C 79

The Batmobile zipped across the cityscape, skimming over the sea before landing on an inconspicuous rooftop on the edge of Manhattan.

Anton stepped out, retrieved his phone, and sent a quick message to Peter Parker. After all, if Dr. Curt Connors was to be restored, Spider-Man's help was essential.

It wasn't long before Peter, in full Spider-Man attire, swung onto the rooftop.

"Dr. Connors!"

Spider-Man's voice was tinged with pain as he caught sight of the lizard-man, now reduced to a limbless state. His mask hid most of his emotions, but his eyes betrayed the heartache and discomfort he felt.

He understood why Batman had taken such drastic measures.

The lizard's resilience was extraordinary—his body metabolized drugs and anesthetics far too quickly for them to be effective. Subduing him without resorting to such extreme methods would have been almost impossible.

"Batman," Spider-Man muttered, his tone conflicted. "I don't have a backup of the antidote. I'll need to head to Oscorp to make a new batch—it'll take me about half an hour."

Anton nodded. "I'll keep watch over him. Once he's restored, I'll have someone take him to a secure facility I've arranged. It's a place where he won't cause any more trouble. You don't need to worry about him after that."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Peter asked hesitantly as he turned to leave.

Anton's brow arched in mild surprise. "Not bad. Seems they've already reached out to you."

Peter scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "They left me their contact info, but I didn't agree to anything. I mean, I'm just a high school student. Being an agent doesn't sound... appealing."

Anton chuckled lightly. "Smart choice. S.H.I.E.L.D. can be a headache. Now isn't the best time for you to get involved with them. If it becomes necessary later, let me handle them. For now, avoid getting tangled up with their black spy."

"Black spy?" Peter tilted his head, confused. "The person who approached me wasn't Black…"

"The black spy is their chief," Anton replied nonchalantly. Then, waving Peter off, he added, "Go to Oscorp. The lizard is in desperate need of your antidote. If you take too long, he might have to endure the pain of losing his limbs all over again."

"Got it!"

Without another word, Spider-Man shot a webline and swung away, disappearing into the city to retrieve what was needed.

As Spider-Man swung away, Anton remained on the rooftop, waiting for Coulson's team to arrive.

When Anton initially contacted Coulson, the agent mentioned that he wasn't in New York but assured him he would handle the situation. He promptly dispatched a colleague stationed nearby to retrieve the subdued Dr. Curt Connors.

Meanwhile, the Lizard, tied securely to the Batmobile with specialized restraints, glared at Anton with pure hatred. Despite his injuries, he managed a sneer as he overheard Batman's conversations with both Spider-Man and Coulson.

Osborn Building

Peter Parker used his intern ID to enter the towering structure, heading directly to the "Post-Disaster Reconstruction" area, specifically the Physical Regeneration Department.

Despite the chaos caused by the Lizard incident, the research on regenerative medicine had sparked hope among the disabled community. 

Publicly released statements from both Oscorp and the New York Police Department confirmed the potential of the "Lizard Gene Serum" to restore lost limbs.

Of course, the medicine came with a dangerous side effect—it transformed users into reptilian monsters. Yet, the promise of full recovery kept public interest alive.

Under pressure from shareholders and the public, Oscorp's board had greenlit continued research on limb regeneration. They'd even increased funding in hopes of minimizing side effects and bringing the product to market within the next few years.

The potential profits were staggering. Success would establish Oscorp as an unparalleled leader in biotechnology.

Peter, as Dr. Connors' assistant, was a key figure in the Regeneration Department. His work and proximity to Connors had given him a unique position, despite being a high school student.

Arriving at the lab, Peter located a synthesis machine and began preparing the antidote to reverse Connors' transformation. The process would take ten minutes.

As the antidote neared completion, Peter suddenly froze.

A faint, unusual noise echoed through the building.

Most people wouldn't have noticed it, but Peter wasn't most people. His spider-sense flared, causing an uncomfortable twitch at his temples. The sensation of danger grew sharper, like a taut string vibrating violently in his mind.

"What's going on?"

Peter hesitated, glancing between the antidote machine—still ten minutes from finishing—and the source of the noise, which seemed to come from upstairs.

The Oscorp Building had distinct divisions across its levels.

The lower floors housed administrative departments like real estate and investments. The middle levels were dedicated to research labs, including the Biogenetics Division where Peter currently worked. The top floors belonged to the Weapons Research Division, a highly classified area where Oscorp designed cutting-edge technology for military contracts.

Peter remembered visiting the weapons showroom once, accompanied by his friend Harry Osborn. That brief tour had revealed just how secretive and advanced Oscorp's weapons program was.

Recently, military officials had visited Oscorp, but rumors suggested the talks had ended poorly. Norman Osborn had reportedly been furious after their departure.

These thoughts swirled in Peter's mind as his spider-sense intensified. Something dangerous—possibly catastrophic—was happening on the upper floors.

Peter decided to investigate.

Taking the elevator to the top floor, he felt the growing tension in his chest. His spider-sense screamed louder with every passing second.

Ding!

The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open to reveal the Weapons Showroom.

Peter's breath caught as he locked eyes with a figure standing amidst the gleaming displays.

A man clad in green armor, his eyes burning with malice, turned sharply at the sound of the elevator. His brutal gaze landed on Peter, who stood frozen in place.

The Green Goblin.

...

Half an hour later...

Anton stood on the rooftop, bored, occasionally glancing at the Lizard tied to the Batmobile. Connors' severed limbs had already regenerated about ten centimeters. Anton debated whether he should chop them off again just to pass the time.

The Lizard glared at him with a bitter, icy stare. Despite his hatred, he couldn't shake the feeling that his limbs might be gone again at any moment. Truth be told, he was almost resigned to it.

Suddenly, a massive electronic billboard across from the rooftop lit up with breaking news from New York's Channel 6 News.

"Terrorist Attack Reappears at Oscorp! Spider-Man Battles for New York!"

The reporter's voice filled the air:

"A terrorist dressed in a green suit, riding a flying glider, and calling himself the Green Goblin has attacked the Oscorp Building. Spider-Man is currently engaged in a fierce battle with the terrorist."

The broadcast continued, showing shaky footage of the fight between Spider-Man and the Green Goblin in the background.

"Spider-Man appears to be in trouble! The New York Police Department has arrived on the scene and is working to evacuate the area. Citizens are advised to stay away from the Oscorp Building immediately to avoid getting caught in the conflict."

The camera then cut back to the reporter, who was stationed dangerously close to the action. Behind her, Spider-Man and the Green Goblin clashed violently. Spider-Man appeared to be struggling, constantly on the defensive. 

The Goblin's flying glider gave him an undeniable advantage in aerial combat, allowing him to strike from any angle with terrifying precision.

On the rooftop, the Lizard watched the news with a wide grin, laughing gleefully at Spider-Man's predicament.

His laughter was cut short as Anton turned to glare at him. "So that's what you were stalling for," Anton muttered, quickly piecing it together.

Then his eyes returned to the screen. Spider-Man was getting pummeled. Again.

Anton frowned. "Why is this kid always getting his butt handed to him?"

He shook his head, already making plans. "After this, I need to give that kid some proper training. If he keeps fighting like this, he's going to get himself killed—or worse, humiliated—every single time."

…

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