Zod invited Norman into the biotech lab.
The lab featured a long corridor lined with glass walls, each side packed with fluorescent lights that bathed the passage in brilliant, almost clinical illumination.
At both ends of the corridor were 50-millimeter-thick doors made of Secondary Kryptonium alloy. Norman couldn't make sense of their purpose. Were the lights special? Or did the corridor itself hold some hidden function?
He had no idea that he was walking on a blade. The ten-meter-long passage was Zod's darkly playful homage to the laser corridors from Resident Evil.
In the real world, laser weapons like this would be impractical—energy demands and material constraints made them infeasible. But this was the extraordinary Marvel universe, and with Zod's Kryptonian technology, he had successfully recreated a laser corridor capable of slicing through even Secondary Kryptonium.
Inside the lab, four guards stood at attention. They were the final line of defense: the Beast Soldiers.
"Mr. Osborn, first, welcome. I appreciate you coming today," Zod said, gesturing to a chair. Norman observed the surroundings carefully before taking a seat.
"To avoid wasting meaningful time, I'll get straight to the point," Zod continued.
Norman's face remained expressionless, but he appreciated the directness. Time was precious—he was acutely aware of his own mortality, and the mention of a curse had pulled him out of the lab to meet in person.
"I can cure your family's inherited retrocellular hyperplasia," Zod stated plainly.
No beating around the bush. Norman, unsurprised, still wondered how Zod knew so much.
"And what do you want in return?" Norman asked, keeping his calm.
Zod smiled. The leverage was already in his hands. Whether Norman accepted it or not didn't matter—if Norman died, Zod could always persuade Harry. Compared to Norman, Harry was far easier to manipulate.
Norman's expression darkened. Zod's appetite was enormous.
"Don't rush to reject me. I have only one demand. But you can't afford to refuse. Consider this: if you die, Harry follows in your footsteps. Even Harry's children could be at risk. And the shareholders of Oscorp? They won't just allow Harry to control the company. There's only one opportunity, Norman," Zod said, locking eyes with him.
Norman's face betrayed nothing, but inside, his mind churned. He had no real choice—life or death. No rational person would pick death.
"And what exactly do you want with Oscorp and my family?" Norman asked.
Naturally, he didn't want to die. Zod's words revealed a brutal truth: if Norman didn't seize the chance, the curse on the Osborn family would continue. They'd had enough.
Even the cunning, scheming Norman felt powerless. He could devise plans to pressure Zod later, but somehow, Zod seemed unconcerned by any threats. Above all, Norman did not want accidents.
"Norman, have you heard of the World Serpent?" Zod began, his tone dripping with calculated intrigue.
In Zod's narrative, the World Serpent was a massive organization founded during World War I, operating from the shadows across the globe. Its ambition was simple: world domination.
A straightforward villain's logic. Zod, newly appointed as the North American director, was weak alone. He needed Oscorp's resources to secure his foothold.
Norman was skeptical. But when the four Beast Soldiers transformed on Zod's command, the raw power they displayed left him stunned.
"These are the Beast Soldiers, modified by the organization. Years ago, we acquired Captain America's super-soldier serum and studied it. From it, we created a controllable super Beast Serum. These soldiers' physical capabilities are ten times those of ordinary humans—and this is only the base tier. Even stronger variants exist above them," Zod explained.
Norman, a biotech specialist with expertise in super-soldier research, immediately grasped the implications. Without decades of experimentation, resources, and knowledge, such a serum could never exist. That explained why Oscorp had yet to make progress.
Beast Soldiers.Super Beast Serum.Stronger variants.
Norman understood the significance—these were controllable super soldiers, not mere experimental subjects.
"You're not talking about this serum as a cure, are you?" Norman asked sharply.
"Of course not. The super Beast Serum is a biological weapon, designed to enhance the body. A disease is a disease—it's not a miracle cure. Injuries or disabilities? Maybe. Hereditary illnesses? Absolutely not," Zod clarified, as if Norman had missed the obvious.
"But the modified Beast Soldiers gain enhanced physical abilities and immune systems, making them resistant to most diseases," Zod continued.
The shocking display quickly convinced Norman of the World Serpent's existence. He didn't ask about breaches or penalties; a secret organization that had endured for decades could easily deal with him.
"What do I gain by joining the World Serpent?" Norman asked.
"Joining? No, Norman. You're not an official member. Our deal only covers curing your family's hereditary illness. Becoming a full member of the World Serpent is far more complicated," Zod replied, dismissing the notion casually.
Norman nodded, saying nothing further.
He submitted to a full-body examination. Zod was fascinated by the disease—retrocellular hyperplasia—that even Marvel's advanced tech couldn't solve. Of course, this also explained why Norman hadn't approached Mr. Fantastic or Tony Stark—they could have handled it effortlessly.
After the examination, Zod knew exactly what was wrong. Norman straightened his suit.
"Go home. You'll be fine in a few days," Zod said.
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