"Over here, Tony!"
"One more time, Mr Stark."
"Tony!"
"Mr Stark!"
A red carpet blessing the entrance to a lavish and luxurious restaurant. Half a dozen individuals with neat dresses or suits and expensive jewellery trodden toward the banquet, smiling and exposing their white pearls for teeth at the countless flashing lights from the paparazzi and fans yelling from behind barricades.
However, even those high status individuals were forced to make way as a sleek, silver Audi pulled up, a man exiting from it as he casually tossed his keys toward one of the valets.
He spun around, opening the door as a similarly glowing female stepped out with autumn red hair and a stunning silver dress, clinging to the arm of the man.
As for the man? With a neat goatee and a three piece suit, he grinned somewhat full of himself as he occasionally gave the flashing cameras to the side a nod or a glance.
This was Tony Stark.
The elite of the elites.
The single most influential and powerful man, probably in the whole world.
He was Iron Man. He was rich. He was handsome. He had everything.
He…was important.
"Way more important than everyone here combined. Especially my sorry ass."
And off to the side, buried under the horde of the crowd and crazed fans, holding a beaten up old camera and a ragged hoodie…was me.
Isaac Hale.
Whatever Stark was, you could bet your ass that I was the complete opposite.
I was broke, I was the commoner of the world and my greatest contribution at the moment was snapping a few photos in the hope that someone just as irrelevant cared about what New York's prince was up to tonight.
My looks weren't anything special, my green eyes being the most interesting thing about me.
My current freelancer job as a photographer for the Daily Bugle seemed like a no brainer a few months ago.
I mean, who didn't want to know about the heroic acts from the likes of Spiderman and hell, even the Hulk.
But what I failed to realise was how hard it was.
'Forget the scene where everything is happening, I'll be lucky if I catch one of them leaping or flying through the air.'
By the time I get there, there's only the aftermath to capture. And no one cared about that.
The only reason I was here at the moment was to test my luck for if something happened around Stark. Hell, at the very least get a good angle to sell.
So I blinked as I snapped out of my daydream, snapping countless shots as I joined in the yelling and nudging.
Before I knew it, he'd already passed, heading into the banquet as the flashes and yells significantly lessened.
'I'll look through this…I hope just one of them turns out to be good.'
I practically prayed, finding my way out of the crowd to take a breath of fresh air finally.
I searched through the photos I'd taken, taking a seat on the cold dirty curb of the new york street.
Eventually, I sighed, looking up.
"Jameson isn't going to want this…"
I mumbled.
I knew this too. However, I wasn't doing anything tonight and thought to test my luck.
"Who knows…maybe Mrs Jameson is rocking his world tonight and he'll come to work less of a bastard tomorrow. Hell…maybe I can get the job of photographer for the Daily Bugle."
I hoped…not very optimistically.
***
"Trash!"
I stood still like a statue, the usual half closed eyes staring on blankly as my photos were hurled at my face.
"What makes you think New York…no, what makes you think I give a raccoon's ass about who Stark was banging last night?"
In an office that overlooked the city was glass walls and a visible view of every reporter in the bugle working behind them, I stood as the only thing between me and Jameson, his large desk, wasn't enough to stop him from yelling in my face.
"So I'm guessing you and Mrs Jameson sleep in two different rooms…"
"What?!"
"Nothing."
Jameson stared at me, scoffing as he turned.
"How many times do I have to say it? I want…"
"Spiderman. Yes, I know. But do you know how hard it is to snap anything of him?"
"Excuses! Parker does it just fine!"
My mouth moved but no words came out as I ended up swallowing my words, the same reasoning I'd use every time almost slipping out.
"What? Are you going to say Parker's lucky?"
I was. And he knew I was.
But that was the reasoning I'd always go by.
How else did it make sense for Parker, the kid many years younger than him, to always be at the scene of Spiderman's antics.
It didn't make sense.
And the only reason Jameson didn't question it was because Parker made him money.
I even tried to inquire Parker about how he did it, trying to pick his brain about it all. But he was the personified definition of "Gatekeeper".
He dodged questions, played things off and made less than convincing lies to avoid my curiosity.
I could take a hint. I stopped and honestly it put a sour taste in my mouth for him as a person too.
"If you want the photographer job you and Parker are running for, you'll have to do better than this, and it isn't looking bright for you. Bring me something better! Now get out!"
'J. Jonah Jameson…the biggest scumbag in all of New York City. He used people, worked for his own selfish means and took credit that didn't belong to him. All while others were left in no better position because of it.'
Was it normal for those in power and at the top to be like this? If so…what chance did I have?
***
I sat on the bench of a park, staring as I swatted away the hair that had gotten too close to my eyes.
"Money…"
The most important thing in the world.
Honestly, that was all I cared about nowadays. I'd sell a kidney if I had the means to do so.
I was in college but didn't care much about it. I barely went to any classes.
No, money was more important.
I often found myself pondering it.
What length would I go for money? What would I do?
I thought about it for a second, then scoffed.
"What wouldn't I do?"
I dug into my pocket, pulling out a cigarette, the last one I had and was wrinkled from being stuffed in my pocket.
Lighting it, I puffed once as I blew.
"If I had a chance…just one shot…"
I puffed once more, then blew, the smoke from my cigarette blending into the cloud in the sky.
"How far would I take it all?"
I knew the answer despite asking.
It was obvious.
I had nothing to lose.
[Congratulations…]
'Huh…'
The answer?
I would do anything it fucking took until my dying breath…all for myself.
[You are The Cameraman]