The gates of hell had opened on Earth. That was the only way the residents of Harlem could describe what they had just experienced. The night had begun like any other, but suddenly something changed.
Two monsters appeared without warning. The first was a colossal gray creature that began destroying everything in its path. The military reacted quickly, but they were swiftly overwhelmed by the monster's sheer strength.
Then the other one appeared.
The monster known as the Hulk. This wasn't his first sighting—but it was the most recent. The two beasts clashed with everything they had. It was clear that both were after the other's life, and at no point during their battle did they care about the chaos or destruction they were causing.
When the battle finally ended, only one of them emerged victorious. After a brutal struggle, Hulk stood as the winner. The army attempted to stop him, but he quickly fled.
Regardless of how the situation began, one thing was certain: the residents of Harlem would be the ones forced to pay the price.
…
Amid all the chaos, a convoy of vehicles moved with speed and precision. Wherever they went, they were escorted and guided by soldiers who were helping evacuate civilians.
The only distinctive feature of the SUVs was the emblem of an eagle stamped on their doors.
At a certain point, the convoy began to slow down, a clear sign they were about to reach their destination.
The location turned out to be a large building that had clearly been a victim of the earlier clash between the two monsters. An entire section of the structure had been destroyed, while another looked as if it had been consumed by fire. In truth, it was nothing short of a miracle that the building was still standing.
A security perimeter had been established around it. At a glance, it was obvious they didn't want anyone getting close.
Yet the convoy passed through the cordon without encountering the slightest resistance.
When the vehicle doors opened, the first person to step out was a tall African-American man wearing a long black trench coat. The most distinctive feature of his appearance was, without question, the eyepatch covering one of his eyes.
The moment his feet touched the ground, the man studied the building in front of him carefully, as if trying to see even what remained hidden. After a few moments of silence, he began walking toward the entrance.
The agents who saw him immediately stood at attention, saluting as they stepped aside to let him pass. It was clear that the man carried considerable authority.
At the entrance he was greeted by a woman with an imposing presence: red hair, a firm gaze, and a tight black suit that accentuated her figure.
"Agent Romanoff," the man said in greeting.
"Sir," she replied respectfully.
The man said nothing more and continued walking. The woman followed closely behind him.
"I'm afraid someone is playing games with us, sir," she said after a moment of silence.
"The blood samples have completely disappeared. Dr. Stern's records were destroyed in the fire caused by the fight… and as for Stern himself, he is currently missing."
The man did not respond. He continued walking, climbing the stairs toward the upper floor.
Eventually they arrived at a large room filled with tools and medical equipment—particularly the kind used to store and handle blood under controlled conditions.
According to the report provided by Ross, the lab had been full of Banner's blood samples.
Reality, however, was very different.
The possibility that Ross had betrayed them was close to zero. Therefore, only one explanation remained: the intervention of a third party.
"What are the chances of recovering Stern's data?" the man asked after a moment of thought.
"Close to zero," Romanoff replied without hesitation.
The man remained silent for a moment.
"I want you to meet up with Barton. This incident, along with the one in New Mexico, makes it clear that someone has been moving in the shadows. We need to know who they are and what their objectives are. I don't care what methods you have to use—find them."
"And Stark?" the woman asked in a neutral tone.
The man shook his head.
"I'll handle him personally."
After hearing that, Romanoff gave a slight nod before leaving.
The man remained where he was, staring at the empty laboratory. His mind lingered on a single question: who—or what—were the new players that had just taken a seat at his table.
…
In the heart of New York stood a massive skyscraper, so tall it pierced the clouds above. The building itself was simple yet imposing, and halfway up its structure a massive sign bore a name that any citizen would recognize instantly: Oscorp.
For the people of the city, Oscorp had become a constant presence in everyday life. Since its founding, the company had grown at a staggering pace, evolving from a promising firm focused on the arms industry into one of the most influential industrial giants in the country.
However, five years ago Oscorp decided to look beyond major industrial and military contracts. Instead of limiting itself to government projects, the company began expanding its research toward products designed for the general public.
Little by little, Oscorp's products began to seep into the daily lives of millions. More efficient electronic devices, medical breakthroughs, and innovative energy systems started reaching the market—offered at remarkably affordable prices.
According to public statements from CEO Norman Osborn, Oscorp believed that scientific progress should not be a privilege reserved for a select few, but a tool meant to improve the lives of humanity as a whole.
Under that philosophy, Oscorp adopted a corporate policy centered on scientific and technological innovation, combined with a public campaign focused on social progress. As part of this approach, the company funded medical research programs, university scholarships, and various other initiatives.
Thanks to all these efforts, Oscorp's public image was overwhelmingly positive.
Of course, not everyone shared that view. There were always a few dissenting voices: overly curious journalists, skeptical financial analysts, or ill-intentioned individuals who suggested that no corporation could reach such a level of influence without hiding something beneath the surface.
However, such voices barely made a ripple. For most people, they were nothing more than baseless rumors—simple attempts to discredit the success of a company bold enough to challenge the status quo.
…
The seventy-ninth floor of the Oscorp building had been designed to host private meetings and relatively intimate celebrations. Unlike the laboratories or executive offices, this level carried a far more relaxed atmosphere, meant to welcome select guests or commemorate important achievements within the company.
For Oscorp employees, receiving an invitation to that floor was considered a true honor. The place rarely opened, and when it did, it was usually to celebrate a significant research breakthrough, the successful completion of a key project, or an accomplishment deemed worthy of recognition by the company's leadership.
For that reason, many within the corporation viewed an invitation to the seventy-ninth floor as a kind of reward reserved for the most outstanding among them.
As for unrestricted access, the list of authorized individuals was surprisingly short. Because of that, the presence of a single man seated at the bar didn't seem unusual at all—in fact, it felt perfectly natural. The man drank in silence, apparently lost in his thoughts.
From time to time, when he finished his glass, he would simply make a small gesture toward the young woman behind the bar, signaling for another drink. Neither of them attempted to start a conversation; it didn't even seem like there was any intention to do so. Once his new drink arrived, the man would sink back into his quiet state of reflection.
At least until he was interrupted by the sound of the elevator.
Calmly, the man lifted his gaze toward the metal doors. When they slid open, a man with an athletic build stepped out. However, the tired look on his face suggested that life hadn't been particularly kind to him.
The newcomer walked toward the bar.
After observing him for a moment, the man who had already been seated looked away and returned his attention to his drink. With a simple gesture, he signaled the bartender to prepare another glass.
The newcomer took the seat beside him and waited in silence until the drink was ready. The moment he received it, he emptied the glass in a single swallow.
"Another," he said immediately.
The woman got to work without wasting time. However, as soon as she finished preparing the second drink, she discreetly left the floor. She knew very well that whatever those two men were about to discuss was not something she should hear.
Only when the elevator doors closed and the two of them were completely alone did the newcomer begin to speak.
"It was done just as you said. Everything was handled cleanly. The samples are already in the vault."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s channels were chaotic for a while. It's safe to assume they'll start looking for leads soon."
He took a sip of his drink before going on.
"After losing their target twice, it's more than obvious they'll send their best dogs…" He seemed ready to continue, but he was interrupted.
"And Stern?" the other man asked.
"He suffered some minor injuries," the newcomer replied quickly, not bothered in the slightest by the interruption. "He was a little too close when Blonsky transformed, but he's already receiving treatment. He'll be fine."
"That's good," came the calm response. "It would have been a shame to lose such a brilliant mind," he added a moment later.
"You've done well, Anthony. I'll make sure you receive a bonus for your performance."
A faintly sinister smile appeared on Anthony's face at those words.
"I'm just doing my job," he replied, though it was obvious that the promise of an extra reward pleased him greatly.
For a few seconds, silence settled between them once again.
Finally, the man spoke again, his voice carrying the same calm tone as before.
"Release the recordings that were collected. General Ross will try to spin a narrative that favors him… so as citizens committed to the truth, it's our ethical duty not to let people fall for his lies."
Anthony nodded firmly.
"I'll take care of it."
He finished the rest of his drink in a single swallow before standing up. Without saying another word, he adjusted his jacket slightly and walked toward the elevator. When the doors opened, he stepped inside with the same calmness with which he had arrived.
A moment later, the doors closed. Silence returned to the seventy-ninth floor.
For several seconds, the man remained seated at the bar, holding the glass between his fingers as the amber liquid slowly swirled inside it. Eventually, he set the glass down on the polished surface of the counter and stood.
He walked calmly across the spacious lounge until he stopped in front of one of the enormous windows that covered nearly the entire outer wall.
From there, the view of New York City stretched out endlessly. It was a beautiful ocean of lights.
But it was also dangerous.
His eyes narrowed slightly at the thought, though his gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon.
Five years.
Five years had passed since he opened his eyes in this world. It had taken time to accept what had happened. Waking up in a place where gods walked among men, where the appearance of monsters was almost routine, was not something anyone could accept easily.
To make matters worse, the body he had been given belonged to one of those very monsters. If a god truly existed, then perhaps it simply enjoyed cruel jokes. But against the harsh weight of reality, such thoughts meant very little.
So after a long and difficult period of acceptance, he reached only one conclusion: surviving in a world like this would not be easy.
And so he began to work. The influence the original Norman Osborn possessed had been useful—but not enough. He needed more. Much more. To survive in a world like this, one needed influence, resources, information, and power.
So far, every decision he had made had been based on the future. At present, many people saw Oscorp as an idealistic company—driven by noble principles and a vision centered on humanity's progress.
But the truth was far simpler. Everything he had done was meant to guarantee his survival.
And now… The story was finally beginning.