~Editor-in-Chief's Office, The Daily Bugle~
The roar of publisher J. Jonah Jameson penetrated the walls, echoing throughout the newspaper office...
However, the staff seemed accustomed to it, as they continued their work as usual while silently praying for poor Peter Parker... not everyone could endure their boss's merciless tirades after all...
"Parker, you're fired."
Today seemed particularly unlucky for Peter. Having just lost his pizza delivery job, he now received another devastating blow.
Seeing the rookie photographer's confused expression, Jameson puffed on his cigar and threw a stack of photos onto the desk, sneering, "Dogs catching frisbees, pigeons in the park, two old men playing chess... Tell me, who the hell wants to see this?!"
Peter went on to explain, "I just wanted to show the warm side of New York—"
"Shut it! When you're so broke you can't afford a damn burger, when your landlord kicks you out for missing rent, then you'll realize how warm and fuzzy New York really is!" Jameson didn't hold back his vulgarity.
The only reason he had hired this greenhorn in the first place was because Spider-Man exclusively allowed Peter to take his photos.
"I don't pay you to be an artist. I pay you because Spider-Man only lets you snap pics of him. But that web-swinging masked hero is old news! People want Tony Stark, that playboy billionaire, or those freaky mutants!"
Jameson spoke rapidly, exhaling a cloud of cigar smoke before continuing, "Get this garbage out of my sight before I puke up my lunch!"
Peter silently gathered the photos. Life as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man wasn't easy... He had to juggle between school, crime-fighting, and part-time jobs just to scrape together rent and living expenses.
Compared to Harry who inherited a corporate empire, or Sean, who's already a celebrated genius, or even Mary Jane pursuing her acting dreams, Peter's life seemed downright shabby...
Constantly switching between insignificant Peter Parker and beloved Spider-Man left the young hero directionless, drifting without a clear purpose.
"Not even one photo? I really need the money..." Peter pleaded meekly.
"Miss Brant! Fetch me some tissues. I'm weeping from the heartbreak!" Jameson mocked mercilessly. Compassion wasn't in his vocabulary.
It was six minutes until deadline, and the front page remained empty, so the assistant editor rushed in...
With the Stark Industries frenzy fading and Tony Stark holed up in his mansion, public attention had shifted to the escalating mutant crisis.
Rumors swirled that the upcoming world leaders' summit would pass the Mutant Registration Act, establishing segregated communities to separate "dangerous" mutants from ordinary humans.
"Get out, Parker. And tell Spider-Man he's yesterday's news... He's not worth $300 a shot anymore." Jameson waved dismissively.
He agonized over the front page. Should it feature the "merchant of death's" redemption arc? The playboy's publicity stunt? Or another Spider-Man takedown piece?
"Damn it! Even Hell's Kitchen has gone quiet!" Jameson grumbled.
Daredevil, the Punisher... all those costumed vigilantes had vanished without a trace.
"Why can't those mutants just stage a city-destroying scheme already?!" The news business thrived on sensationalism!
As the dejected Peter turned to leave, the word "mutants" triggered a memory. He spun back around, digging through his bag for a set of beach photos.
"If I wanted bikini shots, I'd buy Playboy or Penthouse... they've got real skin." Jameson glanced dismissively at the generic beach scenes.
"Look at this one..." Peter pulled out a particular photo... a naked, sludge-like figure.
"A streaker? Wait– is that Senator Kelly? The Mutant Registration guy?!" Jameson's anger turned to glee.
He snatched the phone, barking orders: "Tell Grant the front page is set! Headline: «SHOCKING TRUTH Behind Anti-Mutant Crusader!» Screw Stark and Spider-Man!"
He scribbled a check and shoved it at Peter, flashing a rare smile, "Keep delivering this kind of gold instead of that 'warm New York' crap, and maybe... just maybe... you'll get a full-time gig here."
Walking out with a $500 check in hand, Peter silently thanked his old classmate Sean. It was his tip about "unexpected news material" at Rockaway Beach that had led him there.
Skeptical but desperate, Peter had spent all day photographing the shoreline. Aside from a naked mutant causing panic, nothing noteworthy had happened... That was until he realized that said mutant was 'Senator Robert Kelly' himself...
An anti-mutant politician exposed as a mutant? The irony was too rich even for the Bugle's standards.
Jameson would undoubtedly spin wild conspiracy theories; mutant infiltrators in government, secret plots... anything to sell papers. The Bugle thrived on controversy, hence its relentless attacks on Spider-Man even when he was beloved by New York.
Cashing the check, Peter wondered... 'How did Sean known Kelly would be there?'
But the young hero didn't dwell on it. With rent secured, he could breathe easier... at least until the next crisis...
...
Meanwhile, at Umbrella Labs, Sean reviewed files sent by the AI "Skynet", a cold smile playing on his lips.
The documents contained damning evidence... Worthington's horrific mutant experimentation. Bloody photos, live dissections... the atrocities that made even hardened observers recoil.
"Stryker's mutant gene database... What a treasure trove."
In this world, mutants were the key to evolution's next stage. The age of superhumans was coming, and Umbrella's rise would be built on their extraordinary gifts...