The Daily Rant

The bright logo of the Daily Bugle splashed across the screen as the familiar voice of J. Jonah Jameson boomed through living rooms across New York City. His morning show, "Bugle Live," was in full swing, with Jameson himself seated behind his desk, gesturing wildly as his tirade reached a fever pitch.

"Let me tell you something, folks," Jameson barked, slamming his fist on the desk for emphasis. "This city is under attack, not just by one menace, but two! That's right, TWO! And who are these so-called heroes? Spider-Woman and Wanda Maximoff! Oh, pardon me, I should say Queen Wanda Maximoff, tyrant of Sokovia!"

A picture of Gwen in her Spider-Woman suit appeared on the screen alongside a photo of Wanda in her iconic symbiote outfit, her crimson aura radiating from the image.

Jameson pointed aggressively at the screen. "Look at these two! Public enemies number one and two! Just yesterday, they turned the World Unity Fair into a warzone and—get this—murdered the Board of Directors for Osborn Industries. Murdered! Eyewitness accounts confirm that Spider-Woman used her web-shooting powers to wreak havoc, while Maximoff—" he leaned forward dramatically, practically spitting the name, "—used some alien scepter to blow up the boardroom. This is the kind of people we're dealing with, folks! Violent, out-of-control vigilantes who think they're above the law!"

The screen cut to a shaky interview clip featuring a woman with red hair who was blurred for anonymity.

"They wrecked my dress!" the woman wailed dramatically, holding up what appeared to be an expensive cocktail gown now riddled with dirt stains. "And my drink! Do you know how much that cocktail cost? I've never been so humiliated in my life!"

The screen returned to Jameson, who was practically vibrating with righteous indignation. "You heard it, folks! These so-called heroes didn't just destroy Osborn Industries—they ruined fashion! Is nothing sacred to these monsters? If they're not killing CEOs, they're out there spilling drinks and ruining evenings!"

He slammed a hand on the desk again, sending a coffee mug wobbling dangerously. "Mark my words, people! Spider-Woman is no hero. And Wanda Maximoff? She's a dictator, plain and simple. A power-hungry tyrant who cares nothing for human life. Sokovia's queen? More like Sokovia's destroyer!"

In a cozy corner of New York City, Wanda Maximoff and Gwen Stacy sat in a run-down diner, a plate of pancakes between them as the muted hum of the TV filled the space. Wanda, dressed in civilian clothes but still exuding an air of effortless authority, stirred her coffee with mild disinterest. Gwen, still recovering from yesterday's chaos, poked at her eggs with a fork.

On the TV above the counter, Jameson's rant played at full volume, drawing occasional glances from other diners.

"I'm telling you, people," Jameson continued, "Spider-Woman and Maximoff are a menace to society! They don't care about New York, and they certainly don't care about you!"

Wanda narrowed her eyes at the screen, her lips twitching into an irritated frown. "Does that man ever shut up?"

"No," Gwen replied flatly, popping a piece of toast into her mouth. "He's been like this since I was a kid. Pretty sure his vocal cords are powered by rage and bad coffee."

Jameson's voice grew louder, almost as if he could sense their annoyance through the screen. "Wanda Maximoff thinks she can waltz into our city and do as she pleases, just because she's got fancy powers and a title! Well, not on my watch! She's a danger to New York, and Spider-Woman is no better!"

Wanda leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I am going to shave that guy's mustache when I see him."

Gwen snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. "I'd pay to see that."

"Seriously," Wanda continued, gesturing at the screen. "Look at him. He's probably been practicing that mustache-twirling supervillain look for decades. I bet he spends more time on his grooming routine than I do."

"Well," Gwen said with a shrug, "he's not wrong about one thing."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

"That you did kill a bunch of people," Gwen pointed out, her tone casual but tinged with mischief.

Wanda rolled her eyes, stirring her coffee again. "No one's perfect, Gwen. I'm no saint."

Gwen smirked. "You don't say."

Wanda set her spoon down and leaned forward, her tone dry. "Besides, those 'old farts' he's crying about? They've got more lives on their hands than I ever will. I'd need a hundred lifetimes to catch up with the kind of corruption they endorsed."

"Human experiments, right?" Gwen asked, finally digging into her eggs.

"Exactly," Wanda said, raising her coffee cup. "Cheers to the pumpkin-head for taking them out."

"You mean you took them out," Gwen corrected with a grin.

Wanda sighed dramatically. "Details, details."

Back on the TV, Jameson was in rare form. "Let me paint you a picture, folks," he bellowed, waving his hands for emphasis. "You're a hard-working New Yorker, just trying to enjoy the fair, when BAM! Out comes Spider-Woman, flinging webs and wrecking everything in sight. And if that's not enough, here comes Wanda Maximoff, waltzing in with her alien death stick, blowing things up like she's auditioning for America's Next Supervillain!"

The screen switched to footage of the fairgrounds' aftermath, the camera zooming in on the charred remains of the Osborn Industries booth. Jameson's voice carried over the images.

"Look at this destruction! This isn't heroism—it's chaos! These two are a menace to society, and the Daily Bugle will not rest until they're held accountable!"

The camera cut back to Jameson, who leaned forward, his face filling the screen. "Spider-Woman, if you're watching this—and I know you are—just know that the people of New York deserve better than you. And Maximoff? Go back to Sokovia where you belong! This city doesn't need you, and it certainly doesn't want you!"

Back at the diner, Gwen shook her head, half-amused. "He really doesn't hold back, does he?"

"Does he ever shut up?" Wanda muttered, her tone dripping with irritation. "I mean, the guy's still talking about Sokovia. It's been years. Let it go, man."

Gwen leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You did blow up a lot of stuff back then."

Wanda shot her a look. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours," Gwen said with a grin. "Mostly."

Wanda sighed, rubbing her temples. "I swear, if I ever run into that guy, it's over for the mustache. I'm taking a razor and shaving it off in front of a live audience."

Gwen laughed. "He'd probably spin that into another headline. 'Wanda Maximoff: Mustache Tyrant.'"

"I'll own it," Wanda said with a smirk. "Better than whatever he's calling me now."

Gwen's laughter subsided as she took a sip of her orange juice. "You know, though, he's not entirely wrong. You and I have left a lot of collateral damage in our wake."

Wanda shrugged, unbothered. "Collateral damage happens. Especially when you're fighting warmongering fascists."

"You sound way too okay with that," Gwen teased.

Wanda leaned back in her chair, her smirk returning. "Gwen, I've learned to prioritize. The world is full of people like the Osborn Board of Directors—people who'd sell out their own families if it meant a bigger paycheck. If a few of them get caught in the crossfire... well, I'll lose sleep over it when they start caring about the lives they've ruined."

Gwen considered her words, then nodded. "Fair point."

The TV cut back to Jameson, who was now practically foaming at the mouth as he wrapped up his tirade.

"And let me tell you something else, folks! As long as I'm running the Daily Bugle, I will not rest until Spider-Woman and Wanda Maximoff are exposed for the menaces they are! You can quote me on that!"

The broadcast ended with the Daily Bugle logo and Jameson's loud tagline: "If it's news, it's Bugle news!"

Wanda and Gwen finished their breakfast in relative silence, save for the occasional annoyed glance at the now-muted TV. As they stood to leave, Wanda stretched lazily, tossing some cash on the table.

"Remind me to send Jameson a fruit basket," Wanda said dryly. "Maybe it'll soften him up."

"Doubtful," Gwen replied, adjusting her jacket. "The guy probably thrives on hatred and bad coffee."

Wanda smirked. "Then I'll shave his mustache. It's the least I can do."

As they stepped outside into the crisp morning air, Gwen glanced at Wanda with a grin. "You know, for someone who's constantly called a tyrant, you're surprisingly chill."

"I get that a lot," Wanda said with a chuckle. "So, what's next?"

Gwen shrugged. "Hopefully not more Jameson rants."

"Agreed," Wanda replied. "But if he starts calling me 'Mustache Tyrant,' I'm suing for royalties."

The two shared a laugh as they disappeared into the bustling city streets, leaving the chaos of the Daily Bugle behind.

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