“I got sidetracked, Mr. J.”
“Sidetracked?”
“To Niagara Falls.”
Jameson’s eyes widened and he slowly took the soggy cigar butt from his mouth. “You were in Niagara Falls, Parker?”
Peter nodded.
“Did you . . . ?”
Peter nodded.
“Well!” Jameson screamed.
“Like I was telling the lady,” Peter said. “Spider-Man and the Hulk demolished the place . . .”
“Are you saying Spider-Man’s responsible for the institute blowing up?” Jameson asked, hardly believing his good fortune.
“Um, before you start writing your editorial, Mr. Jameson, I think you ought to know that the IRR wasn’t what it claimed to be.”
The Daily Bugle publisher’s craggy face fell and it continued falling as the young photographer related the events that took place in upstate New York.
“What happened to all the people?” Cindy asked when he had finished. “They weren’t blown up with the hangar, were they?”
“No. Spider-Man cleared everybody out before he wrecked the controls. They were well clear of the hangar when it blew.”
Jameson grabbed Peter’s arm and shoved his face into the young photographer’s. “Does anybody else know any of this?”
“Only everybody who was there, I imagine.”
“You know damned well what I mean, Parker,” Jameson yelled. “Do I have an exclusive or don’t I?”
“It’s all yours, Triple-J,” Peter Parker smiled.
Jameson clapped his hands together gleefully, visions of increased circulation dancing through his head. “Robertson!” he bellowed, racing across the crowded city room toward his office.
Peter turned back to Cindy and put his arms around her. “Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”
Cindy stood on her toes and kissed him. “Right about here, handsome,” she growled playfully.
“Down girl! Lemme buy you a cup of coffee.”
Cindy Sayers pouted playfully. “I thought you loved me,” she said.
“More than my authentic Little Orphan Annie Ovaltine cup even, dear lady.”
“Then why’re you trying to poison me?”
As they walked across the city room to the coffee machine, Jameson charged out of his office and ran up to Peter, holding out his hand. “I almost forgot, kid,” he puffed. “Let me have them.”
Peter looked at the outstretched hand and then at Jameson. “Have what, you merciless giver of straight lines?”
“The pictures, stupid!”
“Pictures?”
“You been taking parrot lessons, kid?”
“What pictures?”
“The pictures,” Jameson said slowly through clenched teeth, his face slowly turning a deep shade of scarlet, “that you damned well better have taken of the Hulk and the blasted Wall-crawler tearing up that Niagara Falls complex.”
Peter grinned sheepishly. “Would you believe I . . .”
Jameson held up his hand. “Don’t say it, Parker, because even I wouldn’t believe that you’re stupid enough to be in the middle of one of the biggest stories of the century and not get any photographs.”
Peter shrugged. “Sorry about that, chief.”
The Bugle publisher merely stared in disbelief at his young employee.
“Uh, I think we’d better get out of here real fast, lover,” Cindy said softly to Peter. “Any second now, he’s going to come out of this stupor and most probably break you into several hundred little bite-size pieces and feed you to the pigeons.”
Peter nodded and, together, they hurried back to the elevators and out of the building, leaving J. Jonah Jameson standing in the center of his city room, speechless for one of the rare times in his life.
“Hey, Pete,” Cindy said when they were out on the street. “How come you didn’t get pictures anyway?”
Peter looked at her, feigning astonishment. “You ought to know better than to ask a question like that, Cindy! I was too busy helping the Hulk.”
“What?” she laughed.
“That’s right,” he said defensively. “Heck, he never would’ve been able to do what he did without me.”
Cindy was still laughing.
“It’s true,” he insisted.
“Oh, sure. And I believe in Santa Claus!”
Peter just smiled and kissed the beautiful girl on the tip of her nose. In that case, kiddo, you’re gonna be awfully surprised come Christmas morning . . .
Marvel Novel Series 11 - The Hulk and Spider-Man - Murdermoon Page 18