Just as he thought he was destined to crash into a pile of pulp…
Whoosh!
A blue blur.
Marcus Lee swooped faster, catching J. Jonah Jameson effortlessly less than a hundred meters above the ground… then slowed smoothly for a safe landing.
"Oh, gotcha."
Jonah's mind completely froze.
A few seconds later, Marcus dashed back into the office, littered with shattered glass, and dropped J. Jonah Jameson onto the carpet.
Bang.
Jameson collapsed like a sack of bones, coughing violently, gasping for air.
A pungent stench spread across the floor he had wet himself in terror.
"Ah…"
Marcus stepped back, disgusted, and scanned him with his X-ray vision.
"Tch… Jonah, your bladder isn't in great shape."
His prostate was slightly enlarged too.
Jameson stared at the "demon," trembling all over, teeth chattering.
Marcus crouched, wearing that perfect smile again.
He gently patted Jameson's wet cheek.
"Listen, Jonah. I'm New York's hero. People… adore me."
"And you," he said, pointing to the puddle, "are smart."
"So I hope tomorrow's front page shows… positive content."
"Like 'The Patriot: Guardian Angel of New York?' or 'J. Jonah Jameson: Do I Owe the Patriot an Apology?'"
He tilted his head. "Which headline do you prefer?"
"…Guardian… Guardian Angel…" Jonah managed to get the words out with immense effort.
"Good boy."
Marcus straightened his uniform and stood.
Whoosh
He vanished into the night.
In the office, only J. Jonah Jameson remained, the warmth between his legs slowly cooling… while Marcus returned to his penthouse.
"Hah." He sipped an '82 cola from Anthony's private stash, savoring it, then turned on the TV.
"...Following the Battle of New York, Stark Industries' stock experienced extreme volatility… but today, Mr. Anthony Starr, the sole heir of the late Starr Group, has confirmed his return, and the Starr Group's stock has soared 300%..."
His phone rang promptly.
"Mr. Starr," said the voice of the legal advisor and assistant employed by Starr Group, "the board is ready, and all your assets have been unfrozen. The Group… is at your disposal."
"Excellent." Marcus walked to the window, looking out over the city that now belonged to him.
"Everything in the Group stays as usual. Register a new company for me a media and public relations company."
"Certainly, sir. What should we call it?"
"…Let's call it Watt Company."
Watt International Media, backed by the Starr Group's formidable capital, was registered and operational within three weeks.
Marcus Lee was the sole signatory and owner. Naturally, he poured his full energy into every publicity campaign.
"Mr. Starr, Watt Company's bold moves yesterday increased its brand value by twelve points."
"Our PR strategy is working; the Patriot IP is now the hottest property on Earth…"
"Not an IP address, dear." Marcus interrupted her.
Dressed in full uniform, he moved to the window, overlooking New York.
"This is faith."
"…Yes, sir." The assistant gasped.
"What's the schedule for tonight?"
"Jimmy Tonight Show, sir. Nationwide broadcast."
"Perfect." He turned, revealing a flawless smile. "Time to show the American people just how approachable their hero really is."
That night, before the talk show aired, Marcus attended a charity gala for victims of the Battle of New York naturally, at Stark Tower (now renamed Avengers Tower).
As expected, he ran into Tony Stark.
"Hey, Pepper, look the blonde's here." Tony Stark leaned on the bar, martini in hand, whispering to Pepper Potts.
The alien threat from the Battle of New York remained, but Marcus had stolen the spotlight. Tony never experienced that near-death space journey.
No brush with mortality, no PTSD, no hiding behind armor for comfort.
He was still the party king, billionaire playboy.
"That outfit…" Tony swirled his champagne around Marcus, circling him.
"Really? You're wearing a suit to a gala? I bet you're not wearing anything under there."
Tony's mouth was as crude as ever.
"Tony, people need a hero on call 24/7," Marcus said loudly, drawing glances. "Not someone who only avenges them after they die."
Applause erupted. Marcus nodded and smiled.
"Hah!" Tony snorted. "That line Watt Company wrote for you? I heard you started your own company. So what's your grand plan printing your own posters?"
"Just PR," Marcus replied with a smile. "Someone has to clean up the aftermath, make sure a hero… looks like a hero, not a self-absorbed maniac constantly building weapons, right?"
Tony's grin froze.
"Weapons of mass destruction? Are you talking about me?"
"Tony, it's a metaphor relax." Marcus patted his shoulder friendly. "By the way, this place is nice. Everyone's grateful after all, without your tower… the aliens would have had nowhere to land, right?"
Tony was momentarily speechless.
Anthony Starr's tongue was deadlier than any repulsor.
"Damn…" Tony drained his glass. "You're a… boring bastard."
"Tony!" Steve Rogers arrived, slightly old-fashioned in his suit.
"Patriot." Steve extended his hand. "Good to see you again. Your recent deeds… truly remarkable."
"I'm just following your lead, Captain." Marcus shook his hand humbly. "You're the real hero."
Steve Rogers accepted graciously.
"Too modest. You… have adapted well."
"Alright, enough, American Idol duo." Tony couldn't handle the relentless positivity. "You two carry on I'm going to find someone who can actually handle their liquor."