C 77

From the start, Anton hadn't had much direct contact with Norman Osborn, but the latter had left a good impression on him.

Though shrewd and calculating, Norman conducted himself with measured poise and a demeanor befitting a successful entrepreneur.

Most importantly, Norman was generous.

Additionally, his son, Harry Osborn, was polite and even a fan of Batman.

Anton could understand Norman's actions when viewed through the lens of his family's genetic disease. However, it had to be acknowledged: once Norman's schizophrenia gave birth to the Green Goblin, he became an entirely different person—no longer the Norman Osborn everyone knew.

In his Green Goblin persona, Norman's negative emotions dominated, growing unchecked. Apart from his family—specifically Harry—he harbored no positive feelings. His thoughts were consumed by destruction, sabotage, and crime.

Anton refused to equate the Green Goblin with Norman Osborn.

Given his past relationship with Harry, a key investor in his films, Anton was willing to help Norman rid himself of his destructive alter ego once he was subdued. But until then, Anton vowed to bring him to justice.

The pumpkin bomb incident from yesterday demanded retribution.

Anton could negotiate; Batman could not.

After solidifying his resolve, Anton left the Daily Bugle and drove straight to the Continental Hotel.

"Mr. Jameson, we meet again!"

The front desk attendant, a calm and composed man in a sharp suit, nodded at him. The last time Anton had been here, the man was visibly uneasy. But now?

Now, they were allies.

He offered Anton a respectful nod. "Mr. Winston is in his office. I'll inform him you're here."

"Okay," Anton replied, heading directly toward Winston's office without hesitation.

"Anton, long time no see," Winston greeted him warmly, stepping out of his office with a smile.

Since partnering with Anton and witnessing the downfall of the Kingpin syndicate, Winston's position—and that of the Continental Hotel—had soared.

With the High Table's influence now extending over Hell's Kitchen and the Continental's control solidified throughout New York, the hotel had become the central hub for professional assassins in the area.

Almost every notable killer in the city was now registered with the Continental Hotel. Those who weren't? Unaffiliated rookies who didn't command attention.

The hotel's reputation had grown to the point where it was widely recognized as the unofficial "Assassins' Guild" across the United States.

And Winston, the master of the Continental, had effectively become New York's "Guild President".

Winston never forgot who had made this possible: Anton.

While their history had its share of tension, Winston believed that a good ending rendered the process irrelevant.

Besides, Anton wasn't just an ally—he was Batman.

In modern America, no one could afford to overlook Batman's presence.

"Winston, I heard from Daredevil that the High Table has been doing well lately," Anton began, casually greeting the Continental's manager. 

Without skipping a beat, he added, "I need your help with something regarding Oscorp. Through the High Table's intelligence network, I want you to track down where a recent batch of chemicals purchased by Oscorp ended up."

"Oscorp?"

Winston raised an eyebrow in surprise.

He was well aware of Anton's dual identity as both a renowned director and the boss behind the Daily Bugle. Anton also had a notably friendly relationship with Norman Osborn. Why would he suddenly be investigating Oscorp?

But Winston's instincts told him not to pry. His line of work had taught him that curiosity often came with complications.

"Understood," Winston replied. "Give me a moment. With our contacts at the ports, this won't be hard to figure out."

He made a quick phone call. Within moments, the answer came back.

"Osborn Manor," Winston said, hanging up. "The chemicals were delivered to Norman Osborn's private estate just outside New York. I assume you already know the location."

"Got it," Anton nodded. Before leaving, he offered Winston a parting tip: "The Foot Clan is in for some trouble soon. If the High Table has any interest in Brooklyn, this might be the time to make a move."

Winston blinked at the unexpected intel, then chuckled as Anton left.

"He's truly a lucky star," Winston murmured with satisfaction.

Nightfall

Anton donned his Batman suit and made his way to Osborn Manor on the outskirts of New York.

The estate was an impressive transformation of what had once been a barren hill. Twenty years ago, Norman Osborn had invested a fortune to build the sprawling manor, which was conveniently located just an hour's drive from the city.

From a distance, Anton observed the security measures in place. Something felt off.

The armed personnel patrolling the manor exceeded what would be considered typical for a private estate. These weren't ordinary guards—they were highly trained and heavily equipped.

Anton muttered to himself, "Norman's secret lab must be here."

Finding a blind spot in the surveillance system, he silently infiltrated the estate and descended into the underground levels.

Underground Laboratory

Beneath Osborn Manor was a sprawling, state-of-the-art lab, concealed from the outside world.

In the center of the lab sat a massive lizard-like creature, his green-scaled body dwarfing the oversized chair he occupied. It was Curt Connors—transformed into the Lizard. He was intently operating a set of high-tech experimental machines.

"Not enough... it's not enough!" Connors growled to himself, his voice a deep, guttural rumble. "The human body enhancement serum can slow genetic deterioration, but it doesn't provide a permanent solution. It can't fully repair genetic defects, and..."

He hesitated, a flicker of fear crossing his reptilian eyes.

"The serum's schizophrenic side effects are catastrophic."

Connors shuddered as he thought of Norman Osborn. The serum had amplified Osborn's negative emotions, birthing the monstrous Green Goblin—a violent, unpredictable figure clad in goblin-like armor and wreaking havoc on his infamous glider.

"The serum creates demons," Connors muttered grimly.

Just days ago, the experimental base had nearly been destroyed—by that guy.

Now, that guy had fully embraced his identity as the Green Goblin, his mind consumed by a singular craving for chaos and destruction.

If it weren't for Oscorp funding his research, Connors, now fully transformed into the Lizard, might have already lashed out against the Goblin. The temptation to snap the Goblin's glider in two was growing harder to resist.

Unbeknownst to Connors, the Green Goblin felt similarly about him.

After injecting the "Limb Regeneration Serum," Connors had regained his lost limbs but had spiraled into a bizarre obsession with the idea of lizard supremacy. To the Goblin, Connors was nothing more than a delusional reptilian freak.

As insane as the Green Goblin was, he still clung to his humanity. He saw the human body enhancement serum as the true path to evolution for mankind—not the creation of some absurd "lizard empire."

The two men—if they could still be called that—were trapped in a dangerous partnership. Both harbored their own secret agendas.

Connors relied on Oscorp's resources to continue his research, hoping to perfect the serum and fix his genetic defects once and for all. Meanwhile, the Goblin impatiently awaited breakthroughs from Connors' experiments, desperate for a side-effect-free solution to the Osborne family's genetic disease.

Neither trusted the other.

Suddenly, a shrill alarm blared through the vast underground laboratory.

"Intruder alert!"

Connors froze. He hadn't expected anyone to breach the manor's heavily fortified perimeter.

His mind immediately flashed back to the previous night when the Green Goblin had flown off in a rage, armed with a sinister new weapon. Hours later, the Goblin had returned, his glider scorched and his face twisted in fury, muttering curses under his breath.

It wasn't hard to connect the dots—whatever trouble the Goblin had stirred up, it had followed him home.

Unbeknownst to Connors, the Green Goblin had crossed paths with someone who had already torn him apart once before.

And now Connors was about to meet that someone.

A familiar voice echoed through the lab, sharp and commanding.

"Connors, so you really are here!"

The Lizard's face twisted in rage and disbelief as he recognized the voice.

….

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