Rodrigo Guevara—the intern Joey had entrusted with delivering the formula—swaggered through the security checkpoint wearing his stolen employee badge and rode the elevator up to the higher floors.
And, of course, silently pocketed Joey's two-thousand-dollar delivery fee.
While talking with Starfire and occasionally checking on the intern with his super vision, Joey suddenly realized something.
Ever since entering the upper floors, the guy had been sneaking around, constantly looking left and right like a thief.
He absolutely did not look like an actual employee.
And Rodrigo Guevara?
That was an typical South American name.
Yet the guy's appearance clearly didn't match someone from a Latin American minority background.
This bastard had definitely stolen someone else's ID badge and snuck into Oscorp.
Joey had only come here to casually sell a formula and make some money for fun.
He really hadn't expected extra entertainment.
Just as he was wondering whether the guy was some kind of corporate spy, Joey focused again and discovered the fake Guevara had already wandered into an obviously high-security research area.
As for how the guy managed to infiltrate all the way into Oscorp's core R&D section, Joey honestly couldn't care less.
Big corporations were always like this.
They looked glamorous on the outside, but internally operated like total clown shows.
Just think about Vought—doing crimes worthy of execution while somehow leaving their entire corporate Wi-Fi network completely unsecured to any connected device.
Scanning the room the fake intern had entered, Joey found it packed with living biological test samples.
Mostly spiders.
The moment Joey noticed that detail, realization suddenly clicked into place.
He instantly understood who this employee impostor actually was.
Peter Parker.
Among all the beneficiaries of Oscorp's genetic transfer research, Spider-Man would easily rank in the top three.
Hiding inside the lab, Peter quickly escaped the room filled with all kinds of spider specimens that instinctively triggered discomfort just from looking at them.
And at some point, one of the experimental spiders had climbed onto his body.
Then suddenly bit him directly on the back of the neck.
The sharp sting made Peter jolt violently.
Which immediately reminded him why he'd come here in the first place.
Right.
He was supposed to deliver a note to Dr. Connors for the guy downstairs—
Wait no, wrong priority.
His real purpose was to question Dr. Curt Connors about his father.
Peter Parker's parents had died in a mysterious plane crash when he was very young.
And Dr. Connors—now employed by Oscorp—had once been his father's colleague.
They had worked together on the cross-species genetics project years ago, before progress on the research had seemingly stalled after his parents' deaths.
That was why Peter had infiltrated Oscorp today.
After uncovering some of his parents' old research notes, he'd begun suspecting their deaths were far too suspicious.
His plan was to start investigating through Dr. Connors.
From Peter's perspective, those two weird people downstairs looked suspicious as hell.
When Joey stopped him earlier, Peter had genuinely thought his fake identity had been exposed—his heart had nearly jumped into his throat.
Still, no matter what, he absolutely needed to meet Dr. Connors.
Using the note as an excuse wasn't a bad idea.
Thinking that, Peter unfolded the paper he'd casually stuffed into his jacket pocket earlier.
The instant he scanned the contents, he blurted out in shock:
"How is this possible?!"
Even before becoming Spider-Man, Peter Parker was already exceptionally intelligent.
At a glance, he recognized that the formula on the page shared extremely high correlation with the contents of his father's research notes.
What Joey had handed him was precisely the most critical algorithm involved in cross-species genetic transfer: the genetic decay rate algorithm.
It wasn't completely identical to his father's research.
But just like mathematical problems could have multiple solutions, massive scientific experiments like this naturally could as well.
Questions flooded Peter's mind.
Who exactly was that guy?
And how could he casually produce a formula like this?
Regardless, Peter knew one thing for certain now: he absolutely had to meet Dr. Connors.
So, still using the stolen intern identity, Peter approached Dr. Connors' office and handed over the note.
Dr. Connors was understandably baffled.
An intern he didn't recognize had suddenly barged into his office holding a random scrap of paper.
Out of basic courtesy, Connors still extended his one remaining arm and gave it a quick glance.
Then—his eyes locked onto the page and could no longer move away.
After spending a long time carefully working through the formula with his pen, Connors suddenly raised his head and—exactly as both Peter and Joey expected—let out a sharp shout:
"Where did you get this?!"
"That gentleman downstairs asked me to give it to you. He also said he'd be waiting downstairs..."
"You should've started with that!"
After learning where the paper had come from, Connors completely abandoned any sense of composure. He practically flew into the elevator leading straight to the first floor.
The moment the elevator doors opened, he immediately locked onto the visitor in the brown trench coat among the crowd.
Panting heavily from sprinting all the way down, Connors shouted loudly toward him, afraid the man might disappear at any second:
"You there! Sir!"
Watching Connors shove through the crowd and rush frantically toward them, Starfire tilted her head and asked Joey:
"Who's that?"
Joey gave a concise answer.
"Oh, that's eight million dollars."
---
"I won't overcharge you. Eight million."
As the lead scientist of the project, Dr. Connors obviously didn't have the authority to casually approve an eight-million-dollar transaction.
Fortunately, the person who did possess that authority happened to be inside Oscorp Tower today.
After a short wait, Joey was brought into a lounge to meet the true owner of Oscorp Tower:
Norman Osborn.
For Joey, the name felt like something buried deep in old memories.
Compared to Norman Osborn, he was far more accustomed to remembering the man by another title—The Green Goblin.
The future Green Goblin.
The current Norman Osborn.
This stern middle-aged man already had streaks of white in his hair. Leaning over the table, he personally wrote out a check with trembling hands before sliding it across to Joey.
"Deal."
Unlike another famous New York businessman—Tony Stark—who behaved like an impulsive playboy genius, Norman felt much more like the traditional image of a ruthless corporate tycoon: cold, emotionless, and severe.
"When I first came here, I had no intention of buying this formula."
"I intended to offer an even higher price to buy your service instead."
"But the moment I saw you, I realized that was impossible."
"No matter what, thank you for your help."
"From this day forward, you are a friend of the Osborn family."
Norman wasn't the type of CEO who sat in an office all day staring only at financial reports and stock prices while barking orders at accounting departments.
He was a scientific genius himself.
For both Oscorp and the Osborn family, the value of this genetic decay algorithm far exceeded eight million dollars.
Especially for the Osborns.
Every generation of the Osborn family had long been tormented by a unique hereditary disease. Beyond causing agony similar to ALS, most victims died young—many never even living past fifty.
The reason Norman had built Oscorp, a corporation focused heavily on biotechnology and pharmaceuticals, wasn't merely to satisfy the greed of the board members.
It was to find a cure for the Osborn family's genetic curse.
And now—he finally had one.
The perfection of cross-species gene therapy wouldn't just bring enormous profits to Oscorp.
It could also cure the illness that had haunted both Norman and his son for years.
And all of it only cost eight million dollars.
"I've already gotten what I wanted. So, goodbye."
After giving Norman Osborn the missing key that solved the mystery of cross-species genetic research, Joey took the check and stood up to leave.
Before departing, he casually left behind a meaningful sentence:
"I wish you good health."
Cross-species gene therapy wasn't merely a medical treatment.
The solution Joey had provided was the gentlest possible version. It only supported relatively mild genetic adaptations being transferred into the human body—things like limb regeneration or reversing baldness.
But if someone tried to push further...
If they attempted to weaponize it by adding superpowers, rapid regeneration, super endurance, or similar enhancements...
Then Joey could only wish them good luck.
---
Eight million dollars wasn't a small amount of money.
But once that money entered the paper shredder known as medical expenses, things became very different.
Just as Joey walked downstairs, wondering how to properly cash the check for that little girl—someone stepped into his path.
Peter Parker.
"The formula you gave them..."
"How did you know about that research?"
The suspicious deaths of his parents were clearly connected to Oscorp's experiments.
And now those same experiments were clearly connected to Joey—the man who could casually write out such a formula.
Peter had to grab onto every lead he could find.