Spider-Man told me to tell you that he might allow one more picture if you donate a hundred thousand dollars to the 9-11 Victims' Memorial Fund." He struggled to keep a smirk off his face as he made his way toward the elevator, leaving Jonah to stew in his own juice. On his way out, he received a handshake from an astonished Robbie Robertson and a hug from an equally shocked Betty Brant. It was plain from the expressions on their faces that Peter's attempt to confess to the Jamesons had not been lost on them.
"Good luck Pete," Betty said as she embraced Peter. And then she whispered in his ear, very, very softly, "Way to go!"
"We'll miss you, kid," Robbie said as he shook Peter's hand. He had liked Peter since the day he first showed up with his Spider-Man photos, and had grown even more fond of him over the last eighteen months. Didn't think this guy had that kind of gumption, he thought admiringly. "Don't lose touch."
"Don't worry Robbie, I won't," Peter said with a small smile. "Thanks." . . . for thinking about me . . .
Just before Peter stepped on to the elevator, John Jameson called out, "Can you hold it for me?"
Robbie watched Peter go, wondering how the Bugle was going to fare, now that there wouldn't be any more fodder for Jonah's editorial cannon. A moment later, he had his answer.
"Robbie!" Jonah barked furiously. "Get that lead story out, now!"
"Look Jonah," Robbie begged futilely, "Can't we at least make the headline a question? John is absolutely right. We have no proof."
"Leave my son out of this!" Jameson growled. "And, no. The headline goes out exactly as I said. By this time tomorrow, the whole city will realize that Spider-Man rigged the whole thing." He puffed on his cigar, still extremely confident of the righteousness of his cause and the ignorance of everyone who questioned him.
Robbie had reached the end of his tether. To accuse Spider-Man of being in league with terrorists went way beyond the pale. Sure, a headline like that would pull the Bugle out of the red ink for the quarter, but it was the cheapest of cheap shots, and he just couldn't stomach it anymore. Spider-Man deserved a ticker-tape parade, not this constant, unrelenting haranguing and ridicule. And so, after nearly fifty years of friendship and professional association with J. Jonah Jameson, Joe Robertson came to a momentous decision. He quickly walked back to his corner office two floors below. Closing the door, he opened his cell phone and dialed the number of his closest and dearest friend.
"Hey, Robbie, what's up?" Ben Urich answered.
"Ben, we have to talk," Robbie said grimly.
Ben Urich had a hunch as to what Robbie was calling him about. "I'm having dinner with Bob Cramer at Mama Leone's tonight at 8:00. Think you can join us?"
"Yeah. See you then. By the way, that was a helluva piece you did on the terrorist attack yesterday."
"Thanks." Urich responded. "Look for us at our regular table."
"Sure thing. Bye."
XXXXXXXXXX
Peter felt incredibly awkward just being in an elevator with M.J.'s ex, let alone having to make conversation with him. The same woman who was Peter's source of happiness was John's source of sorrow. Yet, oddly enough, Peter's spider-sense was not registering any kind of alarm. It was more his own nervousness. Still, it took a considerable effort on his part to make eye contact with John.
"Um . . . I have a few hours to kill before my flight," John said tentatively. "I was wondering if we could talk for a little bit."
"I'm sorry, but I don't have much time," Peter answered as politely as he could, "I have a final exam coming up tomorrow morning and I really need to get home."
"I understand that," John said, a slight hint of agitation in his normally unflappable demeanor. "But I really need to know something. It won't take more than a few minutes, I promise."
Peter wanted nothing more than to hightail it out of there as soon as possible. But the desperation in John's voice was plainly palpable. John had just been through a terrible ordeal. He needed to gain some closure so that he could move on. Having John vent his anger on him was a price Peter was willing to endure for having the love of his life in his life.
"Okay," Peter finally assented. "But I really can't take too long."
"Thank you Peter. I really appreciate it," a grateful John Jameson replied.
The elevator had reached the lobby. John led them to the small bar just inside the building's main entrance. There were only a handful of other patrons, even though it was the height of happy hour. They quickly sat down at a window table that afforded them a great view of Times Square.
"Can I get you something to drink?" John asked politely, as their server approached.
At first, Peter was inclined to say no, but then he relented. Might as well get a free drink out of this, he thought. "Can I have a virgin screwdriver?"
"What's that?" John asked, puzzled.
"Orange juice, with seltzer instead of vodka." Peter was usually cautious about drinking alcohol, since he never knew when he'd be facing an emergency.
"Two virgin screwdrivers." With the drinks ordered, John turned to face his rival.
"Peter, I have a pretty good idea of what it's like to work for my dad. But let me say in his defense that he was always a devoted, caring parent. For instance, he always insisted that I know my American history inside and out. He used to drill me constantly at the dinner table, making me spit out facts and figures as fast as I spat out my spinach. By the time I finished high school, I knew the names and dates of every important historical event since the Revolutionary War." He paused briefly, as if trying to gauge Peter's reaction. "Do you know what's coming up in July?"
Peter shrugged his shoulders, unsure of where John was leading him. "The Fourth of July?" he guessed.
"Yes, but I was actually thinking of July Eleventh." John answered. "That's the two-hundredth anniversary of the Burr-Hamilton duel. It took place right across the river, over there in Weehawken." He pointed toward New Jersey. Peter knew instinctively what was coming next. "If this were 1804 instead of 2004, I might have challenged you to a duel on those same grounds."
Peter remained silent and impassive, waiting for John to rip into him. He couldn't blame John for that. He vividly remembered the despair he'd felt when John and Mary Jane had announced their engagement at the planetarium, right in front of him. That John would feel the same way now would not have surprised him in the least.
Suddenly, the conversation took an unexpected turn. "On the other hand, you might have been equally justified in demanding satisfaction from me." John leaned a little closer. "You love Mary Jane, don't you?" he pointedly asked Peter.
"I've always loved her."
"Long before I ever met her, is that correct?"
"Uh-huh," Peter murmured.
"Then for God's sake, why did you wait so long to tell her?" John asked, the cracking in his voice betraying a potpourri of emotions roiling beneath the surface of his outwardly calm disposition. "You could've saved everyone a ton of grief and settled this whole thing before M.J. and I got serious."
Peter felt his spider-sense start to tingle slightly. "It's . . . very hard to explain." he said, groping for words that wouldn't arouse undue suspicion from John. "My life is complicated."
"Were you afraid she might get hurt?" John asked in a slightly hushed voice.
He does know, Peter realized, tensing up as his mind starting to race. Was he that obvious? And who else knew? Robbie? Ben Urich? For Christ's sake, he'd been having lunch with Ben every week for over a year. Was Ben just stringing him along all this time, waiting for the right moment to drop the bombshell? The implications were frightening. For an instant, Peter worried that John could hear his heart beating the way Matt Murdock could. He decided to tough it out and not concede anything. He would just have to deflect John's suspicions as best he could. "I've got a lot of responsibilities now," Peter replied neutrally. "Between work, school, and a very tight budget . . . I really didn't think I could give M.J.what she needed to be happy . . . the way you could."
"I've got news for you, Peter," John went on. "I'm not really sure that M.J. ever was truly happy to be with me. This may surprise you, but I've suspected for weeks now that whatever I thought we had was petering out, no pun intended. The fact is that the Mary Jane Watson that I'd fallen in love with, that beautiful, mysterious, slightly ditsy redhead is gone. I never saw that person again after M.J. was rescued from Doc Ock. To be honest, I'm not even sure if she ever really existed." He paused again, waiting for Peter's reaction, but Peter just listened silently.
"Um . . . Peter . . . What I'm trying to say is that if I had known, if I had gotten any inkling at all that there was something between the two of you, I would never have gotten involved with Mary Jane in the first place. To tell you the truth, I had a feeling that she might've been pushing the wedding just to get over an ex-boyfriend, and maybe I should've been more direct about it. But I was afraid to speak up because I thought I might lose her if I did . . ." John's voice was starting to break again, and moisture was beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.
Seeing the heavy emotional toll that the break-up had exacted on John, Peter couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. Having narrowly missed losing M.J. himself, he understood all to well what the man was going through. That dreadful night at the planetarium once again welled up from deep inside his memory. He could never forget how devastated he felt watching John in all his glamor and glory stand up at that podium and proudly announce to the whole world that Mary Jane had agreed to marry him. It had affected him so profoundly that he'd actually lost his powers over it. And now, he felt no sense of triumph, not even a hollow victory. Instead, he felt guilty that his rejection of Mary Jane in the cemetery that cold November morning had set in motion the chain of events that led to this meeting. John had played the game by the rules and now was forced to watch the prize be snatched away from him at the last moment.
"John," Peter gently interrupted, "You don't have to justify anything to me. You were there for M.J. when she needed somebody. You had good times together, and you obviously still care about her a great deal. I can't fault you for that. I'm really sorry that you got caught in the middle, believe me."
"I appreciate that Peter, very much," John continued sadly, his eyes downcast. "But I would be lying to you if I told you that I'll get over Mary Jane anytime soon. The reality is that M.J.'s heart belongs to you. I suppose it always has. All I can do now is accept her decision and live with it." He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform and pulled out an official looking document. It was a marriage license. "Here, take this," he said, extending it to Peter. "I won't stand in your way. And I promise you that I'll do my best to keep my dad off your backs. All I ask in return is that you keep her safe."
Peter smiled. "Count on it," he promised firmly as he took the license. He offered his hand.
John shook it. He seemed slightly taken aback by Peter's powerful grip. But he still managed to look Peter directly in the eye. "I want you to know something," he said softly. "I don't care what my dad says. You are a hero." And with that, John Jameson paid for their drinks, got up, and left, having finally attained the closure he was looking for.
Peter sat at the table for a few more minutes, staring meditatively through the windows at the busy intersection called Times Square as he tried to sort out his feelings. John was a class act, through and through. His graciousness in defeat and acknowledgment of Peter's good deeds had raised his stock considerably in Peter's estimation. Peter did not bother trying to figure out how John discovered his secret. Nor did he worry about it. John seemed honorable and sincere enough to be taken at his word. But Peter still felt bad that John had to suffer the indignity of being stood up at his own wedding. Why the hell can't I have a little bit of joy without someone getting hurt? he mused unhappily. No one should ever have to go through a thing like that.
Suddenly his spider-sense kicked in. Instantly, he was alert to possible danger, but for some reason, he couldn't lock onto it. His eyes soon caught sight of the television set suspended above the bar. The local news was broadcasting images of what looked like a tenement fire. Pushing back his chair abruptly, he rushed over to the bar and turned up the volume. Sure enough, it was a three-alarm fire on 131st street, up in Harlem. It was over a hundred blocks away.
"Hey!" the surly bartender shouted "you wanna turn that TV down!" But there was no one there.
"Asshole," the bartender muttered as he cut the volume and went back to mixing the fifth scotch and soda for the customer at Table 8.
XXXXXXXXXX
When Robbie arrived at Mama Leone's, Ben Urich was already waiting for him. Sitting next to Ben was a distinguished-looking gentleman with iron-gray hair whose name was well-known in media circles. He was Robert G. Cramer, chairman and CEO of Lorelei Communications, Inc., the largest and most powerful media conglomerate in the world. Cramer and Ben Urich had grown up together in Brooklyn, and had remained intimate friends despite Cramer's attainment of extraordinary wealth and influence.
While Ben was studying journalism at Fordham, Cramer had been laying the foundations for an investment empire. In his first big deal, Cramer bought the Bugle, then little more than a Greenwich Village community newspaper. He hired Ben and Robbie right out of college. Jonah came aboard the following year. The rest was history. With hard-hitting, no-holds barred reporting, the Bugle became the voice of the entire progressive movement of the late sixties and early seventies, winning multiple Pulitzer Prizes. Jonah, Ben, and Robbie became known throughout the city as "the Three Musketeers."
Eventually, Cramer sold the Bugle to a group of outside investors and moved on to build Lorelei. A few years later, Jameson bought it and became its managing editor. It soon became apparent, however, that Jonah had his own idea about the direction the paper should take. Unfortunately, it turned out to be radically different than Cramer's. Under Jameson, the Bugle the made more money than it ever had before, but it had done so by exploiting the lowest common denominator with cheap sensationalism. Ben Urich had eventually had enough of Jonah's antics and resigned in disgust. Robbie, on the other hand, had stayed on, fervently believing that Jonah would eventually see the light and return the Bugle to the glory it had enjoyed under Bob Cramer's stewardship.
Ben and Bob both stood up to greet Robbie cheerfully as he made his way over to the table. It was a reunion of old friends from the great old days.
"How are you, Mr. Cramer?" Robbie asked respectfully. He was always formal with Bob, despite knowing him well for over forty years.
"Come on, Robbie, when are you going to cut out that Mr. Cramer crap and just call me Bob?"
"When I'm as rich as you are." Robbie retorted. They all laughed.
Ben had already taken the liberty of ordering three Molson Golden Ales. "Things aren't looking too good right now in Bugleville," Robbie confided as the men sat down and picked up their menus. "Circulation's dropping, and advertisers are pulling out right and left." He turned to Ben. "Your article on the terrorist attack really pissed Jonah off."
"Nice to know he still cares," Urich deadpanned sarcastically.
Robbie paused for a moment, suddenly remembering one of the most significant events of the day. "Oh, and Peter Parker quit today. Claims that Spider-Man won't let him take any more pictures."
"Sounds like it was long overdue," Ben replied while scanning his menu. "You know, the Times Magazine needs a freelance photographer. I think I'll ask him about it when I meet him for lunch tomorrow."
"He says he's already got a new job," Robbie went on, miffed at Jonah's idiocy in letting Peter slip away.
"Any idea with who?" Ben asked.
"Nelson and Murdock. Those blind lawyers from Hell's Kitchen who sued our asses off for libel a few years back."
"Only one of them is blind." Ben corrected Robbie as he raised his eyebrows. Interesting, he thought, Peter gets canned by Spider-Man and picked up by Daredevil. "Well, there's no harm in asking him to at least consider it."
"Anyway," Robbie continued, "Jonah still won't admit that he made a mistake in not pursuing all those leads about the Kingpin. No offense Ben, but that story should have been ours."
"I would've loved to have written it for the Bugle."
Robbie grimaced, still furious over Jonah's latest scheme to smear Spider-Man. "On top of that, he's gone Ahab over his son's ex-fiancée, that Watson girl." He paused. "And if he keeps up this anti-Spider-Man crusade, he'll take the Bugle down with him. Do you know what's gonna be on page one tomorrow morning?" he asked in a subdued voice.
"I can only imagine," Urich replied.
"He's going to publicly accuse Spider-Man of being in cahoots with Al Qaeda. It's already gone to press. By tomorrow afternoon, the whole city's going to be laughing at us. Jonah's been holding us all captive to some bizarre personal agenda that I still haven't been able to figure out. And now it's coming home to roost."
Ben looked at Robbie in disbelief. While not a cynic, Urich was certainly battle-hardened. After forty years in the business, there was very little that could phase him. But even he could not believe that Jonah could be so crass in his drive to sell newspapers. And he had never seen Robbie so bitter in all the years that they'd known each other.
"Why doesn't your board step in and do something?" Cramer interjected.
"Everyone you knew is long gone," Robbie replied regretfully. "The people on the board now are all his handpicked cronies. They're all afraid of him. They won't lift a finger except to rearrange the deck chairs."
"I've told you before Robbie, the managing editor's job at Weekly World News Update is still open." Cramer hinted. "You know I haven't rescinded my offer."
"Thanks Mr Cr . . . Bob. Please don't be offended, but I'm really not interested. You guys may think I'm crazy, but I still think of the Bugle as our legacy. In my heart of hearts, I just can't leave her until I can have confidence that she's back on the right track."
"That'll never happen as long as Jameson is in charge," Urich said bluntly. "And as long as that board kowtows to him, you'll never be able to get rid of him."
"That's what I want to talk to you guys about." Robbie took a deep breath and turned to Bob Cramer. "Can Lorelei buy us out?"
Urich and Cramer put down their menus and looked up at him, astonished. Despite all of the friction between Robbie and Jonah, they were still good friends personally. To Ben Urich, the idea that Robbie would go behind Jonah's back would have been unthinkable. But then, Robbie made his feelings clear and left no doubt about the course of action he was committed to. For almost two years, he had steadfastly, but futilely opposed J. Jonah Jameson's efforts to malign and discredit an extraordinary human being who laid his life on the line every day without ever asking for anything in return. But no matter what Spider-Man did, Jonah always managed to twist his heroic deed around and wring some nefarious motivation out of it. The Al Qaeda headline was absolutely the last straw. "I've had it Ben," Robbie said angrily. "The Bugle's a laughingstock. Nobody takes us seriously anymore. The public's already bailing out on us, and it won't be long before our stockholders follow suit."
Neither Urich nor Cramer said anything for almost thirty seconds. Then Cramer broke the ice.
"What exactly do you have in mind, Robbie?" he asked tentatively.
"Hostile takeover," Robbie replied quietly, almost whispering the words.
Cramer remained impassive. Like the fine poker player he was, he had long since learned how to conceal his emotions when evaluating business proposals. Unbeknownst to his companions, however, he had already reached that same conclusion for his own reasons. He appeared hesitant, not because he was deciding whether to do it, but rather how. "I'll have to talk to my backers overseas and see what they say about it. The Bugle is, how shall we say it, not exactly in the same league as a typical Lorelei publication. . ."
"When you owned the Bugle, we had a reputation for integrity bar none," Urich said forcefully. He too looked back upon their "Musketeer" days with fondness and nostalgia. "The only way that reputation could be restored is for Jameson to step aside or be thrown out. Frankly, I don't give a damn which it is."
"We'll just have to sell my backers on the idea that once we take over, we can make the Bugle a serious newspaper again." Cramer said, pondering his course of action very carefully. He preferred to invest in innovative companies whose stock prices would shoot up once their new ideas hit the market. From a business standpoint, the Bugle was not a good investment because it was already established. Its stock price was already too high.
But to Bob Cramer, this was not a business decision. "Guys," he said to Ben and Robbie, "I haven't told anybody about this, but my daughter and baby grandson were on that train."
Cramer was immediately confronted with puzzled looks from his two dinner companions.
"Which train?" Urich asked.
"The one that Spider-Man kept from plunging into the river." Cramer replied. "My daughter helped put his mask back on when it came off."
Ben and Robbie exchanged incredulous looks. "You mean, your daughter . . . saw him?" Robbie practically choked.
Cramer nodded. "She told me that everyone who saw Spider-Man's face that day agreed to take a vow of silence." He looked up, as determined as Robbie to do the right thing, regardless of what it might cost. "Spider-Man saved the lives of my daughter and my grandson. I agree with you one hundred percent, Robbie. I think it's high time that we put an end to J. Jonah Jameson's misguided crusade."
Robbie felt vindicated. How ironic that the object of Jonah's smear campaigns was going to be the inspiration for his downfall.
"But it's going to take time and a lot of delicate maneuvering," Cramer continued cautiously. We'll need to adopt a stealth strategy . . . buy enough stock to achieve majority control, and then . . . boom! He's out on his ass!"
"How long will it take?" Ben asked.
"At least a year," Cramer said, "maybe longer, depending on how fast we can get our people on the board. And . . ."
"And what?" Robbie asked.
"I have two other conditions."
"Name them."
"That you, Robbie, replace Jameson as the Bugle's editor-at-large. And Ben, I want you to take over as city editor." Urich started to say something, but, anticipating his protest that he was not management material, Cramer deployed that mixture of flattery and bluntness that made him a world-class negotiator. "You're a phenomenal reporter Ben, a legend. But you're not immortal. For the Bugle to have sustained success in the future, it's vitally important that we prepare the next generation of Ben Urichs. You're the only one who could do it."
Urich's expression did not change. "Does this mean I have to move into an office?" he grumbled mockingly.
"Yes," Cramer replied as their ales arrived. "Now gentlemen, if those terms are agreeable to both of you, then let's have a drink."
"Here's to it," the three old friends chorused as they raised their bottles of Molsons and clanged them together in an informal ceremonial toast.