Chapter Text
Peter had been working at The Daily Bugle for about a year now, and all in all, it wasn’t too bad of a gig.
Sure, he got paid for taking the most intricate selfies known to man, and his boss might’ve had a slight vendetta against his alter ego, but surprisingly, it had actually been alright as far as jobs go.
Which is why when Jameson calls him into his office on a regular Friday afternoon, he’s expecting something usual; maybe he just needs some pictures retaken, or for Peter to cover for a sick coworker.
“I need someone to come with me to L.A. next week.”
He wasn’t expecting this.
“L.A.?” Pete questioned, not entirely convinced he was hearing him right. “What’s going on in L.A.?
“What isn’t going on in L.A.?” Jameson countered, motioning for Peter to sit down in front of him. “Debauchery. Scandals. Superheroes.”
For people with certain ambitions, there are certain places they’d want to be. If you wanted to get into business or theater, then your best bet was New York City.
But if you wanted to run around in spandex saving people? California was where you wanted to be. There just weren’t as many heroes on the east coast. Vigilantes, sure. But superheroes? They were few and far between. There were actual systems in place out there, something New York could only dream of.
Unsurprisingly, Jameson seemed the most disgusted by the last item on his list, and Peter had to cover his laugh with a cough as the man continued.
“The local dispatch network is starting a program for local villains. Supposed to be a reform of sorts,” he explained, and wow, they had dispatchers for heroes? “They’re calling it the Phoenix program. And so far, it’s a disaster.”
“Ok,” Peter said, mulling over everything Jameson had explained. “So what does tha have to do with The Bugle?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Jameson smiled, a scary smile with too many teeth that brought a mean glint to his eyes. “The SDN has been talking about opening a branch right here in Manhattan. When this thing goes ass up, it’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Yeah, great. Ok,” Peter choked out. “I don’t think I can just disappear to the other side of the country for, what, a week?”
“The pay would be $1,000”
“...Let me call my aunt.”
Jameson grinned across from him. “We leave Sunday. Now get back to work.”
“Here’s your room key,” Peter shot up and fumbled for the key Jameson threw to him, letting out a short sigh of relief when he caught the cold plastic card. “And here’s your room,” He said, motioning towards the door they were stopped at. “I’m right across the hall. We leave here at 10, capiche?”
Peter muttered a half hearted ‘yes sir’ and turned to his door, pressing the card against it until a sharp ‘beep’ rang out through the hall and it unlocked. He shuffled inside, half asleep after the exhausting flight.
After explaining Jameson’s proposition to May over the phone and gaining her approval, Peter’s boss bought tickets to L.A.; one in first class for himself and an economy seat for Peter. It’d been a long flight, almost six hours as he tried to drown out the noise of a crying toddler with grainy headphones and a quickly dying phone. The ride to the hotel wasn’t much better, with Jameson droning on in the driver’s seat of their rented car. But now, all but throwing himself onto his bed for the foreseeable future, he couldn’t help but feel an ember of excitement despite his exhaustion.
Peter fell asleep just like that, splayed out on top of the covers.
“This is the last thing we need right now,” Robert grumbled, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “If you’re serious about cutting someone today, they’ll take that as the program failing.”
“‘Sides,” Chase added from the beside the door, “These fuckers are the furthest thing from media trained.”
“I know this isn’t… ideal, but it wasn’t up to me. SDN already cleared it. They’ll be here before your first shift.”
“Jesus, how many of these guys are there?”
“Just two. The head of the paper and a photographer. Have you ever heard of J Jonah Jameson?”
“...Doesn’t he run that paper in New York?” Robert asked. “The one that really hates that spider guy?”
“That’s the one,” Blazer sighed. “He might ask you a few questions, but I think he’s mostly here to talk to some of the higher ups.”
“Great,” Robert muttered, standing from his seat and stretching. “Well, in that case, I have to go convince an entire team of ex-villains to actually do their job for once.”
“Sorry, Robert,” Blazer smiled sadly, “If anyone here could do it though, it’s you.”
“Yeah, yeah, no need to butter me up, I’m already going.”
Robert shut the door behind him as he walked out, leaving Chase and Blazer to talk logistics.
As he reached his desk and sat down, scratching at Beef’s head at his feet and steeling himself for what he was sure would be the longest shift of his life.