DC Heroes in Marvel

Harry's purpose in coming here was simple: divide the cake.

Before meeting Anton, he had been in the office, negotiating with the old man, Jonah Jameson. The two quickly reached a friendly, albeit informal, agreement regarding the division of Hammer's arms orders.

Harry's sensibility stemmed from two factors. First, his insane father, Norman Osborn, was still locked away by Batman somewhere, and Anton, as Batman's spokesperson, deserved some deference. 

Second, Justin Hammer's arrest was largely thanks to Batman's influence—not the New York Police Department, as the public believed.

The forces Batman represented included the Jameson family and the newly established Wayne Enterprises, a growing power that could not be ignored. 

It was clear that Wayne Enterprises deserved a share of the spoils. Refusing Batman his due would only invite trouble.

Harry, who had been running Oscorp for half a year, had grown into a capable chairman, adept at weighing matters of interest.

"Have you finalized the negotiations?"

Anton glanced between Harry and Jonah, shrugging. "Harry, I'm glad you could represent Oscorp."

"No, we're just fortunate to be under Batman's protection," Harry replied with a smile. Then, with a touch of hesitation, he added, "Anton, besides this collaboration, I have a personal request."

Anton tilted his head, unsurprised. "Let me guess," he said after a pause. "It's about your father, Norman?"

"Yes." Harry nodded, his nerves showing for the first time. "I want to see him."

In that moment, the polished chairman of Oscorp revealed the vulnerability of a young man.

Anton's expression softened. "His mental state has improved recently. Our team has made some significant progress. Given more time, the side effects of the experimental enhancement drugs might be completely eradicated."

He paused, stroking his chin. "Alright, here's what we'll do. Prepare yourself, and I'll have my people reach out to arrange a visit. Your father's being held in a secure location—one that guarantees his safety."

"Thank you."

Harry's relief was palpable. He hadn't expected Anton to agree so readily. After all, Norman was held under Batman's jurisdiction. Even as Batman's spokesperson, Anton didn't wield full authority.

But Anton had agreed after only a brief consideration.

As Harry reflected on this, he realized something: Anton's standing within the Justice League was higher than he had anticipated. Yet, through reliable channels, Harry knew with certainty that Anton was not Batman.

"Anton," he asked, curiosity getting the better of him, "what exactly is your role in the Justice League?"

Anton offered an enigmatic answer, leaving Harry to ponder as he left Wayne Enterprises.

Standing outside the building, Harry glanced back at the massive "Wayne Enterprises" sign.

"Limb regeneration technology... and..." He trailed off, lost in thought. "Advanced but enigmatic weapons technology. Is Batman the source of all this?"

"Boss."

His driver's voice snapped him out of his reverie. The car pulled up, and Harry climbed into the back seat. As the car drove away, heading toward Oscorp, Harry continued to mull over his discoveries.

Back in Wayne Enterprises, Anton stood by the window, watching Harry leave. A faint smile crossed his face.

"Old man," Anton said, turning to Jonah Jameson, "you look pleased. Got what you wanted today?"

Jonah grunted, offering no response.

Anton continued, "I have to admit, Harry surprised me today. Even if Norman Osborn returns to Oscorp, he may not run the company better than Harry."

Jonah raised an eyebrow.

"Harry is a capable chairman," Anton concluded. "More generous than his father ever was."

The old man smiled and said, "He promised to give us 60% of Hammer's orders."

"Sixty percent of the orders? Old man, don't overreach!"

"I won't," the old man replied with a calm smirk. "I've already planned to buy Hammer's arms production line. Now that Justin Hammer has been arrested, we just need to let the news ferment for a few days. Let the bullets fly a bit longer, and Hammer will truly understand what it means to have no way back. Even the military won't protect them this time."

He paused, his smile deepening, and continued, "At that point, Hammer Industries will be like prey surrounded by wolves, unable to escape the clutches of us hungry predators."

"Old man, you're really not sounding like a good person right now," Anton said, giving him a scrutinizing look.

At that moment, Anton couldn't help but see the old man as a mob boss straight out of The Godfather. Dressed in a suit, a cigar in hand, smoke curling around his white temples, his calm gaze carried an air of calculated ruthlessness.

"I never said I was a good person," the old man replied with a shrug, exhaling a puff of smoke. "But that doesn't stop me from having a good heart—or taking action for a good cause."

Anton raised an eyebrow at that ambiguous statement, but before he could respond, the old man spoke again.

"By the way," the old man said, as if suddenly remembering something, "if you don't have anything pressing, you'd better stay in New York for a while. John's coming back. You two haven't seen each other in over a year. He'll be happy to see what you've accomplished."

"John?" Anton froze for a moment, the name catching him off guard.

It took him a while to realize that the "John" the old man was referring to wasn't John Constantine—who came to mind instinctively—but rather John Jameson, his biological father in this body. 

The same John Jameson who once turned his nose up at jelly and happened to be an astronaut.

"He's back from space already?" Anton asked, surprised.

"Not exactly," the old man replied. "This time, his job wasn't to go to space but to prepare others for it."

"What do you mean by 'prepare others'?"

"The government has a plan to build a space station. They needed to send a team of scientists to space to conduct some experiments. John, being an experienced astronaut, was hired to train these scientists and assist with their specialized tasks."

The old man added, "The plan is wrapping up now. The scientists have already been sent into orbit, and John's part in the mission is over."

"Scientists... in space?" Anton muttered, his expression turning strange.

The more he thought about it, the more familiar this story felt.

"How many scientists are in this team? Who are they?" Anton asked, an uneasy suspicion creeping into his voice. "If they've secured government funding, they must be a pretty notable group, right?"

"I believe there were four of them—three men and one woman," the old man replied, oblivious to Anton's increasingly frozen expression. "Their leader is Reed Richards. He's a super-genius with PhDs in engineering, mathematics, and physics, among other fields. He was once considered on par with Tony Stark in terms of intellect. Unfortunately, unlike Stark, Reed doesn't have a wealthy family backing him, so he's nowhere near as famous."

The old man continued talking, unaware of Anton's dawning realization.

"Good grief," Anton muttered under his breath.

The Fantastic Four. It's really happening.

…

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