3rd Person POV (Oscorp)
Nov 18 (21 GP)
"What the hell was that, Norman?!" Maximilian Fargas questioned, anger clear in his voice.
Fargas was your average sixty-year-old, bald, white man. Nothing noticeable or unique about his appearance, with the exception that, due to an unfortunate ailment he contracted as a child, he's been left wheelchair-bound or reliant on crutches.
Beside him was Henry Balkan, a man of similar age, but with a sterner face and combed-back white hair.
"Excuse me?" Norman questioned, with an expression of, 'Did you forget who you're talking to?'
"We had a company worth thousands, predicted to be valued for millions by the end of this year. In the palms of our hands, and you let them walk out!" Fargas explained, gripping the side of his wheelchair in anger.
"They refused to sell. What did you expect me to do?" Norman asked as he went back to reading.
"We expected you—" Balkan cut in as he forcibly closed the files in Norman's hand. "To do your job, negotiate, bargain, intimidate. Whatever it takes to make Oscorp more successful than it already is."
Norman just raised his brow in confusion. "By buying a social media platform from a startup?" he asked, clearly being sarcastic.
"A social media platform owned by teenagers, one of them being your son," Fargas added. "We could have easily walked out of that meeting with a majority share of Instagram and Omni Work for pennies on the dime."
"Clearly, you've never raised a teenager. They rarely listen to authorities, and Harry is far more capable than your average teenager," Norman joked, a rare sight if you ask most.
"Perhaps that's the issue," Fargas began. "After all, the meeting was only arranged through your son, a co-owner of Instagram and Omni Work."
Norman narrowed his eyes. "Careful, Fargas."
"Or maybe you've gone soft. After all, you haven't been the same since Emily's—" Fargas was cut short as Norman shot up from his desk.
"Enough!" Fargas flinched as Norman cut him off.
Despite Norman being known for his intelligence, he's still a very intimidating man due to his stature .
Norman straightened his tie and scowled at both of them. "You seem to have forgotten, but this is my company, and I'll run it however I see fit." With one final glare, Norman walked out of the office.
Fargas and Balkan sat there in silence, both unsure how to proceed, but eventually, Fargas broke the silence.
"He's gone soft," Fargas argued.
"For once, I agree with you, but unfortunately, he's right. It's still his company," Balkan answered.
Fargas scowled. "Not for long." Balkan raised a brow in confusion. "Call the board, and keep it quiet. I don't want Norman catching a whiff of what I'm planning."
"And what exactly are you planning?"
Fargas smiled. "I believe it's time for Oscorp to do some… restructuring."
===
The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division's NY Compound (S.H.I.E.L.D.)
Tony hummed as they walked through the military compound. Men and women roamed the halls, sidearms strapped to their waists or thighs, eagle badges sewn onto their chests.
"Alright, I'll bite. Who are they?" Tony asked, not a care in the world.
Rhodey sighed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Tony let out a playful tsk. "Rhodes, who are you trying to lie to? I've known you long enough to know when something's up." He swerved around a man carrying a large rifle. "Also, these folk are way too organized and equipped to be standard military."
Rhodey hesitated for a moment, but let out a sigh of annoyance as he began to explain. "They're the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, and that's all I'm allowed to divulge."
"Got it, spy agency. Now, where are the robots from… dang, I'm drawing a blank. I can't think of a single movie about an evil robot army," Tony joked, completely glossing over Rhodey's explanation.
"In due time, Stark," a voice interrupted.
Stepping out from a doorway and walking beside them was an older man. He was in his late fifties, with dark skin, a bald head, a black coat, and an eyepatch.
For some reason, Tony felt like he knew the man from somewhere. Maybe a movie?
"Tony, Director Fury. Director Fury, Tony Stark," Rhodey introduced the two to each other.
"Charmed." Tony extended a hand.
Fury reluctantly accepted and shook it. "We have much to discuss. Follow me." Without another word, Fury began to lead.
"So, Rhodes, mind telling me when you left the military to work for One-Eyed Willy and his men in black?" Tony not-so-subtly whispered to Rhodey.
"Classified," Fury interrupted, barely acknowledging Tony's humor.
"Technically, I still work for the military. I'm just on loan, and that's all I'm allowed to divulge," Rhodey answered.
"Whatever you say, Polly the Parrot," Tony mocked.
They reached a set of large doors. Fury swiped a card, scanned a thumb, then an eye, and then entered in a code.
Several locks disengaged as the doors opened. Several engineers and researchers could be seen walking around, examining the remains of the automatons. If you asked Tony, he would call it a chaotic mess… his favorite kind of mess.
Mechanical bodies, limbs, and guns lined the tables.
He let out a low whistle as he began to approach. "Would you look at that?"
Despite the fact that everybody else was wearing gloves, goggles, and other protective clothing, Tony ignored all of that and began examining an open panel with his bare hands.
"Wow, old school." He pulled out a set of wires and reconnected them.
A Gatling gun popped out of the arm's wrist, but fortunately did not fire. It did make some other engineers flinch or jump, though, which got a laugh out of Tony.
"Something to share with the class, Stark?"
Tony set the arm down and began to walk around. "They're old school trying to be new."
His hand grazed a disassembled torso. "Like advanced tech built by outdated machinery. If I'm being honest, I could easily build something better than these scrap hunks."
He grabbed one of the heads and stuck his hand in it. "What I really want to check out" With a grunt, he pulled out a chip."is their software."
Fury sighed. "We've already tried that, but so far, we've had no such luck. Whoever programmed these things, they made the programming unreadable," Fury added.
"Have you tried machine code, binary?" Tony pitched, twirling the chip in his hand.
"What are you talking about?" Rhodey asked.
"Like I said, these things look advanced, but were probably built by old machinery. Which means, maybe it was programmed by old tech too."
"Are you suggesting we're dealing with highly advanced robots that could have been built decades ago?" Fury asked, a mix of disbelief and worry in him that he kept hidden.
"I don't know, maybe. Bring me a computer with dial-up, and we'll figure it out," Tony answered.
As he continued to wander, something else caught his attention: a large observation window.
On the other side of it was a medical team. They were examining what looked like dried blood on a concrete slab.
"Alright, I'll bite. What's with the slab and the blood?" Tony asked, glancing at Rhodey.
"Sorry, Tony, but I'm just in the dark as much as you are this time," Rhodey answered.
They watched as a researcher deposited a sample into the centrifuge, only to watch in shock as the vial began to shake violently.
For once, Tony flinched as he saw the blood harden and burst into spikes, destroying the vial and centrifuge in the process.
Due to the centrifuge's original motion, it flung the hardened blood sample into a wall, where it shattered and turned into dust on impact.
Tony raised his hand. "Any chance I can work on that instead?"
"No," Fury answered as he turned a dial attached to a wall, dimming the window and blocking the laboratory view. "And as I'm sure Colonel Rhodey has already informed you, everything you've seen so far is and will remain classified," he warned.
Tony waved it off. "If you didn't want me to see it, then you should have dimmed the windows before I arrived."
"You've been requested for your mechanical knowledge, and that's it, Stark," Fury warned again, already tired with Stark's antics.
Tony just scoffed as an engineer led him and Rhodey away.
===
As Fury left the room, Agent Coulson arrived with a large stack of files.
"What do we know?" Fury asked as he grabbed the top file and began to read through it.
"Honestly, nothing, sir," Coulson answered.
Fury raised a brow in confusion and annoyance. "Nothing? Are you saying we have a quarter of blood, and we got nothing?"
During their cleanup operation of F.E.A.S.T., some of his agents found a puddle of blood. Considering the quantity and lack of a body, they decided to run some tests, and the results were less than calming.
"A minimum of five different blood types have been detected, but they've been spliced together to the point they're unrecognizable. Our lab tech has tried to separate and study them independently, but as you saw earlier, it's very reactive and self-destructive."
Fury pinched his brow in annoyance. "So, to summarize, we got a sample that's a combination of multiple blood types, none of which can be studied because it keeps destroying itself."
"...More or less, sir," Coulson answered.
Fury let out an exhausted sigh, already sensing a migraine forming.
==
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, an agent pushed the door open. He raised his sleeves and unzipped his fly as he approached a urinal.
He let out a sigh of relief as he unloaded the day's waste. With a grunt, he pulled up his zipper and approached the sink to wash his hands.
The agent whistled as he scrubbed, washed, and dried his hands. Right as he was about to leave, a lab tech entered the bathroom.
Time slowed as they walked past each other. "Hail Hydra," the lab tech whispered as their hands grazed each other, secretly passing a small flash drive in the process.
The agent silently stored the flash drive in a hidden pocket located in the wrist of his uniform.
===
Unknown Compound
In a dimly lit room, several screens showed nothing but static as they spoke.
"So, have we reached an agreement?" Screen 1 asked no one in particular.
"Once Stark analyzes the code, we'll begin mass production of automatons," Screen 4 announced.
"Speaking of the automatons, I believe it's time we discuss the other issue," Screen 1 interrupted. "The enhanced individuals that the public has named Spider-Man, Power Man, and The Bulk."
"What about them?" Screen 5 questioned. "Just do what we always do: send a S.H.I.E.L.D. task force after them and relocate them to one of the mutant testing sites."
"Normally we would, but recent information suggests that what we might be dealing with is more of a Bruce Banner situation," Screen 1 explained.
"Do you believe these individuals' abilities to be artificial instead of natural?" Screen 5 questioned.
"According to intelligence, Spider-Man's first appearance was in an underground fighting arena, two weeks after one of our moles in Oscorp reported one of the spider specimens vanishing," Screen 1 explained.
"You believe the two are connected?" Screen 6 asked.
"Quite a stretch, don't you think?" Screen 3 chimed in.
"Perhaps, but it doesn't matter. The Supreme Leader has requested the specimens, and his will is our command," Screen 1 announced.
"One issue: ever since the disappearance of said specimens, the rest of them are now under much heavier monitoring. A subtle retrieval will not be possible," Screen 5 stated the obvious.
"Then perhaps we should go with a less-than-subtle approach," Screen 2 suggested.
"What do you have in mind?" Screen 1 questioned.
"Perhaps a third-party could be of some use."
===
Note From Author
If I'm being honest, this isn't my best chapter. I'm pretty sure I've revised it a dozen times over, and I'm still not satisfied with it, but maybe it's just… I hoped you enjoyed it, but if you didn't, I'm sorry.
Quick Reminder, check out my newest. A Digital Game Creator, you can find it on my profile.