The next morning, the Oscorp Building was overflowing with noise and flashing lights. Outside, broadcast trucks lined the street, their satellite dishes glinting under the sun. Reporters from every major media outlet crowded the entrance, shoving, shouting, desperate to be the first to get a headline. The press conference wasn't supposed to start for another hour, but no one wanted to risk being late to a story this big.
"Beep—beep—"
The sleek convoy rolled up to the front steps. As the doors opened, cameras began to flash like fireworks. Harry Osborn stepped out first, composed and elegant, followed by the unmistakably radiant figure of Max Dillon—his blue skin shimmering faintly even under the daylight.
"Mr. Osborn! How do you respond to the arrest of Vice President Duncan yesterday?"
"Mr. Osborn, there are reports of major conflicts between you and the board. Is that true?"
"Mr. Osborn, witnesses say your company is secretly developing biological weapons—just like the so-called 'Electro' who appeared in Times Square last night! Care to comment?"
The barrage of questions fell on deaf ears. Harry didn't even slow down. With black-suited bodyguards forming a tight wall around them, he and Max strode straight into the Oscorp lobby, leaving the shouting crowd behind.
Inside, the conference hall was arranged with precision. Nameplates marked each seat; Felicia Hardy's handiwork was evident in every detail. Those without an assigned chair were left standing at the back—invited or not, Harry didn't intend to throw them out.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Harry began, his voice firm as it echoed across the hall, "please take your seats. If you can't find a chair with your name on it, then…" He let the pause stretch deliberately, a faint smirk on his lips. "I'm afraid you'll have to stand."
Laughter rippled through the crowd, easing the tension slightly.
Harry continued, his tone sobering. "Though today was meant to mark a new beginning for Oscorp—and for me—it seems the past refuses to let go." He drew a steady breath. "You've all heard the news. Yesterday, our former Vice President, Mr. Duncan, was arrested. I won't deny it. I once respected him deeply, but his actions—selling corporate intelligence, stealing other people's designs—were unforgivable. Legal proceedings have already begun, and justice will follow soon."
The hall erupted in murmurs. Reporters scribbled frantically, some whispering into their recorders.
Harry raised his voice slightly. "But that's not what we're here for today." He smiled faintly. "Today, I'd like to introduce a brilliant man—a man who deserves recognition: Mr. Maxwell Dillon, Oscorp's new Chief Electrical Engineer."
Max stepped onto the stage, his faint glow drawing every camera in the room.
"I'm Max," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. "The power grid design used by Oscorp—that was my work. Thanks to Mr. Osborn, I've finally gotten back what's rightfully mine."
Applause rippled through the hall. Harry nodded approvingly and took the podium again. "I know everyone has questions," he said. "Unfortunately, my schedule's tight today, so I'll take only three."
Dozens of hands shot up instantly.
"You," Harry pointed to a young reporter wearing glasses.
The man stood. "Because of Mr. Norman Osborn's illness, Oscorp never addressed the damages caused by Dr. Connors' incident in New York City. As the new president, will you assume responsibility for that?"
Harry didn't hesitate. "Yes," he said. "I deeply regret what happened. I will personally oversee the compensation process. New York will not bear Oscorp's mistakes."
A wave of surprise passed through the room—few expected such a direct response.
Harry gestured to another. "Next question."
A woman stood. "Mr. Osborn, is it true you've had disagreements with the board?"
Harry smiled slightly. "Oscorp's market value stands at two trillion dollars. Sixty percent of its shares belong to me. So, internal discord?" He shrugged lightly. "It's hard to disagree with myself."
Laughter spread across the audience. Even the skeptical reporters smiled at his wit.
"And the last question," Harry said, pointing to a blonde woman near the front.
"Mr. Osborn," she asked, "is Mr. Dillon… a mutant? He clearly isn't the same as us."
The room fell silent. The air grew heavy with unease.
Harry didn't flinch. "Extraordinary power," he said slowly, "is not always born—it can be made. Mr. Dillon's condition was caused by an accident. He was overworked, unappreciated, and forced into isolation. On his birthday, while repairing a damaged grid alone, he fell into a bioelectric generator. That accident changed him forever."
He turned slightly toward Max. "But I don't see a monster. I see a man who endured pain and found strength."
The woman frowned. "Then what's your stance on mutants, Mr. Osborn?"
Harry looked her straight in the eyes. "I believe they are human—perhaps even the next step in human evolution. Different, yes. Dangerous? Only if we make them so."
The hall buzzed again, but this time with a different energy.
Moments later, Harry and Max stepped off the stage and entered the private elevator to Harry's office, flanked by security.
By the time they reached the top floor, Dr. Carl was already waiting. "Well done," he said dryly. "By tonight, half the headlines will say 'Harry Osborn—Mutant Sympathizer.'"
Harry chuckled, unbothered. "Will they arrest me for it?"
"Hardly," Max rasped. "You even promised to compensate Connors' victims. They'll love you for that."
Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Enough politics. Carl, you said you had something to show me."
Dr. Carl's eyes gleamed. "Oh, yes. Follow me." He led them to the hidden elevator in the corner of the office and pressed his palm against the scanner. The panel slid open, revealing the descent to Oscorp's secret underground lab.
The three entered, and the elevator sank deep beneath the tower. When the doors opened again, the sight stunned even Harry.
The laboratory had been completely rebuilt—bright white light replacing the old green glow, sleek panels replacing glass walls. The space was larger, cleaner, and humming with quiet energy.
"I've made a few improvements," Dr. Carl said proudly. "And something special—for Max."
He walked to a wall and pressed his palm against it. The surface shimmered, dissolving its camouflage to reveal a sleek, black bodysuit traced with faint blue circuitry.
"It looks like leather," Carl said, "but it's a superconductive armor. Durable, resistant to heat and friction. Not much good against sharp projectiles, but then again, bullets are meaningless to someone like Max."
Max stared at it, speechless.
"And this," Carl added, handing him a small wrist-mounted device, "is a bio-electrical monitor. It measures your internal voltage levels. You can safely hold up to one billion volts, but once you pass five hundred million, you risk losing control. This will warn you when you're close."
Max nodded and slipped it on, the display lighting up softly.
Carl turned to Harry, a mischievous smile curling on his lips. "And now, for you, Mr. Osborn."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You've been busy, I see."
"Oh, you'll like this one," Carl said, moving to another concealed panel and placing his hand against it.
The wall shifted again—revealing something that made Harry's eyes widen.
"Ah," he breathed. "Now that's different."