Pen & Camera [TASM Peter X OC]

Chapter 1

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"100$," J. Jonah Jameson said in his loud and confident voice.

Ella's eyebrows knitted as she heard the very low price for the work she had put so much effort into.

"100$? I have been working on this article for two weeks, majoring in nanotechnology in a matter of days just to understand less than a third of what AIM is working on," she reasoned, trying to get more than just a 100 bucks. But the CEO of the Daily Bugle just scoffed and looked into his paperwork nonchalantly.

"Good for you," he said, not caring at all.

"500$," Ella said. She knew she deserved more for all the articles she had been writing for the newspaper for months, but J.J.J was not the diligent one.

He scoffed again.

"What am I? A charity service?" He mocked. "120$"

"400$"

"140$"

"350$

"145$"

Ella sighed.

"200$ or I sell this to the Times," she negotiated. Jameson furrowed his eyebrows, thinking.

"Fine for 200$" Jameson gave in. "Go to Betty for the money,"

As usual, getting properly treated by the CEO of the Bugle was no near possible. After months, Ella should have been used to it. But she liked to think that, one day maybe, J. Jonah Jameson would recognize her true potential as a reporter and treat her like one.

Just outside the office was a blonde woman sitting at a desk. Ella smiled and asked Betty Brant for her payslip. The assistant apologetically smiled as she wrote down the amount of money and gave the payslip to the young reporter. Betty knew better than anyone else how J.J.J was not good-natured.

Once her payslip was secured in her backpack, Ella thanked Betty and left the Buggle Building, and went back home.

New York was a very busy city. It was almost impossible to navigate without bumping into someone. You had to slither between people, trying to dodge the harsh elbows and rock-like shoulders. And the subway was the worse place to be. Yet the most practical transport in the city.

The sun was setting when Ella was back home. She removed her shoes at the entrance and walked further into the small apartment.

"I'm home," she said as she stepped into the living room. A woman in her mid-thirty was in the open kitchen, cooking. Just beside her, and helping her, was mad in his late thirty.

"Welcome back," the woman smiled. "So, did you sell your article to Jameson? Did he pay you right?"

"He pays no one right, mom," Ella chuckled as she sat at the counter. "I still managed to get 200$ bucks, though. It's more than the last time,"