June 5th, 2010.
New York City.
One day had passed since a considerable portion of Harlem had been destroyed by the clash between two beings that could only be described as monsters. The streets were still covered in rubble, smoke, and the remains of collapsed buildings.
Amid the chaos, teams from the police department, firefighters, medical personnel, and numerous volunteers could be seen working tirelessly among the remnants of the battle—helping the injured and searching the ruins for possible survivors.
The atmosphere among the people was grim. Everyone was exhausted and confused, while others felt nothing but anger toward those responsible for their situation.
Originally, the military had also been meant to participate in the cleanup and rescue operations. In fact, they were supposed to be on the front lines. However, the situation changed drastically when footage began circulating through the media and across the internet.
The recording clearly showed that General Thaddeus Ross bore direct responsibility for the events that had led to the disaster.
The public reaction was immediate. The residents of Harlem erupted in fury.
As a result, when the military convoys arrived, they were not met with gratitude but with protests, shouting, and even direct blockades.
It was a clear sign that the army's presence was not welcome.
In the end, the authorities had no choice but to withdraw the military forces from the area, leaving the rescue operations in the hands of civilian services.
…
Oscorp Tower.
80th Floor.
Contrary to what some might imagine of the office of one of the most influential men in the city, the place was not excessively ostentatious. The office was spacious, elegant, and carefully designed.
Along one of the walls were several integrated screens, alongside shelves filled with reports, prototypes, and a few corporate awards. At the center of the room stood a large desk that reflected the light streaming in through the office windows.
Norman Osborn sat behind the desk, reviewing several documents on a tablet while listening attentively to the person standing in front of him.
She was a young woman, likely close to thirty, with neatly styled blonde hair that gave her a professional presence. Her posture was straight and confident as she checked the data on her device before continuing her report.
"Oscorp's shares have risen three points since the market opened," she reported in a clear voice. "The leak concerning Thaddeus Ross has caused a significant drop in public trust toward the military operations involved in the Harlem incident."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"As a result, several civilian groups have begun publicly advocating for the use of our company's technology in the reconstruction efforts. If things continue this way, it could be our opportunity for Oscorp to enter the real estate sector."
Norman remained silent behind his desk, listening calmly to every word.
The destruction in Harlem had stirred countless emotions… but for someone like him, it had also opened new opportunities. Rebuilding an entire section of the city would require colossal resources, advanced technology, and an organization capable of acting quickly.
As his secretary spoke, Norman reflected on the possibilities now laid before him. Oscorp had already begun attempting to enter the construction market, and while it had seen moderate success, it wasn't something he was satisfied with.
If Oscorp positioned itself correctly, the company wouldn't just participate in the reconstruction…
It could completely redefine the area's urban development.
"Send Adrian and his team to Harlem. Make sure you tell him that the situation must be treated with the utmost importance. Tell him to use every means necessary to win the civilians' sympathy," Norman finally said once he had finished reflecting.
The woman nodded at the order. Without wasting time, she placed the device in her hand on the desk alongside the rest of the reports and prepared to carry out the task she had been given. She walked toward the office exit with steady steps.
For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic click of her heels against the polished floor, gradually fading away until it disappeared entirely when the door closed.
Norman followed her departure with his gaze for a few seconds.
Soon after, he returned his attention to the documents spread across his desk. The tablet's screen displayed a long list of reports and projections related to Oscorp.
His eyes calmly scanned the data.
…
Norman continued working without pause. The reports he had to review ranged from reconstruction projects born out of the Harlem disaster to various market analyses. However, his concentration was interrupted when one of the side screens lit up with a notification.
Incoming video call request.
The sender's name appeared immediately after.
Tony Stark.
Norman watched the name for a second before accepting the call.
The screen shifted, revealing the slightly tired face of Tony Stark. Behind him, the interior of a laboratory could be seen, filled with tools, holographic screens, and scattered metallic components.
"Norman," Stark greeted, without much formality.
"Tony," Norman Osborn replied calmly. "What is it this time?"
Tony let out a small laugh. "Can't I just call to catch up?"
"No. I really don't think so," Norman answered bluntly.
This time Tony didn't laugh. He simply crossed his arms and let out a sigh before leaning slightly closer to the camera.
"Tell me something," he said, his tone unusually serious. "Any interest in hitting back after what they did to you two years ago?"
Norman Osborn remained silent for a few seconds before replying.
"Do you think you can pull it off?"
This time Tony smiled.
"The U.S. Army illegally confiscated a registered prototype from Stark Industries. Under normal circumstances it would be difficult to take them on… but after what happened last night, they're in a pretty compromised position."
He gestured toward one of the screens behind him, where reports about the Harlem battle were displayed.
"If someone started applying public pressure, it could spark something big enough to make a few heads roll."
His smile sharpened slightly.
"Thaddeus Ross would be the first to fall."
Norman slowly interlaced his fingers over the desk.
"And what do I get out of it?" he asked calmly. "While the idea of getting revenge on Ross is tempting, it would further strain my relationship with the military. Even if I currently have no projects with them, it would still place me in a complicated position."
Tony watched him for a few seconds, apparently surprised by the response.
"You're still as greedy as ever," he finally said. "It wasn't enough to take part of my company… you still want more."
Norman answered without the slightest trace of annoyance.
"We both know those are two different situations. More than anyone, you should know that in business the benefits must always be evaluated."
Tony let out a tired sigh.
"I will owe you a favor… alright?"
Norman nodded slowly.
"In view of our friendship, I'll help you."
A faintly mocking smile appeared on his face.
Tony frowned.
"You son of—"
The transmission cut off before he could finish the sentence.
The screen darkened again, leaving Norman alone in the silence of his office as the sun began to set.
The development—and objective—of the conversation had been unexpected… but welcome.
With some careful planning—and perhaps a bit of luck—there was a chance to remove Ross from the board permanently.
Without a doubt, it was good news.
…
About an hour from the center of New York City lay a quiet community along the banks of the Hudson River. The community itself had been developed through the efforts of Oscorp.
The place had been born from one of the company's most ambitious social projects, promoted by Norman Osborn. The idea was remarkably simple: to offer key employees of the company a safe and comfortable place to live alongside their families.
With that goal in mind, the community featured wide, perfectly organized streets connecting dozens of modern single-family homes. Alongside them were carefully maintained parks with recreational areas, a few small commercial shops, and a medical center. A private school funded by Oscorp was also under construction.
The architecture aimed to blend technological advancement with nature, creating a warm and welcoming aesthetic. Every house had been equipped with solar panels as well as advanced security systems, all designed to ensure a certain level of self-sufficiency. Thanks to these features, the community looked like something straight out of an advertisement for an "ideal future."
The public took the unveiling of the community as a sign of the company's humanistic commitment. After all, it appeared to be a gesture intended to improve the quality of life of those who worked for it.
However, few people knew that behind that idyllic image lay another reality.
Beneath the community's perfectly maintained ground stretched an entirely different facility.
Several underground levels, reinforced with steel and concrete, housed laboratories, containment chambers, high-security servers, and research areas that appeared in no public record. In those depths, investigations were carried out that would never appear in corporate reports or government audits.
It was precisely because of the nature of these investigations that the facilities were restricted to an extremely small number of people. As a direct consequence, the entrances had been concealed inside buildings and houses that appeared completely ordinary on the surface.
To everyone else, the community was nothing more than a quiet corporate neighborhood—a kind of social experiment.
In reality, it was nothing more than the perfect façade.
…
Norman walked calmly through the corridors of the facility. He had given the underground complex a simple but fitting name: The Vault.
His reasoning behind the name had been straightforward. If he intended to develop projects capable of changing the course of the world, he needed a place as secure as a real vault—a space where he could work far from prying eyes and moral regulations.
Building it had not been easy. The project had required enormous resources, extremely careful engineering, and, above all, patience. Nearly three full years had passed from the moment the idea first formed in his mind to the moment it finally became reality.
But looking at the results, it was clear it had been worth it.
The reinforced corridors, multilayered security systems, and hidden laboratories had all been designed with one goal: to turn the place into one of the most secure private facilities in the world.
Lost in thought, Norman Osborn finally reached his destination.
It was a containment cell heavily guarded by two armed men. Their rigid postures and vigilant gazes made it clear they weren't there to watch over an ordinary room.
When they saw Norman, both immediately stepped aside.
One of them reached toward the security panel beside the door. After a brief series of biometric verifications and access codes, the heavy mechanism unlocked with a metallic sound, and the door slowly began to open.
Norman entered without hesitation.
The moment he crossed the threshold, his eyes settled on the room's sole occupant.
A man stood near the wall, seemingly absorbed in his thoughts. His skin had an unhealthy pale tone, and his head appeared abnormally large compared to the rest of his body.
"Mr. Stern," Norman greeted calmly as he stopped a few meters away.
The scientist did not react immediately. For a few seconds it seemed as if he had heard nothing.
But then he slowly turned around, and his eyes fixed directly on Norman.
Silence lingered between them.
"Since they brought me here, I've been thinking about who could be behind all this," said Samuel Sterns at last. "And I must admit, you Sir were one of the least likely individuals on my list."
He walked calmly toward a small seating area inside the cell: a simple table accompanied by two chairs.
He sat down as naturally as if he weren't inside a containment facility, then gestured for Norman to take a seat.
"I believe a good player should never reveal all his cards," Norman replied as he sat across from him.
Sterns smiled slightly.
But there was something strange about it—it was as if his mind were processing far more than his expression revealed.
"That's a good philosophy," he commented. "But then, why not remain hidden? Why show yourself so openly?"
"Because I also believe that the foundation of a good business relationship is honesty," Norman answered without hesitation.
Sterns let out a small laugh.
"Honesty?" he repeated. "That's a curious word for someone who hides himself so deeply."
Norman just remained silent for a moment, then he spoke.
"You are one of the few individuals who has managed to study something like the Hulk up close. And if you'll allow me to say so… your research is brilliant."
Norman spoke as if ignoring Sterns' remark. He calmly rested his arms on the table and interlaced his fingers.
"Mr. Sterns, I can give you two options regarding what happens from here."
Sterns raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"The first option is your release. If you wish, I will let you go without any tricks or conditions."
Norman paused briefly before continuing.
"However… if I may say so, it is a rather impractical option—and considerably dangerous for your current situation."
Sterns watched him closely.
"After what happened in Harlem, both the military and several government agencies would be very interested in speaking with you. And I suspect those conversations would not be particularly pleasant."
The scientist did not respond, but the faint tension in his expression made it clear he understood the point perfectly.
Then Norman continued.
"The second option is much simpler."
His tone remained calm—almost casual.
"Work for me."
Sterns tilted his head slightly.
"Resources, funding, personnel…" Norman went on. "You will have access to all of it. I will provide proper laboratories, specialized equipment, and the freedom to continue your research."
Then he added with the same measured calm:
"In exchange, you will simply follow a set of directives established by me."
For several seconds, the scientist remained silent, watching Norman with a gaze that seemed to analyze every word, every gesture, every intention behind them.
"It seems there is only one correct path," Sterns said calmly. "I hope, Mr. Osborn, that our relationship will prove beneficial to both our objectives."
He raised his hand in agreement.
Norman took it without hesitation.
"I'll make sure of it."