Morning, overcast.
Even though it's summer now, New York is still its typical self—a sunless morning that dampens the mood, with people rushing through the city like zombies, their bodies moving mechanically.
Nicholas Flynn was one of them, yawning widely and realizing a moment too late that he was in a public place. He worried about ruining his image, but after glancing around, he saw no one cared, which made him feel better.
He ordered an espresso at the coffee shop, with a little extra rum—
Don't ask why he was consuming alcohol first thing in the morning. The answer was three sleepless nights writing an analysis of the 2003 summer box office for The New York Times. At this point, Red Bull was coursing through his veins.
Standing by the counter, waiting for his espresso, Nicholas began to drift off, his consciousness floating into space in those brief seconds.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nicholas unintentionally caught sight of something.
Was that… wait, was that… Spider-Man? But, why?
Though he was busy, the news about Anson was everywhere, and Nicholas couldn't miss it. He wasn't surprised to see Spider-Man making headlines, but what caught his attention was the image—
The current focus was on Anson, so news coverage usually featured his photos, not a masked Spider-Man with no visible face.
And there, in front of him, the news used a photo of Spider-Man flying through the air, which was unusual.
Could it be news from the Spider-Man 2 set?
Instinctively, Nicholas looked again, not thinking much at first, but as he saw the photo, he slowly felt a sense of shock.
As he watched the person in front of him switch pages on their laptop, Nicholas could no longer hold back. He stepped forward.
"Sorry to bother you. I accidentally caught a glimpse of your screen, really sorry, but that…"
It was a young man who looked like a college student, who waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, the new suit from Spider-Man 2. Are you a fan too?"
Nicholas: "…Spider-Man's new suit? How did that leak? Wasn't it supposed to be kept under wraps?"
The young man wasn't surprised. "All the paparazzi are watching them—it's basically a war between the crew and the media. As expected, the paparazzi won."
Just as Harry Percy had predicted, people naturally assumed this was the collective work of paparazzi. The term "paparazzi" had become synonymous with a group effort, no longer focused on one individual.
However, Nicholas was different—his journalistic instincts picked up something unusual.
Timing. The timing felt off.
At this crucial moment, a paparazzi leak of the Spider-Man suit? Something wasn't right.
"Who leaked it?" Nicholas looked at the laptop screen.
The young man looked puzzled, as if to say, "Does it matter?" When reading gossip, who pays attention to the names of the reporters or photographers? Who cares about which paparazzo leaked the news?
Still, the young man answered, "TMZ."
Nicholas said, "TMZ is just a platform. The key is who took the photo and how they got it."
As he browsed through it, Nicholas grew more and more astonished—
Not only was it detailed, but the angle was perfect. It could almost be mistaken for an official behind-the-scenes photo.
Yet, Nicholas didn't think it was official, for a very simple reason: there were too few photos, and they were all from a single angle—clearly the work of a hidden camera. Still, he had to admit they were impressive.
Marvin Daniel.
Nicholas glanced at the name credit and searched his memory—
No match.
It was a completely unfamiliar name, at least to Nicholas. But then again, the paparazzi world had countless talents hiding in the shadows. He couldn't know them all, and an occasional unknown name wasn't unusual.
However, Nicholas was sure of one thing: these photos would explode, stirring up more interest than anyone imagined.
Working at The New York Times, this type of gossip wasn't usually in his purview, and when he came across it, it was just in passing. But this time, Nicholas had a sense that something was amiss, a storm was brewing.
But why?
Nicholas frowned. The timing was too coincidental, one event after another. Could it be…
Suddenly, inspiration struck.
Nicholas grasped at a fleeting thought—could the photos be related to Anson's injury? But how?
"Nicholas. Nick! Your espresso is ready."
A voice from behind brought him back. His brain was spinning at full speed; the cafe noise swirled around, becoming a torrent that rushed through his mind.
He turned abruptly, made his way to the counter, grabbed the small cup of espresso, and downed it in one gulp. The scorching liquid nearly burned his throat, but he couldn't be bothered. In a flash, he rushed out of the cafe, disappearing into the crowd.
The cafe staff and customers were briefly surprised, but then shrugged it off, as if this kind of scene wasn't unusual. Life quickly resumed its calm.
Everything unfolded as Nicholas expected:
It swept the internet.
A massive, overwhelming tide.
In the pre-social media era, it was harder to feel the impact of viral news. But if the same story appeared across major news outlets, websites, TV, and radio, saturating every possible corner, the effect was much the same.
"It's here! Finally, the new suit from Spider-Man 2 is revealed."
"Big news of the year! Peter Parker's new suit unveiled."
"New Spider-Man suit—tighter, sleeker, and even cooler."
"From Dior to Spider-Man—Anson Wood rocks the new look."
"Things can't get better—Anson Wood's new costume is coming in Spider-Man 2."
So, what does "everywhere" mean?
Leaving home, newsstands by the street, department store TV walls, radio in a taxi, the chatter in breakfast joints—everything was about the new Spider-Man 2 suit. Even the newspapers in passengers' hands on the subway featured the story. There was no escaping it.
In the literal sense, it was everywhere, with no room to breathe.
The new Spider-Man 2 suit was a hot topic to begin with, and after Anson's injury, the production's halt, and incidents involving a stranger sneaking into the hospital, the buzz had reached new heights.
Even the likes of The New Yorker, usually impervious to gossip, joined in on the discussion.
And now, things escalated further—Peter Parker's new suit had been leaked, setting off an explosion across the media. It spiraled out of control.
Everywhere, it infiltrated people's lives.
It even made people suspect that Sony Columbia had orchestrated all of it in advance; otherwise, how could it have reached this level of publicity?
This just fueled the conspiracy theories.
Success brings scrutiny. With Spider-Man's immense success, Sony Columbia found itself in the spotlight, and even the smallest issue became an excuse for speculation and criticism. Paranoia flourished, growing ever more intense.
Hollywood, meanwhile, watched from the sidelines with amused detachment.