Who: Norman Osborn What: A narrative I should have done a while ago. When: Sometime after this happened. Where: The sekrit Oscorp lab where Jack was held. Warnings/Rating: Uh no?
As soon as the phone rang, Norman knew.
It wasn't one of his usual lines. It wasn't any of his usual lines. It was the line which should have been silent, because silence meant things were going smoothly. And Norman? Norman accepted nothing less than success.
What was on the other end of the phone was not success.
He went himself. No one saw him leave, no one saw him arrive. He was, as far as the entire city of New York was concerned, in his Oscorp office, a busy little bee planning a bright and brilliant future. Blah, blah, blah. In reality he was on the outskirts of town where it was quiet, quiet, empty buildings and warehouses and a very, very nervous researcher who had to explain why half his staff was dead and the test subjects were either deceased or missing.
A very, very nervous, very doomed researcher, because nothing he could say would soothe Norman's temper.
"I put you in charge, Dr. Underwood." His voice was like silk, like velvet, but with a razor-sharp edge hidden beneath. "You had one job. It was very simple. Keep things running smoothly." He gestured around himself. Blood and bodies, empty cells and destruction. "This? This is not things running smoothly."
The man hemmed and hawed. He tried to explain, to give excuses, but there was nothing he could say. And, really, it was a lesson well learned. If you wanted something done, do it yourself.
And so, right that second, Norman started doing things himself.
Dr. Underwood and every single doctor, scientist, researcher, whoever, who'd survived the massacre were strapped to the very tables the test subjects had been, locked in the same cells once holding them captive. They were all left to die as the building was demolished, smashed to smithereens, the debris burned, burned, burned, the ground cemented over. Like nothing had every been there at all.
The same happened to the surrounding buildings. Couldn't raise any suspicions, could they? No, it was the work of some company, looking to build a mall or a hospital or something much more productive on the newly-cleared property, a company which, of course, had no ties to Oscorp whatsoever.
Norman knew he would have to find the missing subjects. He knew this could be very, very bad, but he wasn't overly concerned. Perhaps all he had to do was wait, and his little pets would come scampering back to him. And their big bad powers? Oh, he didn't fear those in the slightest. He had some of his own, after all. The voice in his head had dulled considerably, and he was now in control of it, but he hadn't lost his touch entirely.
And maybe, just maybe, some of them could be swayed. He did so like the idea of his own team of superpowered freaks. Why, it would be just like home. Almost. Close enough.