As evening approached, at the Cross-Species Genetics Laboratory in Oscorp's headquarters.
"Cross-species genetics is starting to work. I used lizard DNA to regenerate Freddy's leg!"
Dr. Connors explained the progress of his experiment. His calm voice carried a hint of excitement. With the crucial decay algorithm Peter Parker had provided, his experiment was finally nearing success.
By then, Oscorp's employees had all gone home. The only person standing beside Dr. Connors was a Black man in a suit.
He seemed to be mixed-race. Compared to other Black people, his appearance was more Asian, except for his darker skin.
He was Norman Osborn's representative at the company. Norman, who was gravely ill and confined to his bed, controlled the company remotely through him. His authority was practically equal to the board's, after all, Norman still owned most of the company's shares.
"This is a miracle!"
The Black representative looked calmly at the little white mouse named Freddy in its cage.
"No, this is the success that comes from diligent research, and it's also a sign of hope. We're one step closer to testing this on primates..."
Dr. Connors clearly didn't want anyone dismissing all his hard work with a single word like "miracle." He raised a hand and cut the representative off.
"Mr. Osborn doesn't have time to wait for you to take baby steps!"
The Black representative cut Dr. Connors off in turn.
"Baby steps?"
Connors was clearly unhappy with the description.
"I'm just saying he can't wait any longer!"
The Black representative stated calmly.
"But he has to be patient, unless he wants to become a lab rat!"
Dr. Connors frowned.
The Black representative casually picked up one of the gene-modification syringes from the lab bench. "That's not what I meant. What I mean is... you should move on to human trials ahead of schedule. Right now!"
"That's impossible. Our original goal was to develop this into a universal treatment, but we were mistaken. Genetic modification isn't universal."
Dr. Connors shook his head with a frown. "This serum only works on white mice—and may only work on Freddy. To use it on humans, we'd have to recalculate and adjust the formula from scratch. And everyone's genes are different... It'll take a long time!"
"So he's going to die, then?"
The Black representative's expression turned cold.
Although he knew nothing about research, he'd dealt with the Cross-Species Genetics Laboratory for long enough to understand what Connors meant.
The experiment had only succeeded on a white mouse, and it couldn't even be used on other animals. To treat Norman Osborn, they'd need to conduct multiple primate trials and human trials to ensure the treatment was safe and likely to work.
And that wasn't all. Even after that, they'd still have to fine-tune the treatment to match Norman Osborn's genes. The whole process would take far too long—longer than Norman Osborn had left.
"Everyone dies eventually. Norman Osborn is no exception."
Dr. Connors dismissed the matter and began packing up to go home. He was a pure scientist, and his research wasn't solely about curing one person. He didn't care whether Norman Osborn lived or died.
"Curt... Connors..."
A low, weak, hoarse voice, thick with anger, suddenly rang out. It didn't come from anyone in the room, but from a speaker attached to a camera mounted on the ceiling.
"Norman!"
Connors looked up.
"Richard Parker was like this, and now you are too..."
Norman Osborn's hoarse voice came through the speaker, his fury barely contained. His words were broken by the sound of his respirator, yet he still spoke with the authority of a man accustomed to being in charge.
"Every time, you give me hope, only to leave me in even greater despair... Don't forget, I'm the one funding your research. Your experimental results belong to me!"
On the other end of the speaker, Norman Osborn roared from his hospital bed, nearly deranged. He was on the verge of collapse, in both body and mind.
At that moment, he was no longer a calculating, shrewd businessman. He was simply a madman, utterly broken under the constant weight of his fear of death.
After roaring for a long while, perhaps finally venting his anger, the speaker fell silent. Then came words so calm they made one's blood run cold.
"Lada, start human trials immediately. He wants me dead, doesn't he? Then use him to test the serum. And I think his wounded comrades would make suitable subjects too. I'll have someone else take over the experiments at the veterans' hospital."
Norman Osborn's voice turned hoarse and cruel. When he finished speaking, a deranged, manic laugh followed.
"You... No!"
Dr. Connors's face filled with fear and disbelief.
But struggling did him no good. After years shut away in the lab, his frail body was no match for the sturdy Black representative.
The representative, his expression blank, seized Connors at Norman Osborn's order. He picked up an injector and forced an entire syringe of Lizard Modification Serum into Dr. Connors.
The Black representative then left without a second glance at Curt Connors, who lay on the floor writhing in agony. He took the remaining Modification Serum and the backup experimental data and walked out.
"No, Norman, you can't do this!"
Dr. Connors, curled on the floor like a shrimp and writhing in pain, reached out helplessly and roared in fury. He knew better than anyone what would happen when someone was injected with this serum. Genetic collapse was the least of it. If genetic mutations produced large numbers of monstrous creatures, the consequences would be unimaginable.
But his cries were utterly helpless. The only response was the Black representative's fading footsteps and Norman Osborn's manic, triumphant laughter.
"You can't do this... You can't..."
A powerful dizziness washed over him like a tidal wave. Murmuring unconsciously, Curt Connors's awareness grew hazier and hazier, until at last he sank into a deep sleep.