“He’s a masked vigilante! He’ll never be able to testify in court!” J. Jonah Jameson blustered.

“His identity is known to SHIELD and multiple members of our community, including the Richards family, who will all vouch for his identity, masked or otherwise,” I returned without looking at him. “And there is precedent for allowing the testimony of verified parties who remain unidentified in civilian life due to threats from hostile parties against their friends and family. I believe we cite it on the pink sheet at the end there. It falls under the same guidelines as protecting your investigative sources, as I recall.”

He looked a bit pale, skipping over the reams of libel suits, looking at the lists of what Gargan had done, and paused at some of the photos of the Spider-Slayer robot. “What... what is this?” he demanded, snatching up several photos and shaking them at me.

“Those are what got SHIELD interested in your vendetta,” I answered, continuing my editing about contract negotiations with the unions involved in the subway system. “About nine months ago, the storage area you were hiding the machine in was raided by members of AIM, who carted off the Spider-Slayer and managed to perform a full analysis of it and its systems before SHIELD could track them down.

“They’ve now made some improvements and are putting it into production for second and third-world tyrants. I’m sure your son would be proud to know his father paid for the initial prototypes of a remote-controlled killing machine being purchased by the government of Sinochan to better oppress its people.”

Given his son James Jameson was a veteran of that ugly conflict, I was sure he would be overjoyed.

JJJ set the photos back down, looking over the other materials there. His face twisted, words rising, falling as he fought them down. He was an ornery, defiant, and pugnacious scrounger of a man, but he wasn’t a fool, just opinionated and very stubborn.

Now he was being slugged in the face, metaphorically. It was a wake-up call.

“What do you want?” he finally growled, but I could hear the defeat in it. He was in deep trouble, and he knew it.

“The libel lawsuit is going forward. Think of it as a millions-dollar donation to the Future Foundation, who Spider-man assured me all the money is going to. In addition to leaving your editorial position, you will also recuse yourself from all comments on Spider-man and the heroic community in general. Someone with brains in your organization can handle those news items.

“I suggest you simply stop your editorials, step down, and settle out of court. It will save you time, money, and face.”

I finished up his work, deposited the editorial work in his Done box, and set the paperwork he needed to sign in front of him, ignoring the way his face was changing colors.

“The criminal charges we can do nothing about. We could, of course, leak them to other newspapers. Jameson hires hit-man to kill costumed hero! Jameson backs genetic experiments and creates costumed murderer! Jameson’s mutant pet slaughters four innocents! Jameson’s killing machine sold to Sinochan to put down peasant revolts! Jameson’s mutant cripples three and kills two of New York’s Finest! Jameson’s hireling mad scientist invents acid spray gun!’” I looked at him as his face twisted with every mock headline I was framing for him.

“SHIELD traced all the money and built the same case that we have. They can release it to prosecuting authorities at any time. Gargan hasn’t released news of your involvement publicly, but if he knows you’re going to trial, he’ll sing like a bird to ruin you.

“You see that abyss right in front of you? It’s coming. We can’t stop it. Oh, we could make it much, much worse. I could, for instance, be telling you this while a squad with a warrant arrives outside, just to see your face when they knock on the door to arrest someone who solicited murder. I believe the sentence for paid murder attempts go up to forty years.

“The liability side of things is horrendous. As of right now, you have no money. You’re going to be paying it out to the families whose loved ones have been killed, and the men and women who’ve been crippled by those you helped create.

“Jameson, you’re done.”

He stared at me, and I could see he was starting to shrink. “You... you said I would owe you a big favor...” he gasped, as I got to my feet.

“NOW is when you call in your attorney, Jameson. I don’t know how much time you have. We aren’t going to say anything, we are leaving that judgment in the hands of Director Carter. But if the D.A. realizes that SHIELD has this through someone leaking something, and/or Fisk gives them a call to investigate something... they’ll move ahead on it, pronto tonto.

“And you, of all people, should know how much the public likes to see a would-be hero get his comeuppance when it is revealed they are no hero at all.

“You are going to lose everything. I suggest you very, very rapidly take the steps you need to prepare for that.

“Since you are going to lose everything, I doubt the libel lawsuit actually means much to you. The favor you will owe is the same. Stop saying damn stupid shit about Spider-man and the heroic community in general. None of us have any problem with people reporting the facts and the truth. But your opinionated reinterpretations of the work we do having the absolute worst viewpoints thereof are going to stop.

“Do you understand this favor, John Jonah Jameson?” I asked him evenly.

He looked like he wanted to fall into his desk and melt away. “Why did they send you?” he asked hoarsely. “Why not that Webhead himself, come to gloat?”

“Gloat? Spider-Man?” I repeated softly, pausing by the door. “The man who has saved your life six times? Saved the life of your son, twice? Saved the life of your wife? Never demanded a penny from you or sued you for all the shit you’ve heaped upon him for the last six years? Has saved the lives of several members of your staff multiple times? Gods and Totems, Jameson, I think he saved Miss Brant right outside from a stalker just last week!

“What kind of total fool are you to not realize what kind of man he is? He couldn’t possibly bring himself to come over here and see another man ruined like this. It just isn’t in him.”

I paused to let him digest that, and so feel even smaller.

“I, on the other hand, have no such reservations. I don’t carry grudges, I settle them. This whole libel thing has been enraging me for years on his behalf, and I am totally happy to see a damn hypocrite get exactly what is coming to him.

“Also, I don’t have a family to protect from your slander and insults, or to be harmed by you leaking the news of who I am... because not a single damn word you print about me can go to paper without my approval, and you know it.

“My privacy is my own. You... are going to find out just how horrible a total lack of privacy can be, from people just like you.

“You are a solicitor for murder, and you paid hard cash both to mutate a man into a deranged killer and for the invention of a literal killing machine, Jameson. You claimed you were acting for justice, and you were utterly and totally lying.

“Call your lawyer and start making plans, Jameson. You don’t have a lot of time. You know we work through Murdock and Nelson. Matt will be waiting for your call.”

He had his hands on his head and his head on his desk as I walked out. Betty Brant stared at me as I put the completed edits into her box.

“Call his lawyer and get him in there right away,” I instructed her calmly. “Jonah needs some legal advice badly.”

“Y-yes, ma’am, Miss Dynamo, ma’am.”

I strolled out not feeling good, but an irritating weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Gods and Totems, I had personally saved that man’s life twice; once from Gargan, and once from a shooter hired by Fisk (whose gun I dropped on the fat man’s desk after twisting the barrel into a knot, and the superhot barrel set his desk on fire).

JJJ had responded with the continued dickish behavior, which admittedly I’d helped by my Sims feeding him pics of us all he set into unflattering contexts.

Also, I had to admit I definitely made an impression in heels. Felicia had spent a fair amount of time getting damn good at walking and moving in the things for all of us, and we had the legs to pull them off. First time using them in public.

Little things, making life more satisfying.

-----------

It took Jameson about two weeks to make his preparations.

We got the notice about that time, with his new attorney (the old one having been abruptly fired for bad advice) Mrs. Monica Mayfair-Brooks, member of the very storied law firm that had been representing the Savage family for four of their generations now, arriving to negotiate the deal.

The settlement literally beggared him. Our assurances that the money would be available for those who needed it who had been harmed by his actions was part of the negotiations, but not part of the written terms. It was a point of honor that would be reflected in his own actions.

He then sold the entire Daily Bugle to the Baxter Foundation for a dollar. Joe Robinson was moved into Editor-in-Chief, I moved Sim Natasha Drew into financial oversight, and Joe’s first job was to publish the exposé and confession of the man who had hired him and brought him into the newspaper business.

Jonah Jameson crucified himself on the public’s altar, and turned over all the evidence he had to the District Attorney. He pled guilty on all counts the D.A. bothered to accuse him of, and the liability lawsuits fairly exploded.

He had even managed to file for divorce and settle in that time period, his wife walking off with almost everything. There wasn’t much left that anyone could take from him, but there was also no way he was going to avoid some prison time.

It still took a few months to move through the system, even with a complete lack of resistance on Jameson’s part. The DA still wanted a sensational trial, but Jameson wasn’t even asking for one, and finally he had the final hearing and was sentenced to twenty years in prison... but time off for good behavior could take that down to as little as two.

He was also sent to a white-collar jail, and hard eyes were on him and the penal authorities as he was transferred, making sure that he didn’t end up in the wrong place somehow... which was exactly what was supposed to happen, and very kindly did not.

JJJ was off the scene, for now... but no doubt he’d be returning, reinvent himself, and take back the stage somehow.

Becoming Mayor of New York, mmm, probably not. After all, we had our own plans in that area, too. Yes, yes, horrible that the super-people should have mundane power ambitions, truly.

Business at the Daily Bugle carried on, but the technology revolution was coming, only we weren’t stodgy enough not to adapt to it. Like it or not, cellphones and video everywhere was going to come, the internet was going to arrive here, and things were going to start changing.

The Bugle was only surviving in its present form because it was behind the times. Changing it to keep up was going to be interesting, but living in New York and being photo-centered certainly wasn’t a bad position to be in as the future came our way.

Other than some routine stuff going on in the city as these guys fought those guys and odd things happened, the trial filled the time, until it was time to go get the Richards.