Chapter Text
The party has only just started, but Jameson’s pretty sure Harry Osborn’s already drunk. He’s stumbling around in his three-thousand dollar designer tuxedo, kissing the hands of random women.
“This isn’t one of your college keg parties,” Jameson grumbles to the kid.
“I know, JJ,” Harry smirks. “Which is why I don’t have a lampshade on my head. Chillax.”
Jameson twitches. He notes that Harry’s speaking clearly without slurring his words at all. So not drunk then, just an idiot. Jameson has to work hard to bite his tongue for once. He will not blow off on Norman Osborn’s son. But he will not “chillax” either. This is one of the most stressful nights Jameson has ever been put through.
It’s hard to remember why Jameson had been persuaded into thinking having both the commemorative party for Captain George Stacy, which he is hosting, and the spider-slayer operation, which he is also heavily involved in, on the same night was a good idea, but he recalls it having something to do with making money, and so he went along with it.
Now that the night has finally arrived -- the night of the anniversary of Captain Stacy’s death -- it seems like a horrible idea. Yes, both the party and the operation serve the purpose of honoring the Captain, by celebrating his legacy and bringing one of the men behind his death to justice, respectively, but it’s also got Jameson so worked up he can barely focus on either one.
“I’ll relax when this is all over,” Jameson says, referring to both events, although Jameson doubts Norman had let his son in on the plan to capture and unmask Spider-Man. The only people he knows are in on it are Norman, himself, a few employees at Oscorp, the news crew he dispatched to broadcast the momentous event when it was time, and of course, the mastermind behind the spider-slayer, Alistair Smythe.
Jameson gets no response, probably because he’d been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed Harry has left his side and danced his way halfway across the party. Jameson sighs, looking for someone else to talk to so he doesn’t look like some kind of weirdo loner.
He spots Helen Stacy entering -- fashionably late to her late husband’s party, and decides he should probably talk to her, seeing as she did lose her husband blah blah blah. Well, maybe he’ll at least get something he can use for a new story. He approaches her nonchalantly.
“You look beautiful tonight, Helen,” Jameson says smoothly, earning himself a sad smile from the widow.
“Thank you, Jonah,” she responds. “It was very nice of you to host this party.”
“Of course. George was a great man. A real hero.” Emphasis on the real. Not a fake hero -- masked freak -- like Spider-Man. That’s implied.
“He certainly had a lot of friends,” Helen says, looking around at the full ballroom.
“Lot of people looked up to him,” Jameson agrees solemnly. “Me included.” Jameson wonders if they’ve exchanged an appropriate amount of small talk and if it’s an acceptable time yet to get down to the juicy details. Can’t hurt to give it a try. “Now, the Daily Bugle wants to know--”
Before he can finish that sentence, he’s interrupted by the entrance of a blond young woman with a lanky brunet on her arm.
“You remember my daughter, Gwen.” Helen gestures to the girl.
“Parker,” Jameson barks at the young man beside her. “You’re late.” It’s no surprise. Jameson hired Parker six, maybe seven months ago, and in the short time he’s been employed, Parker has been on time possibly once, if that.
Peter looks at him with that deer-in-headlights look he gets a lot. “Well I, uh I--I’m here now, Mr. Jameson,” he says. His fingers find the camera around his neck and raise it to his face. “S-see, I’m taking--taking pictures and everything.” He smiles shyly. Jameson scowls and Peter gets a good picture of it.
“Oh, I forgot you work for Jonah, Peter,” Helen says.
“Y--yeah, I do,” Peter stutters. “It’s such a--such a pleasure. Really--really spectacular.” Peter says this in that way he sometimes says things where Jameson can tell there’s a double meaning to his words. Ungrateful punk.
“Well I’m not paying for you to stand around kissing asses, Parker! Take some pictures of something other than the wallcrawler for once!”
“Y--yeah, yeah. Of course, of course,” Peter says quickly.
Jameson seethes at the reminder that he’d had to hire this unprofessional kid for this event -- all of his good photographers were stationed at Oscorp for the great unmasking. Not only does Peter Parker seem completely incapable of stringing together a complete sentence without stuttering, but he usually doesn't pay Parker for his time because he seems to waste so much of it. Now here he is in a beat up three-piece suit that looks both too big and too small on him at the same time because it’s too short in the arms and legs but baggy everywhere else, and has been here five minutes and only taken one completely useless picture so far. At least it looks like he tried to comb his hair for once -- tried being the operative word, as it only looks vaguely less like a rat’s nest than normal. Jameson really wishes he didn’t have to rely on this kid.
Peter’s still not even taking pictures. He’s murmuring something to Gwen in her ear while she giggles at it.
“What’re you doing?” Jameson yells at him. “I said take pictures, not socialize!”
“Y--yes, sir,” Peter responds.
“I’m serious! Go! Get to work!”
“Yes, sir,” Peter repeats, kissing Gwen quickly before making his way through the crowd of people, stealing some food from a tray a waiter is holding as he goes.
“Hello, Mr. Jameson,” Gwen says, finally greeting him now that Peter’s gone.
“Hello again, Gwen,” Jameson answers. They’ve met before, but he hasn’t seen any of the Stacy children since their father died. “How have you been?”
“Not great,” Gwen tells him. Guess he should have expected that.
“Right, right. Sorry about your father.”
“Thanks,” Gwen responds awkwardly. Jameson thinks he should probably change the subject.
“So,” he says. “Didn’t expect you to show up with my photographer.”
“Uh, Peter and I are dating,” Gwen informs him.
“Hm,” Jameson grunts. To be honest, he can’t see why. Gwen’s a beautiful young lady and Peter...well, Peter has kind of that stretched beanpole look to him. But beyond that, Gwen’s a classy girl and Peter’s probably on food stamps. He can’t even imagine how they know each other.
“We go to school together,” Gwen adds, as if she can tell what he’s thinking. “Science magnet school.”
Jameson tries to think of another way to change the subject or even better, a way to escape to talk to someone else because frankly Gwen and Helen are boring him, but luckily at that moment it’s time for one of Captain Stacy’s co-workers to make a heartfelt speech about him, so Jameson bids the Stacys goodbye to “get a good seat.”
While some police chief Jameson doesn’t know too well drones on about the Captain’s dedication to the cause, Jameson’s thoughts wander to the spider-slayer operation. It’ll be happening soon...and then soon after that they’ll be hearing about it. Jameson had a hundred-inch screen set up so the whole party can watch the Daily Bugle’s exclusive live broadcast of the capture and unmasking of Spider-Man.
After the first speech, two other NYPD officers give speeches, and then finally the party returns to its normal state of slightly somber mingling. Spider-Man’s downfall will definitely liven this party up, Jameson thinks.
He’s annoyed to see that Gwen and Peter have found each other again, although Peter’s now taking pictures one-handed at least -- the other hand is clasped tightly with Gwen’s. Harry Osborn is trailing behind them.
“Take any pictures, Parker?” Jameson demands.
“Yeah, I uh, I got plenty of--plenty of the--the speakers and some people cried, so I took a lot of those too,” Peter responds.
“Good boy,” Jameson praises, as if Peter is his pet dog. Despite all the boy’s flaws, he usually takes good pics, even with his crappy camera. Jameson will have to make sure the kid still has a job once Spider-Man’s not around for him to go chasing after all the time.
Speaking of the devil...the spider-slayer should have been sent out by now. So, if Alistair Smythe did what he said he could and his robot is able to locate Spider-Man wherever he is, then there should be some good news soon. Jameson knows the wallcrawler won’t be able to slip away this time. Jameson’s seen the spider-slayer himself and it’s magnificent. Extremely powerful and completely indestructible.
At that moment -- just as he’s reminding himself how dangerous the spider-slayer is to anyone who gets in its way -- the spider-slayer crashes through the ceiling.
There is a great deal of screaming from the party guests as everyone runs to get out of the way of the falling debris and the giant eight-foot robot that is lowering itself into the ballroom.
“No,” Jameson mutters, completely stunned. “Not here.” The spider-slayer is standing in the middle of the party, scanning the crowd of people that have backed their way to the edges of the room.
“What’s it doing?” Helen screams in his ear. Well, either the spider-slayer’s gone rogue, or Spider-Man’s in the building. Jameson casts his eyes to what remains of the ceiling and walls, but doesn’t see Spider-Man clinging anywhere up there.
“Get your camera, Parker,” Jameson barks, before realizing the boy isn’t standing next to him anymore. “Hey! Where’d Parker go?” Jameson demands. Harry Osborn shrugs, his narrowed eyes staring at the spider-slayer as if guessing who built it.
The spider-slayer suddenly jolts toward the crowd, and the party revives itself in another fit of screaming and yelling. Jameson is rooted in his spot in complete panic. He and everyone here may be slaughtered by this thing and it will be all his fault.
The spider-slayer’s taser gun, which is mounted to the top of its massive spider-shaped form, has telescoped out and is now aimed at the front of the crowd.
Before it can fire, a red and blue blur leaps from somewhere behind him and kicks the spider-slayer in the face, sending it skidding across the floor.
“Hey, party crasher!” Spider-Man calls. “I don’t see you on the guest list.”
The spider-slayer fires its taser at him and the webslinger dodges it each time by flipping and contorting himself. There’s possibly even more screaming at Spider-Man’s unexpected entrance. People in black ties and gowns scramble to get out of the way of the hyperactive vigilante.
“WALLCRAWLING MENACE!” Jameson yells. “WHAT IN BLAZES ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
“Hey, picklepuss!” Spider-Man shouts back. “Love to chat, but I’m a little busy here,” He webs a few of the spider-slayer’s legs together as he says this, but the spider-slayer rips the webbing away and Spider-Man jumps on the robot’s back.
Jameson can feel his face going as red as Spider-Man’s mask with anger. “Get him!” he shouts to anyone who will listen. “Room full of cops and none of you brought a damned weapon? Arrest him!”
A few officers draw their guns from inside the jackets of their tuxedos and fire at both Spider-Man and the spider-slayer, but the bullets ricochet off the spider-slayer’s hull and Spider-Man dodges, leaping onto the chandelier and swinging from it. Spider-Man then takes action by quickly webbing everyone’s guns away from them and storing them on the ceiling.
“You can have those back at the end of class, boys,” he says, before returning his focus to avoiding being struck by the spider-slayer’s powerful legs. He manages to get behind it and web most of its appendages together. From there he crawls underneath it and it looks like he’s beginning to disable the robot. “Hold still for Dr. Spider-Man,” he says as the spider-slayer writhes, trying to escape from all the webbing. “Hey, is it sacrilegious to catch another spider in your webs?” Spider-Man jokes as he fiddles with the machinery. “I’m not going to have to go to spider court, am I?”
Jameson’s completely furious. This was really all the webslinger’s fault! If he hadn’t been at Jameson’s party in the first place, the spider-slayer wouldn’t have shown up here to capture him! And worse than that, it looks like he’s winning!
But, it turns out he spoke too soon, because in the next second, the spider-slayer breaks free of the webs and begins to lower itself onto the wallcrawler beneath its belly, crushing him.
“Errgh! Watch where you’re sitting!” Spider-Man yells, pushing the enormous robot off of him in a great show of strength. The spider-slayer nearly goes flying into the crowd. People run in every direction as the giant metal beast hits the wall, cracking and denting it. “I’m not paying for that!” Spider-Man informs them as he leaps over their heads. “Love the skylight, by the way,” he adds, referring to the huge hole the spider-slayer made in the ceiling.
Spider-Man flips around the room and the spider-slayer jerks in a circle, scanning for where he’s gone.
“Listen, robo,” the vigilante says from somewhere above everyone. “You’re a terrible dancer.” Spider-Man swings down. “Let me teach you the jitterbug!” With that, Spider-Man punches the robot hard on the head. It’s not incredibly effective. “Ow!" Spider-Man yells. “What are you made of, adamantium?”
The spider-slayer crawls toward him and fires its taser. Spider-Man dodges it by clinging to the ceiling.
“Okay, so you don’t want to dance?” Spider-Man asks. “You could have just said so!” From his position on the ceiling, the webslinger jumps onto the spider-slayer’s back. He taps the round lens on the head that Smythe had installed to watch the spider-slayer’s progress. “Is someone spying on me?” he questions, peering into the lens. “Whoever owns the giant spider robot, you left your lights on!” Spider-Man shouts, before webbing up the camera lens and leaping from the robot’s back to the wall behind it.
Spider-Man has tried this move before, and it almost worked, Jameson remembers, but apparently so does the spider-slayer, because before the wallcrawler can web the robot’s legs together again, it quickly turns and zaps Spider-Man off the wall with a blast from its taser gun.
“Hey, don’t tase me, bro,” Spider-Man says, picking himself up off the floor. Clearly he is more resistant to the effects of electricity than a normal human, but not entirely, as Jameson can tell he is shaken. Another few blasts and he’d probably be out cold.
“Hit him again!” Jameson can’t help but call out to the spider-slayer.
“Aww, I love you too, cutie,” Spider-Man responds, crawling up the wall he has just fallen off of and clinging to the ceiling. The spider-slayer angles its taser gun upwards and fires at him again. Spider-Man dodges the first few blasts, but that hit from the taser has slowed him. He can’t crawl away as fast with no time to recover. So eventually the slayer hits its mark and knocks the arachnid off the ceiling.
Spider-Man falls ungracefully to the floor in the middle of the empty space the crowd has gathered around.
“Hey, that’s--” Spider-Man tries to say something, but is interrupted by the spider-slayer tasing him again. And again. And again.
After five high voltage blasts from the taser, Spider-Man is probably unconscious, but for good measure, a dart gun unpacks itself from the side of the robot and hits Spider-Man with a tranquilizer dart squarely in the thigh. Spider-Man doesn’t move.
The crowd watches in stunned silence as restraints jut out from the front of the robot like mechanic claws and lock around Spider-Man’s wrists and ankles. They then retract inward, pulling Spider-Man’s limp form toward the robot. Spider-Man’s gangly form drags haphazardly across the floor, until he is in the grasp of the spider-slayer’s front pincer, which then clasps shut around Spider-Man’s narrow waist.
Once the wallcrawler is securely in the spider-slayer’s grasp, the robot takes flight, rising up through the hole it had made in the ceiling and zooming off into the night sky. The fight witnesses turned party guests stand around in confusion for a few minutes after the spiders leave, unsure of what they had just seen occur. But once Jameson finally processes it, fully realizing that he had just seen with his very eyes the capture of New York City’s biggest menace, he can’t hold it in any longer.
“Yes!” he shouts. “Yes, yes, yes!” Jameson punches the air. “Oh, isn’t this a beautiful night?” Jameson dances around the ballroom in absolute glee while everyone else has their own reactions -- some confusion, a lot of relief that everyone had survived the ordeal. Many seem to be celebrating the wallcrawler’s capture, although none as enthusiastically as Jameson. He doesn’t see Peter or Gwen anywhere, but there’s no time to be worried about that right now. He just hopes wherever Parker is, he had gotten some good pictures of that wonderful event.
* * *
A portion of the party guests leave and go home after the fight, but in Jameson’s opinion the party’s just getting started. In a way he was lucky Spider-Man is a punk party crasher, because Jameson got a front row seat for that embarrassing defeat. Sure, he’ll have to pay for the damages done to the ballroom, but it’s a small price to pay for a memory that will last a lifetime.
He calls the reporter he has covering the scene at Oscorp and brings him up to speed on all that had happened here, then goes about yelling at his tech guy to get him to get the screen ready to show the Daily Bugle’s live broadcast.
“Jonah, I can’t find Gwen,” Helen says desperately, coming up to him with quite a worried expression on her face. Jameson sighs. Why do people always involve him in their problems?
“She’s probably around somewhere,” Jameson tells her absently, checking his phone for updates from this news team.
“I haven’t seen her since the fight...” Helen’s twisting the strings of her purse into a knot in distress.
“Well, I can’t find Parker either,” Jameson responds. “Maybe the two of them went off somewhere to make out or rob a liquor store or whatever it is kids like to do these days.”
Helen casts her eyes around the room, looking for either of them, but Jameson honestly doesn’t think she needs to be too worried about it.
“Gwen will turn up somewhere,” Jameson assures her, checking his phone again. He has one new message from his news crew.
--It’s time.
Jameson sucks in a deep breath. He’s so excited he can barely contain it.
“Attention, attention, everyone,” he calls, hoping he sounds professional and not as giddy as he feels. “The Daily Bugle’s currently covering a very important news story and I think you all should see it.” He cues the tech guy to turn on the screen.
“What’s going on, Jonah?” Robbie asks him. Jameson sighs. He hadn’t told Robbie about this because even if he is his friend, his city editor is sometimes a little bit sympathetic toward the wallcrawler and Jameson didn’t want that getting in the way, but he’s going to find out anyway.
“Just following up on that spider robot story,” Jameson tells him.
The screen flickers on and shows a Daily Bugle reporter talking into a microphone in front of the door to a restricted access lab at Oscorp. The scrolling headline reads “SPIDER-MAN CAPTURED -- IN CUSTODY AT OSCORP.”
“New York City’s only wallcrawling vigilante has been restrained and is just beyond this door,” Eddie Brock is saying. “We’ll soon get a closer look, but first, how did this happen and what does Oscorp have to do with it? Well, our sources tell us that a massive robot built by Oscorp invaded the ballroom of a Manhattan hotel where a party in commemoration of Captain George Stacy of the NYPD was taking place...”
As Brock recounts the evening’s events leading up to now, Robbie mutters to Jameson, “You planned this, didn’t you?” It’s an accusatory statement, but Jameson and Robbie have known each other long enough that Jameson knows Robbie will always put up with him even if he goes behind his back and pulls stuff like this.
“Of course I did, and I’m going to be a hero for it,” Jameson tells him. Robbie sighs, and they both turn their attention back to the screen, because Brock has finished his rundown of everything that had happened at the party and is now delivering more information on the situation at Oscorp.
“Authorities say Spider-Man has been sedated, but will be conscious soon,” Brock reports. “As for what will happen to him after he is unmasked in a few minutes, he will be held at Oscorp until his trial. I’m told scientists at Oscorp wish to study his unique physiology.”
At that moment, one of said scientists pokes her head through the door behind Brock.
“He’s awake,” she says, glancing self-consciously at the cameras and adjusting her glasses. “You can come in now, but please don’t touch anything and don’t come too close.”
“This is the moment you’ve been waiting for, viewers,” Brock speaks excitedly into the microphone. “Just remember, you saw it here, on the Daily Bugle.”
The cameras follow Brock and the scientist through the door and into the Oscorp lab. Inside, Spider-Man is clearly visible in the middle of the room, strung up in an interesting contraption. It looks like a lab table that he is lying on, but its made of sturdier metal and bolted to the floor. Spider-Man’s hands and feet are completely encased in metal attachments on the table and there are also thick bands of metal strapped around his arms, legs, waist, chest, and collared around his neck. The only part of the wallcrawler that he seems to be able to move is his head, which is angled toward the cameras as he watches the news crew file in.
“Be sure to film my good side, guys,” he jokes, still sounding a bit groggy from the drugs. Brock ignores Spider-Man’s comment and continues to do his job.
“For those of you just tuning in, we’re here at Oscorp where we have Spider-Man in captivity and are about to unmask him with all of America watching.”
“That’s not very fair,” Spider-Man interjects. “I haven’t been to hair and makeup yet. How would you like that, glossy gus?”
Brock unconsciously brushes his hand quickly over his perfectly combed hair, and face that’s been made up to look like naturally clear skin, before resigning himself once more to ignoring Spider-Man and continues.
“Spider-Man has been a wanted man for over a year now, for his activities as a vigilante and connections to the murder of Captain George Stacy.”
Brock steps a bit closer toward the scientist he came in with. The camera follows him, while still keeping Spider-Man in the frame -- whose head is now looking slightly upwards as if he is rolling his eyes at such accusations.
“Dr. Warren,” Brock says. “Can you tell us a little about what you know about Spider-Man so far?”
“Well,” says Dr. Warren, adjusting her glasses again. “We know he is extremely dangerous, which is why we have taken certain precautions to keep him restrained here at Oscorp.”
“Could he possibly escape from his restraints?” Brock asks in a slightly worried tone, glancing furtively at Spider-Man.
“It is extremely unlikely that he could,” Dr. Warren assures him. “The restraints are made out of a vibranium alloy. Plus, Spider-Man should still be feeling the effects of the drugs administered to him at the time of his capture, although he did recover from the dosage much more quickly than a normal human. That’s just part of his abnormal physiology we still know very little about and hope to explore during the coming weeks.” Dr. Warren talks faster as she becomes more excited and confident. “He is a very unique specimen,” she continues.
“Great, I’ve been demoted from “menace” to “specimen”.” Spider-Man deadpans.
“What else can you tell us about him?” Brock once again pretends he hadn’t heard the webslinger’s contribution.
“We know he has many unique abilities that have yet to be understood,” Dr. Warren informs him. “Including the ability to climb on walls and ceilings and enhanced strength and speed...”
“Why don’t you let me out of these restraints and I’ll give you all a very special demonstration of my “unique abilities”?” Spider-Man suggests.
“So, about the robot used to capture Spider-Man,” Brock says, trying to keep the ball rolling. “Was it built for that same purpose?”
“Yes, it was,” Dr. Warren answers. “But Alistair over there could probably tell you more about it. He’s the one who designed it.”
“Hey, would you mind coming over here and answering a few questions about that incredible robot of yours?” Brock calls across the room.
“Certainly,” Alistair replies, entering the frame of the camera while Dr. Warren steps to the background and checks Spider-Man’s restraints. “What do you want to know?”
“What did you have in mind when you designed it?”
“Well, I challenged myself to build a robot that would--”
“Hey, you’re Alistair Smythe,” Spider-Man suddenly interrupts.
“Yes, I am,” Alistair says in surprise.
“Dr. Smythe,” Brock continues, determined to ignore Spider-Man,” What was the most challenging part of--”
“You wrote those papers on nanobot technology in biochemistry applications,” Spider-Man interrupts again.
“Yes, I did,” Alistair responds in even greater surprise.”
“I thought they were incredible,” Spider-Man tells him.
“Thank you,” says Alistair, actually sounding flattered.
“I wanted to ask you what you thought about using nanobots to--”
“This isn’t your interview, Spider-Man.” It’s Brock’s turn to interrupt.
“It’s not?” Spider-Man replies sarcastically. “Jeez, that’s too bad. I can tell a really funny anecdote about that one time I didn’t kill Captain Stacy.”
“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” Brock tells him.
“I beg to disagree, pretty boy,” Spider-Man says. “You can’t keep me here.”
“Actually, we can. You’re a dangerous criminal.”
“I’m actually really cuddly and wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Spider-Man tries. “Okay, forget that. I’m still innocent until proven guilty.”
“Dr. Smythe,” Brock perseveres, turning away from Spider-Man. “How have you--”
“Hey, is this live?” Spider-Man asks. “Can you say fuck on this channel?”
Brock stares at him. Jameson facepalms.
“Asshole!” Spider-Man yells. This time the sensor manages to beep away the end of the word. “Shit!” after that the sensor starts beeping out everything Spider-Man says. Luckily his mouth isn’t visible so it’s not possible to read his lips.
“Can’t we gag him or something?” Brock says desperately.
“Sure, but it’s going to be very tricky to get this pesky mask off me if I have a muzzle on!” Spider-Man responds.
“Okay, folks, we’ll be right back with the unmasking of Spider-Man after a word from our sponsors,” Brock quickly segways.
“Really, you’re going to commercial?” Spider-Man asks in humored disbelief. “Why don’t you just--”
But the rest of that sentence is interrupted by an ad for 5 Gum. The entire ballroom, which had been collectively focused on the screen in intense anticipation, groans in frustration.
“Come on, Brock,” Jameson mutters angrily. “Get it together.” His fingers mash the buttons of his phone as he calls his lead reporter.
“Mr. Jameson, I--” Brock answers his cell warily.
“Brock!” Jameson backs into the speaker. “You’re letting that wallcrawling menace walk all over you! You’re dawdling and delaying! You are disgracing the Daily Bugle!” Jameson roars. “Unmask that spider-freak or you’re fired!”
“But Mr. Jameson, how do I--” Brock begins, but Jameson doesn’t wait around for Brock to finish whining to him, ending the call in the middle of his words.
A few commercials later, and the live broadcast is back. Whatever Brock or Dr. Warren or Dr. Smythe or whoever had said or done to Spider-Man during the commercial break, it seems to have calmed him down. Jameson can tell because he isn’t running his yapper off anymore, but remaining quiet for once while Brock gives the context for the situation once more for new viewers. He looks a bit dazed as he stares at the ceiling. Probably drugged again, Jameson guesses.
“And now, it’s time at last to remove Spider-Man’s mask.” Brock steps carefully toward the webslinger. “Spider-Man,” he says. “Anything you have to say to America?” He holds the microphone out. Spider-Man looks into the camera.
“Hi Mom,” he says. Brock chuckles nervously.
“Okay,” he says. “Well, this is a very exciting moment for everyone in New York City...”
“Unmask him already!” Harry Osborn shouts, and is met with laughter and muttering of agreement from nearly everyone in the ballroom.
“Come on, Brock” Jameson seethes. “Don’t let me down now...”
“Now then,” Brock continues. “Let’s see what you look like...”
But as Brock begins reaching toward Spider-Man’s mask, the screen suddenly goes black as the Oscorp lab is plunged into darkness.”
“Hey!” Jameson yells. “What the hell’s going on?”
“What--the lights?” Brock can be heard muttering. “Uh, we’re experiencing some technical difficulties folks,” he says, and then quietly, “Should we go to commercial--?”
They don’t, as it happens, ever make it to commercial. There’s a few awkward moments of banging around and footsteps, during which Jameson can virtually feel the ratings dropping, and then the lights go back on again, and the Oscorp lab comes back into view -- with one small difference.
“Where’d Spider-Man go?” Brock shouts.
“Where all little Spider-Men go in times of crisis,” Spider-Man says. “Higher ground!” The camera pans upwards until Spider-Man can be seen hanging upside down from the ceiling. “Surprise!” he yells, waving cheerfully.
“No,” Jameson whispers in absolute horror. “He got away -- again!”
“That’s right, JJ,” Spider-Man says happily, as if he can hear Jameson right through the screen. “I’m a slippery one alrighty. The spectacular slippery Spider-Man. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Get down here, wallcrawler!” Brock shouts, nearly doing the worst thing he could have and losing his temper on national television.
“Shame I don’t fall as easily as your ratings, huh?” Spider-Man taunts. “I mean, I’d love to come down there but I think my ass looks really good on camera from this angle. What do you think?” Spider-Man scampers along the ceiling.
At this point Brock really does lose it, sputtering out orders angrily. “Get him! He’s getting away! Get the spider-slayer! Do something!” The scientists in the room scramble to gain control of the situation.
“Spider-slayer? Is that what you call that thing?” Spider-Man asks. “Do you have a spider-watcher to go with it?” He swings down in front of the cameras and there’s the sounds of yelling and the camera goes crooked and Brock runs away. “Oh come on, no Buffy fans here?” Spider-Man questions as he makes his escape.
The lab divulges into utter chaos, and from the viewer’s standpoint, it’s hard to tell what’s happening. Jameson can hear that the spider-slayer’s been fired up and Spider-Man is now fighting it again. He can hear a girl yelling and the sound of the lab being trashed by the robot and the arachnid.
Jameson’s basically hoping for spontaneous combustion at this point. Why the network hasn’t gone to commercial or had someone at the studio take over yet is beyond him. He’s too completely horrified to move a muscle. When he hears the sound of an explosion he almost thinks he has gotten his wish, but then he realizes it’s just from the tv.
The camera’s been knocked over now, but Jameson can see fire spreading from the explosion. A few of the cops rush out of the ballroom at this point, surmising that they’ll be needed on the scene soon enough. Jameson doesn’t know why they hadn’t done that the second the wallcrawler had escaped. If he’s being honest though, he doesn’t know if that would have helped anything. Seeing how quickly the situation had turned into complete chaos since the webslinger had broken out of his bonds.
As far as Jameson is concerned, that is just proof of how much of a menace Spider-Man is, and how disaster follows him everywhere he goes. Jameson only had to look around the ballroom for more evidence of that. New York City would be so much safer with Spider-Man off the streets.
The sound of sirens can now be heard from the tv. Jameson can’t hear any more people inside the lab, so he guesses that means everyone had either gotten out of there, or had been caught in the explosion.
Jameson finds out later that Spider-Man had destroyed the wall of the Oscorp Tower getting everyone out of there safely. All except Alistair Smythe, who had unfortunately been trapped under the spider-slayer. He’s put in the hospital under intensive care and will most likely live, but the medical effects he will suffer are not clear yet.
As for Jameson, he’s in a lot of hot water for the disaster that broadcast had been, but manages to come away from it relatively unscathed by blaming the whole thing on Spider-Man -- obviously. He fired Brock, as promised, and goes back to his work of making damn sure the gentle people of New York City get the information they deserve -- the dangers of Spider-Man included.
They repair the damages at Oscorp and spider-slayer was destroyed in the explosion -- a failed experiment never to be attempted again. At least, that’s the official story.