Jonah Jameson 15: Chapter 15: J.
Jonah Jameson The morning in New York gradually woke up outside the window.
Kara stood before the panoramic floor-to-ceiling window with a coffee cup in hand, watching the traffic and pedestrians moving like a colony of ants on the streets below.
A new energy billboard for Stark Industries flashed on the curtain wall of the building opposite, its blue and white electric arc patterns particularly striking in the morning light.
Her work as a journalist had not stalled due to the subtle changes in her identity.
J.
Jonah Jameson, the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Bugle, had recently returned from a business trip to Europe, and Editor-in-Chief Robbie had handed the daily management of the newspaper back to him.
Upon his return, Jameson immediately assigned Kara, Robbie’s most capable reporter, to his own command.
This was a torment for Kara’s ears—Jameson would roar every day about “getting an exclusive on that Flying Woman,” completely unaware that one of the subjects he most wanted to interview was currently sitting at a workstation outside his office, tapping away on a keyboard.
Kara finished the last sip of her coffee and turned toward the walk-in closet.
Dresses, suit jackets, a voice recorder, notebooks—the gear of an ordinary reporter was neatly arranged.
Since she obtained the photos of the “Ten Rings Gang” she had previously encountered in the Middle East from Tony and compiled them into the in-depth report “Ten Things That Changed Stark Industries,” the article had won her this year’s Pulitzer Prize.
Kara privately suspected that Tony had played a role in this—because shortly after winning the award, Columbia University had awarded her a Doctorate in Journalism.
And she knew that Columbia University’s new campus had been donated by Stark Industries.
Buttoning her dress one by one and smoothing out her suit jacket, Kara made a final adjustment to her collar in front of the full-length mirror.
In the mirror, the young woman’s blonde hair was tied in a neat ponytail, and her blue eyes behind black-rimmed glasses were calm and focused, looking like a completely different person from the figure who had once fought the Hulk high in the sky.
She picked up her briefcase, her fingertips pausing for a moment on the doorknob.
Super Hearing spread out like a tide, instantly capturing the sounds of the entire city: the sizzle of frying pans in a breakfast shop several blocks away, the faint crackle of arc welding in the top-floor lab of Stark Tower, the whistle of a ferry further away on the East River…
and, three floors directly below her, the low-voiced conversation of two people.
“…Target leaves her room around 9:45 AM daily, usually choosing to drive to the Daily Bugle.” The voice was flat, carrying the characteristic static noise of monitoring equipment.
“Continue observation.
Director Fury needs to confirm if her behavioral patterns are stable.” The other voice responded, more composed, with the decisiveness of an Agent.
Kara pushed up her glasses, the corner of her lips curling into an almost invisible arc.
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s surveillance team was certainly on time.
She wasn’t actually sure how she had “attracted” S.H.I.E.L.D.’s attention—her disguise was clearly seamless.
Aside from “neutralizing” a few bank robbers on the side of the road a month ago and saving children from traffic accidents a few times.
Perhaps some part of her transformation process had been captured by a camera in some corner.
Of course, it was also possible that S.H.I.E.L.D.
was simply too idle, using satellites to scan New York without any blind spots all day long.
The elevator car was as polished as a mirror, reflecting her calm face.
During the descent, she could “hear” a brief confirmation over the surveillance team’s channel: “Target has moved, entered the elevator, predicted route: high probability of heading to the Daily Bugle headquarters.” The elevator doors opened in the first-floor lobby.
Kara walked with steady steps across the bright marble hall, nodding to the duty manager at the front desk.
The morning streets were full of vitality.
Steam from hot dog stands mixed with the scent of coffee, office workers hurried along, and a street performer’s saxophone played intermittently.
Kara sat in the driver’s seat, her gaze seemingly casually sweeping past a dark gray van on the street corner—the words “Manhattan Telecom Maintenance” were printed on the side, but under her X-Ray Vision, the sophisticated listening equipment and energy scanners inside the shell were fully visible.
She pulled over at a newsstand and bought a copy of the Daily Bugle.
The headline was none other than Jameson’s masterpiece: “Iron Man’s ‘Ally’?
Mysterious Flying Woman Appears Again on the Streets of Manhattan!” The accompanying photo was a blurry nighttime shot, only vaguely identifying a figure suspended in the air, surrounded by a halo of light.
The article was filled with Jameson’s signature exaggerated speculation and sharp questioning, describing the “Flying Woman” as an “unknown threat that may be more uncontrollable than the Hulk,” and strongly calling for “the government should immediately adopt mandatory registration measures.” Kara calmly turned the page.
Beside the newsstand, a man in a suit was complaining to his phone about his boss in a low voice; on the other side, a student wearing headphones was quickly swiping his fingers across a tablet, the screen flashing a series of forum discussion threads about “Supergirl.” Shortly after, she parked her car below the newspaper office and walked through the doors of the Daily Bugle headquarters—the place was forever filled with the scent of old paper, American coffee, and anxious sweat.
In the newsroom, the sound of ringing telephones, the clatter of keyboards, and the raised voices of reporters arguing intertwined into a familiar clamor.
Today was the day for students from the Midtown High School’s Junior High division school newspaper to visit the Daily Bugle.
The youngest among them was only twelve, just starting his first year.
As Kara passed through the newspaper lobby, she noticed a thin child staring intently at the newspaper—more specifically, at the poster illustration of Tony Stark in the paper.
Just then, the reporter responsible for leading the students’ tour pointed at Kara and said to the child: “Little Peter, this is our best reporter, Pulitzer Prize winner Miss Danvers.
She knows Iron Man Mr.
Tony Stark and has done many exclusive interviews with him.” The child named Peter looked up, pushed his oversized glasses, and revealed a nerdy appearance.
He ran to Kara’s side and spoke shyly: “H-Hello, Miss Danvers.
I’m Peter Parker from the Midtown High School newspaper.
M-May I ask if you really know Mr.
Stark?” Looking at Peter’s shy manner, Kara found it quite amusing.
She squatted down and smiled, “Of course, he’s my friend.” “Then…
then could you tell me what kind of person Mr.
Stark is?” Peter’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“Stark…” Kara thought for a moment, “He’s a playboy, a billionaire, and at the same time, very willing to do things that help people.” “I knew it!” Peter nodded vigorously.
“I think he’s the best superhero!
I want to become someone who protects New York like him in the future!” Kara couldn’t help but facepalm—she had actually encountered a little fanboy of Tony’s in broad daylight.
The child in front of her clearly treated Tony as an idol.
“What about Supergirl?” Kara smiled and coaxed him, “Supergirl is also a very great superhero.” “Supergirl…
isn’t she Iron Man’s assistant?” Peter blinked in confusion.
Kara’s smile froze for a moment.
“Little Peter, every superhero is unique.
Do you only want to be someone else’s assistant?” “Yes!” Peter Parker answered firmly, “I want to be Mr.
Stark’s assistant and protect New York with him!” Kara gave a helpless, soft sigh.
“Then as Peter Parker, what kind of person do you want to be?” Peter was silent for a moment, then said softly, “I want…
I want to be everyone’s Friendly Neighborhood…
just like a good friend who appears whenever people need them.” Kara nodded with satisfaction—at least this kid’s ideal wasn’t bad.
After saying goodbye to Little Peter, Kara walked toward Editor-in-Chief Jameson’s office.
Just as she raised her hand to knock, a familiar roar came from inside: “Danvers!
Get in here!
Now!” Kara put down her bag and pushed the door open amidst the sympathetic or curious gazes of her colleagues.
Inside the glass walls, Jameson was like an enraged lion, waving a fax.
“Look at this!
An ‘invitation’ from the Stark Industries PR Department!” He slammed the paper heavily onto the desk.
“That egomaniac Tony Stark is holding some ‘Stark Expo’ in Flushing!
He even specifically requested that we send a reporter—’suggesting’ that you be in charge of the follow-up!” Kara’s gaze then turned curiously toward the invitation.