"Huh?"
Hearing Peter say he wanted to do business, a massive question mark appeared over Harry's forehead.
"What kind of business? Handmade burgers or an ice cream truck?"
Harry wasn't trying to be cynical. In his mind, given Peter's financial background, those were the only kinds of "businesses" a high schooler could realistically start.
Of course, even if Peter just wanted to drag him into a job "standing out in the sun," the wealthy young master of the Osborn family wouldn't blink twice before joining in.
They had been brothers since childhood; their bond was ironclad.
"This isn't the place to talk. Let's find somewhere quiet."
Peter followed Harry into the flashy convertible. A short while later, they arrived at a secluded, high-end cafe. Once they were seated, Peter didn't play games. He pulled out the "Smartphone" design sketches he had drawn during class.
"Harry, what do you think the phone of the future should look like?"
"The phone of the future?" Harry blinked, glancing down at his latest Blackberry. It had a large screen for the time, but it wasn't a touchscreen; you had to use the tiny physical buttons below to type messages.
"Bigger? More features? Better signal? Or... maybe more games? Or maybe a button that pops out a holographic projection?"
"No." Peter shook his head. He pushed a design sketch across the table—a look that would be common in the future.
One model resembled the iPhone 6, retaining only a single home button. Others featured true full-screen displays and various folding designs.
"While I'd love touchable holographic technology, it's too far ahead for the current stage. Compared to a purely conceptual product, I want to produce a phone that is actually feasible..."
As Peter began to describe the "Smartphone" in meticulous detail, Harry's eyes widened. He stared at the simple concept drawings, his breathing becoming rapid.
He wasn't a professional researcher or technician, but as the heir to Oscorp, he possessed a business sense that far exceeded his peers.
Through Peter's description, he quickly realized that this "Smartphone" had incredible potential! If this could actually be built, every existing mobile phone manufacturer would only have two choices: follow in their footsteps and pick up the scraps, or be swept into the dustbin of history.
"Peter... did... did you come up with all of this?" Harry's voice was trembling.
"Of course." Peter nodded calmly, then dropped another bombshell. "Moreover, a friend and I have already solved the core energy issue.
Once we use our newly developed battery, the battery life of our phones will be more than three times that of our competitors. You know what that means, right?"
Harry could no longer sit still. He was just a high school senior who had recently turned 18; he couldn't maintain Peter's level of composure.
"Peter! This idea is brilliant! And the feasibility is incredibly high! Almost every difficulty you mentioned can be achieved with current technology.
With your specialized battery as the core competitive edge... as long as there's enough funding, we'll be successful in no time!"
Harry was starting to look a bit obsessive. There was no helping it; Norman's "suppression-style" education had left deep psychological scars.
Harry dreamed of gaining his father's recognition and making him see him in a new light. Before this, he lacked the means; he could only simmer in silence when faced with his father's mockery.
But now, with the new phone Peter proposed, he felt he could finally hold his head high.
Harry grabbed Peter's shoulders, his eyes burning. "This project can work! If you bring that battery prototype, I can definitely persuade my father—or at least get you a private meeting with him. I believe once you lay these concepts out in front of him, even he will be amazed!"
In his mind, Harry could already see his father patting his shoulder with a relieved smile, sighing, "I knew you could do it." He puffed out his chest and made a sweeping promise that it would get done.
What Harry didn't know was that his "all-powerful" father, Norman Osborn, was currently under unprecedented pressure.
Oscorp Tower, Penthouse Office.
Norman Osborn gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly that the veins on the back of his hands bulged. In his hand was a medical report.
The report showed that the genetic collapse within his body was accelerating. His private doctor had even asserted that if an effective treatment wasn't found, he might have less than a month left. The shadow of death was creeping closer.
But what terrified him more than death was his life's work—Oscorp was standing on the edge of a precipice.
"Norman, the military has issued an ultimatum." A board member sat across from him, speaking in a heavy tone.
"They have zero interest in the military flight project. They even said plainly that between Stark and Hammer, they have enough ordnance suppliers.
All they want from us is the Human Performance Enhancer project. If we don't show them satisfying results in this week's demonstration, they will withdraw all funding. That is a result we cannot accept."
The news was a heavy blow to Norman's already fragile nerves. As his health declined over the years, he had lost the energy to focus on the company's numerous projects.
This had led the group, under the idiotic management of several shareholders, to invest in several high-cost projects with almost no return. These anchors were straining Oscorp's capital, pushing it to the brink of collapse.
If word got out that Oscorp had lost military funding, the stock price would plummet. The shareholders who were already dissatisfied with him would act like sharks smelling blood, tearing him and his empire to pieces.
"I understand."
Norman waved him away wearily. Only after the board member left did his posture break; he collapsed into his chair, powerless.
After about thirty seconds of despondency, Norman rubbed his face, forcing himself to rally.
Harry wasn't ready to lead yet. For the sake of his son, he had to survive. He had to clear all obstacles for Harry to take over Oscorp. For that, he was willing to pay any price.
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