Training And Family

Deep in the Osborn Manor, in a sub-level below the ground floor where there was once an old wine cellar had now been renovated into a lab for Norman to tinker and create. The walls had been reinforced with titanium and steel panels, the floors replaced with marble and the supports streamlined and replaced with better versions of what they'd once been.

It'd been a month since the board meeting and Norman was finally ready to test himself fully.

So there he was, in the middle of a metal plated floor portion of the lab, holding a bar with two massive pieces of metal at either end at his feet. A soft whirring could be heard from the metal structures about the size of a normal human torso. On each side was a display screen, with five zeroes on display. Norman stood there in nothing but shorts, stretching his arms, shoulders, back and core as he prepared to test his strength.

He'd been hard at work for the last few weeks, managing finances, designing and beginning the manufacturing of the flash cloning machines and pushing Oscorp into sectors further whereas before they only dipped their toes. The medical sector, for instance - Oscorp did make drugs and medicine but it focused much too highly on over specialised products.

Take Dr. Connors reptilian serum for instance. Yes, it could regrow limbs and help speed up healing - in theory - but it was also extremely expensive to make and couldn't be used on the everyday injury. Same goes for most other medicines. Oscorp never just kept it...simple. Always going big and bold and grand. No doubt a thing pushed by the past Norman to satisfy his ego. And so, the new Norman had spent a few days fiddling about with chemistry and had produced dozens of new medicines that were more effective and cost less to make while also covering much more ground than the specialised medicines and drugs Oscorp previously made.

This, along with other projects, had been taking up Norman's time. Stopping him from testing his new and improved body - but there was another limit.

Technology.

You see, normal weights at the gym are made for normal humans. But Norman was far removed from the word 'normal'. Yet he wasn't a supernatural juggernaut who could lift buildings with ease either. He was in the odd limbo between normal human and city wide threat, physically. Normal weights were too light and unconventional means of testing his strength weren't within his reach.

So, while figuring out how to improve space stations, he came across an idea. Artificial gravity. After all, long-term effects of zero gravity on the human body are a big factor in why space travel is such a hard thing to crack. Humans evolved on a planet, under the effects of gravity - take that gravity away and the human body doesn't quite know what to do.

But Norman had figured out something. He hadn't invented a new thing or discovered a new fundamental force of physics. He'd simply used his intellect and the already available resources and knowledge to solve the problem.

An object that spins, say a circle, would create force that exudes outwards of it. Things standing on the outside of the circle would be flung away...and yet things standing inside the circle would experience something similar to gravity which keeps their feet on the ground. This is called centripetal force, or more specifically centripetal acceleration. The same can be seen if you attach a weight to a piece of string and then spin it - the faster you spin it, the more taut the string becomes because the weight is constantly pushing outwards and trying to move away from the center of the circle you're creating.

So, in short, a way to simulate gravity by having something spin fast.

Which is when Norman came up with an idea in the spur of the moment considering his lack of ways to test himself: Why not use this force to induce artificially higher gravity in weights?*

(*A/n - Just wanna point out that I'm not a super genius scientist, so this doesn't really work like that. Centripetal force is a real thing and can create artificial gravity, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't work like how I'm describing it here. So please, suspend your disbelief because I doubt you were reading an MCU fanfic for absolutely realistic science lol.)

So, he got to creating a machine that could do this while creating a bar that could withstand such inhuman weights. Which is what the two metal structures on the end of the bar were - artificial gravity machines. They spin about 100kg inside of them at such a speed and frequency that it makes it feel like more weight is there than there actually is.

"Five times gravity," Norman called out and the whirring increased as the second of the red zeroes instantly became a '1', signifying the weight had instantly increased to 1000kg or an entire tonne.

Taking a deep breath, Norman bent down and grabbed the bar, bending his knees slightly as he did so. Then he jerked it up, lifting the weight with more ease than he expected up onto his chest/collarbone where he kept it for a moment before finally pushing the weight up above his head with perfect form and technique.

'I guess it's too light still,' Norman mused, 'Oh well, time to increase it a little more. At least I can see I do have accelerated learning, or even a degree of photographic reflexes like Taskmaster,' he thought. And it was true - he'd simply been watching videos of Olympic weightlifters lifting the weight, burning their forms and technique into his mind and then reenacting it with his body. Unlike what he was used to, his body easily accommodated what his brain wanted - his flexibility, balance and overall body coordination being absolutely inhuman even without the training.

The previous Norman had indeed exercised quite a lot but that was mainly calisthenics with some light resistance training, so the Norman of before wouldn't have been able to do the movements necessary as easily as the Norman of the present.

Putting the weight down gently like he was holding a tonne, he kept his breathing calm and mentally urged his body to continue rushing the blood in his veins around - which it did - before calling out once more, "Seven times gravity."

The whirring continued, picking up a little more and Norman got into position to pick up the weight once more. This time, however, he felt the weight. He had to strain and exert himself to pick it up to his chest where he breathed in heavily before pushing the weight up and above his head. It only took a few seconds, if that, for the entire maneuver and yet Norman could tell he'd roughly found his limit.

'1.4 tonnes is nothing to scoff at...yet it's nothing in a world like the one I'm in,' he thought as he dropped the weight down with strained movements. 'I feel like I'm nowhere near the physical plateau that plagues most humans at the peak of fitness so I can assume with training, I can push myself to what my peak would be,' his breathing levelled out just as quickly as it picked up, his superior recovery time coming in clutch. "Turn off," he called out and the whirring began to slow before stopping and the red numbers disappeared as the system powered down.

"Not good enough for any space faring technology," he wondered aloud, "Too much emphasis on the rotation would make using it on a ship more trouble than it's worth...but at least I figured out a way to work out," he smiled to himself and wandered over to his desk where designs for smaller, more efficient artificial systems sat completed. Now Norman had to miniaturise the system for usage in dumbbells and other systems.

Just as he put pencil to paper, the intercom system blared to life as Bernard's voice echoed throughout the lab, "Sir, it's time for Harry's extracurricular event."

"Ah," Norman vocalised his surprise before looking to the nearby clock and giving a wry grin, "Time flies when you're having fun, huh?" he said to no one in particular as he stood. Pressing down on the button near to him that linked to the intercom, he replied, "I'm on my way up, Bernard. Thanks for the reminder."

"No need for thanks, sir. It is my job, after all," Bernard replied and Norman could swear he heard the older butler smiling even through the speaker.

. . .

Having just finished changing into a basic combo of a plain white v-neck t-shirt and some denim jeans, Norman felt aghast by the lack of casual clothing the older Norman owned.

'I understand he was a workaholic but come on, Norman - at least have some other things to wear outside of formal suits, dress suits and tuxedos, man,' shaking his head at, arguably, his own past behaviour, Norman turned to the mirror and gave himself a once over before nodding and draping a very expensive leather jacket over his back before sliding his arms into the sleeves.

Luckily he had access to incredible amounts of money, so getting a second wardrobe's worth of clothing wasn't too hard for him.

Fully dressed and ready to go, he turned and exited his bedroom where Bernard was standing in wait. When the old man finally saw Norman, he looked at him as if he'd grown a third head and yet he said nothing.

Seeing the look, Norman quirked an eyebrow, "What is it, Bernard? You don't need to go all tight lipped on me even if what you're thinking is bad," he lightly joked but he could quite easily guess what was going on in Bernard's head.

How much he'd changed.

And as if to prove that deduction correct, Bernard gave a slightly forced grin as he answered, "...It's nothing, sir. Just that I can't believe how much you've...changed. Ever since that night when I rushed to see you with all that blood on your face standing next to a pool of your own vomit, you've somehow become brighter. You're even getting more involved in young Harry's life more but most of all," Bernard paused, an odd mixture of happiness and sadness in his aged eyes, "You look happy."

"I am happy, Bernard," Norman smiled before taking in one big inhale and letting out one big exhale, "I have changed. For the better, I hope," he paused and looked to Bernard who gave a hurried nod, as if he thought his words had offended Norman, "And I want to be a better father, I guess. After Emily died I was distraught. Terribly so. I became a husk who only wanted to work and work and work...and I blamed an innocent boy, my son, for her death while I fell into a rabbit hole of obsession."

Things went quiet as Norman stopped, Bernard looked halfway between disbelief at Norman opening up and joy at the fact he was speaking about his late wife for the first time in years.

And Norman continued.

"That night when I woke up I remember thinking to myself 'What kind of monster have you become, Norman?'," he frowned in distaste at his own actions, "I realised I was no better than my own father who abused me. Do you remember when my father died, Bernard?"

Seeming slightly caught off guard by the question, Bernard nodded, "Yes, I do."

"Then you'll remember that no one turned up. Not even me," he said, a slight sadness to his voice, "You know, they say that you only ever truly die when you're forgotten - and that's what my father was. Forgotten." Norman leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms and looking up a little, "I don't want that. I don't want an empty funeral or to be forgotten. So, I'm doing my best to be better with the goal of being remembered by as many people as possible. Which all starts with Harry. As long as I can do good by my son, be a better father and a better man--that's all that matters. Because the way the world remembers you is how you'll be seen whenever someone looks back in the annals of history."

Bernard, looking somewhat teary-eyed, placed his hands on Norman's shoulders, "Forgive me for speaking above my station but," he stopped and a tear rolled down his cheek, "Welcome back, Master Norman. Ever since Lady Emily died I feared you'd never come out of that shell of sadness you'd created around yourself...and no matter what reason brought you back, it's a good one."

Norman, feeling particularly sentimental, pulled Bernard in for a hug and smiled a wide, happy smile, "Thanks for being so patient, Bernard." He pat Bernard on the back while thinking to himself, 'Truly, I did merge with Osborn. Feeling emotions and grief for people and things I've never met or done,' he separated from Bernard while continuing his thought process, 'Very well then, I'll carry your grief and make a great life out of the shambled parts you've given me Norman.'

'I'll make a great life, indeed.'

"Should we get going then, Bernard? I think that's enough hugging and emotions for one day," Norman gave a grin which sparked Bernard into a slight chuckle of his own as he wiped at his eyes.

"Of course, Master Norman. Let us go," he said and turned, beginning to walk down the hallway and toward the manor's exit.

. . .

Standing on a soccer field, Norman watched the two teams play.

(A/n - God it hurts me, as an English man, to call it soccer.)

Harry was a striker, being a tall kid for his age and having decent athletic prowess. He seemed to really like the game as well, so that was a plus - or at least that's what Norman thought. It's better to have passion for something than to have the talent for it. Loving something is better than being good at it, in most cases anyway.

Every now and then, Harry would cast a glance of disbelief to Norman like he was seeing a dragon on the field or something. Norman couldn't blame his son for the disbelief but he did wish he'd focus more on the game. He'd been hit in the head by the ball twice already while glancing.

But still, every time Harry looked over, Norman continued to flash him a smile, give him a gesture of encouragement or both. A feeling of pride welled up inside him when Harry scored a goal - a feeling he'd never really been privy to before. Parental pride.

It was odd, considering he'd just been creating gravity weights just an hour before, that he could feel pride over an under tens soccer match...and yet he couldn't stop smiling his son got the ball. He concluded that it was an odd feeling for someone like him, an Augment, but he didn't dislike the feeling. It just felt weird seeing as he'd never felt it before. By now, the halfway point of the match was just starting and instead of walking over to his team coach, Harry walked over to Norman.

When he reached in front of him, Harry was looking down at his feet with his hands wringing the other like a rag, "...Father."

Norman took a knee in front of his son and placed a large hand on Harry's messy mop of auburn hair ever so similar to his own, "You're doing great out there Harry. Keep it up and your team will win, and then we'll go get some ice cream after, okay?"

The ever present surprise in Harry's eyes got slightly more intense as he finally met Norman's eyes. He subconsciously nodded, a small grin creeping across his lips at his father's words, a small amount of pure joy sparkling in his eyes, "Okay, father!" he said with much more enthusiasm than his previous greeting.

"Call me dad, Harry - 'father' makes me feel much older," Norman joked and Harry replied, seemingly blurting it out unconsciously.

"But you are pretty old--" he stopped himself, the disbelief and joy either disappearing or freezing when he realized what he'd said. Seeing the slight fear on his face, Norman nearly winced knowing that the old Osborn would've actually reprimanded Harry for talking back in what he'd consider a rude way.

But, to the surprise of Harry, Norman just ruffled his hair up some more and gave him a smile, "Old? Well, I guess I am to you, huh? But remember, son, I'm in the prime of my life," he tapped his fist against his own chest in an exaggerated manner and wormed a smile out of Harry who's joy came back. It was obviously to Norman that Harry could see the changes in himself but wasn't questioning them - and why would he? Harry was a 9-year-old. He was no doubt just happy his dad was being nice to him.

Once again, Norman vowed to himself that he'd correct his old mistakes now that he knew better. He knew it wouldn't be easy or in some cases his machinations may make situations worse when he seeks to improve on what he was...but being a better man and father isn't easy. 'But it's not about being perfect, it's about trying,' Norman mused.

Seeing the players go back on the field, Norman clapped Harry on the shoulder and held him at arm's length while looking his son in the eyes, "Okay, my age aside, get back out there and keep being great, Harry," he encouraged the boy before leaning in closer in a conspiratorial manner, "Push the defenders on the left side and take shots from the left side as well. Their defense on that side are weaker and a bit exhausted. So, go get 'em, son."

Harry gave a beaming smile, gave Norman an ardent nod and broke away from Norman's hold before turning and running back onto the pitch.

As he ran away, Bernard walked up next to Norman and spoke in a quiet voice.

"Tony Stark has been kidnapped in Afghanistan...their shares are beginning to rapidly drop."

"Begin buying as many shares as you can, Bernard. Try and poach a few of their employees as well," Norman said as he continued looking on at Harry's game, his smile never leaving his face. His first plan was finally coming to fruition and the beginnings of what he wanted to become were on the horizon.