Just then, a voice rang out in Maguire's mind from the Bully System:
[Congratulations, host—Bully Points +100.
Villain Plot Character Bonus +100.
Total gain: +200.
Current Bully Points: 730.]
Hearing the sweetest chime in the world, he smirked. "All right. Time to clock out." In the next instant, he vanished before the crowd's stunned eyes—his flight speed was long past what the human eye could track.
Seeing Maguire leave, Garfield and Holland swung off on their webs as well, leaving only Iron Man and Pepper. They shared a look and departed, too. All that remained was a blood-red smear on the street—and bystanders shaken to their core.
— — —
Maguire headed downstairs and out. Uncle Ben and Aunt May were on the living room sofa, a newspaper spread across it. The headline splashed last night's events:
[Spider-Man roster gains a new member.
Hellblood Demon.
A madman who knows only slaughter!!!]
The article beneath hammered the Hellblood Demon for brutal methods.
Maguire cocked an eyebrow. He glanced at the masthead. The Daily Bugle.
A slow, wicked smile touched his lips. "The Bugle. Of course they'd dare."
He sat beside Uncle Ben. "Uncle Ben? What do you think of this Hellblood Demon? What kind of person is he?"
That night, Uncle Ben and Aunt May had wanted to join those fighting the Lizardmen. Uncle Ben frowned and answered slowly. "Hellblood Demon… that's a truly evil-sounding name. Power like that—he might as well be a spirit of vengeance. His methods are cruel and violent… but he is protecting civilians."
Aunt May added, "Exactly. That paper will do anything for clicks. They've been smearing the Spider-Men nonstop to chase heat. Garbage people."
Maguire stood. "I'm stepping out for a bit, Uncle Ben." He left the house, ducked into an empty alley, and shot into the sky—straight toward the Daily Bugle.
— — —
At the Daily Bugle.
Half a month ago, Scorpion—Mac Gargan—had turned on J. Jonah Jameson and thrown in with Oscorp, falling under Oscorp's control. Losing Gargan's leads sent Jameson into a rage. Just when he was about to give up, the cataclysm at Oscorp Tower hit. Jameson recognized the giant scorpion as Gargan. Luckily for him, Norman took the fall alone; S.H.I.E.L.D. never discovered that Jameson had bankrolled the Scorpion research.
Now Jameson looked over today's sales report. One reason: a feature on the "Hellblood Demon" had made the day's circulation spike. Convinced he'd found a cash cow, he chuckled to himself. "Ha! Reporting on this Hellblood Demon really sells. Maybe he's not completely useless after all."
Maguire wore a mask, and in Jameson's eyes he was still "just another vigilante." Naturally, Maguire had become Jameson's favorite target.
Smug, Jameson muttered, "People who put themselves above the law always get what's coming. I don't know if you'll live to see that day… but I know you won't."
A voice sounded behind him. Jameson's brows knit; he spun his chair around.
A man in a black Venom suit stood there—Maguire, fresh from home.
Jameson didn't show surprise or fear. He eyed Maguire with a kind of amused interest, lifted his cigar, and drew on it. Inwardly he scoffed, God, is this guy really that bold? Smoking a cigar and putting on airs—right in front of this thug? Doesn't he know cigars and acting tough are this psycho's trademark?
Maguire stared at him, cold. Jameson spoke first. "You masked butcher—what are you doing here? Come to beg me to retract the story?"
The symbiote roared with laughter in Maguire's head.
Maguire's hand shot out, seized Jameson, and with the slightest flick tossed him across the desk. Then Maguire took the boss's chair, set both boots on the desk, and thumbed a lighter. Flame flared; smoke curled.
"Not gonna lie—you're the first guy who's tried to act cool in front of me."
Jameson snorted, climbed to his knees, and—almost theatrically—knelt as if in supplication.
Maguire looked down at him, bored. "I can't tell—is it your courage that's stupid, or your backbone that's soft?"
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