Three days later, New York, Queens.
Night fell like a heavy sheet of black velvet, wrapping the noise and sins of this city that never sleeps together.
In the Underground Room of an inconspicuous apartment building in Manhattan, a pallid light shone, completely out of place with the surrounding darkness.
This place had been converted into a temporary, crude, yet efficient laboratory.
The air was thick with the scent of formalin, disinfectant, and a faint, almost imperceptible hint of blood.
Orochimaru wore a white research coat, his golden snake-like pupils focused intently on the microscope eyepiece.
On the operating table beside him lay a homeless man, tied up tightly; his chest rose and fell slightly, clearly still alive.
On the other side, several large glass petri dishes were filled with human tissues and organs of various forms.
"The cell activity is even lower than expected."
Orochimaru straightened up and removed the goggles from the bridge of his nose, his face devoid of any emotion.
This conclusion disappointed him; it meant that ordinary people in this World were simply unable to withstand even the most basic Ninja Chakra refinement, let alone become spare vessels for his "Living Corpse Reincarnation."
Their bodies were like inferior clay, crumbling at the slightest pressure.
Since Orochimaru arrived in the Marvel World, he had used various methods to "collect" nearly a hundred samples, from street thugs to corporate white-collar workers, and the conclusion was basically consistent.
The physical fitness of ordinary people in this World was far inferior to the people from the World he came from.
Not to mention Ninjas, even the most ordinary child in the Land of Fire had cells with two to three times the toughness and vitality of the adults here.
This was a fragile World.
But this World also gave him a surprise.
From some gang members, he learned about "Mutants" and "superpowered individuals."
The existence of these special individuals was like an oasis in the desert, instantly igniting his research desires.
"Mutation---"
Orochimaru stuck out his long tongue and licked his lips, his snake-like pupils gleaming with excitement.
"What a wonderful word. Is it a genetic leap, or unknown energy radiation? The strength displayed by certain individuals is not even inferior to an elite Jonin."
What interested him even more was the level of technology in this World.
Especially in the fields of bioengineering and information technology, which far exceeded the Ninja World he came from, which was still stuck in the era of CRT televisions.
"Interesting, truly too interesting."
He walked to a computer connected by complex circuits, where massive streams of data were flashing rapidly across the screen.
This was technology he had "copied" from a hacker's brain. Through the network, he was like a greedy ghost, prying into the secrets of this World.
A name frequently appeared in his field of vision — — Oscorp.
"The largest biotechnology company in the United States, and even the World---"
Orochimaru looked at the green logo of Oscorp on the screen, a cold arc curling at the corners of his mouth.
"The most advanced experimental equipment, the most cutting-edge biological data---a perfect cover, an excellent hunting ground."
He needed a broader stage, a platform that would allow him to conduct research as he pleased and quickly screen for "high-value" Mutants. This Oscorp was simply tailor-made for him.
And to control this massive commercial empire, one only needed to control its core — — Norman Osborn.
Orochimaru's fingers tapped lightly on the keyboard, and the information about Norman Osborn was quickly pulled up.
The man in the photo had his blonde hair meticulously combed, and his eyes were full of unmasked ambition.
"A highly ambitious controller---at the same time, also seeking a cure for some terminal illness?"
Orochimaru's gaze fell on an encrypted medical report. This report was something he had spent some effort digging out from deep within Oscorp's internal network.
The report showed that Norman Osborn suffered from a rare hereditary disease, which was slowly and firmly eroding his life.
"Hehehe---"
A low, hoarse laugh echoed in the Underground Room.
Truly perfect.
A person who both craves power and fears death. Such people are like frogs that see a venomous snake but cannot help reaching out; their desires and fears are the best reins to control.
Orochimaru turned off the computer, and under the pallid light, his shadow was stretched on the wall like a ghost.
He knew he had found the first, and most suitable, "partner" in this World.
Or rather, prey.
---
Oscorp headquarters building, top floor chairman's office.
Norman Osborn irritably slammed a financial report onto the desk, the expensive mahogany office desk emitting a dull thud.
Outside the window was the dazzling night view of Manhattan, the lights of ten thousand homes like scattered diamonds, but he had no heart to appreciate it.
The mirror reflected his increasingly haggard face.
Although even the highest-grade cosmetics could hardly cover up that sickly pallor, the slight, involuntary trembling on the back of his hand was like an alarm clock constantly reminding him that his death was approaching.
The Military's ultimatum had already been issued; if he could not produce a stable finished product of the "Human Enhancement Serum" within the specified time, Oscorp would lose its largest order, and those hungry wolves on the board of directors would immediately devour him alive.
And his own body could not wait that long.
"Trash! All of you are just a bunch of trash!"
Norman roared, grabbed the crystal glass on the table, and smashed it fiercely against the wall.
The glass shattered upon impact, and the expensive whiskey flowed down the wall like an ugly scar.
He panted heavily, his body leaning against the wide boss chair, a deep sense of powerlessness wrapping around him.
He possessed wealth that could rival a nation and power that ordinary people could not reach, but in the face of death, all of this seemed so ridiculous.
Just then, the office lights flickered without warning.
"Who?!"
Norman sat up straight alertly, his gaze scanning the door like a hawk. His office had the highest-level security system; without his permission, not even a fly could fly in.
No one answered.
The office was terrifyingly quiet, with only the slight sound of the central air conditioning blowing.
Norman frowned, thinking it was a circuit failure. Just as he was about to press the internal phone to call the security department, a cold aura, as if from the abyss, came from behind him.
The hairs all over his body stood on end instantly!
Norman turned his head abruptly.
A man, a man wearing a strange black kimono with skin as pale as a dead person, had appeared behind him at some point.
He just stood there quietly, as if he had always been there; his golden vertical pupils exuded an inhuman chill in the dim light.
"You---" Norman's heart pounded, but the instinct of someone who had long been in a high position forced him to suppress his terror, and his voice remained relatively calm.
"Who are you? How did you get in?"
Orochimaru did not answer his question, but simply stepped forward, walking leisurely around the desk to the wall stained by the whiskey. He extended a finger, dipped it in a bit of the liquor, and sniffed it at the tip of his nose.
"Fear, anger, and---impotent rage at death."
He turned his head, his golden snake-like pupils fixed on Norman, a researcher-like smile appearing on his face.
"Truly interesting emotions. Mr. Norman Osborn."
Norman's heart sank. The other party had not only sneaked into his office without anyone knowing, but had also accurately called out his name and even seen through his inner struggle.
This was no ordinary intruder.
"What do you want? Money?" Norman moved his hand toward the emergency alarm button under the desk, trying to remain calm.
"Money?" Orochimaru seemed to have heard something funny and let out a low laugh.
"That kind of thing, I can get at any time. What I want, you cannot give. But what I can give you is something you dream of."
His words were like a precise key, inserted into the most secret keyhole in Norman's heart.
"What do you mean?" Norman's finger stopped above the button.
"I can cure your illness." Orochimaru said slowly, his voice not loud, but it exploded like a thunderclap in Norman's mind.
"I can also give you strength far beyond your imagination. Let you no longer need to look at the Military's face, let you become a god in the true sense."
Norman's pupils contracted sharply.
Cure his illness? Give him power?
If these words had been spoken by someone else, he would only have taken them as the ramblings of a madman. But coming from the mouth of this weird and unpredictable man before him, they carried an irresistible magic.
"On what basis?"
Norman's voice was a bit hoarse.
Orochimaru did not explain, but simply extended his right hand.
Under Norman's horrified gaze, that pale arm suddenly twisted and elongated as if it had no bones, like a living venomous snake, instantly wrapping around a pure copper lion ornament on the desk.
"Snap — —"
The hard copper statue was easily squeezed into a twist shape in Orochimaru's hand, emitting a teeth-grinding metallic groan.
He let go, and the deformed copper block fell onto the carpet with a "clatter."
"Just on this basis."
Orochimaru retracted his arm, his golden snake-like pupils filled with absolute confidence.
"Now, can we have a good talk? My future partner."