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"I'm Spider-Man."
Peter watched Marcus carefully for any reaction.
Marcus's expression remained calm. Completely unsurprised.
Peter felt oddly deflated by that.
"You already knew, didn't you?" Peter asked. "This doesn't surprise you at all?"
"Surprise?" Marcus stood up. "Oh, you want surprise?"
He put his hands on his head, eyes going wide, mouth dropping open in theatrical shock.
"WHAT?! SPIDER-MAN?! You're Spider-Man?!"
His voice was absurdly loud, dripping with fake amazement.
"Peter Parker—freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle, fresh out of high school—is actually the famous Spider-Man who's been all over the news?!"
He clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh my God! This is INSANE! I can't believe it! I know Spider-Man's secret identity! This is absolutely UNBELIEVABLE!"
He staggered backward like he might faint.
Peter stared at him with dead, flat eyes.
Marcus kept going, milking the performance.
"Stop," Peter said. "Just stop. That's not how normal people react."
Marcus straightened up, looking perfectly composed. "Really? I thought my acting was pretty good."
Peter continued staring.
Marcus laughed. "Fine, fine. Just messing with you."
He sat down, expression turning more serious. "Of course I knew. I was standing right there. I'm not blind. I saw you shoot webs to save those people."
"I've been wondering when you'd come talk to me about it. But you disappeared for days." He shrugged. "Don't worry—I haven't told anyone."
Peter wasn't entirely convinced. Marcus's ridiculous performance had made him seem... unreliable.
But weirdly, Peter felt less nervous now. The tension had broken.
"Look," Peter said seriously, "you really can't tell anyone. If people find out I'm Spider-Man, I'll be in serious danger. My aunt and uncle too. Please—I need you to keep this secret."
There was an unconscious pleading note in his voice.
Marcus looked amused. "Sure, I can keep your secret."
Peter started to relax—
"But you'll owe me a favor."
Peter's guard went back up. "What kind of favor?"
"Nothing evil," Marcus said quickly. "I'd never ask you to do something harmful or criminal. If I did, you wouldn't be the Peter Parker I know."
"As for the specific favor... I haven't decided yet. I'll let you know when I figure it out."
Peter looked at him warily but nodded. "Okay. Fine."
He hoped Marcus wouldn't ask for anything too difficult.
"Oh, and..." Peter pointed at the photograph on the desk. "Can I have that picture? I'll pay you for it."
The photo of Spider-Man holding Mary Jane. It was actually beautiful. Peter wanted to keep it.
Marcus smiled. "I'll give you the photo. But in exchange, you can't get mad if I publish Spider-Man photos before you do."
Peter blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, when you're out fighting crime as Spider-Man, if I happen to get photos, I can sell them to Jameson without asking your permission first."
Peter thought about it. That wasn't really a problem. Spider-Man operated randomly—Marcus couldn't follow him everywhere. And Spider-Man's identity had to stay secret anyway, so Peter couldn't claim copyright as Spider-Man.
Other newspapers had published Spider-Man photos before without asking. It was only after seeing the Bugle's reward that Peter had thought to sell his own shots.
Better for him to profit from his own image than let others do it for free.
Marcus's request didn't conflict with Peter selling his own photos.
"Okay. Deal."
Peter took the photograph and tucked it carefully into his jacket.
They sat in silence for a moment, neither quite sure what to say next.
Finally, Peter stood. "Well... I should probably get going."
Marcus's expression shifted. His eyebrows rose slightly.
"I'm afraid that's not going to work."
Peter frowned. "What do you mean?"
Then his spider-sense kicked in—sharp, urgent.
Peter bolted from Marcus's office, following the warning toward Jameson's room.
He burst through the door—
CRASH!
The floor-to-ceiling window behind Jameson's desk exploded inward.
The Green Goblin flew into the room on his glider, glass shards glittering around him.
"My God, it's the Green Goblin!" someone screamed from the newsroom.
Staff scattered, backing away from Jameson's office.
The Goblin grabbed Jameson by the throat and lifted him off his feet.
"Jameson!" the Goblin's voice rasped through his mask. "Who took those Spider-Man photos? Tell me NOW!"
Jameson's face turned red, but he didn't give Marcus up.
"I don't know," he choked out. "They were... sent anonymously..."
"You're LYING!" The Goblin's grip tightened. "Tell me who took them! I need to find Spider-Man!"
"I swear... I really don't know..."
Even facing death, Jameson stuck to his story.
The Goblin's patience snapped. "If you won't talk, then you're useless to me!"
He squeezed harder. Jameson's face went from red to purple.
"Let him go!"
Everyone turned.
Spider-Man hung upside-down outside the broken window, suspended by a strand of webbing.
Peter had changed in the bathroom down the hall—fastest costume change of his life.
The Green Goblin saw Spider-Man and immediately released Jameson, who collapsed to the floor gasping for air.
"Spider-Man!" The Goblin sounded delighted.
Jameson, still struggling to breathe, pointed an accusing finger at Spider-Man. His voice came out hoarse but filled with righteous indignation.
"You! I knew it! You're behind all this! You and the Green Goblin are working together—"
THWIP!
Peter shot a web directly at Jameson's mouth, sealing it shut.
"Shut up," Peter said flatly. "The adults are talking. Kids need to be quiet."