The streets of Brooklyn were alive with the usual morning hustle—commuters rushing to work, street vendors setting up their stalls, and the faint hum of the city waking up. But today, something was different. At a newsstand on the corner of 5th Avenue, a stack of newspapers caught the eye of passersby. The bold, redesigned masthead of 'The Daily Bugle' stood out, its fresh look a stark contrast to the tabloid-style aesthetic it had sported for years.
A friendly, warm-looking man in his late 50s approached the newsstand, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. He picked up a copy of the paper, flipping through the pages with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Is this really The Daily Bugle?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
The newsstand owner, a grizzled man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, nodded. "Yep, same provider as always. But apparently, the paper's under new ownership now. Guess that's why it's… well, decent again."
The man—Benjamin Franklin Parker, or Ben to his friends—smiled contentedly as he scanned the headlines. "Shadow Magina," he read aloud.
"New management, new direction. Looks like they've gone back to their roots." He remembered a time when The Daily Bugle was a respected source of news, before it devolved into sensationalism and shameless paper. This change felt like a breath of fresh air.
Ben turned to his nephew, Peter Parker, who was standing a few feet away, engrossed in his phone. "Look, Peter," Ben said, holding up the paper. "Our favorite newspaper has gotten better. They're even launching an online news website. Do you know what that is?"
Peter, a lanky teenager with a mop of brown hair, glanced up from his phone, his interest piqued. "A website? Didn't they try that, like, a million times before and fail?" he asked, his tone a mix of skepticism and curiosity.
Ben chuckled, pleased to have finally captured his nephew's attention. "They did. But this time, it looks like they're serious. They've got new management, new funding, and a new vision. Maybe they'll finally get it right."
Peter raised an eyebrow, his interest growing. "An online news platform, huh? That's… actually pretty cool. If they can pull it off, it could change the game."
Ben nodded, his smile widening. "Exactly. It's about time The Daily Bugle caught up with the times. Who knows? Maybe they'll even give your favorite tech blogs a run for their money."
Peter smirked, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Doubt it. But I'll keep an eye on it. Who knows? Maybe they'll surprise me."
Meanwhile, at the New York Police Headquarters, chaos was unfolding. The front page of The Daily Bugle had dropped a bombshell: new information about the White Devil Bar massacre, implicating the notorious White Rider MC in a series of kidnappings and murders spanning years. The revelation had sent shockwaves through the city, and now the NYPD was under siege—not by criminals, but by reporters.
Captain George Stacy stood at a makeshift podium outside the station, his face a mask of calm professionalism despite the barrage of questions being hurled his way. Microphones and cameras were shoved in his direction, the press corps hungry for answers.
"Captain Stacy, is it true that the White Rider MC has been involved in kidnapping children for years?" one reporter shouted, her voice cutting through the din.
Captain Stacy took a deep breath, his hands raised to quiet the crowd. "This case is still under investigation," he said firmly. "We cannot provide any comments at this time. But if these allegations are true, I promise you, the NYPD will do everything in its power to get to the bottom of this."
Another reporter stepped forward, undeterred. "There are allegations that some officers may have been on the gang's payroll. Can you confirm or deny these claims?"
Stacy's jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. "I'm not aware of any such allegations, and I cannot comment on them. What I can say is that the NYPD is committed to upholding the law and protecting the people of this city."
The questions kept coming, each one more pointed than the last. "Captain, it seems there's a growing sentiment that some entities are taking matters into their own hands, frustrated with the slow response of law enforcement. Is there any truth to this?"
Stacy's eyes narrowed, but he maintained his composure. "We are aware of these rumors, but we have no evidence to support them. The NYPD is working tirelessly to keep the public safe, and we will continue to do so…alright folks that's it for today, thank you,"
As the press conference wound down, Captain Stacy stepped away from the podium and made his way back into the station. The weight of the day's events was evident in his posture, his shoulders slumped as he walked through the bustling precinct. Leaving behind the camera flashes and shouts.
Inside, Detective John Knight approached him, a file in hand. "Rough day, Captain?" he asked, his tone sympathetic.
Stacy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You could say that…. it's always like that, dealing with those press people, where did all this interest come from, Knight?"
Knight handed him the file. "The newly reformed Daily Bugle…. Looks like they've not only cleaned up their act but also found themselves a new informant. Whoever's feeding them this information, they've got the whole city talking."
Stacy frowned, flipping through the file. "This isn't just talk, Knight. If even half of what they're reporting is true, we've got a serious problem on our hands. And if the public loses faith in us, it's only going to get worse."
Knight nodded grimly. "What's the plan, Captain?"
Stacy closed the file, his expression resolute. "We dig deeper. We find out who's behind these leaks. And we make sure the NYPD comes out on top of this mess. No matter what it takes."
Captain George Stacy sat at his desk, his fingers massaging his temples as he tried to stave off the headache that was threatening to take hold. The precinct was buzzing with activity, the usual hum of police work amplified by the chaos unleashed by The Daily Bugle's latest exposé. Detective Misty Knight walked into his office, holding a copy of the day's newspaper. She placed it on his desk with a knowing look.
"This is The Daily Bugle?" Stacy asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he picked up the paper. The bold headline screamed at him: "White Rider MC: A Justified Result." The article beneath it was a scathing indictment of the motorcycle gang, complete with damning evidence and a call for justice. It was a far cry from the sensationalist drivel the paper had been known for under J. Jonah Jameson.
"Yep, the same one," Knight replied with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. "They've really changed since Jameson left. It's like they've gone back to being an actual newspaper."
Stacy sighed, his headache intensifying as he scanned the article. "This is going to make our jobs a lot harder. The public's already slowly up in arms, and now they've got The Daily Bugle fanning the flames…. Sigh~ Whoever's running that paper now, they're not playing around."
Knight nodded; her expression grim. "Whoever it is, they've got good sources. Too good, if you ask me. This kind of information doesn't just fall into your lap."
Stacy leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. "We need to find out who's feeding them this information. If they've got an inside track on the White Rider MC, they might have something on us too. We can't afford any more surprises."
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of the city, the mastermind behind The Daily Bugle's transformation was enjoying a rare moment of quiet satisfaction. The warehouse was a labyrinth of screens, servers, and cutting-edge technology, a far cry from the chaotic mess it had once been. At the center of it all sat a man—calm, calculating, and utterly in control.
"The Daily Bugle," a faint smile playing on my lips. "Who would've thought that old rag could be turned into something respectable, right?"
Magina, his ever-present companion and confidante, materialized on one of the screens, her digital form flickering slightly. "It wasn't easy, Father," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "Jameson's tabloid approach was so deeply ingrained in their DNA that it took a complete overhaul to change their ways. But the results speak for themselves."
I nodded, leaning back on my chair. "The employees—they're adjusting well?"
"Better than expected," Magina replied. "Ninety-nine percent of them were honest reporters and journalists, stifled by Jameson's greed and incompetence. With the new direction you've implemented, they're thriving. It seems Jameson's style of leadership wasn't as popular as he thought."
"Good. They deserve a chance to do real journalism. Now, about the leadership—I'm thinking Candace Roberts should be the new CEO. What do you think?"
Magina's digital avatar tilted her head, as if considering the idea. "Candace is a strong choice. She's driven, competent, and fully aligned with the new vision for the paper. Robbie Robertson, while a good man, is too soft for the role. He's better suited as a second-in-command."
"And putting a woman in charge," I mused, "especially in this day and age, would send a powerful message. It would elevate The Daily Bugle's public image and show that we're serious about change."
"Exactly," Magina agreed. "Candace Roberts is the right choice."
"Then it's settled," I said with a nod. "Candace Roberts it is. Let's see how she handles the spotlight."
I shifted the conversation; the Daily Bugle affairs should be fine to be left alone for now. "Does 'Jack' have any schedule tomorrow?"
"No," Magina replied. "Jack is scheduled to be in Japan starting tomorrow. His presence is required for a meeting with one of our overseas partners."
I nodded. Jack Morvayne was my first and perhaps most useful personas—a charismatic, enigmatic figure who served as the public face of Shadow Magina. With a few subtle modifications—a scar on his chin, shorter hair, and piercing black eyes—Jack was a far cry from the man's true appearance. But the persona was necessary. In 2004, the world still relied heavily on face-to-face interactions, and Jack's presence ensured that Shadow Magina's interests were protected.
"Jack's role is crucial," I said, more to myself than to Magina. "I can't trust lawyers or intermediaries to handle things on their own. Not yet, at least. And besides, Magina, you're right—I need to interact with people. Being alone for too long… it's not good for me."
Magina's expression softened, a rare display of emotion from the AI. "You've come a long way, Father. But isolation is dangerous. Jack serves a purpose, yes, but he also keeps you connected to the world."
I then turned my attention to one of the screens, as Magina pulled up a series of live video feeds. "Our second target has returned from his 'trip' to Europe," she informed.
The screen showed District Attorney Arthur Maxwell, his smug face visible on multiple CCTV feeds as he moved through the city. Magina had been tracking him for three days, and every move he made was being recorded.
"And our primary target?" I asked.
Magina switched the display to a military-grade GPS map, a red dot blinking ominously in Texas. "In Texas, likely inside another HYDRA secret base," she said.
"Thanks to Arthur Maxwell's carelessness, he had given us a valuable lead. His trip to Europe was a cover—he met with Dietrich Voss in Las Vegas. The fool didn't even turn off his phone, and now we have a permanent mark on Voss."
My lips curled into a predatory smile. "Good. Let's keep a close eye on both of them. Arthur Maxwell may be arrogant and cunning, but thanks to that he had been very reckless. And recklessness always leads to mistakes."
Magina nodded, her digital form flickering as she processed the information. "What's the plan, Father?"
"The plan, is to let them think they're in control. But when the time comes, we'll strike. And when we do, they won't see it coming…. track Voss location at all time from now on…"
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A/N
Again~ Visit My Ko-fi~
In the middle of Editing the next few update bundle...got caught up in too many stuff...T.T