"Mr. Osborn, the board is ready for you."
The executive assistant's voice breaks through my thoughts as I stand at the window of my temporary office, watching scientists in the courtyard below test some new polymer. I've spent the past week immersing myself in Oscorp's operations, absorbing information like a sponge while quietly compiling a list of changes needed to transform this weapons manufacturer into my own version of Wayne Enterprises.
Today is the day I make my first real move.
"Thank you, Claire. I'll be right there."
I check my reflection in the glass—Harry Osborn stares back at me, but his eyes hold a determination that probably wasn't there before my arrival. The tailored suit fits perfectly now, adjusted for my enhanced physique. I've styled my hair more conservatively than Harry's previous look, part of the subtle rebranding I'm implementing. New Harry is serious, focused, ambitious—but not in the way Norman is. Not ruthless for its own sake.
The boardroom falls silent as I enter. Twelve pairs of eyes track me to the podium, expressions ranging from curious to dismissive to openly hostile. Norman sits at the far end, his face an unreadable mask. We've barely spoken since the Stark Expo incident, both of us circling each other like wary predators. He's suspicious of my sudden interest in the company but can't deny the quality of work I've been producing in the materials science division.
"Gentlemen. Ladies." I nod to the two women on the board—Dr. Emily Warren, head of biochemical research, and Marjorie Stenz, chief financial officer. "Thank you for agreeing to hear my proposal today."
I connect my tablet to the presentation system, and a sleek Oscorp logo appears on the wall screens—but modified, more streamlined, with a subtle shift in color from harsh green to a deeper emerald.
"Oscorp stands at a crossroads," I begin, my voice steady and confident. "For decades, we've been a leader in military technology and biomedical research. But the landscape is changing. Stark Industries' pivot away from weapons manufacturing has created both challenges and opportunities. The question before us is simple: do we double down on our traditional markets, or do we evolve?"
I click to the next slide, showing a series of market projections.
"Our military contracts division has seen declining returns for three consecutive quarters. Meanwhile, our civilian tech applications have grown by twenty-two percent with minimal marketing investment." I make eye contact with several board members who I know are already concerned about this trend. "These numbers tell a story about where the future of this company lies."
Norman shifts in his seat, his knuckles whitening slightly as he grips his pen. He knows what's coming.
"I propose a strategic realignment of Oscorp's core business. Not an abandonment of our military partnerships, but an expansion beyond them. A diversification that positions us for the next twenty years, not just the next fiscal quarter."
The next hour passes in a blur of presentations, financial projections, and targeted appeals to specific board members' interests. I've done my homework, studying each of their backgrounds, preferences, and pressure points. Dr. Warren lights up when I detail investment in medical applications of our cross-species genetics work. Harold Thorne, our head of manufacturing, leans forward when I outline how our facilities can be retrofitted for civilian production without sacrificing military capability.
Throughout it all, Norman remains silent, his expression growing darker by the minute. When I finally finish and open the floor for questions, he's the first to speak.
"An impressive presentation... son." The word carries a razor's edge. "But perhaps a bit ambitious for someone who couldn't be bothered to attend a board meeting until last week. What triggered this sudden... interest?"
The challenge hangs in the air. The room turns to me, awaiting my response. This is the moment that will define whether they see me as a serious contender for leadership or just Norman's wayward son playing at business.
"Fair question," I acknowledge, meeting his gaze directly. "I won't pretend I've been the model heir apparent. But sometimes clarity comes from unexpected places." I pause, choosing my next words carefully. "At the Stark Expo attack, I saw firsthand what technology in the wrong hands can do. I also saw what it can accomplish when guided by the right principles."
I set down my presentation remote, stepping away from the podium to address the board more intimately.
"Oscorp has always been about potential—finding it, developing it, deploying it. I believe our greatest potential lies not in creating better ways to fight wars, but in solving problems that make wars less necessary. Clean energy. Medical advancements. Sustainable infrastructure." I turn back to Norman. "You built this company to change the world, Dad. I'm just suggesting we consider more ways to do that."
A moment of silence follows, broken finally by Marjorie Stenz.
"These projections are compelling, Harry, but the transition costs—"
"Would be offset by the Soultech acquisition and the licensing agreements I've outlined in section four," I counter smoothly. "Our immediate cash position would actually improve while we reposition for long-term growth."
More questions follow, increasingly technical and challenging. I handle each one with precision, drawing on both my preparation for this meeting and knowledge from my previous life. Finance was never my specialty, but I'd absorbed enough from business publications and tech industry news to navigate these waters convincingly.
Finally, Norman rises from his seat, commanding the room's attention without a word.
"I think we've heard enough for one day. Harry's proposal deserves... consideration." His tone makes clear what kind of consideration he thinks it deserves. "We'll continue this discussion at next week's strategy session. For now, I believe we have other matters to address."
In Norman-speak, I've just been dismissed. The board members shuffle their papers, preparing to move on to the next agenda item. But I'm not quite finished.
"Actually, I have one more item to present, if the board will indulge me."
Norman's eyes narrow dangerously. This isn't in the script.
"I've taken the liberty of opening preliminary discussions with the Fujikawa Corporation regarding their energy storage technology." I slide a folder across the table toward Marjorie Stenz. "Their patents would pair exceptionally well with our materials research. The potential market applications are substantial."
Marjorie opens the folder, her eyebrows rising as she scans the contents. "These terms are... surprisingly favorable."
"Fujikawa is eager to partner with a company of our research capabilities," I explain. "Their CEO and I had a productive dinner last night."
Norman's face darkens further—he's been trying to get a meeting with Fujikawa for months without success. "You took it upon yourself to initiate partnership discussions without board approval?"
"Exploratory discussions only," I clarify. "Any formal agreement would naturally require board review. But time is of the essence—Stark Industries has also expressed interest."
The mention of Stark changes the temperature in the room instantly. Several board members lean forward, suddenly much more interested in my initiative.
"I've included the preliminary terms and market analysis in the materials provided," I continue. "I believe this partnership aligns perfectly with the strategic direction I've proposed today."
Norman is trapped, and he knows it. If he shuts down the Fujikawa discussion, he risks losing a valuable opportunity to a competitor. If he allows it to proceed, he tacitly endorses my vision for the company's future.
Échec et mat.
"We'll review the materials," he says finally, voice tight with controlled anger. "The board will need time to evaluate both the strategic proposal and this... initiative."
"Of course," I reply, collecting my presentation materials. "I'm available for any follow-up questions."
As the meeting transitions to other business, I exit quietly, feeling Norman's eyes burning into my back. My phone buzzes as I walk back to my office. Peter Parker.
"Dude, you're all over the business news feeds. 'Osborn Heir Challenges Company Direction'?"
News travels fast. I type back: "Slight exaggeration. Just presenting some new ideas."
"MJ says it's more than that. Her mom works in financial news and says you're making 'strategic power moves' whatever that means."
I smile at that. MJ paying attention to my corporate activities wasn't part of my calculations, but it's not unwelcome.
"Tell MJ her mom's reading too much into it. Still on for movie night Friday?"
"Yeah, MJ's picking the film. Fair warning, she's on a David Lynch kick."
Perfect. A chance to strengthen those crucial relationships. I'm about to reply when Claire appears at my office door.
"Mr. Osborn, your father wants to see you. Immediately."
Here we go. Round two.
I follow her to Norman's executive suite on the top floor of Oscorp Tower. His office is exactly what you'd expect—massive desk positioned to dominate the room, wall of windows overlooking the city, subtle displays of power and influence scattered throughout the space. Awards. Photos with military generals and senators. A small model of what I recognize as the early Goblin glider, disguised as a military drone prototype.
Norman stands with his back to the door, gazing out at the Manhattan skyline, hands clasped behind him. He doesn't turn when I enter.
"Close the door."
I do, then wait silently. Let him make the first real move.
"What exactly do you think you're doing, Harry?" His voice is dangerously calm.
"Contributing to the company. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
He turns now, his expression controlled but eyes burning with intensity. "Don't play games with me. This sudden transformation—the diligence, the initiative, the corporate maneuvering. What triggered it?"
I consider my answer carefully. Part truth, part necessary fiction.
"I told you before. The Stark Expo attack changed my perspective."
"Bullshit!" He steps closer, studying my face. "There's something different about you. Not just your behavior. Something... physical."
A chill runs through me. Has he noticed the subtle changes from the spider bite?
"I've been working out," I say with a casual shrug. "Trying to take better care of myself."
Norman's eyes narrow, unconvinced. "You bypassed established protocols by approaching Fujikawa directly. You presented a complete company reorganization without consulting me. You're making moves against me, in my own company."
"Not against you," I counter. "For Oscorp. Everything I proposed today strengthens our position in the market."
"While conveniently shifting power toward divisions you would control." Norman's smile is cold. "Did you think I wouldn't see the pattern? Military applications—my historical stronghold—diminished. Consumer technology and medical research—your proposed domains—elevated."
He's not wrong. I've structured my proposal to gradually shift the company's center of gravity away from Norman's power base.
"Don't blame me, the market is shifting," I say, holding my ground. "We need to shift with it."
"The market," Norman repeats, almost amused. "As if you've ever cared about market forces before last week." He returns to his desk, pressing a button on his phone. "Claire, bring in the Prometheus file."
My spider-sense tingles faintly. Whatever this is, it's not good.
Claire enters moments later with a thick folder bearing biohazard symbols and restricted clearance warnings. Norman dismisses her with a gesture, then slides the folder across the desk toward me.
"Since you're so interested in company operations, perhaps you should familiarize yourself with our most promising research. The true future of Oscorp."
I open the folder cautiously. Inside are detailed reports on something called Project Prometheus—a human enhancement initiative that goes far beyond the Goblin formula I expected. This is experimentation with cross-species genetics, mechanical augmentation, and neural interfaces combined into a single integrated system. Creating super-soldiers through multiple parallel modifications.
"This is... ambitious," I say neutrally, scanning the technical specifications.
"It's revolutionary," Norman corrects, watching me closely. "The military applications alone will secure Oscorp's dominance for decades. And you want to divert resources to consumer gadgets and medical bandages."
I close the folder, choosing my words with extreme care. "This kind of research carries significant ethical and legal implications. The board might have concerns."
Norman laughs, a sound entirely devoid of humor. "The board serves at my pleasure. They provide oversight only where I allow it."
"And the test subjects? These modifications are permanent, potentially destabilizing. Who exactly are you experimenting on?"
A slow smile spreads across Norman's face, sending a chill down my spine. "The most reliable subject. One with complete commitment to the project's success." He taps his own chest. "Myself."
Even though I expected this revelation, the confirmation hits hard. Norman is already undergoing the transformations that will create the Green Goblin—but on a scale far beyond what I anticipated. Not just enhanced strength and reflexes, but a complete integration of biological and mechanical systems.
"You're using untested technology on yourself," I say, unable to keep the concern from my voice. "The risk factors—"
"Are acceptable given the potential benefits." Norman dismisses my objection with a wave. "Life is risk, Harry. Great achievement requires great sacrifice. Something you're only beginning to understand."
He steps around the desk, placing a hand on my shoulder. The gesture seems paternal, but his grip is just slightly too tight.
"I'm sharing this with you as an olive branch. Your initiatives today showed promise—misguided, but ambitious. There may be a place for you in Prometheus, if you realign your priorities with the company's true direction."
An invitation and a threat, wrapped in the same package. Join him or be marginalized.
"I'll need time to review the research properly," I say, nodding toward the folder. "The technical aspects are complex."
Norman's grip tightens fractionally, then releases. "Take the file. Study it. We'll discuss your involvement next week." He returns to the window, our audience clearly concluded. "And Harry? The Fujikawa partnership has potential. Pursue it—under my direct supervision."
A small victory, though not without strings attached. "Thank you."
I didn't say yes.
As I turn to leave, Norman adds: "One more thing. Dr. Stromm has been relieved of his duties. Creative differences. Dr. Mendel will be overseeing Prometheus going forward."
FUCK.
Stromm—the scientist who had expressed concerns about the formula's side effects. Now removed. Another piece moving on the chessboard, another obstacle to Norman's transformation eliminated.
"I see," is all I say before exiting.
Back in my office, I lock the door and examine the Prometheus file more thoroughly. The details are worse than I anticipated. Norman isn't just enhancing himself; he's fundamentally rewriting his biological systems while integrating mechanical elements. The psychological side effects noted in the early trials are substantial—paranoia, dissociative episodes, heightened aggression. And based on the timeline, he's already several treatments in.
The Green Goblin is coming, faster and more dangerous than in any version I remember from comics or films.
I secure the file in my briefcase and head down to the materials science lab where I've established my legitimate corporate beachhead. The team looks up as I enter—a dozen brilliant scientists who now report directly to me, working on projects that will eventually contribute to my Batman Beyond suit without their knowledge.
"Mr. Osborn," Dr. Elias Martinez greets me, rising from his workstation. I handpicked Martinez to lead this division—brilliant, innovative, and with a strong ethical compass. My version of Lucius Fox. "We've completed the initial tests on the adaptive fiber matrix. Results are promising."
"Show me."
Martinez leads me to a testing chamber where a sample of black fabric is mounted on a frame. "The material responds to electrical stimulation by altering its molecular structure. Watch."
He taps commands into a control panel, and the fabric transforms—hardening in some sections while remaining flexible in others, changing from light-absorbing black to a reflective surface, then back again.
"Response time is under 100 milliseconds," Martinez explains. "We can program specific configurations or allow the system to adapt automatically to environmental conditions."
Perfect for the Batman Beyond suit's adaptive capabilities.
"What about impact resistance?"
Martinez's eyes light up. "That's where it gets interesting. Under sufficient kinetic energy, the molecular bonds temporarily strengthen—like a non-Newtonian fluid but at the structural level. The harder the impact, the stronger the resistance."
I examine the material closely, already envisioning applications beyond what Martinez is suggesting. "And power requirements?"
"Minimal. The transformation process itself generates energy through piezoelectric effects. Once initialized, the system is nearly self-sustaining for standard operations."
The foundation of my suit's outer layer, developing right on schedule. Combined with the other elements I'm quietly gathering—communications technology from Oscorp's satellite division, energy systems from R&D, the beginnings of an AI interface from the computer sciences team—the Batman Beyond suit is taking shape piece by piece.
"Excellent work, Dr. Martinez. Push forward with the next phase. I want to see larger samples and stress testing by next week."
As the team returns to work, my phone buzzes with a news alert: "Oscorp Shares Jump 4% Following Strategic Announcement."
The corporate side of my plan is proceeding as well. The board meeting was just the opening salvo—publicly positioning me as a rising force within Oscorp while privately advancing the technologies I'll need. Norman suspects I'm making a play for corporate power, but he doesn't realize it's merely a means to an end.