On the TV, JJ Jameson was sitting in a well-ironed suit. He was sparing no effort in criticizing Spider-Man in the interview column. When he was talking, his thick mustache was rising and falling, and he was spitting out some saliva, which made the woman next to him laugh. The host looked unhappy.
"That nasty pest Spider-Man is back, he's back."
"He thought he could disappear quietly and then suddenly come back. He could choose when to be a hero. He was totally wrong!"
"When I was a young kid, the city was booming and industrializing. There weren't so many super-powered criminals back then. If you wanted to rob a bank, all you had to do was bring a sack of money and a handler. Gun. There’s no need to worry that the people around you might be mutants or Skrulls.”
"It was the emergence of Spider-Man that caused New York to fall into dire straits. He attracted those super criminals, such as Doctor Octopus, Green Goblin, Sandman, and Venom. I think everyone can understand that I don't need to explain that these old enemies of Spider-Man are always It’s asking for trouble, and New Yorkers suffer because of it.”
He is worthy of being Spider-Man’s number one hater, and he wants to put such a big blame on Peter’s head.
The criminals Jameson mentioned did not become evil villains because of Spider-Man, but became evil villains before being stopped by Spider-Man. Even without Spider-Man, they would have fallen into evil, or even worse.
As for using Spider-Man as a spearhead, this is completely alarmist Jameson created in order to sell more newspapers and increase TV ratings.
Sure enough, after the report about Spider-Man was broadcast, the Daily Bugle's sales increased significantly in a single day. Jameson seized the traffic password, opened a Spider-Man column one after another and accepted interview invitations from TV media.
In the Daily Bugle News Building, in the boss's office, Jameson lit a cigar for himself with satisfaction after watching his near-perfect performance on live television.
On the board behind him was the company's rising financial report. The red line was as high as his mood. Even the employees were talking about the usually sarcastic Jameson who had been acting like a cocky rooster these days.
The secretary's voice rang on the phone: "Boss, Peter Parker is here."
"Let him in."
Peter pushed open the office door, and Jameson greeted him warmly: "Peter Parker, my best photographer, how long has it been since we last met? Two months or three months?"
The overly affectionate Jameson gave Peter goosebumps all over his body. He even stood up and gave Peter a hug, caring like an old friend he hadn't seen for a long time.
"Maybe longer, I can't remember clearly." Peter responded with evasive eyes.
Jameson asked Peter to sit down, and then he handed over a small box, which contained precious cigars that he usually refused to let anyone taste.
"Authentic Cuban products are produced in a border town in Cuba. The local farmers would rather grow cigars than food because they can be exported to the United States and sold at a good price."
Jameson introduced that his cigars were obviously more professional than his newscasting, but Peter still waved his hand and refused because he knew that Jameson would not be so attentive to him for no reason. He was essentially a miser and he was very particular about business. It's not an exchange of equal value, but a huge profit.
Like the devil, he will make you make a wish and then take more things from you.
Peter has already guessed what Jameson wants. What he can make him value is nothing more than his relationship with Spider-Man. What Jameson wants is a picture of Spider-Man.
He had already asked his interns to write many reports, but that was not enough. He lacked something more impactful and more eye-catching. His newspaper needed a picture of Spider-Man that could match the front page headline.
Sure enough, Jameson kept mentioning Spider-Man in and out of his words, and finally he said: "Peter, I remember you and Spider-Man are friends, and you are the only one who has the ability to complete this task. Do me a favor and take some pictures of Spider-Man Bar."
For Peter, it was as simple as taking a selfie. He could put on his uniform and walk around New York, take some photos and sell them to Jameson.
Considering his current depleted wallet, Peter was convinced that he should agree to him in exchange for a hefty reward, but he also wanted to earn more, and it would not be easy to pluck Jameson's iron cock.
Peter said with a firm tone that was unquestionable: "This is impossible, Spider-Man is my friend. I will not sell his photos to you, a media that speaks bad things about him, and let you criticize him wantonly."
Jameson gently advised: "You should allow others to have different opinions. We are just raising some problems that Spider-Man may cause. As for whether Spider-Man is a good guy or a bad guy, New Yorkers will naturally make their own judgments."
As a newspaper, we, the Daily Bugle, serve the people of New York. From this point of view, we and Spider-Man have the same purpose. "
Peter smiled: "Indeed, in that case, you should be willing to give those photos a reasonable price to support Spider-Man."
Jameson was surprised by this unexpected development. He thought Peter might hesitate, but in the end he would still agree to take pictures for him under his rhetoric.
But now Peter's implicit intention was to increase his remuneration. Without money, there would be no one to help him work.
Jameson thought in bewilderment that this kid had always compromised easily before. All he had to do was give him a chance to become a full-time employee and make him work obediently with a meager salary. Why doesn't this trick work now?
Next, he continued to use his words, giving Peter some empty promises just like he did to those employees.
But Peter had long seen through his trick, and his attitude was very clear. Only when you have money can you have photos. No matter how much you brag about it and how big the pie is, it's all in vain.
The key thing is that Peter knows that if Jameson refuses to buy his photos, most newspapers will be willing to pay a high price. Jameson has no other choice, either pay or wait for the opportunity to be taken away by other newspapers.
He could find no other photographer in New York who could give him what he wanted.
Jameson realized that his efforts were ineffective, and he became worried when he thought that his newspapers might not be sold and would be recycled as waste paper by the newsstand owner.
He gritted his teeth and said, "Okay, I'll increase the salary by half."
Peter shook his head.
"Twice." Jameson's teeth were about to be broken, and he could hear a squeaking sound in his mouth.
Peter still shook his head.
Jameson was a little angry: "Damn it, don't be too greedy, you are not the only one in New York who has a camera and can take pictures."
Peter calmly retorted: "But I'm the only one who can photograph Spider-Man."
Jameson knew he was right and said weakly: "Make a price."
Peter slowly raised three fingers, first in the middle, then on both sides: "One photo costs three thousand dollars, and I need to collect a deposit first."
Jameson angrily pressed the button on the phone and yelled into the receiver: "Get the finance guy in, right now."
The finance lady came in with fear. She heard from the secretary that Mr. Jameson's tone seemed very angry when he came to find her, so she acted quickly while thinking about any mistakes she had made in the past few days.
It turns out Jameson just asked her to write a check to Peter, the photographer in the office.
"I hope your photos are indeed worth that much. Give me the photos as soon as possible. News pursues timeliness."
Peter kissed the check in his hand, looked at the amount on it to make sure there was no missing zero, and said, "Don't worry, it's guaranteed to be worth every penny."
After Peter left, Jameson closed the sunshade curtains, closed and locked the office door, and closed the blinds that usually monitor the employees outside to make sure that no one would notice what was going on inside the office.
After doing all this, he sat back on his sofa and roared loudly in the office: "Peter!!!"
