"Parker!" the voice of J. Jonah Jameson rang throughout the Bugle. Ears pricked and head turned towards the closed door to the boss's office. Even amongst the noise of hundreds of ringing phones and people talking, Jonah's voice was clear and cutting through the monotonous din.

And annoying, Peter thought with a grimace. I swear he has some kind of superpower in his voice. Was he bitten by a genetically altered megaphone?

Sighing to himself, Peter gave a polite smile to the person sitting beside him.

"Well, Robbie, duty calls," Peter said.

Robbie Robinson gave Peter a pat on the back. "Don't get him more agitated, Peter."

"Robbie!" Jonah called out, "in my office, and Parker, if you don't get in here in two point sixty-nine seconds, I will—"

Both Peter and Robbie gave tired sighs. They both got up from their little chat. Peter followed with Robbie in front and gave the secretary Betty Brant a quick nod while entering. Betty gave him a wide smile.

"Good luck," Betty said.

Peter snorted with a smile. I really need it.

Peter entered the office and immediately scrunched his face at the heavy smell of cigar. Inside Robbie stood beside the man sitting behind the desk. His face was obscured by the dense smoke, and only the burning tip of the cigar and the Hitler mustache penetrated the cloudy veil of cancer.

God, if Jonah went bad, he could give the Kingpin a run for his money.

"Parker!"

"Reporting for duty, boss," Peter said and gave a mock salute.

"Cut the antics, Parker," Jonah said, standing up. "You are twenty, not ten. Where are my photos of Spiderman?"

"I don't have them," Peter said.

"Well, why are you looking at me? Want to marry me? Bring them to me at once."

"They are not at home either."

"What!" Jonah said, veins starting to pop on his forehead. "I give you one second to tell me why you are showing me your face inside my office without what I want before I throw you out to the streets and fire you!"

Peter put his hands up in a calming manner. Jonah, understanding Peter's intention, did no calming down whatsoever. He just became more furious.

"Mr. Jameson, today I have something better than Spider-Man," Peter said with the smooth voice of a salesman. "Even a temperamental person such as you will be unable to deny what I have brought."

"Enough with the flowery speech," Jonah said.

"As you would beseech, I shall heed thy wish," Peter said, getting a chuckle out of Robbie.

Before Jonah could burst an artery and make the world a better place, Peter took out a set of photos, and Jonah swiped it before Peter could say another word.

Jonah looked at one after another. On the first photo, his frown lessened; on the second one, the protruding vein went back inside his forehead; on the third, he quirked an eyebrow; and at forth, he smiled wide and hugged Peter. But, unfortunately, there were only three photos.

"These," Jonah started, making a difficult face. "When did you—doesn't matter. These are… satisfactory."

"Just satisfactory, Mr. Jameson?" Peter asked, making an innocent face.

Jonah growled. He didn't like when people played jokes on him, and certainly not from his subordinates, and adamantly not from the likes of Peter Parker. Still, he could not deny the pictures were of high quality. And he liked them. Screw that, he loved them! But now, he knew what was coming, and he would be damned if he let a cheeky, impudent, barely adult, college studying photographer get the best of him, a self-made owner of the best newspaper in America.

Jonah took a drag of his cigar in anticipation. Peter dropped the smile and hardened his eyes.

"Mr. Jameson."

"Parker."

Robbie looked between the two and shook his head. They are at it again.

Jonah made the first move. "Fifty."

"One fifty," Peter countered.

"What!" Jonah's near superhuman shout reverberated off the walls of the office. "You want fifty for each of them? Nonsense! Take sixty and leave."

"One fifty," Peter repeated.

"Listen here, you would be lucky to get thirty for them, Parker."

"Then, I think I should take it up with the Globe."

"You want to betray me, Parker?" Jonah said, pointing a seething finger at him. "Well, you are fired!"

"You can't fire me."

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't work here. Freelance, remember?"

Jameson gave a growl of understanding.

"Again, one fifty," Peter said.

Jameson gave a growl of anger.

"Seems I am taking it with the Globe."

Jonah sat down on his chair. With a murderous gaze set squarely on Peter, he took out his checkbook from the drawer. and without taking his eyes off of him, he filled out the cheque with uncanny precision. He then tore out the paper and gave to Peter, not even blinking.

"Here," Jonah said, gritting his teeth. "Now get lost!"

"Thanks, Mr. Jameson," Peter said and skipped away. On his way out, he gave a high five to an ecstatic Betty Brant.

Jonah pressed his secretary's call button on his desk. "Ms. Brant, if you want to keep your job, I hope you do not get too much friendly with that Parker brat."

"Yes, boss," Ms. Brant's voice came through the phone in a sing-song voice.

Jonah nearly broke the button ending the call. He slumped in his chair. "Today's generation," he muttered.

Robbie took a look at the pictures left by Peter and was surprised and amazed.

"These are great shots," Robbie said.

Jonah huffed. "They are good, alright. Still, one fifty is daylight robbery."

Robbie ignored Jonah's plight. He went on.

"Your son really showed quite some talent yesterday. I didn't know he played football."

"He played it in college. He was great at it, still is," Jonah said and the pride in his voice was unmistakable.

The pictures showed the football match yesterday and his son winning the match. His son John was fantastic. The pictures were proof.

While Jonah was still thinking, his phone started beeping. Annoyed, he pressed the button. "What is it, Ms. Brant?"

"An incoming fax," the speaker called out. "From Peter Parker."

"What does the brat want now?"

"He said to tell you that it is a bonus." The line was then cut.

Jonah checked his fax machine while it printed out the photo. Jonah's frown was gone as he gazed at it. Robbie was delighted.

"When did he click that?" Robbie asked, amused.

Gently, he picked up the picture out of the machine, and his eyes lighted up with great fondness and a warm smile broke through his ever-present frown.

The picture was taken right after the match. In it, he had his hand draped over his son, while his wife Martha hugged John who still in full football gear. "Parker, you sentimental fool," Jonah said under his breath.

#

Hope that brightened up Jonah, Peter thought, smiling to himself. Now I have an aunt's birthday to plan for.