"I'm Peter's good friend. His phone's been unreachable."
The Parker Tower in Manhattan, which had just been purchased by Parker Industries' CEO Alise and put into use, welcomed its very first visitor the moment it opened: Harry Osborn.
At this moment, he was sitting in the tower's VIP reception lounge, looking at Alise with obvious anxiety.
"Ma'am, can you help me get in touch with him?"
"Mr. Osborn, I know who you are." With Batman absent, Alise displayed the calm confidence of someone perfectly capable of holding the fort. She gently reassured Harry Osborn. "Please wait just a moment. I'll reach out to him for you."
"Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, please—and hurry." Harry's brow remained furrowed, but he still forced a strained smile for Alise. "I mean, please get in touch with Peter quickly."
Alise gave Harry a small smile, turned, and stepped out of the reception room to pull out her phone.
Beep… beep… beep…
The busy tone sounded. Clearly, even Alise couldn't reach Peter Parker right now.
After several failed attempts, Alise returned to the lounge with an apologetic expression.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Osborn. The boss is probably tied up. The moment I reach him, I'll let him know you're looking for him."
Harry Osborn shook his head, looking a little lost, and started toward the elevator.
He had just come back from the Ravencroft Institute.
Yesterday, Harry had gone to Ben Parker's grave to lay flowers. Today he had planned to contact Peter Parker and go together to the Ravencroft Institute in the northern suburbs, hoping they might be allowed to visit his father.
Since he couldn't reach Peter, Harry had gone alone. This time he tipped generously and gave his full name.
This time, Harry Osborn got what he wanted: he was allowed inside the psychiatric facility… and learned the devastating truth.
Norman Osborn wasn't there at all. He had been transferred out more than half a month ago!
"Peter… Dad… what the hell is going on?" Harry muttered to himself, but he was doomed to receive no answer.
Harry stumbled out in a daze. He couldn't even remember how he got from Parker Tower back to Osborn Tower.
All he knew was that when the elevator reached the twentieth floor, Professor Morbius was excitedly saying something to Professor Miles Warren.
"You're actually listening to him? I like the kid too, but if it were you—would you unconditionally pour everything you have into helping someone you barely know?" Professor Warren wore an expression of pure exasperation, the kind reserved for iron that refuses to become steel.
"I can tell Peter wasn't lying to me. He genuinely intends to do it," Professor Morbius replied anxiously.
He clearly had more to say, but the moment he spotted Harry Osborn, both scientists tacitly dropped the subject.
Harry, however, had caught part of it. He slowly walked over to the two professors and looked at them.
"You were talking about Peter, weren't you?"
Professor Warren stayed silent. Professor Morbius nodded honestly.
"Forget what he said. Let's just go back to the original treatment plan, Professor Morbius," Harry Osborn said.
Morbius looked at Harry without speaking.
Harry pulled over a chair, sat down across from the two professors, and continued.
"Professor, I know you want to cure your blood disease—we all do—but we can't actually do what Peter suggested."
Seeing both professors fall silent, Harry went on.
"Let me tell you about Peter. The guy who desperately wanted his own computer when we were younger, but was so poor he had to scavenge parts from junkyards and assemble one himself."
"Even then, he wouldn't accept a dime from me."
"That's how stubborn and old-fashioned he is. I didn't even dare secretly buy him a good computer and give it to him as a gift, because he'd pay me back a thousandfold—and you know I don't need that."
"At school, pretty much everyone called him a nerd, but I personally watched the same bully who used to torment him bawling his eyes out over a breakup… and Peter was the only one who went over to comfort him… That guy's name was Eugene, right?"
Professor Warren nodded.
"Eugene 'Flash' Thompson—one of the biggest punks in school. I remember him."
Harry managed a weak smile. Right now his mind was full of Peter and his father Norman—where on earth were they?—but thinking of Professor Morbius's condition, he forced himself to keep talking.
"But that same guy who's kind to literally everyone lost one of the people he loved most last month—his Uncle Ben."
"I'm sorry," Professor Warren said softly.
Harry shook his head slightly. He wasn't bringing it up for Warren's sympathy; he had another purpose.
"Yesterday Peter told me Uncle Ben's dying words… 'With great power comes great responsibility.'"
"Peter clearly misunderstood what they meant. That's why, the moment he heard about Professor Morbius's blood disease, he decided he had to help cure you, no matter the cost."
"He used to be a broke kid who finally built his own company—Parker Industries. I can't just stand by and watch him bankrupt himself over this and end up with nothing. He still has his aunt to take care of."
That last sentence was aimed directly at Professor Morbius.
Morbius lowered his head, once again assuming the melancholy air of a poet. "I understand."
A flicker of reluctance crossed Professor Warren's face. He apologized again, this time for having misjudged Peter Parker. "I'm sorry. I don't know Peter very well. I assumed he'd just gotten carried away in the moment when he made those promises to Morbius… but from what you're saying, Peter really might give everything he has without thinking of himself."
"Yes. That's exactly the kind of person he is," Harry said. "Professor Morbius, even though I don't agree with Peter's plan, Oscorp will still provide everything you need."
Morbius sighed. At this point, how could he bear to let Peter Parker become penniless again? It would just mean picking the research back up from where they left off.
"Let's resume the electroshock therapy protocol."
Harry Osborn nodded.
"I'll call Max Dillon over."
The distance was closing—less than ten meters now—between the heavily armored Batman, the large-headed mastermind with his back turned, General Ross, and Norman Osborn inside the glass pod.
"Stop right there. Don't take another step," the mastermind said without turning around. "That armor of yours looks pretty thick. Unless you want it to become your coffin, stay where you are."
Batman's footsteps didn't slow.
The mastermind seemed to lose patience. At last he turned to face Batman, his tone ice-cold.
"I looked up your file. Playing ghost and scaring people works a lot better for you in New York than it does wrecking my laboratory."