"I'm telling you, man—you really need to get yourself a girlfriend. Then you won't have to come crawling to me every time you get mauled."
Bant snapped the lid shut on the medical kit and flicked the blood-soaked cotton into the trash.
"I'd love to. But Liz doesn't even know I exist."
"Must it be Liz?" Bant shot back, handing him a small vial. "Here. Antidote to the Lizard serum."
"Thanks… shame I let the doctor get away." Peter sighed, visibly frustrated.
"You didn't let him get away—you barely escaped with your life," Bant corrected. Watching Peter's awkward wince, he added, "And that's me being generous."
Peter wilted. "You're right. I'm no match for him."
"Maybe you just haven't tapped into your full potential yet," Bant said. "Either way, we need to find them—fast."
Peter nodded, but then blinked in surprise.
"Them?"
"Someone even crazier than Connors," Bant said simply.
Meanwhile, deep in the sewers—
Fresh from his clash with Spider-Man, Dr. Connors—now fully the Lizard—seethed with fury.
Letting the brat slip away had been a mistake. But all was not lost.
Following the faint trail of webbing that clung to the pipes, the Lizard eventually reached a junction—and spotted something wedged between two valves: an old camera.
He tore it free with one claw, turned it over, and saw the engraving on the back.
"Peter… Parker?"
His voice was a blend of surprise and malice.
He hadn't expected Spider-Man's true identity to be Peter.
Despite everything, Connors had always admired the boy's talent. Especially after Peter helped him crack the decay-rate algorithm, he had recognized the kid as nothing less than a prodigy.
Even now, as a mutated reptile, Connors still respected Peter's mind.
He had even intended to share the serum's blessing with him.
But now?
Now that the boy had dared to stand in his way, there was only one thought left in Connors' mind—
Kill Peter Parker.
—
The next morning.
For once, Bant and Peter walked to school together.
"Osborn Tower has been sealed off. Norman Osborn still hasn't appeared publicly."
Peter frowned as he scrolled through the news, then turned to Bant in confusion. "Osborn Tower's shut down? What happened?"
Bant had been there last night. If anything had gone down, he'd know.
"You already know," Bant said quietly.
"You mean the other mad scientist?" Peter sputtered. "You told me you two fought a bunch of monsters—you didn't say you practically leveled the building!"
Bant offered a helpless shrug.
Peter sighed. "I hope this doesn't hit Harry too hard."
It would—no question.
Harry had already texted Bant to cancel their weekend plan to scout locations for the new company and shop for lab equipment. Completely understandable.
This was a scandal of massive proportions.
And while the board may have loved kicking Norman out every other quarter, he was still Osborn's founder and biggest shareholder. Public appearances were off the table until the chaos settled.
The real question was whether this disaster would push Norman even further out of control.
In fact—
Over at the Osborn manor, Norman was… strangely cheerful.
He popped open a bottle of champagne, face flushed with delight. He even reached for a second glass before remembering:
"Oh, right. You're not old enough."
He loosened his tie, sat back, and sipped contentedly.
Harry, however, watched him like he was staring at a stranger. His stern father had never—ever—looked this relaxed. And underneath that smile lurked something wild… something destructive.
"Dad… the company's in crisis. How are you not worried?"
In Harry's mind, Norman should have called a press conference immediately to steady the shareholders and minimize the damage.
But from the moment the news broke, Norman hadn't lifted a finger. Let the situation burn. Ignored every call from the board.
"Why should I worry?" Norman asked calmly.
He was in a good mood, so he gave Harry a patient smile. "What concerns me is that you don't understand the situation."
"I… don't get it."
"It's simple, Harry." Norman cut into his steak, dabbed his lips, and continued. "I only worry when I'm about to lose something. But what if the thing in question was never really mine?"
Harry blinked. "But Osborn Industries is yours. You built it. Who else would it belong to?"
Norman only smiled.
What Harry didn't know was that while Norman held the largest single share, it wasn't enough for true control. The board had long since banded together to sideline him.
Osborn Industries wasn't the same company it used to be.
Norman's smile thinned.
Those bloodsuckers thought they could steal his company?
Not a chance.
"They want me out? Fine. Then nobody gets to keep playing."
Truthfully, Norman had been one provocation away from overturning the entire table. The attack on Osborn Tower was just the perfect excuse.
Troublesome?
Then let the whole world grind to a halt.
But suddenly, a new idea flickered in his eyes. He took another sip of champagne and said:
"Get in touch with Bant. Tell him to push Primus Tech forward as quickly as possible. When Osborn's stock hits rock bottom, I'll provide the funds. He'll help me buy back the shares."
Norman wasn't delusional—he knew Osborn Industries was damaged. Even if he bought back control, its value would probably never recover to its former glory.
Not the most profitable investment.
But it was still his life's work—more effort poured in than he'd given to his own son. If there was any chance of reclaiming it, he would take it.
He didn't intend for Bant to shoulder any risk. Norman would provide the money; Primus Tech was just a convenient shell to avoid scrutiny.
Harry nodded.
He didn't understand the intricacies, but he could follow instructions.
/-\
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