Marauder: The Girl from New York

13. Judgement Day

I've learnt that complaining gets you nowhere.

Did I get annoyed? Yeah. Bothered? Of course. Disappointed? I should've learnt to expect disappointment, so that way I'd never be disappointed. But I never complained. I didn't hate much but there was one thing I hated with every fibre of my being. I was grateful to be rid of it but fuck—

I needed the cash.

I got back from school and was immediately fire from my job because I was late and: "Joe's 29-minute guarantee is a promise, man. I know to you, Te Wiata, a promise means nothing. But to me, it's serious."

Sure, my boss was a pervert, and the customers were rude in the native New York fashion, but my life literally depended on my paycheck. New York was the kind of city where you had two apartments or two dollars. I would need to pick up a second job now, especially with winter on the way.

I headed up to the Daily Bugle, only to find thing weren't much better there.

"Te Wiata, you're fired!" JJJ shouted into my face. He tossed the stack of photos into my face and leaned back in his chair sipping his coffee. "Dogs catching Frisbees in the park... Some fat old geezer playing chess... Autumn leaves."

"I was thinking maybe the Bugle could show another side of New York for a change—"

"Kid, if I believed for one second those pictures were an accurate reflection of this town, I'd hang myself from the top of the Chrysler Building. I don't pay you to be a sensitive artist! I pay you because for some reason that psycho Marauder will pose for you."

"Well, it's like I told you, Mr. Jameson," I said politely, even though I felt like throttling him. "Marauder won't let me take any more pictures of her. She says you only use them to slander her. You and the Big Man turned the whole city against her."

I nodded over at the framed WANTED poster. Maybe in my spare time I would break in and autograph that.

"A fact I'm very proud of! Having that lunatic around has weakened the moral fibre of New York! The police are demoralized! The citizens lazy! Now get your pretty little "portfolio" out of my face before I go into a diabetic coma!"

He's certainly a character, that J. Jonah.

"Mr. Jameson, please. You can't fire me. Even working two jobs I can barely make rent, and Deloris's social security doesn't amount to—"

JJJ held up a hand that cut me off as he mimicked tying a noose around his neck, threw his head back, and stuck his tongue out, pretending to choke. I pinched the bridge of my nose and folded before he could ask Ms Brant to get him a violin.

"What if – all right, what if I did have a shot of Marauder?" I asked.

I reached into my knapsack, drew out a manilla folder and slapped it onto JJJ's desk. The photos me and Red Arrow apprehending O'Hern and Marko, again.

"They stink. I'll give you three hundred," said JJJ.

He reached for it, but I snatched it away. "No. There's no way I can sell you this shot... until you agree to run more balanced coverage of Marauder."

"I take my journalistic responsibility to present balanced coverage very seriously Te Wiata, you know that. Fine. I'll give you four. I'll nominate her for a goddamn medal. You have my word."

"Five," I pushed.

"That's outrageous." There was a pause. "Done. All right, you've wasted enough of my precious time, Te Wiata. Get lost."

I cashed the check Miss Brant gave me and Zeta'd to the cave early since I didn't feel like going home and telling my mother the bad news about my job. I was a little surprised when I was greeted by the spherical android Conner had picked up in Bialya. She (like boats, ships and cars, I'd decided Sphere was a she) rolled up to me chiming happily. I crouched downed and scratched the cool metal surface as if I was rubbing a dog's belly.