The Press Conference

"Don't worry, as soon as I get out, I'll expose Drake's vile actions and make sure he rots in prison for life!"

Eddie thumped his chest in assurance.

Not only did he already have a grudge against Carlton Drake, but Drake's behavior alone warranted putting him down on the spot.

A life sentence was too kind for him.

"I just don't want to see anyone die for such twisted reasons again!"

Dora's expression grew somber.

Eddie's eyes flickered as he caught the underlying meaning of her words.

Before, Dora could convince herself that the deaths of the volunteers were sacrifices for medical progress.

However, once Carlton Drake set his sights on extraterrestrial beings, using bizarre, incomprehensible reasons to sacrifice lives, people like Dora Skirth, who were indecisive by nature, could no longer make money in good conscience.

It wasn't contributing to society—it was pure harm.

Coincidentally, Eddie had appeared before her just in time, giving her the courage to change her situation.

"Don't worry, I won't let Drake off the hook."

Eddie reassured her once more.

Dora opened the glass room door.

But neither of them expected that, at that very moment, a security guard would walk in.

Seeing Eddie free, the guard tightened his grip on his gun, shouting, "Don't move, or I'll shoot! You'd better cooperate!"

Eddie cursed in his mind.

"Damn it! Why did you have to show up now, of all times? Am I destined to die here today?"

Filled with intense resentment, Eddie raised his hands as if surrendering but slowly approached the guard.

Click!

Seeing Eddie's approach, the guard pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Eddie's heart raced.

Sensing danger, he dodged just in time.

Whizz!

The bullet grazed past his ear, leaving a hot streak that marked his cheek with a bloody scratch.

Crack!

The sound of shattering glass echoed.

Both Dora and the guard looked toward the source, their faces turning pale.

The guard even forgot to keep shooting, a look of indescribable terror spreading across his face.

"Run!"

Dora screamed, eyes wide in horror, staring behind Eddie.

The guard abandoned Eddie, running out at full speed, apparently going to call for backup.

"What the hell?"

Eddie was bewildered.

Just as he snapped out of his narrow escape, a realization dawned on him.

He trembled, a chill creeping up his back.

Slowly, he turned his head to see a black, viscous substance crawling up to his heel, gradually inching up his back.

It seemed to be merging with him, seeping into his body as though becoming a part of him.

"Gulp!"

He suddenly understood, feeling both terrified and astonished.

A symbiote!

Some things, even if you're seeing them for the first time, are unmistakable.

...

In New York, at Oscorp Tower.

Anton met with the old man once again.

"Did you get it sorted out?"

J. Jonah Jameson smiled, "Oscorp and the Daily Bugle have collaborated many times, but this might be the biggest deal in terms of money. Anton, you didn't disappoint me."

"Old man, is this how you used to make money?"

Anton's expression was strange.

"Anyone with even a little bit of intelligence would seek benefits for themselves within reasonable bounds," Jameson said nonchalantly. "Every penny I make is legal income, fully taxed, and doesn't violate my conscience. Do you think I'd have a billion-dollar net worth just by running the Bugle and blackmailing people?"

Anton admired him, "Not really, but I definitely underestimated your connections."

"You'll learn more of my secrets as time goes on," Jameson smiled.

With Anton's satisfactory handling of the Life Foundation situation, Jameson felt gratified, already considering mentoring Anton more seriously.

Ring! Ring!

Suddenly, Anton's phone rang.

"Boss, the Life Foundation just released a statement. They're about to hold a press conference to address the 'homeless' and 'illegal experiments' issues…"

Phil's voice came through, brimming with excitement. "We won!"

"Hold on. Let's see what Drake has to say," Anton replied. "Even though we're winning, we should be ready for him to go down swinging."

"Understood," Phil agreed.

As Anton and Jameson were ushered into a car by their driver, Anton pulled out his phone and opened the Bugle's live-streaming page.

The screen showed the main entrance of the Life Foundation's research facility next to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Though the doors were tightly shut, a crowd had already gathered outside.

The crowd wasn't just the protesters who had previously blocked the entrance; journalists from various media outlets were pouring in, all eager to report on this socially controversial story as it unfolded.

"Don't worry, the Life Foundation has conceded," Jameson said confidently after a quick glance.

"Why do you say that?" Anton asked, curious.

"The San Francisco city government issued an ultimatum to Drake, demanding that he resolve the scandal promptly," Jameson scoffed. "Those high-ranking officials don't want this scandal to keep spreading."

"You know about that?" Anton was surprised.

"That's part of the secret. Otherwise, why do you think Norman Osborn would give up profits to the Bugle?"

Jameson added, "Like I said, Anton, I have plenty of secrets."

"Alright," Anton sighed. "I just hope Eddie is okay."

"There are always sacrifices in everything," Jameson said with a tone that was both cold and insightful. "Anton, you need to learn to accept reality."

Anton asked, "And you? Have you accepted it?"

"Of course," Jameson replied.

Anton asked again, "If you've accepted it, why retire?"

"That's life," Jameson answered. "You'll understand someday."

As the two continued their conversation, the Life Foundation's press conference in San Francisco made progress.

The doors opened slowly.

Surrounded by several muscular bodyguards, a slender man who appeared to be in his early thirties stepped into view.

Carlton Drake.

A self-made billionaire.

"Mr. Drake, how will you respond to public criticism?"

"There are rumors that you've received a warning from the San Francisco Police Department. Is that true?"

"Are you going to jail?"

"Drake, go to hell!!"

Countless voices erupted simultaneously, like hundreds of ducks quacking at once, creating a deafening uproar.

"Please, quiet down,"

Drake raised his hand and stepped up to the podium, addressing the microphone with a solemn expression: "Ladies and gentlemen, the Life Foundation has always been committed to curing all human diseases. We've developed many new drugs that address serious illnesses like pancreatic cancer, bringing hope to patients with terminal illnesses worldwide. Despite facing numerous baseless accusations, I must tell you all that I, Carlton Drake, have a clear conscience…"