Welcome!

Stepping into the lobby of the Daily Bugle, Eddie sighed. He liked to avoid the Bugle as much as possible. The editor was a complete fool, and the way the paper bashed Spider-Man was enough to make Eddie sick. He didn’t want to give anything to this paper, whether it be photographs or stories. But, to be blunt, Eddie wasn’t sure he had much of a choice. The Globe was a much better paper, but Eddie needed money, and the Globe wasn’t always willing to buy what he had. That was when Eddie headed over to the Bugle. Even if Jameson was the living embodiment of cheap. Eddie figured he wouldn’t fetch much for anything he had with him today, but so long as he could sell something he’d be able to make it by for a bit longer. At least until he managed to sell another story to the Globe.

As he walked towards the elevator, someone brushed past Eddie, almost causing him to stumble and trip. Giving the guy, a small but stocky older man, a death glare, Eddie bit his tongue. He didn’t have time to deal with obnoxious (and likely needlessly stubborn) old imbeciles right now. He just wanted to get in and out of here as fast as he possibly could. Hopefully he could do it without insulting Jameson as well. Usually he managed, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before the lunatic of an editor pushed him over the edge.

Before he could reach the elevator, someone caught his eye. He’d never met Peter Parker before, but he’d heard a thing or two about him. The only guy in town who could consistently deliver photos of Spidey… And he sold them to the Bugle. He wondered what Spider-Man thought of that. He had to know Parker in some way or another… Eddie highly doubted this guy could possibly manage to get the slip on Spider-Man time and time again. So maybe Spider-Man had a reason for wanting the negative publicity the Bugle gave him… It seemed odd, but Eddie supposed it was possible.

Normally Eddie wasn’t one to initiate a conversation with someone. Unless there was a pretty girl he felt the need to flirt with, or someone he felt needed to be told off, he generally made it a point to ignore people. Sure, he’d speak to someone who approached him (though he was good at driving them off as well), but for the most part Eddie Brock didn’t see the point. Most conversations generally either bored him to tears, or were so wrought with poor grammar that he’d want nothing more than to pour hot wax into his ears to drown it all out. But today Eddie had to admit he was mildly curious. He wanted to meet Spider-Man’s personal photographer, wanted to learn (as much as possible at least) the whys and the hows of it.

So he stopped in front of the elevator and turned to look at Parker. He was only a bit shorter than Eddie, and he didn’t seem particularly remarkable in any way. Why did Spider-Man pick this guy to be his photographer? Shrugging to himself, he did what he could to put a welcoming smile on his face and asked, “You’re Peter Parker, right?”

((holler for edits))

Peter Parker had to admit that he really wasn’t into this whole going to the Bugle thing today. Dealing with Jameson was about the last thing he thought he could handle right now. Things were...off. He couldn’t quite explain how or why, but they just were. Having a grumpy old tightwad of a man with a bad haircut berate and threaten him just was not on the top of his list.

But still...he supposed he had to get paid somehow. A file full of pictures of the new Spider-Man, replete with slimming black costume and everything, was tucked smartly under his arm.

The lobby was filled with the usual bustle, and Peter’s deliberately slow movements seemed a stark contrast. He made his way over to the elevator and pushed the button. Out of his peripheral he could see a spiky haired guy giving him the eye.

“You’re Peter Parker, right?”

Peter turned to him, hoping he would have some sort of a clue on who was speaking to him. He was sadly disappointed. “I hope so,” he said with a grin. “I’m wearing his underwear.”

It was a lie. Laundry day was a week overdue. He was going commando.

As Eddie approached Parker, he caught sight of a file tucked under his arm. Immediately he wondered if they were shots of Spidey. After all, he’d never seen any other photographs by Parker in the Bugle… Maybe he was exclusively a Spider-Man photographer. His pictures weren’t bad, and some of them really begged the question as to how he possibly could have gotten those shots. Some of the angles were very curious… Maybe he’d make it a point to ask him.

The mere concept of planning to talk to this guy was kind of strange to Eddie. For a moment he wondered whether or not it was worth it, but in the end curiosity won out and he found himself speaking up. “You’re Peter Parker, right?”

“I hope so,” he said with a grin. “I’m wearing his underwear.”

For a second Eddie merely raised an eyebrow at the reply. It hadn’t been what he’d expecting… Parker apparently had some sort of sense of humor. And even if the line was a bit cliché, it worked given the situation. So Eddie figured he could go without commenting on that. So, lowering his eyebrow he did his best to return Parker’s grin.

“Edward Brock, Jr.” he introduced himself, extending a hand. “Though most people just call me Eddie.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed from there, not exactly being the most talented person in the world in terms of impromptu conversation. His eyes once again flickered down to the file Parker had under his arm, and he figured the best course of action was to just ask.

“You’re the one who takes all those pictures of Spidey, aren’t you?” he asked as a formality. He knew it was him, he’d seen him here before, and he’d heard Jameson yelling at him about Spider-Man pictures before. “Impressive stuff, man. No one else has managed to get shots even close to what you’ve done.”

Which would of course soon lead into a question as to just how he managed to get such amazing photos. And, of course, why he was selling them to a crackpot editor like Jameson…

“Edward Brock, Jr,” said the guy with an extended hand. He said it in a way that sounded like he expected Peter to have heard of him. “Though most people just call me Eddie.”

After just looking at the hand for a moment, Peter finally reached over and shook it. This guy seemed like he wasn’t much of a threat.

“You’re the one who takes all those pictures of Spidey, aren’t you?” With a slightly smarmy grin and a lift of his brows Peter nodded. “Impressive stuff, man. No one else has managed to get shots even close to what you’ve done.”

“That’s because Spider-Man doesn’t like anyone else,” he said. “For reasons of the whole stabbing him in the back thing.” He pushed the elevator button again. “He’s funny about that kind of stuff.”

The elevator was taking its sweet time and Peter was getting impatient. A few webs and he would have been up there, paid and gone already. Peter drew in a laborious breath and let it out slowly. “So what’s your story...Eddie?”

When Eddie extended his hand, it took Parker a moment to reach out and shake it. Then, turning his attention for a moment to the reason he’d approached the photographer in the first place, the file he had with him, Eddie decided to just ask him and get it over with. Peter nodded when asked if he was Spider-Man’s photographer, confirming what Eddie had already known.

“That’s because Spider-Man doesn’t like anyone else,” he said. “For reasons of the whole stabbing him in the back thing.” He pushed the elevator button again. “He’s funny about that kind of stuff.”

Eddie nodded as if he understood what Parker was getting at. Was he saying he actually knew Spider-Man? The thought had crossed Eddie’s mind, of course, but never seriously. Did he know his secret identity? Were they friends? Or was this just some sort of business arrangement? As questions continued to formulate in his head, he heard Parker let out something of a sigh before turning back to him.

“So what’s your story...Eddie?”

The way he stressed his name left Eddie mildly confused. What was that about? Mentally shrugging it off, he decided he could worry about it later. He had more important things to deal with right now.

“I’m a journalist mostly,” he replied. “I do some photography on the side, too, but that’s mostly just to help pay the bills.”

The elevator door finally opened, and Eddie stepped in, waiting for Parker to join him before pressing the button that would take them up to floor Jameson’s office was located on.

“Sorry to be so intrusive, but I have to ask,” he continued once the door was closed. “But how does Spider-Man feel about you selling shots of him to the Bugle? I can’t imagine he likes the negative publicity.”

“I’m a journalist mostly,” Eddie said as the elevator doors opened up. “I do some photography on the side, too, but that’s mostly just to help pay the bills.”

Peter only nodded as the two of them stepped onto the elevator. For a moment he connected with Eddie Brock, just another guy trying to pay his bills. A man talking very loudly on a cell phone stepped onto the car with them and Peter looked over at Eddie with a look that clearly stated this was not going to work.

”YEAH YEAH. I’M ON THE ELEVATOR RIGHT NOW. OH I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE-”

Just before the elevator doors slid shut Peter have him a suitable shove with his foot and sent him sprawling cell phone and all out the door. The last thing the man saw before the doors slid shut was Peter curling his fingers in a bye-bye wave with a sardonic smile fixed in place.

“How does Spider-Man feel about my selling his picture to the Bugle?” He turned back to Eddie again and regarded him silently for a moment before pushing the button to the appropriate floor. “I’m just going to go out on a limb here, but I’m guessing he doesn’t mind so much when the press is positive. There was a time that he wouldn’t let me take any more pictures...but like you, everyone needs to pay the bills.”

Peter wondered suddenly which floor Eddie was going to.

“Are you headed to the Bugle?”

As he stepped into the elevator and turned around, Eddie caught sight of someone else walking towards them. He was on his phone, and even before he reached the elevator, Eddie could hear the guy. Letting out a low groan, Eddie shook his head. He hated people like that. Wait until you got somewhere more private if you absolutely had to shout into the phone like a moron.

Rolling his eyes at the cell-phone guy as he got onto the elevator, Eddie glanced over at Parker, who seemed to have the same opinion about their newly acquired elevator-mate. What he wouldn’t give to just shove the guy out of the elevator…

Sort of like that. Eddie’s eyes widened in shock as Parker literally pushed the ignorant man right out of the elevator with his foot. For a moment Eddie didn’t know how to react. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone do anything like that before. But, as Parker gave the man a mock wave goodbye, Eddie couldn’t help but grin a bit and chuckle to himself.

“That’s one way of dealing with it,” he mused aloud.

“I’m just going to go out on a limb here, but I’m guessing he doesn’t mind so much when the press is positive. There was a time that he wouldn’t let me take any more pictures...but like you, everyone needs to pay the bills.”

Nodding, Eddie scratched his chin thoughtfully. So apparently Spider-Man was just a nice guy, who felt the need to help keep Parker from ending up on the streets. He’d always known Spidey was a good person. No matter what people like Jameson seemed to think.

“Do you know him personally? Or are you just his photographer?” Eddie asked, genuinely curious. He found Parker wasn’t nearly as irritating as most people he met, and the stunt with the ignoramus on the cell phone moments earlier had been pretty much priceless.

“Are you headed to the Bugle?”

“I am,” he responded with a nod, looking down at the laptop case he had slung around his shoulder. There were a few small stories tucked away in the case, and a couple of photographs. Though nothing quite as interesting as pictures of Spider-Man. Kind of made Eddie feel like visiting Jameson at the same time as Parker was a really bad idea. “I might not like Jameson, or the Bugle, but sometimes I don’t have much of a choice if I want electricity and running water.”

“Do you know him personally? Or are you just his photographer?”

Peter hesitated, but only because he was trying to get a bead on Eddie’s motives. After just a short hesitation he decided that he really didn’t care what the motives were. Honestly he didn’t really care if anyone knew who he was right now. Not nearly as important as he used to think it was.

“We talk,” he said shortly. “I’m not so sure how much he lets anyone know him though. I always get the feeling he’s wearing a mask.” A thin-lipped smile was all the indication he gave that he was being a smart ass.

Brock said he was going to the Bugle also, and Peter’s eyes followed his down to the laptop carrier. He wondered what Brock had in mind. “I might not like Jameson, or the Bugle, but sometimes I don’t have much of a choice if I want electricity and running water.”

Peter nodded. Oh how he could relate to that. “Tell me about it.” The elevator came to a halt. “The key with Jameson is not to let him run all over you. He does it to everyone. And whatever you do, try not to stare at his hair.”

The doors opened.

The weaselly and wiry form of one Mr. Hoffman fled through the opening doors of the elevator just as Jameson tossed the stub of his cigar at the back of the man's head. Jonah was a good twenty feet away, but damp ashes sputtered into a black halo as the stogie struck its target.

If he hadn't been so angry, Jonah would have smiled proudly at his impeccable aim.

"And don't come back until you learn it's unprofessional to try and pass off other people's ideas as your own!" Jonah shouted, jabbing his finger at Hoffman. The room around him grew silent, and Jameson looked around with fire in his eyes. The workers were staring at him. "GET BACK TO WORK!" he cried at the top of his lungs.

"Laziest bunch of so and so's..." Jonah grumbled under his breath as he turned to his assistant's desk. She, too, was staring at him. He barely noticed her jump as his gaze fell on her. "Brant!" he said. "Where's Parker? How come he hasn't brought me any more pictures of The Crystal Ball Head... Guy?" Jonah snarled, trying to remember the name they'd finally decided on. "Mysterioso?""

“We talk,” he said shortly. “I’m not so sure how much he lets anyone know him though. I always get the feeling he’s wearing a mask.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Eddie asked with a smirk of his own. So not only wasn’t Parker an idiot, but he was fairly clever as well. A person Eddie could actually have a conversation with without wanting to rip his own ears of in agitation. How novel… “I guess you need to be kind of reclusive in his line of work.”

As conversation turned away from Spider-Man and towards the Bugle, Eddie wondered if he’d be leaving the building with anything that might be considered money. None of the stories he had with him were particularly noteworthy… He’d probably have to settle for a fairly small fee considering who the editor was.

“Tell me about it.” The elevator came to a halt. “The key with Jameson is not to let him run all over you. He does it to everyone. And whatever you do, try not to stare at his hair.”

As the door opened, Eddie grinned, “Don’t let him run all over me… That might be possible. But I think you’re asking a bit too much of me to with the hair.”

"Brant!" he said. "Where's Parker? How come he hasn't brought me any more pictures of The Crystal Ball Head... Guy?"

Not a half second out of the elevator, and already he could hear Jameson ranting. Glancing at Parker he shrugged and gestured towards the editor’s office. “Looks like you’re up first.”

“I guess you need to be kind of reclusive in his line of work.”

If that wasn’t a massive understatement, Peter didn’t know what was. Reclusive didn’t even scratch the surface of how Peter Parker lived most of his life. He rarely saw anyone, rarely had any fun...never cashed in on this whole superhero thing. There were plenty of opportunities to do just that. Cashing in on being more than ten times as strong as a regular person actually presented itself to him on a very regular basis. But Peter had never taken advantage of it. Right about now he was feeling like a sucker for it.

Regardless, Peter found himself not quite hating the spiky haired Edward Brock Jr. that stood beside him in the elevator. For that reason he decided to give him a free piece of advice concerning the jackass of an editor Jameson.

“Don’t let him run all over me… That might be possible. But I think you’re asking a bit too much of me to with the hair.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when Peter had a clear line of sight to Jameson across the room from the open elevator doors. It looked like he was in his usual fine form...and his hair? Well it looked business as usual too.

"Where's Parker? How come he hasn't brought me any more pictures of The Crystal Ball Head...Guy?" People were typically scurrying about the office nervously at the sound of his voice. "Mysterioso?""

Peter rolled his eyes and looked back at Brock just as the guy spoke. “Looks like you’re up first.”

The slightest of smirks was the only answer he gave and Peter stepped off of the elevator before the doors slid shut again. “Mysterio,” Peter corrected him from across the room as he casually approached. The office took note of him, but he didn’t particularly seem to mind...or even notice their notice.

“The guy just disappeared. Maybe he was rethinking that whole outfit thing he had going on,” Peter said with a shrug when he was toe to toe with Jameson. Without another word he slapped the file of recent black-suited Spider-Man pictures against Jameson’s chest. “Spidey’s got a new look though,” he said simply.

"Mysterio," a voice said behind him. Though Jonah didn't immediately recognize the source, it certainly pissed him off. Snarling his lip and the moustache that rested upon it, he turned to see a somewhat different-looking Peter Parker approaching.

"The guy just disappeared. Maybe he was rethinking that whole outfit thing he had going on,” Parker continued with much more confidence than he'd ever seen the young man muster. Jonah's mouth literally dropped a few centimeters when the photographer slapped a folder onto his chest.

"Spidey’s got a new look though,” he said.

"Spider-Man!" Jonah blasted as soon as he recovered from his brief shock. "Who wants Spider-Man? The people are bored of him. We stick him on a cover, and I watch the people yawn as they walk past the stands." He turned and looked over his shoulder at the poster-sized picture of the red-and-blue wearing doofus with his pants split, and even that image brought him no delight. The menace was finally disappointing on every level imaginable.

Jonah tossed the folder back at Parker without even opening it. "The people want Glass Globe," he said. "That's what's selling. Simple supply and demand, Parker! Come back when you've got some pictures of that... Fishtank Phantasm..."

Shifting his gaze to the spiky-haired boy behind Parker, Jonah jabbed his finger at him. "And who are you and what do you want? And don't tell me you want a job. I have enough people wasting my time as it is..."

When the elevator opened up, Eddie had to admit he was kind of upset that he’d have to cease his conversation with Parker and go talk to Jameson. For one thing, he simply did not want to lower himself to trying to sell a story to Jameson, as the man’s ignorant, constantly aggravated nature was just plain annoying. But he also wanted to keep talking to Parker because he wanted to learn more about Spidey. Apparently this photographer knew more about the wall crawler than most people, and had even had conversations with him. Which was pretty spectacular. Eddie wished he could have the chance to talk to the web slinger.

As the pair walked towards Jameson’s office, Eddie heard the editor calling out Parker’s name. Apparently he was on the lookout for the photographer already, so Eddie gestured for Peter to go first. As much as he wanted to just get in there, try and sell an article, and get out, Eddie figured it would be better to let Jameson deal with Parker first, and then step in himself.

“The guy just disappeared. Maybe he was rethinking that whole outfit thing he had going on. Spidey’s got a new look though,” he said simply.

Eddie watched with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as Parker slapped the file against Jameson’s chest. Apparently he took his own advice about not letting Jameson walk all over him to heart. But what was this about a new look? He craned his neck a bit to look at the file, but Jameson didn’t seem interested, so he didn’t see any of the shots.

"Spider-Man!" Jonah blasted as soon as he recovered from his brief shock. "Who wants Spider-Man? The people are bored of him. We stick him on a cover, and I watch the people yawn as they walk past the stands."

Probably because none of them buy your theories that Spider-Man is secretly behind every crime in New York City. Eddie stopped himself from shaking his head in disgust. Jameson was an idiot, but that was pretty much known around the city by now. He ran a paper that wasn’t respectable enough to be real news but also wasn’t extreme enough to be a tabloid. He was a failure as far as Eddie was concerned. But he needed money, so he’d have to lower his standards.

"And who are you and what do you want? And don't tell me you want a job. I have enough people wasting my time as it is..."

A job? Resisting the urge to role his eyes or laugh, Eddie merely shook his head. “Not looking for a job. I’m a freelance journalist.”

He reached into his leather laptop case and grabbed hold of the small manila folder inside. Pulling it out he dropped it onto Jameson’s desk. “It’s an article on the recent Sin-Eater murders. Talked to the families of the victims and got some inside information on them.”

((Sorry for the wait. I couldn’t for the life of me decide what kind of story Eddie was looking to sell. Eventually decided to just draw something from 616 comics. Let me know if you need any edits.))

"Spider-Man!" Jonah barked after a brief but glorious lapse of his insistent yapping. "Who wants Spider-Man? The people are bored of him. We stick him on a cover, and I watch the people yawn as they walk past the stands."

Which clearly was not Spider-Man’s fault, but Peter didn’t care enough to point it out right now.

"The people want Glass Globe," he said. "That's what's selling. Simple supply and demand, Parker! Come back when you've got some pictures of that... Fishtank Phantasm..."

Jameson immediately turned on Brock.

"And who are you and what do you want? And don't tell me you want a job. I have enough people wasting my time as it is..."

Sitting down at a currently unoccupied desk, Peter kicked his feet up and leaned back. Watching someone else deal with Jameson was almost as tiresome as having to do it himself.

“Not looking for a job. I’m a freelance journalist.” At least Brock spoke with some amount of confidence. Being mousy only got you walked on and taken advantage of with Jameson. Peter knew that all too well. “It’s an article on the recent Sin-Eater murders. Talked to the families of the victims and got some inside information on them.”

While Jameson chewed on that, Peter gave him more to think about.

“That’s not going to work for me,” he said while inspecting his nails. “You see...I’ve been getting offers from other papers. Some of your competition seems to think Spider-Man is still hot property.” He looked down at the desk he was sitting at. “I’ve always wanted my own desk...”

(whoops, not logged in!)

"Spider-Man!" Jonah barked after a brief but glorious lapse of his insistent yapping. "Who wants Spider-Man? The people are bored of him. We stick him on a cover, and I watch the people yawn as they walk past the stands."

Which clearly was not Spider-Man’s fault, but Peter didn’t care enough to point it out right now.

"The people want Glass Globe," he said. "That's what's selling. Simple supply and demand, Parker! Come back when you've got some pictures of that... Fishtank Phantasm..."

Jameson immediately turned on Brock.

"And who are you and what do you want? And don't tell me you want a job. I have enough people wasting my time as it is..."

Sitting down at a currently unoccupied desk, Peter kicked his feet up and leaned back. Watching someone else deal with Jameson was almost as tiresome as having to do it himself.

“Not looking for a job. I’m a freelance journalist.” At least Brock spoke with some amount of confidence. Being mousy only got you walked on and taken advantage of with Jameson. Peter knew that all too well. “It’s an article on the recent Sin-Eater murders. Talked to the families of the victims and got some inside information on them.”

While Jameson chewed on that, Peter gave him more to think about.

“That’s not going to work for me,” he said while inspecting his nails. “You see...I’ve been getting offers from other papers. Some of your competition seems to think Spider-Man is still hot property.” He looked down at the desk he was sitting at. “I’ve always wanted my own desk...”

The spiky-haired man who looked like he should still be in high school shook his head at Jonah's declaration that he'd better not be looking for a job. "Not looking for a job. I’m a freelance journalist," the baby-faced writer said.

"Congratulations!" Jameson fired back.

"It’s an article on the recent Sin-Eater murders. The boy seemed unphased by Jameson's sarcasm. It only pissed Jonah off more. He seemed to be in an especially sour mood these last few days. "Talked to the families of the victims and got some inside information on them.”

Jonah looked down at the unopened folder with fire in his eyes. He grasped the top of the folder with both hands, ready to rip the article in two and toss it on the floor. He was interrupted, though, by a sharp stinging pain in his chest. He pounded his upper chest with a closed fist. A belch escaped his lips and Jonah grimaced at the taste that carried up into his throat.

"Oh, God, I knew that fancy restaurant was a bad idea." He waved the folder in front of his face to clear the air.

"That’s not going to work for me.”

Jameson followed the sound of Peter's voice. Instead of standing nervously, Peter was reclining at a desk, his feet propped up on the wooden surface, and he was inspecting his fingernails casually. "You see...I’ve been getting offers from other papers. Some of your competition seems to think Spider-Man is still hot property.”

Jonah's face turned a deep red. His lips were pursed together tightly and his cheeks filled with air like a balloon. He wanted to yell at everyone and everything at once and his chest felt like it was on fire. Finally, his lips parted, but only sputters of words and spit issued forth.

"I’ve always wanted my own desk..."

Peter Parker was threatening J. Jonah Jameson with quitting? The man who had fired his own son from the paper on at least eight occasions before the younger had decided to become an astronaut. He raised his hand, smacking himself in the face with the folder he'd forgotten he was still holding. Jonah threw the folder at the blond freelance journalist. "I don't need any writers," he said. "But how are you at taking pic..." Jonah grabbed his chest. If felt like somebody was stabbing him a flaming knife through his heart and every blow was traveling down his arm. "Pic... pic..." he kept repeating as he stumbled backwards.

// Please, please feel free to yell for edits.

"Congratulations!" Jameson fired back.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie shook his head a bit as he handed Jameson the article. By the looks of him though, Jameson wasn’t exactly. The look in his eyes as he stared down at the article he’d handed him suggested as much. Nevertheless, Eddie found himself feeling mildly relieved. Really, he was only here for the money. Jameson’s tabloid wasn’t the respectable sort of paper Eddie wanted to be published in anyway.

But before Jameson could say one thing or another about his article, Parker jumped in again. Eddie turned to look at the photographer, cocking his head to the side. He really hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he didn’t let Jameson walk all over him, had he? The way Peter sat at Jameson’s desk, the very picture of casual, Eddie figured the photographer had no intentions of taking Jameson’s attitude today.

"You see...I’ve been getting offers from other papers. Some of your competition seems to think Spider-Man is still hot property.”

Smirking, Eddie turned to look at Jameson, wondering how the editor would react. This couldn’t be the sort of thing he dealt with on a regular day, as most of the people here seemed so terrified of Jameson they’d do pretty much anything he said. Parker was threatening to take his pictures to another paper. That would kill the Bugle. Right now the only thing they really had going for them was the fact that they were the only paper in the city that consistently got good pictures of Spider-Man.

If Parker decided to take his photographs elsewhere, Jameson would be left with nothing. That worked for Eddie… Maybe the next place Parker went would see Spider-Man for the hero he was.

"I don't need any writers," he said. "But how are you at taking pic..."

For a moment Eddie was ready to laugh at the idea of being hired as a photographer. Sure, he could take a decent picture, but he was a writer. And he didn’t plan on giving that up any time soon. Especially not for some crackpot like Jameson. But before he could laugh, Jameson was suddenly grabbing his chest and sputtering. Was the old man having a heart attack?

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to do at first. He watched the editor stumbling backwards with raised eyebrows. Jameson wasn’t exactly deserving of any sort of sympathy as far as Eddie could see… So he turned to Parker and asked rather nonchalantly, “So, should we tell someone about this?”

A delightful little smirk spread over Peter’s face as he watched Jameson bloom into color at his ‘proposal’. He was essentially asking for a job...a steady paycheck and a place to work. Just wait until Peter tells him how much he expected to make annually! Folding his hands in his lap, Peter kept smirking upward and laced his fingers together as he did.

When Jameson smacked himself in the face with the folder Peter almost laughed out loud. He tossed the folder at Brock. "I don't need any writers," he said in an overly strained voice. "But how are you at taking pic..."

The smirk on Peter’s face slipped a little as his conscience spoke up. The last several times Peter had been to his office he had heard mention of Jameson’s blood pressure. Something told him this wasn’t a fake.

“So, should we tell someone about this?”

Standing up swiftly, Peter swept everything off of the desk with one arm and with strong hands helped Jameson up onto the desk. He pressed the intercom button. “Miss Brant?” He looked up at her through his bangs. “Call 911.”

The office watched as Peter helped Jameson lie down.

“I wasn’t thinking corner office or anything,” he explained. “But a nice big desk would be nice.” Peter undid the tie and slid it off.

The world danced around Jonah. Flashes of light and dark consumed his vision. He heard things crashing onto the floor and wasn't sure if he was knocking things over or someone else was. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself lying on a hard surface, staring up at fluorescent lights.

He found himself wondering about his wife. His son. What would their lives be like without him? Would they miss him? What would be the legacy that J. Jonah Jameson left behind? Should I have been nicer? Jonah asked himself. Should I be afraid?

He heard speaking around him, though he couldn't quite make out what was being said. Turning his head, he saw Peter Parker's face looming over him.

"Par-- Parker..." Jameson grabbed Parker's chest, bunching his shirt up in a tight fist. "Parkeer..." he grunted, barely able to say the words from the tightening in his chest. His arm spasmed, pulling Peter close to Jameson's lips.

"... Anybody but Parker," Jameson whispered as he pushed the photographer away from him.

Not entirely sure how to react to the situation at hand, Eddie just stood there and watched as Parker sprung to action like some sort of licensed EMT. Looking out of Jameson’s office, he saw the secretary (Miss Brant, Parker had called her) on the phone with 911. Eyes shooting back and forth between Parker and Jameson, Eddie felt a bit unimportant. He didn’t know CPR, and he had no idea what else he could do aside from stand there and watch with something that could easily be listed as morbid curiosity.

“I wasn’t thinking corner office or anything,” he explained. “But a nice big desk would be nice.”

Eddie smirked, coming to something of a realization about Parker’s own sense of humor. It was a coping mechanism. He’d read about stuff like that, where a person cracked jokes in times of stress to help calm themselves down. Meant he wasn’t quite the badass he seemed to think he was. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with that. At least his quips were funny…

Suddenly, Jameson moved forward, grabbing onto Parker’s shirt and saying his name a few times. What the hell was going on here? Could this be revealing some sort of emotion aside from anger in the editor? Raising an eyebrow, Eddie watched (more curious than concerned), as Jameson pulled Parker closer to him.

"... Anybody but Parker,"

Eyes widening for a moment, Eddie bit back a laugh. Stepping forward, he looked down at Jameson, before looking up at Parker. Shrugging, he replied simply,“I don’t know CPR.”

“Sorry, JJ, but it looks like it’s either Parker or death.”

There was more than enough reason that Peter wouldn’t mind letting Jameson suffer here. The man had given him ample reason to not like him, but Peter also still had a very strong and persistently nagging conscience to deal with. So as Jameson lay there struggling for breath, Peter knew he had to do something. Even when Jameson ended with "... Anybody but Parker."

Eddie seemed to think the whole thing was amusing, which part of Peter had to admit that it certainly seemed like it...especially from an outsider’s point of view. “I don’t know CPR.” Oh, that must be where the funny part came in. “Sorry, JJ, but it looks like it’s either Parker or death.”

Peter shot him a look. “Remind me not to have you trying to set me up on dates.” He then looked back down at Jameson. With that big and burly moustache staring back up at him. Peter made a face as he leaned in a little. Then he paused. “Oh man, you had onions for lunch!”

Well, he had to get this over with.

Peter leaned slowly in. This was way worse than fighting Doc Ock.

In all of his years of life, Jameson had never felt as he did now. It was as if a heavy weight were resting on his chest. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to take a breath. He could feel himself losing consciousness. Waves of pain shot through him, each one more severe and mind-blowing than the previous.

Despite his efforts to push Parker out of his field of vision, the idiotic boy insisted on sticking around. Didn't he understand that Jonah didn't want Peter's goofy-looking smile and the blank stare of his eyes to be the last thing Jonah ever saw?

He turned his head. "Brant..." he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Robbie!"

Jonah looked up at Peter again, who was descending upon him. Jameson's eyes widened with horror. Peter was opening his mouth!

"Hoffman!" he cried, as the last act of desperate man. The pain in his heart seemed to triple as Parker got closer and closer to his face. Mercifully, Jonah felt himself slipping away, as if he were sliding down through his feet, just as Peter's mouth was just about to touch his.

Well, what do you know, he thought to himself as he lost consciousness. There is a God.

Though Parker clearly had some sort of idea as to what they should do, Eddie most certainly did not. While the photographer sprung to action, Eddie merely stood there, not entirely sure he should even care whether or not Jameson was having a heart attack. Good riddance and all that jazz. But as he watched Peter attempt to save the life of a man he definitely hated, Eddie thought it over a bit. God wouldn’t want Eddie thinking like this. Disliking a man for his slanderous words and generally cruel demeanor was one thing, but he shouldn’t wish death on him.

“Remind me not to have you trying to set me up on dates.”

“What? I think you make a cute couple,” Eddie replied, watching as Peter once again leaned in. He smirked a bit more as Parker made a comment about Jameson eating onions for lunch.

Though he disliked the editor of the Bugle as much as he disliked anyone these days, Eddie couldn’t stand there and watch doing absolutely nothing. But, as there wasn’t much he could physically do to help the situation, he instead stuck a hand inside his pocket, grasping his rosary beads. His fingers brushed against the crucifix at the beginning of the bead, and he began to pray in his head.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
Creator of Heaven and Earth.

Throughout this, Jameson was shouting for anyone but Parker to help him. But Eddie wasn’t really paying much attention to his words. It was up to Parker to do the saving here, but Eddie could do what he could to make sure God was on Jameson’s side (as odd an idea as that might have been).

Eddie watched, unknowingly holding his breath, as Jonah seemed to give in to his fate (or maybe he’d just passed out). He’d never been in a situation like this before. His fingers slid up to the first bead and started the second prayer.

Our Father, who art in Heaven,
Hallowed be they name.

Just as Peter's lips touched Jameson's, he felt Jameson go limp in his arms. At that exact moment the door burst open and a man with a white jacket came bursting into the room.

"Clear back!"

Peter dropped the unconscious body of Jameson onto the desk, his head slapping the wood like a bowling ball. The EMT gave Peter a look and ripped open Jameson's shirt.

With something of a disconnected fascination Peter watched as another EMT came in and they carted Mr. Jameson off. He didn't know. He didn't know if Jameson was going to be all right.

Something felt sick about the fact that he didn't care.

"I...have to go," Peter said to Eddie. He turned and stumbled out the door, his head reeling and his stomach turning from the burned in memory of onions.