It was 10 A.M. sharp, and the morning show of The Daily Bugle was expected to run as usual—a mix of breaking news, public concerns, and Jonah Jameson's usual brash, no-nonsense journalism.
But when the camera switched on, the entire city was shocked.
There, sitting casually in a chair across from J. Jonah Jameson, was none other than Spider-Man himself.
The masked vigilante waved at the camera, his classic red-and-blue suit vibrant under the studio lights.
"Morning, New York! Hope you're all doing well! And no, you're not dreaming!" Spider-Man quipped, flipping upside down to hang from the ceiling with one leg. "It's me, the real deal, live and uncut!"
To prove he wasn't an imposter, he performed acrobatic flips, clung to the studio walls, and even caught a cup of coffee mid-air before handing it back to a stunned cameraman.
The audience watching from home and in public areas froze, their eyes glued to the screen.
Was this really happening?
Just yesterday, the media had been dragging his name through the mud. Accusations. Proof of his so-called misdeeds. Speculations that he was working with criminals.
And yet, here he was. Confident. Relaxed. Willing to face the world.
But what made this even more shocking was the man sitting across from him—J. Jonah Jameson himself.
Jameson, the fearless journalist, was known as the Lion among Sheep. He was ruthless, never backed down, and tore into anyone he deemed unworthy—hero or villain alike.
No hero had ever willingly stepped into his den before.
This was a first.
The tension in the studio was thick, but Spider-Man? He looked completely at ease.
"Alright, Webhead," Jonah began, leaning forward, his deep voice serious. "You asked for this. So let's get straight to it. Why are you here?"
Spider-Man leaned back, folding his arms.
"I'm here because I believe people deserve the truth," he said. "Lately, there's been a lot of fake news about me floating around. I figured, why not go straight to the source and clear things up?"
Jonah's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying the reports about you working with criminals are fake?"
"One hundred percent false," Spider-Man stated firmly. "The video footage being spread around? Doctored. A certain billionaire lunatic—who shall remain nameless—is behind it."
The audience knew exactly who he was talking about.
Norman Osborn.
Jonah grunted, unsurprised. "And what about the Lizard? The city wants answers. Where is he?"
Spider-Man sighed.
"The Lizard was not some rampaging monster looking to kill people," he explained. "He was an innocent man—someone who got caught up in a scientific accident. I took him to Dr. Reed Richards, and together, we fixed him. He's safe now."
Jonah's brow furrowed. "You expect people to just believe that?"
"Nope," Spider-Man replied. "That's why I told you to call Reed yourself before the show. You did, didn't you?"
Jonah paused, then grumbled, "Yeah, I did."
"And?"
Jonah exhaled sharply. "Reed confirmed your story."
The audience listened in shock.
This was huge.
Spider-Man had saved someone—cured them.
The media had painted him as some mastermind villain, but in reality, he had been helping.
Jonah tapped his fingers against the desk, staring hard at the masked vigilante.
"You say you want to clear your name. But what do you really stand for?"
Spider-Man didn't hesitate.
"I stand for New York," he said, voice steady. "I stand for the people. The everyday folks who go to work, raise their kids, and try to live good lives. I fight because I love this city, and I want it to be safe."
A pause.
Jonah's expression softened slightly.
"You're saying this isn't just about playing hero?"
"No," Spider-Man shook his head. "It's about making sure people don't live in fear. Criminals like Kingpin and Osborn control too much. They own the cops, the politicians, the news. I want to change that."
Jonah watched him carefully.
The masked vigilante was young, but his words carried weight. He wasn't just throwing out empty slogans.
He meant it.
And the people watching? They could feel it too.
Spider-Man wasn't just some masked figure swinging through the city.
He was a New Yorker—one of them.
A guy who just wanted to protect his home.
But Jonah wasn't finished.
"You're broke, aren't you?" he asked bluntly.
Spider-Man chuckled. "Ha! That's what everyone thinks, right?"
Jonah leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Aren't you still out there working as a freelance hero? No paycheck. No backing. How do you afford all your gadgets and suits?"
The audience waited with bated breath.
Spider-Man grinned behind his mask. "Well, that's where you're wrong, Jonah."
Jonah raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"I'm actually working with banks and some businesses as a security consultant now," Spider-Man explained. "I've been hired to assist in high-level security for corporate clients. You know, the kind of people who need top-notch protection from hackers, supervillains, and just plain bad luck."
The audience gasped.
"You're not exactly starving?" Jonah asked skeptically.
"Nope," Spider-Man replied with a grin. "I'm doing just fine now. I've got a steady income, and I still get to help people. Everyone wins!"
Jonah's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of respect. "So, what's the deal? You get paid to swing around and fight bad guys?"
Spider-Man shrugged. "Basically. I work out of a deal with some high-security firms. You'd be surprised how many of them are willing to put up the money when they know they're getting protection from someone who's seen the worst of the worst."
Jonah grumbled. "I never thought I'd hear you admit that. I always assumed you were just some vigilante running on a tight budget."
Spider-Man nodded. "It's not about the money, Jonah. But hey, when you're doing good and also making sure your rent gets paid on time? Why not take the opportunity?"
The interview continued, with Spider-Man diving deeper into his role as a security consultant. He explained how he used his unique set of abilities to help corporations secure their data, defend against supervillain threats, and even assist law enforcement with high-risk operations.
Jonah was quiet for a moment, processing the new information. He then leaned back in his chair.
"You're not what I expected," Jonah muttered. "But you've got a point. We don't always see the whole picture, do we?"
Spider-Man smiled. "Exactly. It's easy to make assumptions. But sometimes, all you need is a little perspective."
As the show wrapped up, Jonah couldn't help but give a small nod. "Alright, Webhead. You may have just convinced me that there's more to your story than what the media's been feeding us."
Spider-Man stood up, walking toward the window.
"Thanks, Jonah," he said, pausing to turn back. "We'll see where this partnership goes."
With that, Spider-Man leapt out of the window, leaving the audience in stunned silence.
The city was buzzing, and the world was now seeing the human side of the hero behind the mask.
This was just the beginning of a new chapter in Spider-Man's life—and New York's understanding of who he truly was.
The world was still buzzing from Spider-Man's interview on live TV, but the real storm was just about to begin.
It all started when Flash Thompson, a high school senior and an avid Spider-Man supporter, saw the broadcast in his class. Flash had always been a huge fan of the web-slinger, and to see him sitting down with J. Jonah Jameson and opening up to the public was more than he could ever have hoped for.
With a grin on his face, Flash slammed his phone down on the desk, making a snap decision.
"I'm gonna make sure everyone knows the real Spider-Man. This is our chance, guys!"
He stood up from his desk, ignoring the surprised glances of his classmates.
"I'm starting the biggest campaign this school's ever seen. You guys are in, right?"
His friends, including Liz Allan and several other members of their social club, were already intrigued. They had been listening to Flash talk about Spider-Man for weeks, but this time, it was different. This wasn't just admiration—this was a full-on movement.
Flash gathered his team in their club room, eyes wide with excitement. He immediately opened up his phone and launched the Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram pages for the campaign. His fingers typed quickly, the hashtags were already coming to life: #SpiderManIsReal, #TruthBehindTheMask, and #WebslingerUnmasked.
"Look, we've got Spider-Man's blessing to do this, and we have to make it count," Flash said. "We're not just talking about a hero anymore. We're talking about changing the narrative for an entire city."
As Flash spoke, Liz and the other club members nodded, some skeptically, others excited. Liz, always the thoughtful one, looked at him.
"Flash, you know this isn't going to be easy, right? People have their doubts about Spider-Man, especially with all the bad press he's gotten."
Flash's eyes lit up with determination.
"I know, Liz. But that's exactly why we have to do this. We've seen it with our own eyes, and now it's time for the world to see the truth. They need to know who Spider-Man really is—what he's done for this city. It's not just about fighting crime anymore. It's about showing the world that he's one of us—someone who's in this to protect what we care about."
Over the next two weeks, Flash and his team dove headfirst into the campaign. He made sure the messages went beyond just the typical hero worship. Flash knew Spider-Man wasn't just a vigilante; he was someone with layers, someone who had made sacrifices, struggled through real issues—someone who wasn't afraid to be vulnerable.
Flash had direct access to Spider-Man, and that was the key. He had interviewed him personally and was the first to get Spider-Man's official approval for the campaign. That meant all the credibility Flash needed to get the ball rolling.
Before long, Flash's campaign began to explode on social media. With influencers, activists, and celebrities backing the cause, his group quickly built momentum. Everyone who had followed Spider-Man's journey now saw him in a new light—relatable, caring, and most of all, human.
The media, which had been so quick to condemn Spider-Man for the past year, now found itself in a dilemma.
Flash's social media campaign was reaching millions, and it was impactful. Flash regularly posted clips from Spider-Man's interview, showing behind-the-scenes moments, his human side, and his raw honesty.
People were starting to listen. Even the people who had once doubted Spider-Man's intentions started to change their tune.
In the two weeks since the campaign kicked off, Flash's life had changed dramatically. His part-time job at a local diner was officially dropped because the campaign was taking up all his time. What started as a hobby had grown into a full-time project—one that gave Flash a purpose.
He had found his passion. He was no longer just the kid with the high school jock persona; he was becoming a leader, someone who was genuinely shaping the future narrative for Spider-Man and for the city of New York.
Liz Allan was right by his side, helping to manage the logistics and outreach, while the other club members handled the technical side—setting up interviews, running social media accounts, creating content, and doing everything necessary to spread the message.
Flash didn't even realize how much he had grown in the past few weeks.
Before, he was the sidekick—always in the shadow of the school's popular crowd, but now, he was the one people were turning to for answers. Flash was leading a movement.
It wasn't just about Spider-Man anymore—it was about doing the right thing, standing up for the underdog, and fighting against the system that often ignored the truth.
Soon, other platforms joined the cause. Flash's group was trending on Twitter. The campaign had caught the eye of local TV stations. News outlets began to reach out, asking for interviews with Flash. His followers increased by the thousands every day, and soon even some celebrities jumped in to voice their support for Spider-Man.
On Instagram, Flash shared photos and videos of Spider-Man's past heroics, including some of the most memorable saves that New York had witnessed, all while giving insight into Spider-Man's human side.
Through these efforts, people saw the hero not just as someone swinging through the city, but as someone who had families to protect, bills to pay, and a city to care for. Flash's message was clear: Spider-Man wasn't just a hero—he was part of their New York, and they needed to support him.
The campaign grew so popular that even the biggest corporations in New York began to ask how they could get involved. Flash was even invited to sit on several panels with local activists and community leaders, all eager to explore how they could work together to ensure Spider-Man's presence in the city was both recognized and supported.
By the end of the second week, Spider-Man was no longer just a myth or a villain—he was a part of the city's heartbeat, and Flash Thompson was the one who helped open people's eyes.
Flash had always been a bit of a wild card, known for his rough attitude and arrogance, especially towards Peter Parker. However, since the incident with his father, he had begun to reevaluate his actions and the way he treated others. He realized that his behavior was a way of covering up his own insecurities, and it was only by being vulnerable and honest that he could truly change.
Peter's forgiveness had been a turning point for Flash. Peter had never been one to hold grudges, and when Flash had reached out for advice, Peter had been there. The conversation between them had been simple, yet powerful. Peter had reminded Flash of the importance of personal responsibility and integrity. He had become more than just a mentor to Flash; he had become a true friend. Flash knew Peter didn't see him as a best friend, but that didn't matter. The bond they shared had been enough for Flash to know that Peter was someone he could count on.
It was this newfound support from Peter that had helped Flash navigate his new life. He no longer saw himself as a troublemaker, but rather as someone who had the power to make a difference. His past mistakes no longer defined him—he was ready to move forward.
Perhaps one of the most rewarding aspects of Flash's transformation was the repairing of his relationships. His relationship with Liz Allan, which had been on the verge of collapse due to his previous toxic behavior, was now stronger than ever. They had worked through their issues together, and Flash had learned to respect and appreciate Liz for the person she was. Their connection had deepened, and they were a better couple for it.
Flash's family also noticed the change in him. His mother and sister had seen how much effort he was putting into his personal development, and they were proud of the man he was becoming. His mother, especially, was touched by how much Flash had started to care about others, something she knew had always been in him but had been buried under his tough exterior.
The success of Flash's Spider-Man campaign had brought him financial benefits, but unlike many who might have used the situation for personal gain, Flash never lost sight of his true motivation: his passion for Spider-Man. He had heard the comments from people who believed he was trying to "leech" off Spider-Man's fame, but Flash knew better. His respect for Spider-Man was genuine, and he had always made it clear that his efforts were aimed at spreading the truth, not at exploiting the hero.
Flash was financially secure now, but he didn't let it change his perspective. He kept his integrity intact, working hard to ensure that the campaign remained about the message and not the money. He used his newfound financial stability to invest in his future—he was looking into colleges, considering possible career paths, and thinking about the long-term impact of his actions.
In just two weeks, Flash had built a network of people who supported him in his mission. He had become good friends with Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy, Jessica Jones, Johnny Storm, and Mary Jane Watson, all of whom had an interest in Spider-Man. They shared a common bond through their admiration for the hero, but beyond that, they were all people Flash now saw as genuine friends. He had always been a bit of an outsider, but now, he felt like he truly belonged to a community.
Spider-Man had been the common thread connecting him to all of these people, but Flash knew that his actions were what had made the relationships grow. He didn't just ride on Spider-Man's coattails—he put in the work, built connections, and made sure that people knew that he was more than just a fan.
Flash had also taken on a more active role on campus. As part of his efforts to pay it forward, he worked with the student council and took on a role as a disciplinary member. Flash had seen what bullying, extortion, and drugs could do to people, especially students, and he was determined to make his university a better place.
He had become a role model for younger students and even for some of his peers who had once dismissed him. He was the first to step in when issues arose and the first to offer help to those in need. The student body began to see him as someone who wasn't just a sports jock but a leader with a sense of responsibility. Flash had earned respect through his actions, not through his reputation or popularity.
The most profound change in Flash wasn't just in his actions—it was in his perspective. A month ago, Flash wouldn't have cared what anyone thought of him. He had lived in the shadow of his father, constantly trying to outdo his old man's expectations and rebellious behavior. But now, Flash saw the world through a different lens. He knew that his actions had the power to shape how others saw him, and he worked hard to ensure that those perceptions were positive.
Flash no longer acted impulsively; he thought before he spoke or made a decision. He made sure that his intentions were clear and that he wasn't misunderstood. He had grown into someone who wanted to help others—someone who didn't need to be the center of attention but who wanted to make a real difference in the world.
Peter approached the table with an easy smile, his backpack slung over one shoulder. The warm afternoon sun cast long shadows over the courtyard, where students milled about, laughing and chatting between classes. Flash and Liz were seated at a small round table, Flash taking a huge bite of his sandwich while Liz sipped her tea with a contented sigh.
"Hey bro, haven't seen you since morning. Didn't you have a class two hours ago?" Flash asked, raising an eyebrow as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Peter let out a small chuckle. It was still weird hearing Flash Thompson call him 'bro,' considering their history. But things had changed—Flash had changed. And honestly, Peter appreciated it.
"Yeah, had to miss it," Peter said, pulling out a chair. "Something came up."
Liz gave him an appraising look before shaking her head with a teasing smile. "Don't let college get to you, Pete. You're the pride of our group." She took another slow sip of her tea, her eyes flickering with something unreadable.
Peter chuckled as he sat down. "I'll try not to let you down."
Liz had always respected Peter's intelligence, but she had never been a fan of his personality. He was cold, distant, and didn't put much effort into socializing. She knew he wasn't arrogant—just too logical for his own good. It made him hard to approach unless someone wanted something from him.
Ironically, she had almost been one of those people.
Back when she and Flash were on the verge of breaking up, Peter had somehow slipped past her walls. He had tutored her, helped her with coursework, and been a surprisingly steady presence when things were shaky with Flash. There was even a moment—a brief moment—when she had considered making a move.
But then Flash changed.
She had decided to give him another chance. Breaking up while he was dealing with family issues would have been too cruel, even for her.
Liz wasn't necessarily kind, but she wasn't heartless either. She liked her freedom and independence, but Flash had always given her that. He made life fun—most of the time. He had his flaws, but now, with his newfound maturity, she could see him becoming something greater. A professional football player. A man with a good reputation.
And that was appealing.
She had a future to think about. She was in the commerce department, working alongside Flash and their group on business ventures. Even if it had started as a side project, Flash's goal of helping Spider-Man had turned into something real—something profitable. Liz was one of the brains behind it, working out logistics and strategy, while Peter gave advice when he could.
Peter replied as he had been giving the interview for an hour and spent another 30 minutes with Jonah to discuss their deal while another hour was taken by criminal attacks happening elsewhere.
He had come across the legendary thief, Vulture.
Flashback:
Peter swung through the city, his senses on high alert as he pursued the infamous Vulture. The old bird had struck again, and Peter was determined not to let him slip away this time.
"Come on, Grandpa Feathers, slow down! You're making me look bad!" Peter quipped, his voice carrying over the wind as he zipped between buildings.
Vulture, clad in his signature high-tech wingsuit, barely glanced back. "Keep up, bug-boy! You're getting slow!" he cackled before accelerating, his modified propulsion system giving him a sudden burst of speed.
Peter groaned as he pushed himself harder, but despite his best efforts, Vulture was pulling ahead. Damn it, did he upgrade again? Who's funding these guys? Is there an Evil GoFundMe I don't know about?
Vulture suddenly dipped low, weaving through traffic like a demented pigeon on steroids. Peter shot a web at a passing bus, slingshotting himself forward to close the distance. He just barely managed to keep up.
"Seriously, do you even know how old you are?" Peter shouted. "Shouldn't you be at home watching reruns of Murder, She Wrote or something?"
Vulture twisted midair and fired a concussive blast from his gauntlet. Peter flipped sideways to avoid it, the energy beam barely missing him and instead vaporizing a billboard advertising the Best Hotdogs in New York!
"Okay, that's a crime against humanity right there," Peter muttered as he flipped through the air.
Vulture didn't slow down. If anything, he sped up. The old man had no intention of fighting—he was just running. Peter tried shooting a web to snag his foot, but Vulture juked to the side like a seasoned athlete.
"Alright, fine, I get it," Peter said, panting. "You don't wanna dance with me, that's cool! But at least buy me dinner first before you ditch me!"
"Not a chance, Spider-Brat!" Vulture shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of his suit. Then, without warning, he rocketed straight past the city limits.
Peter came to a sudden stop mid-air, hanging onto the side of a water tower as he watched the old thief vanish into the horizon. "Oh, come on!" he groaned. "I just got out here! At least pretend like this is a challenge!"
He considered chasing after him but quickly shook his head. "Nope. This screams trap. And not even the fun kind, like in video games."
He sighed, rubbing his temples. He hated letting criminals go, but this was ridiculous. The guy had nothing but speed. No real strength. No real combat ability. Just an overpowered flight suit and a very annoying attitude.
Peter exhaled sharply. "Jessica is never gonna let me live this down," he muttered.
With a resigned sigh, he turned and swung back toward the city. "Fine, fine. You win this round, Birdman. But next time, I'm bringing a net."
Flash looked over at Peter, a curious expression on his face as he finished his sandwich. "Need help?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge of concern.
Peter shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts already racing. He had just returned from an encounter with Vulture, and the adrenaline rush from it still lingered in his system. But there was no way he could explain that to Flash. Not yet, at least.
"Nah, it wasn't anything that requires help," Peter replied, his tone smooth, though his gaze shifted uneasily. He quickly steered the conversation away. "Right, how is your work going?"
Flash leaned back in his chair, clearly eager to talk about something more exciting than Peter's sudden shift in mood. "It's going great. Today, there was an unexpected interview, and we've spread it across social media. It should help counter the fake news. That Norman bastard is really asking for a beating, spreading such bullsh*t," Flash muttered with a smile, clearly pleased with the progress he'd made.
Peter raised an eyebrow, amused by Flash's enthusiasm. "You look happy about that."
Flash grinned widely. "Well, anyone who isn't living under a rock knows Norman is a corrupt bastard. I'm just looking forward to how Spider-Man deals with him. I'm sure my hero is different from other heroes who just don't get involved in this kind of stuff."
Peter leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Yeah, other heroes really don't try to fix the problem permanently or anything. The villains always come back. If it were a show, it'd be fun to see that happen sometimes, but in real life, that's just wrong. We could die because of it. I don't blame the heroes for it, but they are partially responsible since they know the government's corrupt."
Liz, who had been quiet until now, nodded in agreement, her expression thoughtful. "I used to think Spider-Man was just another hero, but now I see the difference. A lot of the people he catches are traumatized, and some of them are literally in life-or-death situations. He doesn't show mercy to criminals, and he beats them to the point of near death." She paused, as if considering her words carefully. "But... maybe that's what we need. Heroes who aren't afraid to do what's necessary."
Peter felt a small pang of guilt at Liz's words. He knew all too well that some of the things Spider-Man did weren't exactly "by the book." His actions, while justified in the heat of battle, often crossed lines that the other heroes wouldn't dare approach. But Peter wasn't just any hero—he couldn't afford to be. Too much was at stake.
Flash shot Liz a sideways glance, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "What about Daredevil?" he asked, shifting the topic slightly, though he was still clearly reflecting on what Liz had said.
Peter felt a strange sense of satisfaction hearing their praise of Spider-Man. But at the same time, he was eager to hear their take on other heroes like Daredevil. "What about him?"
Flash scoffed. "Weak. He's just human. He can't make much of a difference in a world where supervillains exist. I admire his strength and courage, but he can't make big changes in the world. Same goes for Punisher, Hawkeye, or Mockingbird."
Peter nodded, understanding where Flash was coming from. Flash had a big-picture mentality—he wasn't focused on individual heroes but on what could change the world. He was right in a way. Humans without superpowers could only do so much in a world full of people with abilities that could level cities. It wasn't about their courage or determination—it was about what they were capable of achieving.
"I see," Peter said, choosing his words carefully. "So, have you ever thought about becoming a hero yourself?"
Flash raised an eyebrow at the question, his expression thoughtful. "I would love to, if I had some actual powers to help. But, honestly, I think what I'm doing is good enough for now." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd only be a liability without powers, you know? I've seen what happens to those human heroes—they get saved by Spider-Man or, worse, get stuck in situations they can't handle. I'd never want to be that guy."
Peter smiled at the maturity in Flash's response. It was a far cry from the reckless, impulsive version of Flash he had first met. Flash had grown, not just physically but mentally, realizing that without powers, trying to be a hero would only make things worse.
"Good," Peter said, nodding. "I was worried I might see you in a costume soon." He laughed lightly, hoping to ease the tension.
Flash shot him a playful glare. "Che, I don't have a death wish." He paused before adding, "Besides, I'm good being the guy in the background, helping from behind the scenes."
Peter chuckled, relieved that Flash wasn't planning on doing something reckless. "Good call."
Liz glanced down at her watch, her brow furrowing as she noticed the time. "Pete, aren't you going to be late for your class?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Peter looked at his wrist and cursed under his breath. "Thanks for the reminder, Liz," he said quickly, getting to his feet. "See you guys later."
With a final wave, Peter hurried off, his mind racing with everything he'd just discussed. Flash's words about Spider-Man and his methods had struck a chord with him. It wasn't the first time he had questioned the lines he crossed, but it felt heavier today. Still, he couldn't afford to think about it too much—there were more important things to focus on, like getting to class on time.
He'd have to sort through his thoughts later.