I don't sleep. How could I? Between the adrenaline of my plan and the strange reality of being in Harry Osborn's body, rest seems impossible. Instead, I spend the night digging through every drawer, cabinet, and hidden corner of this luxury apartment, piecing together the life I've inherited.
In the master bedroom's walk-in closet, behind a false panel I discover only by accident, I find a small safe. The combination defeats me until I try Norman's birthday—a guess based on the Harry from the films being desperate for his father's approval. The lock clicks open.
Inside is a leather-bound journal, several USB drives, and a stack of photographs. I flip through them first—pictures of a younger Harry with who I assume must be Peter Parker and Michelle "MJ" Jones. Peter looks like Tom Holland, and MJ is definitely Zendaya. So I'm in the MCU, but a version where Harry exists and is friends with Peter from childhood.
The boy in the photos—me, I suppose—is smiling, but there's something forced about it. A tension around the eyes that seems present in nearly every shot. I set the photos aside and open the journal.
The first entry is dated five years ago:
Dad threw out my acceptance letter to film school. Said no son of his was going to waste his life on "artistic nonsense" when I should be preparing to take over Oscorp. We had the biggest fight yet. He said I was ungrateful, that I've never appreciated everything he's built for me. Maybe he's right. But I don't want his life. I don't want to become him.
I flip through more entries, absorbing Harry's life in chunks. His relationship with Norman is exactly what I'd feared—cold, demanding, emotionally abusive. Norman Osborn isn't just a bad father; he's a manipulative tyrant who sees his son as nothing more than an extension of himself, a future vessel for his legacy.
A more recent entry catches my eye:
Bernard found Dad in his lab again last night, talking to himself. When I asked him about it this morning, he exploded at me, said I was spying on him. Something's happening to him. The board members are whispering. I've seen the way they look at him now—like they're scared. Maybe I should be too.
Norman's already exhibiting signs of the mental instability that leads to the Green Goblin. I've arrived just in time to witness his descent.
More journal entries reveal Harry's complex friendship with Peter—genuine affection mixed with envy of Peter's intellect and Norman's approval of it. There's also clearly something developing between Harry and MJ, though he seems reluctant to pursue it out of respect for Peter.
The USBs contain encrypted Oscorp files—I can only access a few without passwords, but what I see disturbs me. Project GREEN appears to be an attempt at creating a combat enhancement drug, complete with a delivery system built into a suit of armor. The Goblin formula, in its early stages.
By dawn, I feel like I've lived someone else's entire life in fast-forward. Harry Osborn was more complex than the films ever showed—troubled but self-aware, caught between his father's expectations and his own desires, secretly investigating Norman's increasingly erratic behavior while maintaining a façade of the carefree rich kid.
I'm still processing all this when Bernard knocks on my door at 7 AM.
"You're up early, Mr. Osborn," he says, surprise evident in his voice when I open the door fully dressed.
"Couldn't sleep," I reply honestly.
Bernard studies my face with concern. "If I may say so, sir, you seem... different this morning."
For a moment, I wonder if he can somehow sense that I'm not really Harry. But that's impossible.
"Just thinking about some things," I say. "Bernard, how long have you worked for my family?"
He straightens slightly at the question. "I served your grandfather for fifteen years, and I've been with your father since before you were born, sir."
"And in all that time... has my father always been the way he is now?"
Something shifts in Bernard's expression—surprise, then caution.
"Your father has always been a driven man," he says carefully. "But no, he wasn't always as... intense as he has become."
"When did it change?"
Bernard hesitates, then gestures to the dining area. "Perhaps we should sit, sir."
Over coffee, Bernard reveals what the journal only hinted at. Norman Osborn began changing about two years ago—becoming more paranoid, more volatile. Working obsessively late in his private lab. Having conversations with himself.
"At first, I believed it was merely stress," Bernard says, his voice low as if afraid of being overheard. "The company was facing challenges from Stark Industries, and your father has never handled competition well. But then..."
He hesitates again, and I gently prompt him. "Then what?"
"I found him in his lab one night, sir. He was standing before a mirror, but it was as if he was speaking to someone else entirely. Someone who wasn't there. When he noticed me, he became... quite hostile. Claimed I was spying for the board." Bernard's fingers tighten around his coffee cup. "He threatened to dismiss me. The only reason I remained was because of you, sir. I couldn't leave you alone with him in that state."
The guilt in his eyes strikes me—Bernard feels responsible for not protecting Harry better, for enabling Norman's descent by staying silent.
"You've done more than most would," I tell him, and mean it. "But I need to know everything if I'm going to help him."
Bernard seems startled by this. "Help him, sir? I was under the impression you were gathering evidence against him. For the board."
Now it's my turn to be surprised. Was Harry planning a corporate coup against his own father?
"I'm... considering all options," I say carefully.
Bernard nods slowly. "Then you should know he's been testing something on himself. A formula. I've seen the injections he administers when he thinks no one is watching. And there's a suit—a prototype military exoskeleton. He had the development team build it in secret, but then took it to his private lab and modified it himself."
The Green Goblin suit and formula. It's all happening exactly as I feared.
"Is that what the field trip is about today? Showing off the legitimate research to cover what he's really doing?"
"Precisely, sir. Though I doubt even the board knows the extent of his... extracurricular projects."
I check my watch. 8:30 AM. The Midtown High field trip is at 10.
"I need to be there," I say. "At the labs during the tour."
Bernard doesn't question why, just nods. "The car can be ready in twenty minutes."
While he arranges the transportation, I return to Harry's—my—study and open the computer. I need to learn exactly where the spider that bites Peter is kept, and how to ensure I'm the one in its path instead.
The Oscorp files are fragmented, but I find what I need: a reference to a special demonstration area for the cross-species genetics project. A room with sixteen genetically modified spiders displayed in a circular glass case. Except, according to a recent update, only fifteen are currently in their containers. One is missing—the one that will bite Peter.
I know what I have to do. Intercept Peter at the demonstration, make sure I'm standing where he would be when the spider descends.
I grab a company ID badge from the desk drawer, throw on a jacket, and meet Bernard at the elevator.
"Will you be returning for lunch, sir?" he asks as we descend.
"No, and maybe not for dinner either." I pause, then add, "If my father asks, tell him I'm meeting with some potential investors. Private meeting, very hush-hush."
Bernard's eyebrow raises slightly, but he nods. "Very good, sir."
The car is sleek and expensive, with a driver who doesn't speak except to confirm our destination. As we pull away from the luxury high-rise that is apparently my home, I look out at New York—a New York that exists in a universe I once thought was fiction.
The Stark Expo is all over the news playing on a screen in the car. Tony Stark, alive and real, making his grand entrance. Somewhere out there, the other Avengers are finding their paths. Captain America is still frozen in ice. Thor hasn't arrived on Earth yet. Bruce Banner is on the run.
And Peter Parker is about to have his destiny stolen by me.
I should feel guilty about this, but I don't. In this world, with what's coming—the Chitauri invasion, Ultron, Thanos—the more heroes with power, the better. Peter might still become Spider-Man somehow. Or he might find another path. But right now, I have knowledge no one else has, and I need power to act on it.
The car pulls up to the imposing glass tower of Oscorp Industries. It's even more impressive in person than in the films—a monument to scientific achievement and corporate might. People stream in and out of the main entrance, scientists and executives going about their day unaware that their CEO is slowly transforming into a supervillain.
"We've arrived, sir," the driver announces unnecessarily.
I take a deep breath. "Thanks. I'll find my own way back."
As I step out onto the sidewalk, I spot them—a group of high school students gathering near the entrance, chaperoned by a teacher I recognize from the films. And among them, looking smaller and younger than I expected, is Peter Parker.
Our eyes meet briefly as I walk past, and there's a flicker of recognition in his expression. He knows Harry Osborn—me—even if we don't seem to be close friends yet.
I enter the building, flash my ID at security, and head for the elevator that will take me to the genetics lab. My heart pounds against my ribs as the floors tick by.
The elevator doors open on the 87th floor...
By the end of today, I'll have powers that will change everything.