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Betty Brant

The Offices Of The Daily Bugle

Slender fingers type precisely as the brunette's eyeline drifted through the crack between her monitors into the office of the Editor-In-Chief, watching as J. Jonah Jameson kept clicking and harumphing from his own desk.

Subscriptions had been down, advertising revenue had been down.  The Bugle had already lost many of it's more prominent journalists to other publications who had offered more.  Those who remained, generally did so for reasons other than pay - whether it was a sense of loyalty and or opportunity that was provided to them by a true reporter spirit even if his reputation had started to decline as he had to make more decisions from the 'Big Chair'.  Reporters like Ben Urich, whose own best days were behind him, but felt truly indebted to Jonah for the opportunities granted him.

Curiosity and boredom got the better of her and she went into screen mirroring and began to backdoor into his computer.  She rose to her feet and asked sweetly.

"Jonah?  I might do a coffee run, can I get you anything?"

She entered his console's details and password which she had access to for her extensive administration duties, and held her finger over the 'Enter' key waiting for J.J. to take his eyes off the screen and waited the gruff response she knew would be coming.

"Coffee run?  From petty cash?!"  His eyes went wide as he turned to face the young admin girl, watching his finances circle the drain.  She tapped the 'Enter' Key, and if he weren't distracted he'd have screen briefly turn black and announce mirroring had been activated.  

"At FOUR PM?  Someone just went out at TWO!  Do I look like I'm made of money, Brant!?  Get your kicks and fixes in your own time!"  He finished with an unintelligible growl.

"Yes, Mister Jameson."  She offered sweetly.  Re-taking her seat, and watching her right screen, where Jonah's actions all played out in front of her.

He was visiting a page called 'Tech/Sci: Amazing Fantasy or the World of Tomorrow' for some reason.

She continued to type out office-wide memos and perform human resources tasks that would normally be undertaken by a full team in a fully staffed office, whilst her attention strayed to what Jonah was looking at on the right screen.  His cursor began to stray to click on a blog, a video was about to load when...

"Ah.  I see young Mister Parker made an impression..."  he voice came from behind her.

A rapid boss-key and suddenly the right screen went blank.

"I'm sorry, Mister Robertson?"

"Oh no.  You needn't be.  I was just saying, he must have made an--"  He stopped as the screen flickered a message across the top of the right screen.

SCREEN MIRRORING DISABLED

"Hmm."  He ran a scrutinous eye over the young administrative officer.

"I am SOOO sorry, Mister Robertson."  Betty apologized forcefully.  "You won't tell Mister Jameson, will you?"

"No...  No, I won't tell Jonah."  And he wouldn't.  Betty Brant was not only generally trustworthy, she was quite frankly an integral part of the day-to-day running of the paper, and filled numerous roles herself, which was one of the main reasons the publication had still managed to stay afloat.

"Just tell me... how's he been behaving whilst he's been looking at that page he's in?"

"Mister Jameson?  A lot of grumbling, some harumphs, a few grizzled mumbles."

"Could a secretary give a translation?"

"It was the same way he reacted when Ned Leeds won that 'Nellie Bly Cub Reporter' award for the New York Press Club that you wrote his tenure letter for.  When he got worried that he was going to renegotiate his contract or watch him jump--"

Robbie offered only a considered "Huh..." in reply.

"So this Mister Parker, is he a Pulitzer winner?  Disgraced big name writer from elsewhere who needs to start over on the cheap?"

"No.  Nothing like that.  So you're saying he hasn't come in yet..?"

"No, sir."

"He'd probably want to pretty soon, or Jonah won't like that at all.  Hmm...  Better go see what all of the grumbling is about then, I guess.  He's probably just trying to figure out the best way to use him."  Robbie steeled himself for a full face of bluster and walked into the Editor-in-Chief's office.

"Well, if he's not a Pulitzer winner or star writer, what made you ask if he made an impressi--"

The door closed behind him.

"Oh."

She settled back down to work.  Betty had been a mainstay at the Daily Bugle ever since her mother's passing.  Her mother being one of the most brilliant and tenacious journalists that J. Jonah Jameson had ever known.  He'd long felt indebted to her for her efforts at the paper which stretched back as far as when Jonah himself was just a beat reporter, before he'd gradually bought in more and more to have a controlling interest as the paper's own value dwindled and became a monument to obsolescence.

She'd been working behind a desk here since she was fifteen, and at the 'guard tower' before Jonah's office within the year, that was two years ago and her role had only grown.

Jonah felt indebted to teach her the ropes and make her a crack reporter like her mother had been.  Only her role had grown so much, and she'd taken on so much of the fundemental day-to-day operations that her presence was too indispensable to actually let her work any real stories or be paired with a reporter.

The elevator at the end of the newsroom opened and out stepped a nervous youth in a white office shirt, sportsjacket, tie and pants.

He slowly edged past each row of desks, looking around as if unsure where he was supposed to go as people kept working at their desks.  Nobody raised their eyes or turned their heads to meet him, so he kept moving forward row by row until he hit Betty's desk - his brow raised with relief as he saw the editor's name on the door of the office behind her.

"Oh, great!  Umm...  I need to go in there.  I-- uh, just started working here... at the Daily Bugle."  A smile creased across his face as he said the full name of the publication.

"I'm Peter Parker."

He was perhaps a year or two younger than Betty herself, perhaps a year older than she was when she left school and started working here, where her mother used to.

"I'm getting the sense that what Aunt May suggested I wear to make a good first impression has me wildly overdressed..."  He muttered to himself anxiously, looking around the office.

"Not that you don't really look nice in what you're wearing!"  He stumbled back over himself.

Smooth...  She thought to herself, an amused smirk crossing her face.

"Riiiight..."

"I--uhh-- I have some paperwork with me.  Uhmm.  Mister Jameson said I was supposed to bring this in.  Oh... and-- umm... I have this too!"  He produced a slightly smudged sheet of A4 lined paper which he slapped down on her desk, unsure of the submission process but trying to have confidence in his work.

"Err-- first... story..?  Or article?  Or news bit or whatever?"

"Copy."  Betty corrected.

"Roger-dodger, over and out?"  He snapped back too quickly to have put any thought in.

Her smile widened.

"No it's-- it's called 'copy'."  She clarified kindly.

"Okay...  I've got to be honest.  I've never worked--"

"In a newsroom?"

"Yeah, that either..."  He looked around, feeling certain he was making an ass of himself he was making on his first impression, and hoping for minimal witnesses.

"It's okay.  I'm Betty.  I handle most of the administrative work for the paper, and a fair amount of the human resources and general daily operations work as well."

"That seems-- like a lot."

"Well, it keeps me busy.  And between you and me, Peter, I happen to be very good at it."

He returned a warm smile and was about to respond when--

"I-- uh--"

"PARKER!  Is that you out there?!  Quit chatting up the admin girl and get your butt in here!"

The pair immediately started blushing, turning away from one another.  Before Peter started stammering.

"I wasn't-- I mean-- I--"

"This is why you don't hire kids, Robbie!  It's all puberty and hormones in here!  PARKER!  Don't make me say it twice!  Get in here!"

"Brant!  I want these office plants rotated!  Get me something that absorbs pheromones!"

"I... don't think that's a thing, Mister Jameson."

His reply followed an unintelligible growl.

"I don't pay you for 'I don't think', Brant!  Research!  If it exists, I want them here by Friday!  Unless-- they're that giant flower that smells like rotting meat.  Anything else, get it in here!"

Peter went inside and the door closed behind him.

 S P I D E R - M A N
S P I D E R - M A N

Gwen Stacy

New U Technologies Laboratories

"Now you do know how to properly clean those flasks and test tubes, yes, Ms Stacy?"  Doctor Connors asked.

"I know that can SOUND patronising, but in your early days in particular it is important that you understand there are no such things as dumb questions, or overthought processes.  It is a rare opportunity that high school interns ACTUALLY get such a hands-on opportunity in scientific endeavour, and trace residue from irregular cleaning habits can be a leading cause of variables in experimentation."

Curt Connors was a kind man, if a little overwrought and fastidious in his explanations.

Of course being the head scientist in charge of a project, as well as an internship mentoring the elite young scientists of tomorrow, there were worse faults to have.

"Do you use an acid or a base pre-rinse here, Doctor Connors?  And I'm assuming it's then soap and water and rinse with the distilled water."  Gwen replied.

"THREE TIMES."  He clarified, now pushing the bounds of patronizing.  "Three times with distilled water, and yes we use an acid pre-rinse.  Still impressive, not all laboratories are the same, and I'm impressed you at least knew the points of difference."

As if on cue, a teenager crossed the floor, quickly put his bag in an open box locker and took off his sportsjacket and replaced it with a lab coat.

"Certainly the most impressed by our two interns this year."  Doctor Connors remarked.

"Hi-- yes-- hey.  Sorry about this, Mister Connors--"

"DOCTOR Connors."

"Doctor Connors.  Sorry."  He corrected, clearly flustered from the situation and his rush to get there.

"I just started a new job so that I could afford to begin this internship.  It's remote and I don't normally have to go into the office, but today there was an orientation, they put my details on HR file-- you don't... care about the details... but it was a one off, sir.  It won't be happening again.  I'm really sorry about this."

"Well, you're going to have to make up everything that you missed.  Understand as well, that I am not very happy.  This position is an incredible privilege that most in your position would revel in the opportunity.  You haven't made a very good first impression."

"Yes sir, I'm sorry."

"Yes, so I heard.  Just do better."

The boy looked over at the other teenage girl intern and attempted to retrieve the same collection of apparatus that she had in front of her.  She tried to shake her head with subtlety, but he didn't see until he had already got it and returned to a bench.

"Mister Parker, if you had BOTHERED to ask, you would have realised that the collection of test tubes and flasks in front of Ms Stacy, that you have attempted to copy from, are in need of a clean.  You may as well clean them now as well, since you've soiled them."

He should have known.  The second he realised we didn't have gloves it wasn't going to be actual experimentation.  It's a private laboratory.  Gwen thought to herself.

He certainly wasn't projecting a very good first impression.

As Doctor Connors had his back turned he quickly asked in a hushed whisper.

"Quick!  What did I miss?"

"The lockers, the emergency contact numbers, where the toilets are and the in-house method for cleaning test tubes and flasks - acid pre-wash, soap and water, three times distilled water rinse."

The youth dared to turn and look at her whilst Connors back remained turned.

"Thanks.  Peter.  Midtown High."

"Gwen.  Standard High."

The two students worked the rest of the evening in relative silence, both hoping to find their way to Empire State University.

Felicia Hardy

Penthouse Apartment - Unlisted Private Dwelling - Midtown, Manhattan

"No.  You're not coming."

"But Daaa-aaaad..."

Felicia pouted.  It did nothing in the face of the stern face before her.

"I do the work so you don't have to... and so that you can go to that fancy school.  Empire State wasn't cheap... and neither was the donation that saw them look at you twice despite where your grades were.  The least you could is get those grades back up now you're in the door."

"So if I get my grades up..?"

"Then maybe we'll talk about it...  I don't like it, but one day you're gonna be your own woman, making your own choices.  But while you're under this roof, it's my rules.  So no, you're not going out until those grades go up.  And that includes that frosh party on campus...  But I don't know how you'd think you could come out on the job wth me anyway when you're failing electronics.  I mean electronics, Flick, how do you think you'd do what I do if you don't get through that in the first place?"

"Alright, alright...  I'll get my grades up in electronics.  If I'm passing that THEN can I come out and join you?"

She pitched the negotiation with the corners of her mouth curling into a sweet smile.

The older man shook his head and sighed.  "We'll talk about it..."

"Thank you, Daddy!  Oh!  Would you be willing to pay for a tutor to help me get on top of things?"

Walter Hardy waved a hand across her fully furnished bedroom, the decor fitted with everything and anything the younge blonde girl had wanted over the years.

"Does it look like I'd say 'No' to you, Flick?"  He replied.  He had an idea how this was going to play out.  Some boy or another getting manipulated into pandering to her whims, he'd be introduced to some sucker who'd then be in their house doing her homework and getting strung along through the Felicia Hardy experience until he'd worn out his usefulness.  "Door stays open, Flick."  He dropped his one ground rule.  

He doubted it was required though.  Half the fun was in playing the guy in the first place.  He hated thinking about his little girl in those terms, but he wasn't born without eyes, and if he was honest with himself it was likely his fault in the first place that she saw the world that way in the first place.

"Of course, Daddy.  I'm just getting a tutor...  Gaaaawd..."  She rolled her eyes.

"Mmm."  He murmured, leaving her to her devices.  Walter had to prepare for another night's work.

Felicia scrambled for a bag.  A tutor on short notice.  Very short notice.  The sooner she could find a rube to get her work caught up, the sooner she could go back out with her father.  Feel the night on her face.  Learn the real family trade.

"Where is it..?  Where is it..?"  She dug through her school bag, she'd had someone recommended by a teacher.  A scrap of paper.  The guy's name and phone number.  'Paulie'?  "Ah-ha!  Here!"  She pulled the loose scrap from her bag, and lay on the bed with the piece of paper, pulling her phone off of the bedside table.

She dialed the number.  She sat with impatient boredom as it rang until a voice picked up with a vague--

"Hel-lo..?"  The voice on the other end asked, clearly not knowing who to expect from the unrecognised phone number.

Suddenly a tearful anxiety entered Felicia's voice that never met her eyes, as her posture remained bored on the bed.

""Hello?  Is this...  Peter Parker?  Hi, my name is Felicia Hardy-- and-- and I really need help.  I'm taking freshman electronics at Empire State University, and I got told by my teacher that he's gonna flunk me if I-- I-- don't get a good score on my next-- my next-- oh God..."  Sobs and tears never breaking the eyes.

"Well, the thing is...  I kind of recently got a new job, and I've started this internship, and between that and my... extracurriculars, I'm kind of time-short at the moment.  I actually thought I took my number down from all of the noticeboards I had it listed on..."

"Please-- please I really need your help--!"  She winced a little at herself in the mirror, laying it on too thick.  But boys were easy.  A little damsel mixed in and he'd come running.  "I'm local!  And I can't fail this class.  Oh please!  I'll send you my address now!"

She hung up the phone before he could further try and plead his way out of it.

She stood up from her bed, opened up a message to his phone number and dropped a pin for her location.

"Aaaaand, just a little nudge."

She grabbed her electronics text books from her bag and looked at herself in the mirror.  She tried three different puppy eyed pouts in the mirror before making her decision to go with the second one.  She licked her fingertip just to add a little extra moisture to the corner of her eye, before posing with her books folded in one arm under her chest, as she wore a pink-t with no bra, lifting the books underneath her chest 'just so' and taking a selfie of her perfectly posed look to add to the message.

The reply was almost instant.  She snorted at the suddenness of his reply.  "Too easy..."

"Yeah, I guess.  I mean you got the number, and it's only Electronics.  Be there in fifteen."

"Yeah, you will..."

Mary Jane Watson

The Watson Household, Forest Hills

"Are you all unpacked, Mary Jane?"

"Getting there, Aunt Anna."

"Well, if you need anything, let me know.  You know you can stay here as long as you like."

Mary Jane Watson was relieved to finally be able to unpack from the cases.  She'd been bouncing around various places and friends homes for a few months now looking for something, anything more stable.

Out there, somewhere, her mother and sister were struggling to make ends meet in that house.  Her family threatening to drown her with their presence.  She had to get out, however she could.

She related with how her mother must have felt when she decided to up and leave Philip after he hit her sister.  She'd obviously never say it to their faces, but the sense of self-preservation felt much the same, even if it was under the weight of expectation rather than assault.

She'd never be able to be herself in that place.

She had little doubt that eventually Aunt Anna would let it slip where she was holed up, but until that day she had time to prove herself useful and buy back her freedom.

If she could get paying work, put together a decent enough amount, maybe they'd leave her alone if she sent back money to her mother and sister.  See the value in letting her live her life elsewhere.

The thought made her feel guilt.  But the guilt didn't mean she wasn't justified.

Her sister had been using her as free childcare for too long.  Somehow, despite her sister having two children, she was able to keep more of her free time than the little sister M.J.

Finding work, re-enrolling to try and finish high school.  It all seemed daunting, but still not as constrictive and frightening as the thought of either of her parents finding her and dragging her back.

"You know what you could do while you're here?  I think it would be ever so sweet.  May Parker has this nephew--"

"Aunt Anna,"  She giggled.  "Can't I just unpack before you go looking to set me up with the local eligible bachelors of the season?  This is Forest Hills, not Bridgerton."

It was just what she needed, the solution to every woman's problems as she could tell from her mother and sister.

A man to tie herself down to within hours of setting down in New York.

She loved her Aunt Anna, but she did wish she'd have a bit more sensitivity for her situation, all things considered.

"There's plenty of time for your free-living and fancy free niece to meet the local suitors, but just let her get settled first."  She tried to cover her sincerity with a free-spirited laugh.

Aunt Anna poked her head back around the corner through her room.

"You're right, I'm sorry.  I'm just so glad to have you here.  I might be a little over-eager to show you off.  May is such a sweetheart, and she just talks about her nephew so much and he's your age, I just thought--  Forget I mentioned it.  It's the last you'll hear about it."

"That's okay, Aunt Anna.  I'm glad to be here too."

But it was not the last she'd hear about it.  Not even close.

Felicia Hardy

Penthouse Apartment - Unlisted Private Dwelling - Midtown, Manhattan

Peter Parker was very much not what she expected.

Walter actually laughed out loud when he answered the door to the fresh-faced wide-eyed youth.  The boy may as well have been damn near twelve, for how young and innocent-looking he'd appeared.

She is going to eat this boy alive...  He thought to himself, as he provided introduction and directed him through the house to where his daughter would be.

"Can I get you anything to eat or drink, before you start?"

"Oh, uhh... no sir, I kind of want to get this done as quick as possible.  See, I'm expected back home.  I called and told them I'd be late, extenuating circumstances and all.  But yeah, I kind of just have to help her get back on track and get home in a hurry."

Walter laughed out loud again at the earnesty.  "Geeeeeeez..."  He uttered without further explanation.  Barely able to believe the kid was for real.

The younger man was led through the house and to Felicia's room.

"Tutor's here, Flick."

She turned, trying to show excitement for whoever this rube Peter Parker was before getting her first look at the young man.  She was so shocked she was unable to hide her disappointment.

"Make sure you keep the door open, Flick."  Her father's voice left behind, as well as a laugh which confused the young tutor.

"Oh my God..."  She cried out.  "My tutor's a high school senior..."

He winced at the comment, not sure how to broach the issue.

"Uhh... Junior.  Senior, next semester.  I mean, if it makes you feel better, I turn seventeen in, like, two weeks..."

Her horrified expression made it clear that it did not make her feel better.

"Look, it's not that bad.  Not to toot my own horn, but I mean, I'm VERY good at this stuff.  And you're not that far behind.  You can't be.  It's freshman Electronics.  We just have to get you to 'see' it, and you'll find it easy."

She was covering her face with both hands.  She was pretty sure that he would take it as shame on her part.  In reality, she was trying not to laugh at how easy this would be.

"I jus--  I jus-- I just need to pass this next unit.  And now I find out that even a High School Junior would have a better grasp on this stuff--"

"Well, I'm not really... 'just' a High School junior.  I mean, I won Science prizes and... a job... IN the industry..."

"Could you-- could you just... DO this stuff for me?"  She sniffed.  She removed her hands from her face and hit him right between the eyes with the eyes as her mouth curled into a smile that suggested they'd have a secret, held just between them.  "Just this once..."

She reached across and rested her hand on his forearm.

Peter made an audible noise and scratched the back of his neck.

"This isn't how tutors work, Felicity"

She kept hold of the eye contact.  He broke eye contact first.

"I mean... when's this due by?"

It took everything she had to not turn her widening smile into a laugh.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow???"

"I know, Petey...  But it's just so... hard.  It takes so long for me to just get it all so wrong..."

His hand went from his neck, rising through his own head like he was flustered.  She gave him something extra to be flustered by as she arched her back as she got to her feet.

"I'll just get us something to drink, Petey.  While you think about it."

She tried to hold her laughter as she left the room.

She'd undoubtedly left him a drooling mess of pubescence back in the other room.  She decided to putter around the kitchen, leaving him wanting more of her.  If she timed it right, he'd probably beg her to let him do her work for her.  Show off that big egghead brain of his and how much he could help her.

She opened the fridge and thought about what she could have, arching her leg in contemplation as she flicked through the shelves, before grabbing a jug of juice and closing the door.

Just to find him standing there.

"Here.  I looked over your last stuff.  This should be about a 93%.  Should scrape back into passing.  Any more than that and there's no way I could pass it off as your work.  If they hit you with a pop quiz just tell them you're still very much working from the book."  He said flatly.

He didn't seem happy at all.  And if he'd been drooling over her at any point there was certainly no sign of that now.

"I don't need a drink.  Just the cash."

She hopped over to the kitchen counter where the money for the tutor was kept.  She returned to him and put it in his hands and was about to thank him when she realised he wasn't finished.

"Felicity...  Get it together.  If you want to use me for this next time...  Lose my number."

Her back stiffened with the shock of the admonishment from the youth.

She looked down at the page, as if expecting it to have some message giving away that it wasn't her own work for her teacher.

But no, it had been completed, all the way through.

"Sweet!"
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