The sun rose as Harry Osborn lay in bed and switched on the giant TV mounted on his bedroom wall.
"…A major tragedy at Oscorp: multiple researchers were killed overnight. Police are pursuing the killer, but based on damage to walls and equipment, some claim the culprit isn't even human…"
"What?!" Harry stared at the footage of seven or eight bodies being wheeled out of Oscorp Tower under white sheets.
The reporter kept talking to camera, but Harry wasn't listening. He leapt from bed and sprinted out, heading for his father Norman Osborn's bedroom—then stopped short.
Norman wasn't in his room. He was shirtless, fast asleep in the hallway.
"Father, are you alright?" Harry hurried over and shook him.
"I… I don't know. What happened?" Norman mumbled, waking groggily.
"I found you sleeping in the hall. You must be exhausted," Harry said. "Something happened at the company."
"What? What happened?"
At the word "company," Norman scrambled up, panic etched across his face.
Harry opened his mouth, then realized it was too hard to explain. He hauled his father into his own room instead and pointed at the giant TV, where the news was still rolling.
"It happened last night."
On-screen, the reporter was reading the names of the dead—without exception, senior technical staff who had worked at Oscorp for more than a decade. The company's growth and their research were inseparable. These were core of the core.
At the same time, the fifty homeless men from Sublevel B2—now dead—were exposed by police and media. General Ross's military cover could no longer suppress it.
Whoosh!
Norman's breathing turned ragged. Bloodshot eyes wide, he sputtered, "Who did this? Who?!"
Faces of rival execs flashed through his mind—then he dismissed them one by one.
"No. They wouldn't use something this bloody. They don't have the nerve…"
"Spider-Man? I sent the Spider-Slayer after him. Is this payback?"
His expression twisted. He gripped his son's arm hard. "Harry, get dressed. Come with me to the police."
"Father?" Harry asked, baffled.
"I need to see Spencer Smythe," Norman said. "I think I know who did it."
…
At the abandoned shipyard, Batman was still pushing Peter Parker's body to its limits. He could feel it getting stronger with constant training.
Because Peter was simply too short (compared with Bruce Wayne), Batman had even written himself a diet plan to bring his physique closer to Bruce's.
There was no TV at the shipyard, but he'd bought a radio. It was carrying the report of last night's bloodbath at Oscorp.
"Who's the killer?"
He kept body and mind working in tandem.
Last night he'd searched Oscorp top to bottom again without spotting Norman Osborn. The researchers hadn't been running human trials either—they'd been arguing heatedly.
"For now the only thing certain is that it happened after I left Oscorp. I'll need to see the scene myself to know the details."
"The damage shown on the news is massive—not exactly human. It's possible Oscorp's human trials have produced another monster like the Squid-Man."
Thud!
He dropped a 25-ton stack of plates onto the floor.
He changed into a plaid shirt, stopped by Peter Parker's apartment to show his face—and found the landlord's daughter, Ursula, waiting at his door again.
"Hi, Peter."
"Harry Osborn called—he won't be at school for a while… I knocked just now, but I guess you didn't hear me."
Batman nodded, remembering his public identity was still the STEM kid Peter Parker. "Sorry, Ursula, I was out cold… What happened?"
Ursula handed him that day's Daily Bugle, featuring the massacre at Oscorp.
His polished performance convinced the earnest girl he was only just learning the news. She rushed to comfort him. "I know Harry's your best friend. I hope this won't hurt his studies."
"I hope so too," Batman said.
It was Monday—Peter should've been in class. Batman had no time. Oscorp was now locked down by police; going in as Peter was out of the question, and showing up as Batman would likely make him a suspect. He'd have to go at night. For now: Dr. Octavius.
"Funding his lab was Oscorp's job. With a murder at Oscorp, Octavius will assume the experiment's on indefinite hold…"
He thought of Gotham's scientists who'd gone to extremes for all sorts of reasons: Mr. Freeze, Scarecrow, Professor Pyg, Man-Bat…
However small the chance, he didn't want Gotham's story to repeat in New York.
"Brooklyn."
He told the cab driver, then closed his eyes to grab a few minutes' rest on the way.
…
"Get in touch with Brooklyn PD—but don't spook anyone."
At Manhattan PD, George Stacy issued orders with steady calm.
They'd made no headway on last night's gang assault when, this morning, Oscorp employees arriving for work smelled heavy blood and discovered the carnage on Sublevel B3. With Sublevel B2's human trials now public, Oscorp was locked down completely.
"Based on employee interviews, Oscorp had halted nearly all sponsored research and funneled most of its budget into the so-called 'super-soldier' program… Could that tie into the murders on B3?"
As Stacy fielded call after call, the New York power utility rang in:
"Abnormal underground power usage in Brooklyn."
Brooklyn PD, meanwhile, had received a report of a massive noise at Dr. Octavius's lab the previous day. Responding officers found both Octavius and his equipment gone, with only enormous, inhuman claw marks at the scene.
—Dr. Octavius's fusion research had been funded by Oscorp as well—and was one of the projects recently frozen.
The destruction on B3 and the claw marks in Octavius's lab; the overnight murders and Octavius's mysterious disappearance; projects frozen while equipment vanished; abnormal power draw…
George Stacy temporarily pegged Dr. Octavius as a suspect and coordinated with Brooklyn PD to act in tandem.
Woo-woo!
Convoys of police cars, packed with fully armed officers, wailed toward Brooklyn.