C 86

"The mutagen!"

Connors couldn't hold back his emotions any longer. He opened his eyes, his expression a mix of astonishment and complexity.

He gazed at the humanoid turtles and the rat before him, creatures transformed in a manner strikingly similar to his own experience with the Lizard formula. His eyes gleamed with a mix of wonder and excitement.

"The research... it's O'Neil's!"

"He died in a fire ten years ago, and all his work was thought to be lost," Connors murmured to himself, his voice tinged with awe. "But it seems... he succeeded before his death!"

Anton raised an eyebrow. Connors seemed to recognize April's late father, Professor O'Neil, who had once worked under Sachs. 

It wasn't surprising, considering they were both prominent figures in the field of biogenetics.

"The turtles and the rat... they're all results of the mutagen experiments!" Connors exclaimed, his gaze fixed on the humanoid creatures before him. 

"With access to the mutagen, I could perfect the genetic formula, maybe even create enhancement treatments without side effects. Batman... is this your goal?"

"This is just a coincidence," Anton replied impassively.

Originally, Anton hadn't planned on involving Connors in his plans. He intended to find another geneticist to study the mutagen, someone who could help him cure Norman Osborn's genetic illness and stabilize his fractured psyche. 

After all, in the Marvel universe, talent wasn't exactly in short supply.

However, after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s uncooperative stance and Hawkeye's abrasive attitude, Anton decided to take matters into his own hands and keep Connors under his wing.

If Connors could successfully develop a safe genetic treatment, both for enhancing humans and curing disabilities, it would be a step forward for society—a form of atonement.

"From now on, this will be your cell and your research facility," Anton said, his tone cold and commanding. "I'll provide you with any equipment you require. Your task is to develop a genetic cure without side effects and a safe human enhancement formula."

Anton's gaze darkened as he leaned closer to Connors.

"Norman's schizophrenia is, in part, your fault. By extension, the Green Goblin's rampage is partially your responsibility. If what Spider-Man says is true, and there is good in you, then prove it. Redeem yourself, Connors. This is your last chance."

Without waiting for a response, Anton stood and turned to Splinter.

"It's getting late. I should leave now," Anton said calmly.

Splinter nodded, his tone serene. "As for the Foot Clan, we'll proceed as agreed. The Green Goblin and Connors are in our care now."

Anton glanced briefly at the unconscious Norman Osborn, then at Connors, who appeared overwhelmed but clearly couldn't refuse Anton's ultimatum.

Satisfied, Anton walked towards the only entrance to the turtles' sewer dojo, his cloak billowing behind him as he disappeared into the shadows.

Soon, Anton deactivated the Batman state, climbed out of the sewer, and replaced the manhole cover. Breathing in the fresh air above ground, he couldn't help but marvel at the turtles' and Splinter's resilience.

Maintaining a clean and organized dojo in such a grimy and chaotic environment was no easy task. The turtles and their rat master, who had raised them since their childhood mutation, clearly faced significant challenges every day.

Even in those harsh conditions, Splinter managed to nurture Donatello—the purple-masked turtle into a technological genius. It was a testament to Splinter's discipline and resourcefulness.

"Discipline can thrive even in adversity," Anton muttered to himself, stroking his chin. "They might just be the ultimate underdog family."

He reflected on Splinter's journey: a self-taught ninja master who trained four turtles in advanced martial arts—though, with their abilities, "martial arts" barely scratched the surface of what they were capable of.

After leaving the sewer, Anton headed to the Oscorp Building to meet Eddie. Just as he arrived, Eddie and Phil pulled him into a shadowy alleyway, lugging a huge box between them.

"What's in the box?" Anton asked, eyeing their excited expressions with suspicion. "What did you two find?"

Eddie, grinning from ear to ear, opened the box. "I turned into Venom and took Phil on a little stroll through the Oscorp Building. You'll never guess what we found!"

Anton peered inside and froze.

The box contained a flying glider, a green suit of armor, several pumpkin bombs, and demon-shaped throwing knives.

In other words, Norman Osborn's backup Green Goblin gear.

"We found all this in Norman Osborn's office!" Phil said excitedly. "Boss, Norman Osborn is the Green Goblin! This is huge! We could expose him right now—the CEO of Oscorp, a supervillain! Imagine the headlines!"

Anton frowned, raising a hand to cut off Phil's enthusiasm. "This is a delicate situation," he said, his tone firm. "The shareholders backing Norman are far more powerful than even the Life Foundation. If we expose him recklessly, we risk provoking people with serious influence."

Phil and Eddie exchanged glances, their excitement dimming slightly.

"Besides," Anton continued, "Norman is currently being held in a temporary prison I just arranged. His condition is complicated. Certain experimental drugs damaged his psyche, leading to the creation of the Green Goblin personality. This isn't just about exposing a supervillain—it's about addressing the root cause. So no leaks, understood?"

After a pause, he added with a faint smirk, "Of course, I'll still pay out the bonus."

"Boss, I don't need a bonus, but..." Phil hesitated, glancing nervously at Eddie. Gathering his courage, he asked, "Can I keep this suit?"

Anton was momentarily stunned.

It dawned on him that Eddie and Phil weren't particularly interested in exposing the Green Goblin's identity—they were more focused on getting their hands on the armor and gear.

"I tried it on," Phil said eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement. "The suit fits me perfectly!"

His eyes lit up as he continued, "You're all superheroes, and I really want to be one of you! I want to join the Justice League! Boss, give me a chance!"

Anton turned to Eddie, raising an eyebrow with an amused expression. "Eddie, this has your brainstorming all over it. Without your encouragement, Phil wouldn't have dared to say this in front of me. Justice League, huh? You really tell him everything."

Eddie grinned unapologetically. "Anton, you know me too well. I thought Phil deserved a shot. He's been through so much with us, and he's proven himself. Plus, we could use someone for logistics every now and then, right?"

He chuckled, sensing no rejection in Anton's tone.

Anton sighed and turned back to Phil. "Alright. If you really want to be part of this, then step up. Work harder—not just at the Daily Bugle, but with us, too. You'll have to prove yourself."

Phil's face lit up with excitement. "I will!"

"Good. Now, have you thought of a nickname?" Anton asked with a faint smirk. "If you're going to step into the action, you'll need something catchy."

Phil didn't hesitate. "How about... Hobgoblin?"

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