"Is there actually anything the Avengers can do to help you with this, Mr. Osborn?" Peter asked, still standing on the plush carpet of the executive office. He rubbed the back of his neck beneath the mask. "Let me just be clear upfront: if you're asking us to physically march into Washington and force the Military to drop their acquisition of the Savage Force program, that's... probably not very realistic."
"Force them to drop it? No, Peter. That acquisition proposal is merely an excuse to exert pressure."
Norman shook his head dismissively, waving away the threat of brute military force as if it were a minor annoyance. "If General Ross and his hardliners truly intended to just seize the Savage Force project, they wouldn't have quietly acquired Oscorp's retail shares through shell companies. What they want is a bloodless coup. They want to swallow up decades of Oscorp's proprietary research, seize control of the board, and ultimately take over my entire company."
Norman leaned forward, his eyes cold and sharp. "I refuse to let them succeed. I must stop them, and I will use whatever leverage I have to do it."
Peter stared at him. Okay, so Norman Osborn is still Norman Osborn. He wasn't plotting to blow up the city as a supervillain, but he certainly wasn't going to roll over and sacrifice his empire, either. He was perfectly happy to ally with Spider-Man—or even the Avengers—but only if it protected his bottom line.
The core of the issue, however, perfectly aligned with the Avengers' interests. Nobody on Tony Stark or Steve Rogers' team wanted the Military controlling a volatile super-soldier factory. History had repeatedly proven that military hardliners would recklessly pursue superhuman bio-weapons regardless of the ethical cost, the illegal human experimentation, or the inevitable loss of life.
Norman, ironically, was the safer bet. If nothing else, Norman cared deeply about public relations. If his illegal, subterranean human experiments were exposed, Oscorp's stock would plummet. The Military had no such oversight.
"I need the Avengers," Norman declared smoothly. "Or, more specifically, I need Stark Industries. I need a 'White Knight' investor. I will heavily support Tony Stark in acquiring a massive, controlling stake in Oscorp. I've been tracking the remaining shareholders whose equity the Military is targeting. If Tony Stark's algorithms can outbid the military and acquire those shares first..."
Peter's jaw droppep.
If you looked at it from one angle, this was a high-stakes battle over illegal human experimentation and rogue super-soldiers. But from another angle? Norman Osborn was just using the Avengers to orchestrate a Wall Street defense strategy to save his own wallet.
It was almost too absurd to process.
While Peter stood frozen, Norman continued outlining his corporate master plan. "I can use my personal liquid funds to eventually buy back the shares Stark acquires at a premium. Or, if Stark finds the investment profitable and wishes to hold the stock, we can negotiate terms—provided he signs a legally binding agreement not to interfere in Oscorp's internal operational affairs."
"I... I really don't know much about this kind of thing," Peter stammered, holding his hands up in surrender. He was a science nerd, not a hedge fund manager. "How about this: I'll pitch the idea to the Avengers. Specifically Mr. Stark. He speaks Wall Street. He should be able to make a reasonable judgment on the buyout."
Norman, brimming with absolute confidence that his proposal would appeal to a fellow billionaire industrialist, smiled and nodded.
"Excellent. I appreciate it, Peter," Norman said, his tone shifting into a warm, paternal register. "I apologize that I don't have any new equipment upgrades for you right now. Is there anything else you need? If you have any technological requests, Oscorp will do its absolute best to accommodate you."
"Actually, no, Mr. Osborn. But there is one thing," Peter warned, his tone growing serious. "I want you to watch out for Dr. Otto Octavius, I think he had his hand on this."
Norman's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before his corporate smile returned. "Of course. I have my team handling it. Now, go back down and enjoy the technology expo. I saw you brought your girlfriend today. Have fun."
Peter scratched his head, deciding not to correct Norman about Gwen's exact relationship status. But an idea suddenly struck him. "Actually, could I show Gwen... I mean, my friend... around Dr. Connors's research labs?"
A few hours later, long after the rest of the Midtown High students had boarded the buses back to Queens, Peter and Gwen stepped out of a private elevator. Armed with VIP Oscorp internship credentials, they entered the highly restricted bio-genetics sectors on floors 33 through 37.
Gwen looked around the pristine, sterile white corridors, her eyes wide with surprise.
"I thought you specifically weren't going to bring me up here," Gwen whispered, staying close to Peter. "You said you were terrified I was going to get bitten by some genetically modified freak of nature and turn into a Lizard Woman."
"I was. And I still am," Peter muttered, keeping his voice low. "That's exactly why I brought you."
He wanted Gwen to see exactly what they were dealing with. He led her on a deeply unsettling "science exhibition." The enclosures they passed didn't hold standard lab rats. They saw terrifyingly mutated reptiles scurrying against reinforced glass, boasting unnatural scale patterns and aggressive mutations.
But the exhibit that finally made Gwen shudder and stop in her tracks was a single, temperature-controlled incubator sitting in the center of the primary lab.
Inside the tank rested a heavily mutated lizard. It had violently bitten its own neck open. The wound was horrific, yet the creature's head was still twitching, its yellow eyes locking onto Gwen through the glass. The torn flesh was actively, visibly knitting itself back together.
"Oh my god," Gwen gasped, taking a step back.
"Sorry about the mess. It did it again," a tired voice called out.
Dr. Curt Connors, his empty right sleeve pinned neatly to his lab coat, hurried over to the tank with a digital clipboard. He tapped a command on the glass, dimming the internal lights to calm the creature.
"Good afternoon, Peter," Dr. Connors smiled warmly, shaking Peter's hand with his left arm. He turned to Gwen. "And this must be... your girlfriend?"
"We haven't officially defined our relationship yet," Gwen answered smoothly, beating Peter to the punch.
Peter nodded repeatedly, his face burning red. Dr. Connors gave them both a very strange, amused look, but Peter quickly cleared his throat to change the subject.
"You just said 'again,' Dr. Connors," Peter pointed at the gruesome reptile in the tank. "Has this self-harming phenomenon been going on for a long time?"
Connors sighed, the amusement vanishing from his face. "Yes. The cross-species genetics are... complicated. These specific lizards eventually realize they are fundamentally different from ordinary reptiles. They possess extreme, hyper-accelerated cellular regeneration. They are, for all intents and purposes, immortal."
Connors frowned, looking down at the twitching creature. "If you place them in an enclosure with baseline lizards, they become hyper-aggressive and slaughter the normal ones. It's as if their mutated X-gene makes them identify as an entirely new, superior species. But the most disturbing psychological side effect?"
Connors gestured to the bloody incubator. "If their population drops too low, their primary instinct is to reproduce. But if the population is exactly one—if they are entirely alone—the psychological isolation causes them to violently attempt suicide."
Gwen stared at the regenerating creature in absolute horror. "Then... why would you only create one?"
"That is the problem, young lady," Dr. Connors said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We are attempting to stabilize the serum for a new round of higher-order primate experiments. But the genetic degradation is severe. The results have been far from ideal."
Dr. Connors excused himself to log the lizard's vital signs into the mainframe.
Peter leaned close to Gwen's ear, his eyes locked on the terrifying, self-mutilating creature in the tank.
"See?" Peter whispered grimly. "That's why I brought you here."