Look 'bad luck' up in the dictionary. Go on. We'll wait. See there? That picture of an awkward college student tripping over his own feet? That's Peter Parker. He's majoring in chemical engineering, and by some stroke of (you guessed it) bad luck, t...
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Oscorp, originally called the Osborn Corporation prior to a company-wide rebranding shortly after its founding, had one of the largest corporate/research and development headquarters in the world. Oscorp Tower was a sleek, black, and immense monolith atop the crown of the New York skyline. Of its many levels and sub-levels, there was only one that was entirely free of human presence.
This place, sub-level 24B, was Harry Osborn's current destination as he rode the elevator up his building. Ever since his father's death, 24B was shut down and all its projects left there to gather dust. There was too much legal fire due to the attempted tying of the Green Goblin to Oscorp's various R&D projects that were being pursued on 24B. Although nothing was ever proved, Harry was forced to shut it off and retask all of the personnel there. He was always too haunted by rage and sorrow to ever have it cleaned up...so now, he finally welled up enough strength to go there.
The elevator came to a halt and opened its gates to the dark beyond. Harry trailed outward and saw nothing but pitch black nothingness. It infuriated him. This nothingness, this eternal oblivion, was what Spider-Man sentenced Norman Osborn to when he impaled him those years ago. That year, Peter lost Gwen Stacy...but Harry lost his father. No one seemed to remember that, Harry believed. They all remembered Gwen, though.
He grasped a lever on the wall and tugged it downward, tearing asunder the wealth of cobwebs that had been woven around it in the absence of workers. Harry gritted his teeth at this reminder.
Lights bathed the massive room in the weak, white glow...and Harry's eyes beheld sights that confirmed his suspicions.
Rows of extremely advanced, High-Shrapnel Compact Grenades lined an entire wall. Their orange, globular surfaces seemed to flicker like jack-o-lanterns. Harry stepped forward and laid a hand onto one of the grenades. The voice of his father returned with that small touch.
Take up my arms, Harry. Strike down he who robbed you of me.
Harry shook his head and moved onward. Next were several developmental and prototype models of Norman's pride and joy, the 'Glider' Personal Flight System. At a time when the only person who could achieve reasonable combat flight was Stark, Norman designed the first alternative. It was more agile than Stark's armours, was capable of remote operation, and housed on-board weaponry. It was a success...but when people started accusing Norman of supplying the Green Goblin, its funding dried up. No one wanted anything to do with it.
Atop these blackened wings, rain fire down on he who ruined your life.
The young business man clenched a fist and winced as his mind began racing ever faster. Lastly, past all the flight gear and handheld gadgets, was a case of green chemicals within isolated canisters. Harry knew that the rumours were true. The US government backed several pharmaceutical companies years ago to try replicating the super soldier serum used to give Captain America his strength. Oscorp's attempt was the G7 Performance Enhancer; a chemical substance that would be ingested in a gaseous state, but stored in a compressed liquid form. This case held several doses of G7.
