Marvel: Master Of Role-Playing

The company returned to a state of calm, but everyone could feel the rapid changes sweeping through Oscorp.

With Reid holding 50% of the shares, equal to Norman's, and securing the chairman position, Oscorp suddenly entered an era of rapid growth.

Beyond serum and materials research, Reid expanded the company's reach into the pharmaceutical industry.

Within just two months, Oscorp introduced several new drugs targeting different diseases. They easily passed regulatory inspections and began spreading their influence across the United States.

As the company advanced at breakneck speed, people gradually forgot about the former chairman, Norman Osborn. Now, all they knew was that under Chairman Lex Luthor's leadership, Oscorp was climbing to new heights.

Norman saw it all. And he hated it.

Though he had stepped down as chairman, his wife, Emily, remained at Oscorp as a researcher.

But now, as 1994 approached, Emily had also left the company.

Her hereditary illness had begun to show symptoms. Feeling her body growing weaker, she returned home, planning to rest for a while.

"Norman."

Back at home, Emily looked at her disheveled husband.

The once-proud man before her was a shadow of himself. Stripped of his position, he could only watch as Oscorp thrived under Luthor's leadership. His chance at making a comeback seemed further away than ever.

Consumed by thoughts of revenge, Norman neglected everything else, even his wife.

"What is it, Emily?"

Hearing her voice, Norman stood up and embraced her gently.

"If you're tired, then rest. I promise, one day, I will take back everything that belongs to us."

Emily nodded softly, but in her heart, she hid the truth.

She chose not to tell Norman about her worsening condition.

'I'm still young. I can hold on a little longer.'

She decided to wait until Norman had recovered from his loss before breaking the news to him.

That night, after dinner, Emily went to check on Harry in his room while Norman retreated to his workroom, his face gloomy.

"Luthor… you bastard!"

Just the thought of that arrogant face filled Norman with rage.

He pulled open a drawer. Inside, it was filled to the brim with Scarlet Serum.

Notman hadn't just been wasting away at home, wallowing in anger.

He had spent this time using what little influence he had left in Oscorp to secretly gather the serum.

He had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Norman understood the situation clearly now. He was no longer in the center of power. There was no way he could return to Oscorp under Luthor's watchful eye.

'Luthor has to die. Only then can I reclaim what is mine.' Norman thought to himself.

Just then, the phone in his room rang.

He didn't answer, but hung up immediately.

He knew there was only one person left who had this number and would call him.

Silently, Norman packed the serums into a bag and walked out of the room.

As Norman passed by Harry's room, he saw Emily playing with their son.

"Norman? Where are you going at this time?"

Looking at his wife and son, Norman, whose heart had already plunged into darkness, smiled again. Only in front of them did he remain the kind and gentle man he used to be.

"I'm just going out for some fresh air. I'll be back before midnight. You and Harry should rest when it's time, especially you, Emily. Your health has never been great."

"Alright, I understand."

Her husband's gentle words eased the worries in Emily's heart. After saying goodbye, she watched as Norman left.

'I just hope Norman can pull himself together soon. As long as we're together as a family, does it really matter who controls Oscorp?'

Seeing his mother frown, Harry, who wasn't even a year old yet, reached out his tiny, soft hand and smoothed out the crease between her brows.

"Oh? Harry, you don't want Mommy to be sad?" Emily chuckled softly. "Alright, Mommy promises you, I won't be sad in front of you again."

...

Norman drove straight to Hell's Kitchen.

Inside an old apartment complex, there was a stairwell storage area that he had secretly purchased and converted into his own private laboratory.

He wasn't worried about Luthor discovering this place because he had sought help elsewhere.

As he approached the entrance, he nodded at the two men in black guarding the lab's door.

"Send my regards to Mr. Fisk. If I succeed in the end, he will certainly be rewarded."

"Understood. We'll be taking our leave, Mr. Osborn."

The two men departed, leaving Norman alone at the lab entrance.

The force behind him was clear—it was Wilson Fisk, or Kingpin. Having split from his previous gang, he constructed his own empire, now ruling almost the entire Hell's Kitchen.

But Norman had no interest in Fisk's affairs.

He pushed open the lab door and stepped inside. The first thing that caught his eye was a massive black case.

Entering a pre-set code, the case automatically unlocked, revealing a full set of high-tech weaponry.

Guns of various sizes, explosives, knives—these were the very same specialized weapons Reid had mentioned during an Oscorp meeting.

Reid had seized the opportunity when Tony Stark shifted his focus toward heavy firepower. He developed a line of specialized equipment tailored for users of the Scarlet Serum, carving out a highly profitable market that wouldn't conflict with Stark Industries.

These weapons were Oscorp's ticket to greater heights.

And they were also Norman's key to killing Luthor.

As Oscorp's chairman, Luthor's security was on par with that of the U.S. president.

It was nearly impossible for Norman to create an accident or hire an assassin to take out Luthor.

No one was willing to provoke Luthor for Norman's sake.

In a world where profit ruled everything, Norman held far less value than Luthor. He was so insignificant that he didn't even have the qualifications to disrupt the status quo.

An assassin might uphold professional ethics by not betraying a client, but they could just as easily refuse a job for their own safety.

No professional assassin would risk their life to target Lex Luthor, the current darling of the U.S. military, for someone as inconsequential as Norman Osborn.

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