Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU ) Chapter 16: Daily Bugle

[Third Person's PoV] 


“Is this thing on? Are we live, Robbie?!” a gruff voice barked from off-screen.


A man with slicked-back black hair and whitening sideburns leaned toward the camera, his voice booming.


“Yes, Jameson, we're on the air,” Robbie Robertson replied with a sigh, adjusting his tie behind the camera. The black man in the crisp white dress shirt looked like he’d already resigned himself to the chaos that was about to unfold.


Jameson cleared his throat, straightened his jacket, and glared into the camera like it owed him money. “Good afternoon, citizens of New York! My name is J. Jonah Jameson, editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle—and let me tell you something, folks—we’ve got a problem. A new problem. A menace!”


He slapped a paper down onto the desk.


“Throughout this past week, we’ve gained something—or rather, someone—lurking among us. Skulking on walls, swinging through the city like some kind of circus act, and leaving chaos in his wake!”


He leaned forward, jabbing a finger at the screen.


“You know who I’m talking about. The so-called ‘hero’ people have reported to have witnessed. But make no mistake—he’s no hero. He’s a masked vigilante, a walking lawsuit, a ticking time bomb waiting to blow up right in our faces!”


He clicked a remote, and a blurry image appeared on the screen behind him—white and blue, mid-swing between two buildings.


He leaned in, voice rising.


“Let me ask you this: What kind of man hides his face behind a mask? One with something to hide! That’s what kind. This… This… Man-Spider swings into situations, plays the hero, then vanishes without even leaving a name behind. How convenient.”


Jameson straightened his jacket.


“Just this week, he swooped in and saved a falling elevator full of tourists—oh yes, sounds heroic, doesn’t it? But nobody asked how he got there. Nobody questioned why he was crawling around the upper levels of a private building in the first place. That's trespassing, people!”


He gestured wildly, the veins in his neck starting to bulge.


“He’s dressed head to toe in some flashy blue and white bodysuit—skin-tight, of course, because why not add indecency to the list? There has been No ID of this man. Just a faceless figure clinging to walls and swinging between buildings like a jungle animal!”


Robbie muttered under his breath, “Here we go…”


“He can climb up walls, lift cars over his head, swing through traffic like he owns the air! Who gave him permission to operate above the law? Not the mayor. Not the NYPD. Nobody! And we’re just supposed to let that slide because he helps a few cats out of trees and stops a mugger once in a while?”


He picked up a stack of papers and waved them in front of the camera.


“I have reports—eyewitnesses—saying he’s appeared on rooftops, inside locked construction zones, even hanging outside children’s schools! Who’s to say he hasn’t already used those bizarre abilities for personal gain? Bank vaults? Security codes? House break-in?! We wouldn’t know, because he vanishes before anyone can question him!”


Jameson paused, staring daggers through the lens.


“He is a growing menace to our society, and it’s about time you people wake up! You’re blinded by his so-called ‘heroics’—but beneath that mask is someone who has no respect for boundaries, no legal oversight, and no accountability.”


He exhaled, then added with biting sarcasm, “But sure, let’s all cheer for the wall-crawling acrobat in spandex. That’ll work out great for us.”


He leaned back with a grunt. “You mark my words, people—This… This… *Spider-Man* is not your friend. And if we don’t stop him now, we’ll be paying the price when it's too late.” 


Jameson cleared his throat and straightened the stack of papers on his desk with a sense of theatrical gravitas. “Now, before I wrap up this segment,” he said, looking directly into the camera, “The Daily Bugle is officially offering a reward of $1,000 to anyone who can capture a clear, high-quality photograph of this so-called Spider-Man. You heard me right—one thousand dollars. That’s it for now, folks. This is J. Jonah Jameson, signing off.”


…


Jameson wasn’t the only one caught up in the frenzy surrounding the mysterious vigilante. In just a single week, the phenomenon of Spider-Man had spread like wildfire across New York City. He was the center of every conversation—discussed in cafés, whispered about on subway platforms, debated on online forums, and speculated on by late-night TV hosts. Though his presence was new, he was already beginning to take on the aura of an urban legend, a ghost swinging through the skyline.


Each day, more people were becoming aware of this elusive figure. Stories circulated about his acrobatic feats, his ability to cling to walls, and his spider-like agility. They said he wore white and blue, moved too fast for the eye to follow, and vanished just as quickly as he appeared. No one knew who he was, but everyone was talking about him.


Late into the night, in a dimly lit bedroom illuminated only by the glow of computer monitors, Danielle sat comfortably in her gaming chair. Her legs were folded beneath her, clad in soft pajama shorts, while a sleeveless shirt hung loosely on her shoulders. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and a pair of oversized glasses rested precariously at the tip of her nose.


On her screens were blurry images—fragmented screenshots of what looked like a white-and-blue blur mid-swing through the city. Danielle squinted at one of the pictures and groaned, “If you’re going to try and snap a picture, at least do it right,” she muttered with visible annoyance.


With a few quick clicks, she exited the amateur photos and launched a custom-coded program. Her fingers began dancing over the keyboard at lightning speed, typing with mechanical precision. Tabs opened and closed, windows popped up and vanished as streams of data flooded her screens. After several minutes of typing, she hit the Enter key with purpose.


The monitors flickered briefly before stabilizing. Now, instead of static images or webpages, each screen displayed live feeds from different security cameras across the city. Danielle leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with focus as she clicked through various angles, rewinding and fast-forwarding footage from traffic intersections, building rooftops, and alleyways—anywhere a swinging figure might have passed by unnoticed.


She spent several minutes combing through the feeds, growing more impatient by the second. Her chin rested on her palm, and her eyelids drooped slightly. The hunt had begun to feel like a dead end—until suddenly, her posture stiffened. Her eyes snapped wide open.


“There,” she whispered.


She quickly rewound the footage, heart beginning to race. In the corner of the screen, just for a split second, a white-and-blue blur streaked through the sky. Her smile spread slowly across her face.


“Found you,” she said, eyes glittering.


Clicking rapidly, she switched to a different camera angle nearby and caught a clearer view of him. Spider-Man extended one hand mid-swing and launched a webline before soaring around a corner.


Her fingers moved with renewed excitement. She followed him frame by frame across the city as he zipped through the skyline. Then, she saw him dive downward—straight toward a jewelry store.


Danielle’s eyes widened again, and she typed a few quick commands. Her monitors shifted, pulling up the internal surveillance cameras of the jewelry store. Multiple angles appeared on-screen, and she watched with breathless anticipation.


There he was—Spider-Man.


He moved with an effortless fluidity, leaping and flipping through the store as he took down two would-be robbers. One wore a green-striped shirt, and the other a bulky grey hoodie. They didn’t stand a chance. He immobilized them in seconds, entangling them in webbing with the same efficiency as a spider wrapping up its prey. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he stuck them to the ceiling like decorations.


Danielle couldn’t tear her eyes away.


“So cool…” she breathed, smiling uncontrollably. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and leaned in even closer.


Her fingers began typing again. She was already building something new—an advanced tracking program. One that would scan all the city's public camera feeds for any sign of Spider-Man. Every time he appeared on video, she would know.


Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses as code scrolled across her screens.


“Let’s see where you go next…”