Chapter 48: The Predicament of Oscorp
The U.S. military industrial procurement conference. Major General Ross presided over this round of procurement projects for the military. Without a doubt, the bulk of the weapons contracts were dominated by Stark Industries, the military's biggest winner in acquisitions.
"Major General Ross, choosing Stark Industries is your wisest decision," Tony Stark said, with one arm around a "World Cup–level" beauty, sipping one of the cocktails provided by the military.
But as soon as the cocktail touched his lips, Tony spit it right back out.
"General, I hate to say it, but this cocktail is absolutely terrible. If this is the best the military can provide, I'd be more than happy to personally sponsor a case from my private collection."
As he said this, Tony's right hand casually brushed along the woman's slender waist. Of course, his greatest gift was being flirtatious without seeming lewd. Even that little touch carried no vulgarity.
The woman didn't mind in the slightest. As NCC's most well-known leading journalist and one of the most admired beauties in New York's media circles, she had come to this procurement conference largely because of her admiration for Stark.
Undeniably, Tony Stark was dashing, flamboyant, wealthy beyond imagination, and brilliantly talented. When all of those traits are found in one man, "playboy" stops being a flaw—it becomes his brand, his reputation, his legend, and a staple of everyday gossip.
Unfortunately, Major General Ross didn't share that admiration. As a hardened soldier, nothing disgusted him more than a frivolous playboy like Tony Stark. If not for Stark Industries' undeniable technological superiority, Ross wouldn't have tolerated his antics at all.
Tony noticed Ross's impatience—but so what? In his mind, the entire world revolved around him. Ross's scorn was irrelevant.
Soon enough, Tony breezed through the military's formalities and turned his full attention to the woman on his arm.
"Hey, listen, sweetheart. I've got a brand-new idea. I think Stark Industries can design a whole new line of space weapons. Even aliens from outer space wouldn't stand a chance against me."
"Oh? Has Mr. Stark actually seen aliens before?"
"No, but I'm convinced they exist. The tech behind this weapon is pretty complex—hard to explain here. How about we continue this conversation somewhere more private?"
The woman gave him a charming smile. "I'm very interested in Stark Industries' latest designs. Since you're inviting me, Mr. Stark, why don't we also make it an exclusive interview? I'm sure you wouldn't mind, would you?"
"My pleasure!" Tony replied, taking her hand as the two climbed into his custom-made Audi R8 and sped away.
Meanwhile, Norman Osborn lingered in the corner, face dark. If Stark Industries was the biggest winner tonight, Oscorp was the biggest loser.
Oscorp hadn't landed a single spot on the procurement list—not one product. The impact on profits would be considerable, and with this news out, Oscorp's stock was sure to tumble yet again tomorrow.
Watching Stark leave, Norman straightened his suit and forced himself forward with a raised glass.
"Major General Ross, Oscorp's serum research has made breakthrough progress. If you could grant us just a little more time—"
"Norman, I've already given you chances. It's been three years, and you still don't have even a single experimental product to show me. How can I possibly grant you more time?"
Ross's attitude toward Norman was completely different. In truth, Oscorp wasn't on the same level as Stark Industries. Ross had his own pride—he wouldn't bow his head to just any capitalist.
"But our newest serum can increase human physical function by three percent… That's a significant step forward…"
"You call that significant? Three percent? That's no different from a soldier on stimulants! Three percent is barely measurable. What I want is a super soldier serum. Do you understand me?"
"Super… soldier… serum," Ross drawled, dragging out every syllable without any regard for Norman's dignity.
"If Oscorp can't deliver meaningful results by the next procurement cycle, don't blame me for cutting ties. The next annual contracts may well go to your competitors."
With that, Ross walked off, leaving Norman frozen in place, awkwardly holding his untouched glass.
Ordinarily, even the U.S. military wouldn't risk offending a corporate giant. Oscorp wasn't small. But Norman wasn't the absolute owner of Oscorp—he merely held the largest share. A coalition of other major shareholders could still threaten his position.
Stark Industries, by contrast, was Tony's personal empire—his word was final. That was the difference in power.
Even after the hall had emptied, Norman remained standing with his raised glass.
With a sharp crash, he hurled the wineglass to the ground. What spilled wasn't just cocktail—it was the last of Norman Osborn's dignity.
He stumbled home in a haze. Looking into the mirror, he saw an old man staring back. He knew his time was limited—his family's hereditary disease had been eating away at him for years, leaving him prematurely aged.
That was why Oscorp had obsessed over super soldier serum research all these years—not for the military, but for Norman's desperate hope of curing his own condition.
The two goals didn't really conflict, but despite all the money and manpower Oscorp had poured in, they had failed to solve either problem. Not even meaningful progress. Which was why he had been humiliated by Ross today.
"Father, I'm home!"
Hearing sounds from the bedroom, Harry knocked before entering.
"Come in, Harry."
Looking at his beloved son, Norman's gloom lifted slightly, and he managed a rare, strained smile.
"How are you feeling today, Harry? Did you make any friends at school?"
Harry's mood brightened—not just because he had made a new friend today, but also because his father seemed in better spirits, even smiling for the first time in ages.
It had been far too long since Harry had seen his father smile.
"There's a kid named Peter Parker. He seems like some small-town boy, but he's smart. Really sharp."
"Harry, what did you say his name was?"
"Peter Parker. Why?"
"Nothing. The name just sounds familiar. Do you know about his parents?" Norman asked, recalling something he'd seen in Oscorp's files.
"I'm not sure. But I heard his parents died in a plane crash. He's an orphan now, living with his aunt."
Harry's words made Norman remember two of Oscorp's brilliant researchers: Richard Parker and Mary Parker.
Fate, perhaps—that his own son had become friends with their child.
"Keep an eye out for him. If Peter proves truly gifted, you can encourage him to apply for Oscorp's student research program. We could even arrange a scholarship for him."
"Got it, Dad."
Norman gazed out through the tall windows. New York's nightlife glimmered with endless possibilities.