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The words ‘Additional footage from a staff member’ appear over the screen in white letters before the video starts. It’s a brightly-lit hallway, and the person recording is clearly hiding from the two people arguing under one of the stark white lights hanging above their heads.
“No dirty jokes. Not even one, okay? I have a friendly neighborhood reputation, and you are not going to ruin that.”
Johnny Storm rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “You make dirtier jokes than I do.”
“Not in public, I don’t,” Spider-Man argued. “And definitely not where anyone can hear me, and my aunt promised she was going to watch this the second it aired, so I am definitely not making any jokes here.”
“Sure thing, Webs,” Johnny tossed over his shoulder, starting toward where the camera was. “I’m gonna tell them not to edit out any of the ones you make, then, since you’re so confident.”
“I’m not gonna,” Spider-Man protested loudly, walking after him as the footage cut off.
The intro card ran over the screen, now showing Johnny Storm and Spider-Man, sat side-by-side on stools as they waved at the camera.
“Hey, New York,” Johnny greeted, waving. “I’m Johnny, and this is Spider-Man, and we’re here for the WIRED Autocomplete Inter…”
He trailed off, glaring at Spider-Man. Spider-Man jumped. “What? Was I supposed to-- oh, it was in unison, wasn’t it? We’re here for the WIRED Autocomplete Interview.” He patted Johnny’s knee as the other boy let his face fall into his hands. “It’s fine, they can edit it together later. I’ve done it for a project, it’s not that hard.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you too, buddy.”
The screen flashed to white, black text reading:
So WIRED asked these two heroes to answer some of the internet’s most burning questions
It flashed back to the two, Spider-Man focused entirely on Johnny. “Is it weird that I’m nervous? Like yeah, I literally held down Thanos for the gauntlet, but I feel like my civilian friends are going to bully me if I mess this up, so…” He blinked, fast. “Oh no, the Bugle’s definitely going to twist that.”
“Like what? Spider-Man more worried about backlash than trillions of lives?”
“Yeah, exactly like that.” He looked at the camera, slumping. “New York, I didn’t mean that. I love you guys, I just have social anxiety.”
“You were a really bad choice to do this with,” Johnny mused.
“I mean, yeah.” He sneezed as Johnny bent over to grab the first card, ripping off the tape with a flourish.
“Who is Spider-Man? Ooh, there’s the million dollar question, Webs.”
“I feel like it would be so funny to just rip my mask off right now,” Spider-Man said casually. “I could just be like ‘boo!’ and that would be it. Obviously I’m not going to do that, because I’d definitely get murdered in my sleep, but. It would be funny. Uh, to answer this one, Spider-Man is me. Spider-Man. A regular guy.”
“Is Spider-Man afraid of spiders?” Johnny wiggled his eyebrows. “You gonna answer that one or should I? Gonna be honest, if it’s me they’re getting the story of how I found out.”
Spider-Man winced. “Yeah, no, Spider-Man is definitely afraid of spiders. One time I scared the sh-- uh, the daylights out of a burglar, though. That was… one of the funniest things I’ve ever done, I won’t lie. I probably shouldn’t say this, since I’m trying not to give away too much, but I told him I was gonna summon a spider-army and swarm him and holy crap, he actually peed his pants. Like I smelled it, the puddle was there, he was shaking. His face was amazing.”
Johnny Storm stared. “When was that?”
“Pre-Snap,” he shrugged. “It was in my first year as Spidey, maybe… month three or four? You baby heroes weren’t around yet.”
Johnny groaned long-sufferingly and ripped off the next piece of tape. “Is Spider-Man going to reveal his identity?”
“Uh, no, never. I fully plan to stay anonymous up to and after my death, thank you. I don’t give two craps what happens to me, but the entire point of the mask is to protect the people I love, so taking it off would kind of ruin that. I do think about it sometimes, though. It sure would make my life easier if I didn’t have to keep saying I ran into walls everytime Rhino leaves me with a black eye.”
“You could show the world your atrocious fashion sense, though,” Johnny pointed out.
“How tempting,” Spider-Man deadpanned. “Next question.”
“Does Spider-Man speak Spanish?” Johnny looked up, his head tilted. “Do you?”
“I do! Fun fact, actually, Spanish is my third language. I’m guessing this is about that video that went viral of me calming down that little girl in Spanish. She was so cute.”
“Ugh, supergeniuses. What’s the second?”
“English is my first, obviously, but someone in my family is half-Italian, so I grew up speaking both. I learned Spanish in high school as an elective and it was so close to Italian I got fluent pretty fast. And then… oh! My best friend growing up, his mom was Dutch, so I picked up a few phrases from him. We fell out of touch before I even hit high school, but I missed him, so I taught myself more and now I’m pretty passable. I know some Cantonese from the nice lady at the bodega by the bus stop who gives me a discount on snacks if I stop by when I’m on patrol. It’s not a ton, but I can give directions and stuff, so it’s useful.”
Johnny watched him explain with rapt attention, then shook his head. “I feel like I’ve wasted my childhood. Which friend was it?”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you during an interview, Torchy.”
“Duh, just, is it the one…?” He trailed off, making a complicated facial expression.
“Oh, no! Not him. The other one. Who you met last month.”
“Oh, yeah--” Bleep! “--that guy.”
“Johnny,” Spider-Man scolded. “He’s my childhood friend.”
“So? He threatened to cut off my--” Bleep! “--if I ever did something to you. Also, he’s a--” Bleep! Bleep!
“He’s not a--” Bleep! Bleep! “--you’re a--” Bleep! Bleep! “He’s just a little protective, excuse him for trying to keep me safe after literally everything that happened to me during my childhood. And your--” Bleep! “--isn’t in danger unless you suddenly swap sides and try to off me, so I don’t see what the issue is.”
Johnny Storm paused for a long moment, and then stuck out his tongue. “Real family-friendly, Webs.”
“What?” Spider-Man’s lenses went wide as he looked back behind the camera. “Can we cut that out? It’s not really--”
The footage cut, switching to a new frame as Johnny ripped off the last piece of tape, smirking.
“Is Spider-Man single?”
“No, he is not,” Spider-Man said quickly. “Stop winking, jerk, you already know that.”
“Sure, Casanova. Are Spider-Man’s webs natural?”
Spider-Man rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, since that’s about my powers, I’m not answering it, but to be honest if they were natural, it would be really disgusting and would probably require a lot of self-reflection. Probably.”
“Alright!” Johnny threw the card, clapping a little. “My turn!”
“I’ve always wanted to rip these off,” Spider-Man confessed, doing so. “Is Johnny Storm Spider-Man? Are you? Am I some kind of clone Reed made to disguise your secret identity? Johnny! How could you not tell me?”
Johnny scoffed. “Obviously I’m not Spider-Man, smart--” Bleep! “And I like Susie way too much to ever want to be you.”
Spider-Man took a long blink. “Was that a dead parent joke? Or was it a triple dead parent joke?”
“Triple, technically.”
“Ay!” Spider-Man gave him a fistbump. “I’m so proud of you. If you can’t make your own dark jokes, making them about me is fine.”
“... glad to hear it.”
“Is Johnny Storm rich?”
“Technically, I think I am? I leeched off Reed and Sue for a long time, but when I started my own projects, I guess that’s mine.”
“Could you afford rent without worrying about getting evicted?”
“Yeah?”
“Then you’re rich.”
“I don’t think that makes me rich.” Johnny looked off to the side. “Does that make me rich?”
“Google says five hundred thousand dollars a year is considered rich.”
“Huh. I made a crap ton off campaigns last year, I’ll have to check with Sue. I’ll put that as maybe.”
“Five hundred thousand dollars?” Spider-Man whispered. “Holy crap, that’s so much. Does Norman Osborn even make that much?”
“Yes,” Johnny said tiredly. “He absolutely does. I checked online once and it was somewhere over three hundred million a year, I think.”
“Three hundred million?!” Spider-Man stood up, his head out of frame. “Do you know what you could do with that kind of money?”
“Run Oscorp?” Johnny tried.
“Hell, do you know what I could do with twenty bucks? I could buy snacks. I haven’t gone food shopping in almost a month. My snack yesterday was canned chicken and SkyFlakes just to keep up with my metabolism.” He sat down hard. “Three hundred million,” he repeated, shaking his head. “That’s crazy. Where’s the card?”
Johnny silently handed it to him.
“Three hundred million,” he whispered again, only ripping off the next piece of tape when Johnny scowled at him. “Does Johnny Storm have an Emmy?”
“Wait, you won an Emmy? When did that happen? I would’ve supported your music career,” Spider-Man said with a whine. “Okay, I would’ve looped it over the Baxter Building speakers, but that still contributes to streams.”
Johnny cocked his head, squinting. “Do you know what an Emmy is?”
Spider-Man suddenly looked wary, the card drooping. “It’s for music, right? I don’t know, I just get dragged to the couch a few times a year to watch people pick up their awards and be judgy about outfits.”
“An Emmy is for television,” one of the staff called out. “A Grammy is for music, and an Oscar is for a movie.”
“Oh…” He turned. “Wait, when were you on tv?”
“You are a terrible friend,” Johnny sighed. “Euphoria, remember?”
“Oh! Okay, I remember that, you were actually really good.”
Johnny looked surprised. “You think?"
“Yeah, really. Good acting. I was actually ready to get dressed and go punch somebody when you were yelling until I remembered it was a tv show.” Johnny lifted the card back up.
“Why am I actually touched?”
“Not on that cowboy movie, though, I literally laughed so hard I got me and the person I was with kicked out of the theater.”
“And you ruined it.”
“I tend to do that.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Alright, next one. Does Johnny Storm have a best friend?” Spider-Man dipped his head a fraction, blatantly glaring. “And answer this one carefully, or I’m setting off the sprinklers in your room.”
Johnny rolled his eyes yet again. “Yeah, obviously it’s you, Webs.”
“Good.” He ripped off the next piece. “What video games does Johnny Storm play?”
Dead silence.
Spider-Man burst into laughter, head thrown back so far he tipped off his stool.
Johnny Storm scowled, one finger tapping against his bicep as he waited for Spider-Man to collect himself.
A shaky red glove stuck up, pointing at his face. “You-- you were so mad! Hahaha! Oh my God, I remember your face when you saw her in the shop! That was the best day of my life, I swear, forget anything else!”
Johnny cut over him loudly, all but shouting, “Johnny Storm plays Horizons and Fortnite, with thanks to Epic Games for adding him as a character!”
Spider-Man hoisted himself back into frame, still snickering every few seconds. “He also plays my game, and was miraculously surprised when I was good at the web-slinging, even though the motions of it were literally based on how I move my webs on the daily.” His mask stretched around the mask area, belying a grin. “Oh, and Epic Games, a huge shoutout from Spider-Man--”
“No, no, no!”
“--for adding Sue Storm as a playable character before you added Johnny--”
“Shut up!”
“--because the look of incandescent rage on his face when he saw that she came first, after he’d spent close to two thousand bucks on the game, was absolutely priceless. I uploaded the video to like three different servers and a bunch of flash drives just so I never lose it.”
Johnny Storm growled. “Webs,” he gritted out.
“Yes, best friend?”
“Shut. Up.”
“Sure thing, playable character Johnny Storm,” Spider-Man said cheerily, the barely-contained laughter audible as Johnny closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Fine, fine, okay, I’ll be serious. What is Johnny Storm’s favorite food?”
Johnny tapped his chin. “Ah… this is sappy, but probably Sue’s spaghetti. She can’t cook anything else for the life of her, but she used to make that for me the most when I was younger, so she’s kind of perfected it.”
“Aw, that’s sweet of you.”
“Sure. What’s yours?”
“The hot dog cart on Woodhaven and 66th, for sure. A good ol’ chili dog with mustard, onions, and cheese? Nothing can beat that. My un-- uh, father figure used to take me there as a kid before he died, so there’s some sappiness to mine too.” He coughed and tossed the card. “Is that all of them?”
“Nah, they said they had two for each of us.”
Two cards came flying out, Spidey catching his with his palm and Johnny clapping his between two hands.
“Running out of time, so do you guys think you could do a speed round for us?”
“Speed round? I can do fast,” Spider-Man said cockily.
“Not something to brag about, Webs,” Johnny smirked, earning a punch to the shoulder.
“Someone doesn’t get the concept of family-friendly,” Spider-Man huffed, waiting for Johnny to rip off the first strip.
“Who is Spider-Man’s favorite villain?”
“Uh… Sandman? Out of the powered ones, I guess. I dunno, he’s not really a bad guy when it comes down to it, so it doesn’t feel as high-stakes as the real creeps.”
“Who is Spider-Man’s favorite hero? Pick wisely, webs.”
“You, duh. After you, Iron Man.”
“Why is Spider-Man Spider-Man?” Johnny looked up, a little concerned. “We can skip that one, Webs.”
“No… no, it’s fine. Uh, someone really close to me used to say that with great power, came great responsibility. I got these powers on accident, totally randomly. I can’t even say I really deserve them. But I have them, and because of that, I have a responsibility to make sure that everyone makes it home safe. That no one has to go through what I-- what some people have to go through.”
“Webs?”
“Next question.”
“Is Spider-Man in Team Red?”
Spider-Man cocked his head innocently. “Team Red?”
One of the staff once again began to explain. “It’s the internet term for--”
Johnny held up a dismissive hand. “He knows, he’s just being annoying. Answer the question, idiot.”
“I feel like Wade would tell me to say that if I answered that, I’d have to kill all of you. But uh, moral code. I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“That’s a yes,” Johnny sighed. “I hate them. I hate them so much.”
“Is that because Red gave you a concussion? Because that’s really not his fault. You lit on fire right behind him. Of course he hit you.”
“Normal people don’t hit fires.”
“Normal people don’t dress up in leather and growl from rooftops,” Spider-Man said casually. “Was it that or when Wade stuffed that burrito in your mouth? Because… that’s also not his fault. He was trying to be friendly. I get that it was probably scary being basically suffocated without warning by Deadpool, but I was right there. You didn’t have to set him on fire.”
“I hate them, and I hate you,” Johnny groaned, getting to his feet and leaving the camera’s view. “Who even--”
The footage cut.
“Okay!” Johnny said cheerfully, slapping his knees. He was back in his stool beside Spider-Man, who looked vaguely disappointed about something. “This was fun, so a huge thanks to WIRED for having me and Spidey. We sadly couldn’t get to the rest of the questions, but I’ll be on Twitter after this airs to host a little Q&A with Spidey himself.”
“Don’t make it sound like their fault, you set the card on fire and threw it at me. Take responsibility, Johnny.” He coughed something into his fist that made Johnny glare at him again. “Uh, right. Thanks, WIRED. This has been our WIRED Autocomplete Interview,” he finished, doing jazz hands as the video suggestions popped up and it finally faded to black.