Chapter 14: Norman Osborn

Norman Osborn cancelled all of his meetings and booked the next flight out of California back to New York. He never believed the Accords Summit would turn up anything other than bickering among the heroes and politicians. It was a chilling shock to discover they all came to an agreement with a draft that was still up for debate.

Norman ordered a copy of the draft for his plane ride and spent the whole trip reading and agonizing over the legislative document. Particularly the one regarding Peter Parker.

He saw the news of Peter's arrival at the UN. He watched the boy shyly stray away from the public and cameras, taking the back entrance to avoid any notice. Then, Norman replayed the famed rescue of the girl from the harbor. Peter's gigantic leap into the air to free themselves of the cold waters was impressive. Commendable, but a waste nonetheless.

And that was what killed Norman the most. His creation being used like a puppet for Stark and the other Avengers for good press. Performing simple tricks to please and entertain the idiotic public wasn't the purpose of his creation. If Norman got to him first, he would have ensured Peter reached his full potential. Become more than a simple poster boy for the Avengers.

There was still a chance, of course. While Peter mostly spent his days within the impenetrable Avengers Compound, the boy occasionally made brief appearances to the public, such as when he was spotted at a local diner with Stark and Rogers. Or when he showed up at his former school to see his friends. That was key, Norman decided. His friends. It may be impossible to approach him when Stark, Rogers or whatever Avenger plays bodyguard to him, but Peter Parker was vulnerable when he was with his friends. It showed by the lack of security when he appeared at Midtown and again when he saved the child from the river. Norman only needed to wait for the prime opportunity to snatch his boy.

He arrived at his penthouse, quiet and undisturbed. The butler was there, taking his coat to hang it up and then promptly bring him a plate of whatever was edible in the kitchen. Norman hardly ate what the butler brought to him. He only drank his scotch. Neat. As always.

He went to his office. Security on high alert, but upon his arrival, it dismantled. He went to his seat and placed his hand underneath the desk on a scanner. Hand scanned, the bottom drawer unlocked and Norman pulled it open to take out a massive folder and a chrome laptop.

He filed the copies of the Accords draft into the folder and turned on the laptop. He inputted the passcode and logged onto a file labeled: OZ.

The file contained all of Norman's research, experiments and data on his prized formula. The formula that was going to be his springboard to make Stark obsolete and the Avengers unnecessary. With the formula, the whole United States Army could become super soldiers like Captain America. No need to deal with the pettiness of the Avengers if the US military force had the same strength and endurance those enhanced heroes controlled. Even Thaddeus Ross grew interested in his formula and joined forces with him in finding a replacement for the Avengers. But, time after time, none of the experiments proved to be successful. They all came to a dwindling disaster. All, but one.

Norman clicked on another file, pulling up a video recording. He hit play.

"New York. Queens. It's a rough borough, but hey—it's home"

Norman watched the homemade video of Peter Parker using his abilities, interacting with the other Avengers and being his geeky self as he excitingly told the camera all that occurred around him. The film came to an end with Parker seated beside Stark. The billionaire buffoon made a sexist joke about Peter's aunt before gifting Peter with his new suit.

Norman sneered at the clip of Stark. Norman's green eyes turned livid upon spotting Stark's hand on his creation as if he made the boy. As if the boy was a product of his own ingenious idea.

It was good fortunate that his hatred of Tony Stark was shared with Secretary Thaddeus Ross. The former general despised Stark's flippant attitude and desired to remove Stark from the Sokovia Accords committee. Norman used that to his advantage. It only took one meeting and Secretary Ross agreed to the partnership.

As partners, Ross had no qualm in sharing with Norman all that he gathered from the Parker residence, which included videos, photographs and even child drawings they found during the purge of the apartment. Ross handed Norman whatever he wanted, after all, it was Norman who assisted Ross financially in his hunt for the boy. And while Ross dealt with the nasty fallout of his too ambitious attack on Midtown, Norman used those confiscated recordings and pictures to study Peter.

Norman shut off the old recording and played another one. Peter looked to be about eight in the new footage. He stood beside what appeared to be a launcher. In his hand was a cheap, imitation of a model rocket. Peter looked proud of it as his uncle, kneeling beside the launcher, asked what Peter planned to do that day. Apparently, the boy designed his first rocket and launcher out of scrap metal and junk parts he found around the neighborhood. The boy spoke too fast for Norman to understand everything, but that didn't bother Norman. He watched it enough times to know what the kid was saying to the camera.

Norman watched every home-video of his creation, starting when Peter was a toddler to an awkward, yet powerful fifteen year old. He met side-characters like his aunt and uncle, his friend Ned and of course, the traitorous parents.

Richard and Mary Parker.

Norman's grip squeezed tighter on his glass. A reaction he got anytime he remembered Richard Parker. The young scientist who swore to be loyal to the company and help make lives better for the people, only for Richard to sabotage his own research and report him—Norman Osborn!—to SHIELD. The betrayal was a deep cut and Norman ensured Richard would burn for that treachery.

It was humorous in a way that, despite Richard's best attempts to destroy Norman's career, he ended up guaranteeing that Norman Osborn would forever live in the world of innovation and science. Richard's only child became Norman's greatest creation… his true legacy.

Norman smiled as he watched Peter develop a knack for engineering and science. Building his own designs and understanding theoretical chemistry and quantum mechanics, Norman wistfully wished that Peter Parker was his actual blood-born son. Harry had no interest in such subjects at that age. Or now, for that matter. He barely even put himself together for the day.

Boom! Boom! Bam! Boom!

Speaking of which…

Norman groaned. His son was clearly home and living the place up like he owned the whole damn building! The loud music drowned out the voices in the recordings and drilled a migraine right through his skull. Teeth grinding, Norman shoved his chair back and stormed out of his office, following the blaring metal music his son ghastly enjoyed.

He got to his son's door. The music rattling the doorknobs and making the lights flicker upon each, heavy beat. Fingers latched on the doorknob, twisting it in a single jerk.

He spotted his son. Harry was draped over a chair's arms, bobbing and talking.

It only angered Norman more. "Turn that bloody music off!"

Harry jumped. He jolted out of his seat, scrambling backwards as he widened eyes back. His mouth babbled, words jumbling into an incohesive nonsense. Not once did he move to turn off the music.

So, Norman did it for him. Like he always did. Because Harry couldn't do anything by himself without his guided hand. Norman slammed the music off and the last chord rang down the hallway to silence. He turned to face his weak-willed son. Harry stayed rooted where he landed from his jump off the chair, swallowing with difficulty as he tried to find something to say to him.

"D-Dad… what are you doing here?"

Norman went to say a retort when he realized his son was not alone. Three other kids were in the room with his son. A butterball of a boy stood by Harry's telescope, clutching the focuser as his triple chins wobbled in his attempt to swallow whatever junk food he guzzled. The next kid had a set of unruly curls, almost doubled the size of her skinny twig of a body. An austere girl, her eyebrows lowered as she picked him apart in judgment. Her thin lips were in a permanent frown, warning Norman that she was not a docile lady.

When he looked to the third stranger, his heart seized him. For the second time in his life, his mind went completely blank. Standing a mere yard away from him was…

Peter Parker. His greatest creation.

So enthralled by the unpredictability, Norman was caught off guard when Harry spoke up again. "Um, Dad, I-I didn't know you would be home. I thought you were in California for the week."

Norman remembered where he was. He refocused and gathered up his composure. He looked back to Harry. "I came home early," he said, turning down the hostility to a more cordial tune. "And what did I tell you about the music? Don't play it that loud. I don't want any calls from our neighbors."

Harry's Adam's apple bobbed. "Er… yeah. Sorry… I, erm, forgot."

Or he didn't care. That was probably the more accurate answer. "I see," he remarked. "Who are your guests?"

It appeared Harry forgotten that he had three teenagers with him. "Oh, um, they are… my, um—friends. My friends," his son struggled to spit out as he pointed to McDonald's Jr. first. "This is Ned. That's Michelle and Peter—"

"Parker," Norman finished, looking over at Peter who moved to stand next to the girl. "Yes, I thought you looked familiar."

"It's, um, nice to meet you sir," Peter said, shaking Norman's hand. "And, we're sorry about the music being too loud. We didn't realize anyone else was home."

The boy was polite. Soft-spoken, but polite in his manners. And his grip was strong when Norman shook his hand. Strong, but not too tight to break his bones.

Norman dismissed Peter's apology with a simple flick of his hand. "Oh, don't worry about that," he said. "My only concern were that the neighbors might complain. They have done so in the past."

He looked to his son, who abashedly lowered his gaze. "Err… yeah, so, um, they were about to head out anyway, right guys?" Harry said, looking pointedly at his friends. "So—they're just going to—"

Norman panicked. Peter couldn't leave yet. He needed more time with the boy. He thought quickly.

"Oh, no, stay," Norman insisted, stopping them from inching any closer to the door. "Hang-out. Got plenty of space to do so. Have you had dinner yet? No? I'll have the cook make us dinner. Steak sound good?"

"I'm vegetarian," Michelle responded.

Of course the hippie girl would be. "Then I'll have the cook throw in some vegetables for you," he told her as her face pinched in a scowl. "You guys stay. Do whatever it was you were doing before I came in. Just don't play the music so loud."

Norman left his son's room, hurrying down the hallway to plan his next step.

Family dinners were uncommon in the Osborn household. Norman often ate at Oscorp or a restaurant, while Harry ate… whatever it was he ate. He didn't know. Nonetheless, the cook created a magnificent spread before them in the dining room. Norman sat appropriately at the head of the table with Harry and Michelle on one side and Ned and Peter on the other. Peter sat at Norman's right.

"So, you guys attend the same school as my son?" Norman started the dinner off with an easy question, directing the question more to the girl and fat boy.

"Yeah, we're in the same grade level," Ned replied, "and we are all on the decathlon team as well,"

"Decathlon team, eh?" Norman mused, remembering it as a geek club in his school days. "Must be smart kids."

"We try," answered Michelle although, Norman had trouble deciphering it as sarcasm or not.

He turned his attention to Peter. The real guest of honor of the whole apartment. "What about you, Mr. Parker?" he asked, which brought Peter to freeze up a bit. "Do you still attend school too? I don't remember reading if you do or don't in the papers."

Peter put down his fork. "Oh, um, no. I'm homeschooled."

"Homeschooled? You must be lonely by yourself then."

Peter pondered. The way he tipped his chin to the side reminded Norman of Richard—if only for a second. "Well, I mean, it's done online and I usually finish everything in an hour," Peter concluded. "So… it's not too bad."

Norman paused, almost thinking his misheard him. "You finish school in an hour?"

Peter self-consciously shrugged. "I'm a fast learner. Mr. Stark is thinking about hiring an old professor of his from MIT to come tutor me, but for now, I'm just finishing up the online courses."

Impressive, Norman thought as he took a sip of water. "Well, now I must ask what you do with the rest of your day?" he questioned, cutting a piece of steak. "You must be bored waiting for your friends to be done with school."

"I stay busy," Peter claimed. "Mr. Stark and I work on projects that can take hours, so it's not bad at all."

Norman swallowed his piece of steak too quickly that it pressed dangerously close to the sides of his throat. "Oh? And, what projects would that be?" he croaked a bit. "That is, if you can tell me. I know how fickle Anthony can be in sharing his project with anyone, but himself. Must mean you're an intelligent kid if he allows you to work with him."

He saw the flicker of conflictions in the boy's eyes, questioning whether he should say anything to Norman. After all, Norman was aware that "Mr. Stark" wouldn't be too thrilled to find out that Peter was even talking to him at all.

By the look on Peter's face, it seemed the boy came to that exact conclusion. "I just work a bit on the robotics. Some minor tinkering and things like that."

"You like robots?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. I do."

"Mechanical driven, eh?" Norman commented. "I graduated college with an electrical engineering degree, myself."

"Yes, I read that research paper you did on nanotechnology," Peter said, "It was brilliant."

Norman stared, dumbstruck. The boy read his research. And he understood it too. "That was years ago," he said. "You must have been… what? Twelve?"

"Thirteen."

Norman shouldn't have been stunned. He already knew Peter Parker was a genius. But, for him to understand his thesis on nanotechnology at that young of age… that was quite a feat. "Have you used nanotechnology before?"

"No, not yet," Peter admitted, glancing away for a bit. "I work with other sources."

Norman nodded along to Peter's words. "Well, if you want to work on nanotechnology, I'll be happy to have you job shadow me around at Oscorp. We have a whole division that—"

"Dad—" came Harry annoyed whine, "Let's not talk shop, okay? Peter doesn't want to talk about that."

Norman slowly rotated to his son. "Harry," he said, voice low, but strong like cold steel. "It's impolite to interrupt. Mr. Parker and I were having a small chat about similar interests. Just because you find it boring, doesn't mean everyone else does."

"Yeah, well, can't we talk about something we can all talk about?" Harry returned, somehow regaining the confidence he sorely lacked earlier. His son whipped his head to the girl. "Michelle—didn't you say something about your brother playing for a team? What team was it again?"

Michelle looked up from her pile of grilled vegetables. "Oh, um, yeah. He plays basketball for Purdue University."

"Cool! I was never great at sports, but I always enjoyed watching the games," Harry blabbered on, turning the attention onto him. "Ned? You like basketball?"

The hefty boy was chewing on a piece of steak. "Er, yeah. I like basketball. Can't play it well though."

"You, Peter?"

Peter nodded, shifting his seat uncomfortably at the sudden change of topic. "Yeah, I enjoy it. I play a few games at the compound with Cap and Sam."

Norman wasn't aware of who 'Sam' was, but Captain America he knew well enough to feel a flush of jealousy at the hero for providing that paternal gesture of a pick-up game. Then, the idea dawned on Norman.

"If you all like basketball, I could procure a few tickets for this weekend's game?" Norman offered. "Are you all Knicks fans?"

As expected, the teenagers sat straighter in their seats. The prospect of seeing a professional team wired their bodies with a wild hope as their grins broke their face. "I love the Knicks!" declared that fat friend.

"Then it's settled," Norman said, looking to Peter who looked surprised by the gesture. "I'll grab tickets for the game this coming weekend."

Harry smashed his face into his hand, but didn't say a word. Michelle and Peter thanked him for the kind gesture, but assured him it wasn't necessary. Yet, Norman insisted. "Anything for friends of Harry," he said, looking over at his slumped son. "He hardly ever brings friends home."

They continued on with dinner, making polite conversations. Norman listened closely to anytime Peter spoke, but after the failed robotics conversation, the boy hardly said another word. Ned spoke a lot, his words jumbling all over the place, while Michelle kept a strict policy of only three word responses at best. Harry tried very little in engaging. He sat quietly, frowning severely throughout the rest of dinner.

By the time dessert came, a phone went off. It sounded more like someone left a radio playing for the sounds of AC/DC echoed around them rather than a shrilled ring.

Peter suddenly blushed, apologizing as he took his phone out of his pocket to read a glowing message on his screen. "Sorry, it looks like I have to go. My aunt needs me to come home now," he said, closing his phone and rising from his chair. "So, um, it was an honor to meet you, Mr. Osborn."

"Likewise, Mr. Parker," Norman stood up to shake the young man's hand again. "Don't be a stranger around here and if you ever want to check out our nanotechnology program at Oscorp, let me know. I'll be happy to arrange a visit for you."

"Oh, okay, thank you," Peter said, drawing his hand back after shaking his hand. "I'll let you know."

Then the girl stood up from her seat as well. "Peter's right. We better get going. It's getting late," she said, encouraging the fat boy to forget dessert. "Can we hitch a ride with you, Peter?"

Peter agreed to give them a ride back to their homes. They all bundled themselves up in their fall coats and scarves, saying their good-byes to Harry with promises to see him at school. Peter was the last one to leave, giving a quick fist-bump to Harry before he turned right back to Norman.

"Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful," Peter said with gratitude. "Have a good night."

Like that, all of Harry's friends were gone, leaving only the father and son alone in the vast penthouse. And Harry took that moment to spin on his heels and face his father with heated delirium.

"Try not to look so depressed, Dad," Harry sneered.

Norman rolled his eyes. "What are you blabbering on about?"

"How you practically drooled over Peter Parker throughout dinner," Harry said with a sour countenance to match his tone. "He hardly says a word and you already treat him far better than me."

"Perhaps it is because he is a motivated and polite, young man," Norman threw back at his son. "Not the spoiled slob I apparently raised."

Harry's brows furrowed. "You didn't," he retorted. "That is, you didn't raise me. Too busy with your goddam company to care about me!"

"Watch that tone!"

"Or what?" Harry challenged, before turning away from his father. "God—you embarrassed me in front of my friends!"

"Embarrassed?" Norman repeated, crossed. "I would think it was the other way around. And besides, when did you become friends with Peter Parker?"

Harry wildly threw up his hands. "Again—with Parker! What does it matter? I'm friends with him," he said with an embittered tone. "Him and the others, who, by the way, their names are Michelle and Ned. In case you didn't remember since you were so busy goggling at Parker."

"I remember their names."

"But didn't bother to talk to them," Harry said. "Yeah, I notice and I'm sure Michelle noticed because she notices everything."

Norman didn't care if the girl noticed or not. She wasn't important to his plans at all. Neither was the chubby friend.

"And what is with inviting Peter to come to Oscorp?" Harry inquired further. "You never let anyone come over for a visit. You don't even let me visit Oscorp!"

"I thought that was perfectly clear," Norman said. "Peter is interested in nanotechnology. He is interested in sciences and engineering. You aren't. Why would you want to come to Oscorp?"

Harry stared dead straight at him, mouth slightly parted. "Really?" he said, brows raised before he low whistled. "Wow! That's just great… well, you know what? I doubt Peter will come anyway. Why would he want to go to Oscorp when he can hang-out with Stark and his nanotechnology, and robotics team? Stark's company is far more advanced than Oscorp anyway."

Norman's face mottled crimson. He felt his eyes pop out as he glared daggers at his son. "Says a boy who's barely passing school as it is. You're only upset because you know that you will never be as great as he is now," he jeered. "You, Harry, are a disappointment."

His words struck a chord with Harry. His son's anger evaporated, replaced with a stung rejection. He slide his feet back, muscles slacked as he turned away from his father. It took a moment for Harry to boarder up the rejection and act unoffended. "Whatever," he scoffed, no longer interested in the ridiculous argument. "I'm going to my room."

"Don't be playing any of that crap you call music!" Norman called behind him to which he heard Harry growl before he charged onward without a single glance back at his father.

Norman watched Harry storm off. He meant every word that he said. If Harry was half the man Peter Parker was, then he would be proud enough to call Harry his son. But at the moment, Harry's lazy, incompetent and immature manners did little to make him be a proud father. Whereas Peter, intelligent, polite and enhanced, was the future for Norman and his legacy.

To ensure that future remained secured, Norman returned to his office and pulled out the old burner phone he hadn't used in years. He punched in the speed dial number. It rang twice.

"It's me," Norman said into the phone as he looked out the window that overlooked Central Park. "I need you to get to New York City as soon as possible. You won't regret it."