Bruce was taken to a special office. The people here were clearly not ordinary staff, but important employees of the Osborn Group—perhaps even senior executives.
A woman in a blue uniform with an ID badge on her chest stepped forward, shook Bruce's hand, and said, "Hello, sir. I'm the director of the Osborn Group's San Francisco Medical Experiment Center. You can call me Farroman."
"Hello, Ms. Farroman."
"Please, have a seat."
The two sat facing each other. Farroman got straight to the point. "I imagine you've already heard that the appearances of San Francisco's citizens have begun to change. The volunteer recruitment conducted by the Osborn Group is aimed precisely at this matter."
"Mr. Norman Osborn believes that the citizens of San Francisco may be undergoing an unethical human modification process without their knowledge. He wants to determine the nature of the modification and find a solution."
Bruce's eyes widened slightly. He was indeed somewhat surprised, because he had assumed the Osborn Group was behind all of this. But not everything they said had to be true. Perhaps they were simply crying thief.
Ms. Farroman laid several photographs before Bruce, most of them crime scenes. After arranging them, she watched Bruce's expression.
Bruce had no expression at all. As a Gothamite, he saw enough crime scenes every day. Why would he take pictures of them?
When Farroman received no questions for a long time, she spoke first. "These are the violent conflicts that have broken out in San Francisco recently. Most of them began as minor arguments and escalated into murders."
"Perhaps you've noticed that test subjects similar to you have become extremely irritable. We suspect that this mysterious virus, which makes people's appearances more perfect, may also affect their psyche and emotions. Do you know anything about that?"
Bruce