Oscorp Tower, top floor office.
Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spreading a warm golden hue across the polished marble floor. Outside the window was the Manhattan skyline, with the Empire State Building standing in the distance like a giant silver needle.
Norman Osborn stood by the window, his back to the room.
He held a cup of coffee in his hand, steam rising in wisps. The sunlight shone on him, making his short reddish-brown hair shimmer slightly.
He was wearing a dark gray custom-made suit today, with a white shirt and an ink-blue tie, and he looked much more energetic than last week. His complexion was no longer pale, his eye sockets were no longer sunken, and his sharp blue eyes regained their luster.
Spider-Man's blood really had saved him.
Harry sat on the sofa, looking at his father's back, a smile on his lips.
"Father."
Norman turned around and looked at him.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Harry nodded.
"Yes, Father. Peter said that Spider-Man is an Agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division—abbreviated as S.H.I.E.L.D. It is affiliated with the World Security Council and is responsible for handling supernatural events."
Norman's eyebrows raised slightly.
"That name... is certainly long enough."
Harry laughed.
"That's what Peter said, too."
Norman walked back behind his desk and sat down in his chair. He placed his coffee cup on the table, folded his hands, and looked at his son.
"Have you made plans with Peter?"
Harry nodded.
"On Sunday, I invited him and his girlfriend to the house for dinner."
Norman nodded thoughtfully.
"His girlfriend?"
"Yes, her name is Gwen," Harry said. "Peter's eyes light up when he mentions her."
The corners of Norman's mouth curved slightly.
"Young people."
Harry laughed, too.
"By the way, Father, about Peter's internship..."
Norman took a document bag out of the drawer and pushed it to the edge of the table.
"It's already been arranged."
Harry walked over, picked up the document bag, and opened it. Inside was an ID card with Peter's photo and name on it, along with the words "Oscorp Group Intern Researcher."
"Starting next month, he can come to work directly every weekend," Norman said. "The access permits have all been taken care of."
Harry looked at the ID card, his eyes lighting up.
"If Peter knew you appreciated him this much, he would be very happy."
Norman leaned back into his chair, his gaze becoming distant.
"His nanotechnology research report," he said, "I read it carefully. It's very thoughtful and has great depth. It's not simple for a high school student to write such a report."
Harry nodded.
"Peter is indeed very smart."
Norman looked at him.
"In the future, nanotechnology could be used in many fields—medical, military, energy. If his research direction can continue to deepen, it's worth investing in."
He paused.
"So, I've prepared a separate laboratory for him."
Harry was stunned.
"A separate laboratory?"
"Yes," Norman nodded, "Right on that R&D floor, the one by the window. The equipment and resources are up to the standard of a formal researcher."
Harry opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.
He certainly knew what that meant.
Oscorp Group's R&D department was top-tier in the U.S. Those who could get in were all Ph.D.s, Professors, and industry giants. A high school student, having a separate laboratory—
This was the highest recognition his father could give.
"Father..." Harry's voice sounded a bit airy, "If Peter knew, he would definitely go crazy."
Norman laughed.
The smile was faint, but it was real.
"By the way," he asked suddenly, "what was Peter's girlfriend's name again?"
"Gwen. Gwen Stacy."
Norman's fingers tapped lightly on the desktop.
"What's her background?"
Harry had been prepared.
"Her father is George Stacy, a captain in the NYPD. Her mother is a housewife. She herself is a drummer in the school band."
Norman raised an eyebrow.
"A captain's daughter?"
"Yes."
"And with Peter, they are..."
"childhood friends," Harry said. "They grew up together. They are very close."
Norman nodded thoughtfully.
Harry looked at him, hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
"Father, I... I investigated them."
Norman's gaze fell on him.
"I know," he said. "You are cautious, which is a good thing."
Harry lowered his head.
"I just... wanted real friends."
Norman was silent for a few seconds.
Then he stood up and walked to Harry.
"Son."
Harry looked up.
Norman looked at him, his gaze containing something complex—there was gratification, heartache, and a kind of emotion Harry couldn't quite understand.
"The suffering you endured in those private schools," he said, "I know it all."
Harry's eyes grew warm.
"The friendships from those people were aimed at the Osborn name," Norman continued. "Not at you."
He reached out and pressed his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"But Peter is different."
Harry nodded.
"He is different."
Norman looked at him and smiled slowly.
"Listen, son."
Harry looked at him.
"You will inherit the Oscorp Group in the future," Norman said. "You need capable people by your side. Talent like Peter needs to be cultivated in advance."
He paused.
"Those old guys on the board of directors are not good people."
Harry was stunned for a moment.
"Father..."
"It's only a matter of time," Norman waved his hand. "You don't need to worry about that now. But remember—having a few of your own people is very important."
Harry looked at him, a complicated emotion welling up in his heart.
So, Father had thought of everything.
"I understand," he nodded.
Norman patted his shoulder.
"Treat them well on Sunday."
Harry smiled.
"Okay."
Night fell.
Gwen stood by the window, watching the night outside.
Moonlight shone in through the window, plating her with a silver edge.
She had already changed into her battle suit.
A pure black battle suit, a sharp spider logo, with a cape hanging slightly behind her. Standing in the moonlight, she exuded a mysterious and dangerous aura.
But she stared at the direction of the wardrobe for a long while.
That white battle suit was still hanging there.
Clean and tidy, as if nothing had ever happened.
But Gwen knew that its "passenger" had moved on.
She looked down at herself.
The black battle suit rippled slightly, as if responding to her gaze.
"Venom," she whispered.
No response.
But she felt an emotion—curiosity, anticipation, and a little bit of... fawning?
Gwen smiled.
"Remember," she said, "I am the Master."
The battle suit rippled again.
Gwen didn't know if that counted as an agreement.
But she was willing to believe that it was a good sign.
She took a deep breath and pressed her earpiece.
"Alfred."
Peter's voice rang out immediately, filled with a smile.
"Received, Batman."
Gwen smiled.
"Where to tonight?"
The sound of keyboard typing came from Peter's side.
"Wait a second... Let me see... Hmm... A parking lot three blocks away from you, someone is stealing a car."
Gwen blinked.
"Stealing a car?"
"Yes," Peter said. "A person is prying open the door of a Honda."
Gwen was silent for a second.
"Shouldn't this kind of thing be left to the Police?"
"It should," Peter said, "but the person is prying open your neighbor's car."
Gwen was stunned.
"Uncle Ben's car?"
"Yes."
Gwen didn't say another word; she pushed open the window and leaped into the night.
The black figure drew a graceful arc in the moonlight and swung toward the parking lot three blocks away.
The parking lot was very quiet.
A few streetlights emitted dim yellow light, casting mottled shadows on the ground. In the corner, a person wearing a dark hoodie was crouching next to an old Honda, holding something, prying at the car door.
He was prying with such focus that he didn't notice the black shadow falling behind him at all.
Gwen stood behind him and cleared her throat.
"Ahem."
The man jumped in fright, and the tool in his hand dropped to the ground.
He turned around abruptly and saw a black figure standing under the streetlight. The moonlight shone on her, revealing the pure black battle suit, the sharp spider logo, and those white lenses.
"Wh-who are you?" His voice was shaking.
Gwen tilted her head.
"Spider-Man."
The man was stunned.
"Spider-Man? That Spider-Man?"
Gwen nodded.
"You actually figured it out. But there's no reward."
The man looked at her, then at the cape behind her, and then at the spider logo on her chest.
"D-did you change skins?"
Gwen laughed.
"Good eye."
The man took a step back, his eyes darting around, obviously looking for an escape route.
"Um... let me go, okay?"
Gwen shook her head.
"No."
The man suddenly pulled a knife from his pocket.
A small, foldable one.
He held the knife up, his hand shaking.
"Otherwise I'll—"
Gwen looked at the knife and couldn't help but laugh.
"Is that a knife?"
"Y-yes!"
"A real knife?"
"A real knife!"
Gwen tilted her head to look at him.
"My weakness, a pocketknife. Anything but knives is fine. Guns? No problem. Bombs? No problem. A pocketknife? Oh no, oh no, I'm going to die."
The man stared at her, the expression on his face changing from fear to confusion, and then from confusion to anger.
"That is not funny at all!"
Gwen nodded.
"Well, actually, it's pretty funny."
The man couldn't take it anymore and turned to run.
But he only made it two steps before a black web wrapped around his ankle.
He fell forward, face-planting onto the ground.
"Help!" he shouted.
"Shh—" Gwen landed beside him, holding a finger to her lips, "Don't be loud. If you wake others up, I'll hang you from the streetlight."
The man nodded desperately.
Gwen flicked her wrist, and more webbing shot out, wrapping him into a white cocoon.
Only his head was left exposed.
The man lay in the cocoon like a giant silkworm, his face looking completely hopeless.
"Wh-what are you going to do to me?"
Gwen thought for a moment.
"Send you to the NYPD. I know the Police inside."
The man: "..."
Gwen stood up, ready to pick him up.
Peter's voice rang in the earpiece, filled with a smile.
"Were you teasing him just now?"
Gwen laughed.
"What? Can't I?"
"You can, absolutely," Peter laughed out loud, "It's too interesting. Did you see the look on his face?"
"I saw it," Gwen said, "He was almost crying."
The two of them laughed together.
After laughing, Peter suddenly remembered something.
"By the way, Gwen, I have good news to tell you."
"What?"
"Following the negotiation techniques you taught me, I went to the Daily Bugle to deliver photos today, and J. Jonah Jameson actually gave me five hundred dollars."
Gwen's eyes lit up.
"Wow! Alfred is amazing!"
Peter smiled sheepishly.
"It's because you taught me well."
Gwen shook her head with a smile.
She grabbed the "silkworm" with one hand, and with a flick of her wrist, shot a web toward the opposite rooftop.
The black figure rose from the ground, drawing an arc across the night sky.
"By the way," she said while swinging, "I just discovered that the new suit's cape can be used for gliding."
Peter's side was quiet for a second.
"Is it easy to use?"
"Especially easy to use," Gwen said. "When I swung over from the parking lot just now, I tried it, and I could glide quite a long way."
Peter's voice carried a smile.
"That's good."
Gwen swung through the night sky, the wind whistling past her ears. She spread her cape, and she looked like a giant bat, gliding between the buildings.
The streets below were brightly lit, and the traffic looked like ribbons of light.
In the distance, the NYPD headquarters logo was particularly conspicuous in the night sky.
Gwen adjusted her direction and headed toward it.
The moment she landed, she knelt on one knee, one hand supporting the ground, her cape fluttering behind her.
A superhero landing.
Perfect.
She stood up and placed the "silkworm" on the edge of the roof.
In the moonlight, the person wrapped in webbing lay there, his expression still completely hopeless.
"The Police will come up in a while," Gwen said, "You wait obediently."
The man nodded.
Gwen stood up and walked to the edge of the roof.
She took one last look in that direction—that was the direction of her home.
She remembered what her father had said.
"Staying alive is the most important thing."
Gwen smiled.
She flicked her wrist, and a black web shot toward the opposite building.
Her figure leaped into the night sky, disappearing into the lights of Manhattan.
In the night wind, her soft voice came through.
"Good night, New York."