"It's coming—get ready."
A squad of armed guards aimed their rifles at the elevator doors, tension thick in the air.
Ding—
The elevator arrived. The doors slid open slowly, revealing… nothing.
"There's no one inside," the leader muttered, frowning. The others exchanged uncertain glances.
Then—clang.
Something small and metallic rolled out of the elevator, glinting gold under the light.
"What is this?" the leader asked, picking it up.
A faint ding ding ding echoed from within the sphere—then silence.
BOOM!
The world exploded in fire and smoke. The guards were thrown to the ground, weapons clattering away.
Coughing through the haze, Harry dropped lightly from the elevator shaft. He waved away the smoke, eyes sharp. "That should get their attention." His spider sense had already warned him there'd be an ambush waiting. Now, the path below was clear.
The underground base was simple—too simple. A single corridor stretched ahead, lined with cameras on both sides. Harry didn't believe for a second that Norman Osborn would leave himself so exposed.
He scanned the walls with his phone and found what he was looking for: a hidden palmprint scanner. "Of course," he murmured, pressing his hand against it. The wall slid open, revealing a narrow secret passage.
As expected of Norman. One hidden road leading straight to the end.
There were no lights, but the glow of Harry's phone was enough to guide him through. Then, a shiver crawled down his spine—his spider sense flaring violently. He dropped back a step just as metal flashed through the dark.
Clang!
A blade buried itself in the wall where his chest had been.
Harry lifted his phone, and the light caught the silhouette of a man dressed in black, sword gleaming in hand. The man yanked his weapon free—but Harry was faster. He rolled forward and kicked, sending the attacker crashing backward.
The man quickly rose, slashing twice. Harry dodged each blow, but the third came fast—a straight thrust. The glint of the weapon revealed its nature. A katana.
Harry sidestepped and struck the man's wrist with the edge of his palm. The sword dropped, and Harry snatched it midair with his left hand. In a single motion, he turned the blade against its owner, pressing the cold steel to the man's neck.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded, holding up his phone's light. The man was masked—clearly a Japanese ninja.
The ninja coughed, red trickling from the corner of his mouth. He didn't speak. Then his body stiffened and went still.
"Dead," Harry muttered, lowering the blade.
Stepping through the sticky blood, he continued forward without hesitation. Whoever that man was, his skill meant nothing now.
The tunnel opened into a chamber flooded with harsh light. Harry squinted, letting his eyes adjust—then froze.
Two people stood inside: Dr. Carl… and Norman Osborn.
"Harry," came a frail, rasping voice from the bed. "I didn't expect us to meet again so soon."
Harry's lips curled into a small, bitter smile as he approached. "Neither did I."
The man lying before him was a ruin of what once was—a body twisted and sickly green, veins pulsing with the remnants of the serum.
"Look at you," Norman said, raising his trembling, grotesque hands. "Healthy. Strong. Cured. And look at me… a monster. Harry—help me. Save your father. Tell me how you survived the curse. Please." He reached for Harry desperately.
Harry bowed his head. "Of course, I'll save my father."
Norman's eyes lit up. "Then—"
"But my father, Norman Osborn," Harry interrupted, voice dropping to a cold whisper, "is dead."
Norman froze. "What…?"
"I said, my father is dead!" Harry's face twisted with rage as he grabbed Norman by the throat and lifted him from the bed. "If he's dead, then who are you?"
Norman gasped, clawing at Harry's wrist, his feet leaving the ground. Dr. Carl watched silently, eyes filled with helpless sorrow.
The pressure in Harry's chest built, the fury and grief swelling until it spilled into his strength.
"Die, Norman Osborn!" Harry's voice cracked with emotion. Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed his other hand to Norman's forehead.
Crack.
Norman's body went limp.
Harry's tears finally fell. A faint, gray mist seeped from his chest, curling along his arm before sinking into Norman's corpse.
He exhaled slowly. The rage that had tormented him for days evaporated, leaving his mind clear and eerily calm.
"Let's go, Doctor," Harry said quietly, retrieving a few small bombs from his pocket.
Dr. Carl nodded weakly. He had imagined many outcomes for this encounter—anger, confusion, confrontation—but not this simple, chilling composure.
Without looking back, Harry activated one of the bombs and tossed it onto Norman's bed. The faint beep… beep… followed him as he walked away.
Moments later, the explosion tore through the underground lab. The small building above trembled, then collapsed into rubble.
Standing on the flying skateboard outside, Dr. Carl looked back once at the smoke rising behind them. "Rest in peace," he whispered, though even he wasn't sure to whom.
——
The next morning, Harry stood silently by the wide glass window of Oscorp Tower, the early sunlight spilling over him. The city buzzed below, indifferent to last night's destruction.
Norman's death hadn't broken him—it had simply stripped away another layer of illusion. The world was ruthless, and now, he knew it all too well.
"Harry."
The voice behind him was gravelly and low. Harry turned to see Max standing there.
"What is it, Max?" he asked, taking a seat behind his desk.
"I heard about Mr. Osborn," Max said. "I'm sorry."
Harry smiled faintly. "Did Dr. Carl tell you?"
"Yes. He thought you might be… upset."
Harry shook his head. "I'm fine."
Max studied him carefully. "Really?"
"I said I'm fine."
Their eyes locked for a moment, the silence heavy between them.
Then—knock knock.
"Come in," Harry said.
The door opened, heels clicking against the marble floor.
"Mr. Osborn," came a familiar female voice, smooth and confident. "There's a document here that requires your attention."
---
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