On the other side.
The heavy silence in Nick Fury's office was broken by the sound of the door opening. Maria Hill hurried in, her firm footsteps echoing against the floor.
"Director," she began, taking a deep breath before continuing. "We just received a field report. The Kingpin has made a massive purchase on the black market."
Fury slowly lifted his eyes from the documents he was reviewing. Just hearing the name was enough to make his jaw tighten.
"What exactly did he buy?" he asked, his voice low and grave, as if he already anticipated news he wouldn't like.
"Vibranium, sir." Hill swallowed hard. "According to our spies, it wasn't a small shipment. We're talking about at least a hundred kilos."
For a brief moment, the room seemed frozen. Fury placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward, shadows covering part of his face as his mind raced.
(A hundred kilos of Vibranium… in New York. Is this man preparing for a war? Against whom?)
Fury's eyes narrowed. "We can't let that material fall into the wrong hands. I'll deal with him personally."
Hill opened her mouth to protest, but she didn't have the chance. Just as Fury took a step toward the door, his earpiece crackled with static. The voice of an agent on the other end sounded panicked:
{"Director! We've got an emergency! Steve Rogers… he woke up. And he's left the facility!"}
Hill's heart nearly stopped, but Fury gave no room for surprise.
"Keep eyes on him. I'm heading there right now!" Fury barked.
Switching off the comm, he shot a sharp look at Hill. "Find his location immediately. I don't care how."
"Yes, sir." She was already activating the device on her wrist, her fingers moving swiftly across the holographic panel.
"We're leaving now."
Hill didn't hesitate. Within minutes, she was behind the wheel, the engine roaring as the car tore through New York streets at maximum speed.
The silence in the cabin was broken only by the occasional siren and the hum of the tires.
Captain America… he really woke up. A man out of his time. Seventy years frozen in ice, and now walking again in our world.
Even she, who had seen and handled situations that defied logic, couldn't help but feel a wave of awe course through her.
Fury, seated beside her, remained outwardly impassive, though his mind was boiling. A living symbol of World War II had returned, and no one truly knew if he was ready to face the modern world… or if the modern world was ready to face him.
Hill pressed harder on the accelerator, weaving between lanes with flawless precision.
"Agent Hill," Fury muttered, gripping the side of the door discreetly. "Could you… slow down a little?"
Hill allowed herself a brief smile without taking her eyes off the road. "With all due respect, Director… I don't think he's going to wait for us."
The car roared even louder, as if to confirm her words.
---
Oscorp
The room was silent, save for the soft whir of the ceiling fan and the rustle of pages turning in front of Norman Osborn. His brow was deeply furrowed, his jaw clenched, and the pen in his fingers tapped lightly against the mahogany desk.
"Where's the flaw…?" he muttered to himself, eyes scanning lines of numbers and complex graphs.
The tables, filled with results from dozens of experiments, displayed a string of contradictions. In theory, using Peter Parker's blood as the base, the effects should have stabilized. But in practice, with each test, new side effects emerged—some even worse than the previous ones.
"Why are there still so many failures… even after using his blood…?"
Norman closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. His mind retraced every step of the process, obsessed with finding the missing variable. But there were no obvious gaps. Nothing.
He let out a heavy, almost helpless sigh.
"If only there were a mutant to help me with these experiments…"
The thought didn't last two seconds before Norman dismissed it with an ironic smile.
"What a joke."
If he kidnapped a mutant, he could draw the attention of the Brotherhood of Mutants—and Magneto would never forgive something like that. No amount of money or political influence could save him if the old metal tyrant decided to crush him.
He was about to dive back into his reports when the door swung open abruptly. His secretary entered with an anxious expression.
"Sir… there are people from the Army here."
Norman immediately lifted his head, his eyes narrowing.
"How did they get here without notice?"
"They're already in Laboratory One."
At those words, Norman's expression darkened. His experiments had shown no real progress… and the fact that the military had gone straight to Lab One could only mean one thing: they wanted results, not excuses.
"Damn it…" he muttered, rising quickly and adjusting his lab coat.
He walked toward the elevator, each step echoing like a reminder of the pressure weighing on his shoulders.
Laboratory One – Oscorp
As soon as the elevator doors opened, Norman saw the scene. A group of veteran soldiers, all in impeccable uniforms, were gathered in front of one of Oscorp's most advanced prototypes: the flight device—the embryo of what would one day be known as the glider.
The imposing machine reflected the laboratory lights like a promise of absolute power. Norman allowed himself a slight smile. At least this, he could present.
He hurried toward them, adopting a posture both humble and confident.
"Gentlemen, this is a state-of-the-art individual combat weapon, with exceptional stability—"
Before he could continue his pitch, a deep, firm voice cut him off:
"Mr. Osborn, let's talk somewhere else."
Norman froze for a moment. He recognized that voice instantly—laden with authority.
The man speaking wasn't just any officer. It was General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross, infamous both for his relentless discipline and his career-long crusade against super-powered beings.
Norman quickly recomposed himself, though he knew this was no courtesy call.
"…Of course, General. This way, please."
He led them to a reserved room, nearly identical to his own office, designed specifically for sensitive meetings. As soon as they were seated, Norman discreetly activated his earpiece, summoning two of his top researchers. Seconds later, they entered, carrying folders and wearing tense expressions.
Ross wasted no time.
"Let's get straight to the point. How much longer until the Super Soldier serum is ready?"
His voice carried raw impatience, and the weight of his presence kept the other officers in respectful silence.
Before Norman could respond, one of the researchers, nervous but honest, spoke up:
"Sir, the situation is… very bad."
Norman shot him a withering glare but restrained himself in front of the generals.
Ross frowned. "Explain."
"After our test subjects were injected with the serum, we saw significant physical improvement. Strength, reflexes, endurance… all enhanced. But immediately after, their personalities collapsed. Extreme violence, total loss of control. Even a lab rabbit… turned into a savage predator within seconds."
The officers exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. The conclusion was obvious: the experiment, so far, was a failure.
Ross cleared his throat, his cold gaze fixed on Norman.
"Mr. Osborn… how much longer do you need? Keep in mind that Howard Stark achieved satisfactory results under much worse conditions."
It was a low blow. Norman bit his lip but kept his tone polite.
"Don't worry, General. I've already identified some possible variables. Soon, we'll eliminate the side effects."
The same researcher, however, persisted:
"With all due respect, I believe we've been heading in the wrong direction from the very beginning. We need to suspend—"
Norman nearly exploded. His rage rose to the point that his hands trembled slightly, but he took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted was to show weakness before Ross.
"There is nothing wrong with our direction," Norman snapped, sharp and cold. "We just need to refine the process."
Another officer, perhaps more provocative, added dryly:
"Not everyone can be as brilliant as Howard Stark, can they?"
Norman almost snapped his pen in half. His anger boiled, but once again he held back. If Tony Stark had been in that room, he would have probably mocked them all without hesitation.
Ross then leaned forward.
"Listen carefully, Osborn. Originally, we intended to give you more time. But we're running out of options. The Air Force has secured a new high-tech armor. The Defense Department signed a deal with Hammer Industries. The Army… is falling behind."
The realization struck instantly.
It was the eternal internal war between military branches. Air Force vs. Army. Defense vs. private industry. All fighting for funding, power, and prestige.
Norman understood: the serum wasn't just science. It was politics.
Ross raised his voice once more:
"The Army needs results, Osborn. And it needs them now."
Norman took a deep breath, keeping the storm inside under control.
"Gentlemen… trust me. I won't disappoint you. I'll continue the research day and night, and soon we'll have the results you expect."
The officers stared at him in silence. The promise sounded too bold, but… in the end, they knew they had no other alternatives. Who else but Norman Osborn could even come close to recreating the miracle of the Super Soldier?
After a few more instructions, Ross stood up.
"I hope your words aren't empty, Osborn. The Army's future may depend on it."
With one last look heavy with authority, the General left the office, followed by the other officers.
Norman remained alone for a few seconds, staring into the void. His fists clenched, his breathing heavy.
The rage was consuming him.
The contempt of those men, the constant comparisons to Howard Stark, the political pressure—it all only fueled his fury.
(End of chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."
But seriously now, send me your ideas about the next arc (Fate/Apocrypha). I want to know what you all think — if any are really good, I might even add them to the story hahaha.
For example, while I was in the shower (not joking, this actually happened), a really interesting idea popped up: Arthur will be summoned as an Assassin, just like in the fic I'm using as a base. BUT he'll also receive the master's crest and end up summoning his own servant — which just so happens to be Jack. And somehow Arthur will become her adoptive father hahahahahaha.