I stared at those damned pumpkin bombs with horror in my eyes, counting down the final moments of my life. All my plans had gone to hell... And just as the bombs were supposed to explode, they beeped, and a devilish laugh blared from the speakers installed in them. It seemed these weren't bombs at all, but mere dummies. Yet the fear that gripped everyone in the room was very real.
"Well, well, well, Oscorp's moneybags, did I scare you? You were scared, weren't you? Ha-ha-ha!" the intruder said gleefully. He was clad in hastily painted yellow high-tech armor and an extremely ugly mask.
"Who are you?" Balkan shouted furiously, leaping from his seat—a man who had endured too many blows in a single day.
"It doesn't matter who I am. Though my name isn't much of a secret anymore, you can all call me Hobgoblin. And I'm here for one purpose..." the intruder said, clearly expecting someone to ask what that purpose was. I didn't disappoint him.
"And what is that purpose?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm glad the most important person in this company asked," he said, seemingly unaware that I could hardly be called the most important in Oscorp Industries at the moment.
"Of course, I'm here for money. You at Oscorp have made tens of millions exploiting ordinary people's labor, and it would be nice if you shared some of your wealth with poor old me. Ha-ha-ha!" Hobgoblin said, laughing just to maintain his image.
But I'm not even from Oscorp. I just ended up at this meeting by chance, and I think I can be let go, one of the two assistants who had arrived with Adam Hall decided to speak up.
Hobgoblin didn't respond. Instead, he quickly grabbed one of the throwing knives attached to his belt and hurled it straight into the eye of Adam Hall's assistant, who collapsed dead.
"Well, well, any other unnecessary people here who aren't part of Oscorp? Just say the word, and you'll be 'free' too," Hobgoblin said, clearly mocking. But no one answered. There were no fools in the meeting room.
"Where was I? Oh yes... Money. I want each of you present in this room to transfer ten million dollars to my accounts, and Norman Osborn—twenty million. If the money doesn't reach my account by the start of the next day, those cute bombs that scared you so much will no longer be dummies. You all know—and if you don't, you'll soon find out—how much high-tech weaponry I stole from you idiots. So don't make me target you," Hobgoblin said. He tossed a dozen "business cards" onto the table, each featuring the ugly mug of some freak—presumably Hobgoblin—along with account numbers and instructions on how to transfer him money.
"Jason, you realize that after what just happened, half the city's police will be hunting you down?" I asked Hobgoblin, barely concealing my anger.
I knew it was better not to draw attention to myself, but the fear I had experienced earlier now made me furious. All my plans—even my life—could have been ruined, not by an incredibly dangerous enemy like Thanos or Galactus, but by a greedy fool who decided to make a quick buck.
"Norman, don't think you surprised me by saying that name, though I don't admit it has anything to do with me, Hobgoblin. I'm addressing all of you: just think about it. A measly ten million, and you can go back to living as you did before, without fearing that one day I'll fly in and bomb you. And even if you hide, you have wives, loved ones, friends, or even a dog—I'll turn your lives into hell. Is it worth it? Definitely not," Hobgoblin said. Then, hearing shouts from the guards outside the door, he leaped onto his glider and flew away.
He didn't fly with much confidence, though. The glider itself was just an early prototype, and Hobgoblin lacked the skills to pilot it effectively—something that could have been compensated for with superpowers, but he was just an ordinary man.
At that moment, right on time, the security team burst into the meeting room, led by Arthur Stacy.
"You're too late. He's already gone," I told the guards.
"This is outrageous! What are we even paid for, you good-for-nothings? Some clown barges in during a shareholders' meeting and dares to threaten us! You're not security—you're a disgrace. You're all fired today, and you won't even be hired to guard a doghouse!" Balkan shouted at the arriving guards. Judging by the murmurs of agreement from the others in the meeting room, many shared his sentiment.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Balkan, but I'll be the one deciding who gets fired and who doesn't. But I agree with you on one thing: a thorough investigation will be conducted, and all those responsible for this happening will be punished," Adam Hall said, clearing his throat. Even in this situation, he managed to remain relatively calm—perhaps only on the surface.
"You know, I think I'll pay him. I only have one life, and I'm not going to risk it. As that robber said, it's just a measly ten million, and I have a wife and two children. Who knows what might come into this madman's head," Tom Bailey said, picking up one of Hobgoblin's business cards from the table. You could understand him—his wealth allowed him to spend such sums without a second thought.
"Something must be done about this idiot. I'm not going to live constantly looking over my shoulder. I'm not going to pay him money, but I'm willing to pay much more than ten million to have this problem resolved once and for all," Maximilian Fargas said quietly. Wow, it seemed he was ready to resort to less-than-legal methods to solve the problem, and I thought he had voiced the thoughts of many in the room. Though perhaps he shouldn't have said it out loud—many would remember his words.
"Everyone must decide for themselves whether to pay or not and how to act in this situation. I would recommend trusting the police. And speaking of the police... Arthur, please call the police. After all, a murder has occurred, and they need to know what happened," I said to Arthur, looking at the body of Adam Hall's assistant lying on the floor—a man whose name I didn't even know and, frankly, didn't intend to find out.
"The police have already been called, and they'll be here soon," Arthur replied.
"I think we should end this shareholders' meeting. We've discussed all the main issues, and I don't think we should continue discussing any business now. And please, don't leave—most likely, the police will have questions we'll need to answer. The more we cooperate, the faster they'll catch this Hobgoblin," I said, addressing the Oscorp shareholders.
Soon, the police arrived, and these weren't just ordinary patrol officers but a police SWAT team led by Captain George Stacy, who had recently been personally investigating the recent thefts from Oscorp's warehouses. After greeting everyone in the room, he immediately approached his brother Arthur, who, I remind you, was the head of Oscorp's security.
"We were only slightly late. It's been confirmed that the criminal is Jason Macendale. We managed to capture his accomplice, Jeremy Travers, who, by the way, worked at Oscorp for fifteen years. He didn't hold out long and soon gave up his friend," George told his brother. It seemed he wasn't particularly concerned that not only Arthur but everyone in the shareholders' meeting room was listening intently.
"He demanded ten million from each of you, and twenty from Norman. He even killed that poor guy just to scare you all into parting with your money more willingly," Arthur replied to his brother, sadly shaking his head.
"According to Travers, there was no 'raid' on Oscorp's shareholders originally planned. They intended to pull everything off quietly and just sell the stolen weapons. But they couldn't keep it clean, and we tracked them down. So they decided to go all in. I don't think many will transfer them money, but still, someone might..." the policeman said. At that moment, an expression appeared on his face as if he had suddenly remembered something.
"Esteemed Oscorp shareholders, do not dare transfer money to the criminal. Don't worry—he'll be caught soon. In the meantime, I advise you to lie low in a safe place. The police are ready to provide temporary protection to anyone who needs it," Captain Stacy addressed the shareholders.
"Do we have any idea where the criminal might be?" I asked Captain Stacy.
"Travers said Macendale rented some warehouse in the docks, but he doesn't know which one or exactly where. We're still looking for a lead, but I don't think he can hide there for long. Eventually, either we'll track down his location, or he'll show himself," Arthur replied.
"I'm not going to wait for you to catch him. I'll take my family and fly to France on the next plane," declared Colin Mitchell, one of Oscorp's shareholders, who had been silent until now.
"I think that's a wise decision—to wait until the criminal is caught in a place where he definitely can't reach you," Captain Stacy said. This wasn't a very smart move on his part. Now, many of those present would think that if they didn't leave the country, they would be in danger.
"Captain Stacy, if you have no further questions, I'd like to attend to my business," I said to the policeman. I wasn't going to waste any more time on unnecessary conversations.
"You may go, Mr. Osborn, but stay available in case we need any information from you," he replied.
"Alright, Captain Stacy," I said and left the shareholders' meeting room.
So, I was almost killed by an ordinary thief. If he had wanted to, he could have thrown the knife at me instead of Adam's assistant, and I would be dead, not him. I was too weak and sick to resist anyone with even a little strength. Hell, even a schoolkid could probably beat me up right now. So, despite all the risks, I wouldn't perfect my Oz Serum Plus—something that could take weeks or even months—but inject it right now. I wouldn't be helpless anymore. Those dummy bombs that damned Hobgoblin threw would probably haunt my nightmares for a long time.
As I walked to the lab, a thought occurred to me. Before it slipped away, I decided to call Otto Octavius.
"Hello, Otto. I have a question about that glider prototype that was stolen earlier from one of Oscorp's warehouses," I said after he picked up.
"Norman, are you alright? Rumors about what happened have already reached me. They say someone even died," Otto replied, seemingly ignoring my question entirely.
"Otto, everything's fine. I'll tell you all the details later. Just tell me—if I'm not mistaken, that glider prototype used the recently developed nuclear battery, right?" I asked.
"Yes, that's largely why we had to abandon the prototype and rebuild the glider from scratch. That battery was too raw a development, and at one point, it started emitting so much radiation that we decided to completely abandon the idea of using nuclear batteries. By the way, that's when I got the idea to create a cleaner energy source. I'm surprised the glider prototype was just sent to the warehouse, considering how much radiation it was emitting," Otto replied. Hmm, that was interesting information. I'd have to look into how that could have happened later. After all, radioactive materials shouldn't just be stored in a warehouse without any protection.
"So, theoretically, the radiation from these nuclear batteries can be tracked?" I asked Otto, though I already had a rough idea of the answer.
"Of course. At short range, it can even be done with an ordinary dosimeter. And with a special device, it can be done from a fairly long distance," Otto said, telling me exactly what I expected to hear.
"Otto, are you in the Oscorp Tower right now?" I asked.
"Well, yes. Where else would I be? The workday hasn't been canceled yet," he replied, with a hint of bewilderment in his voice.
"Find and prepare that device for operation. It's very important. Once everything is ready, call me, and I'll contact the police," I told him. It seemed this Hobgoblin would soon be dealt with, and I wouldn't even have to do anything. Perfect. I wasn't arrogant enough to confront a man who had stolen so much weaponry from Oscorp directly.
"Alright, Norman. I'll get right on it," Otto replied and hung up.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't even notice I had arrived at the lab. It was only when the security system requested a retinal scan that I snapped out of it.
A couple of minutes later, finally inside the lab, I immediately went to the device that had just finished synthesizing the three doses of Oz Serum Plus. Holding three auto-injectors in my hands, I couldn't believe that soon, at last, I would be free from the sword of Damocles that was my illness and breathe a sigh of relief. After injecting it, I planned to contact the police and give them the device that would allow them to track the criminal, then go home and rest a bit. No matter how stretched out the serum's effects were, it was still a huge stress on the body—especially one as worn down by disease as mine. And why didn't I end up in someone like Tony Stark? He clearly had fewer problems. Though... no, not fewer—just different. Obadiah Stane alone was a handful.
But enough stalling, I thought, and, resolving myself, I pressed the auto-injector to my shoulder. The Oz Serum Plus entered my body.
And I immediately became all-powerful and went to overthrow the gods, starting with Odin. No, of course, it wasn't like that at all. For the first minute, nothing happened. Then I was overcome by heat, and unusual thoughts began creeping into my mind.
This Hobgoblin. He shouldn't go unpunished. How dare he threaten ME and demand money from me? How did this pathetic little con artist dare to go against me? I must stop him, and I must do it myself. I can't leave everything to the police. And considering he had a lot of weaponry he stole from Oscorp's warehouses, if they did stop him, they'd suffer heavy losses.
Hobgoblin. Just thinking about him filled me with a rage I had never felt before, and I could barely keep it under control—even without any external stimuli. I understood that the best solution was to leave it to the police, but the rage inside me literally pushed me to act. It seemed that the foundation of the serum I had just injected—the one that had turned the original Norman Osborn into a psychopath, the Green Goblin—was making itself known.
Rage boiled within me, and though I managed to bring it under relative control, I needed to release it. And Hobgoblin was the perfect target.
To do everything right, I needed tools, and I knew where to get them. I was even a little glad I hadn't called the police yet and told them I had found a way to track this damned Hobgoblin.
With these thoughts, I left my lab and headed to Dr. Mendel Stromm.