Marvel's Iron Lady

Osborn Industries had caused widespread panic in the investment market, and its nearly trillion-dollar market capitalization was shrinking drastically.

The primary reason was the recent developments surrounding Norman Osborn, the head of Osborn Industries.

Norman Osborn was a true businessman, the soul of Osborn Industries, and naturally, everything revolved around him.

When the news broke that Norman's health had sharply declined and that he might not have much time left, it shook the entire investment market.

Osborn Industries, a leading player in the biotech and medical sectors, had seen its product output push it to the forefront of the industry.

In recent years, with growing interest in personal health and various health supplements, Osborn Industries had significant room for growth.

But just when the company was on the rise, this earth-shattering news shook everyone involved with the company.

The shrinking market value not only caused the stock price to plummet but also led to the loss of many unfulfilled orders for Osborn Industries.

Aside from the penalties for breach of contract, the shareholders' panic selling made the company's precarious situation even worse.

The shareholders were selling off their stocks, and the few remaining board members were naturally concerned about the future of Osborn Industries.

In just a week, the company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and under such pressure, the board convened a meeting.

At the Osborn Industries headquarters, in the boardroom that once seated dozens, only a few directors remained.

They had gathered to discuss the future: whether to file for bankruptcy or pledge the company to find a way forward.

Meanwhile, even as Osborn Industries faced the threat of bankruptcy, other companies had begun to circle like vultures.

One such company, backed by NASA, was Space Exploration Technologies, which had been actively approaching Osborn's board members during this time.

No one knew why a company like Osborn, focused on biotech, had caught the eye of an aerospace company backed by NASA.

However, Space Exploration Technologies had offered generous terms.

They were even willing to assume Osborn's hefty breach-of-contract penalties in their bid to acquire the severely devalued Osborn Industries.

The main topic of the board meeting was to decide whether to sell the company to Space Exploration Technologies.

But halfway through the meeting, the boardroom door was suddenly thrown open.

In walked Norman Osborn, looking every bit the part in a sharply pressed gray suit, his hair slicked back with only a hint of gray.

He was full of energy, with none of the signs of a man at death's door.

Dr. Connors' drug had worked far better than Norman had expected, filling him with boundless energy.

It wasn't just that he looked rejuvenated; it felt as though he had reversed the aging process entirely.

"The new drug—my new drug worked! Osborn will surpass all competitors and become the largest supplier for the U.S. military!"

Norman stormed into the boardroom, throwing a stack of printed documents onto the table as he shouted.

The new drug, dubbed Green Goblin, was Dr. Connors' attempt to replicate the super-soldier serum.

During World War II, the defector Dr. Erskine had helped the U.S. create the iconic figure of Captain America.

While Dr. Connors' version was a crude imitation, it had still proven effective on Norman himself.

Having personally undergone the clinical trial, Norman Osborn had complete confidence in his Green Goblin serum.

The U.S. military had long sought to replicate Captain America's super-soldier abilities but had failed to create an effective enhancement drug.

Norman believed that this technology could become the backbone of Osborn Industries and restore its former glory.

It could even position Osborn to surpass Stark Industries, becoming the largest contractor for the U.S. military.

After all—anyone could see that super-soldiers were far more valuable than powerful weapons.

But unfortunately for Norman, he had arrived too late; he didn't know that his board had already signed the deal behind his back.

The contract was for the transfer of the company, signing Osborn Industries over to Space Exploration Technologies.

"Sorry, Norman, we've already made our decision. You're too late."

None of the board members even bothered to look at the documents Norman had thrown down because, frankly, it was too late.

Norman stood frozen, staring in disbelief at the remaining members of the board.

No one met his gaze. Every member lowered their heads, avoiding his eyes.

Though none of them held significant shares, no one had contributed more to the company than Norman.

Yet, in this moment, they had collectively decided to sell the future of Osborn Industries.

Feeling guilty, they couldn't meet his eyes, as none of them could muster the courage to justify their decision.

"Space Exploration made a generous offer. They're willing to cover the breach penalties."

"We had no choice, Norman—sorry, you were just too late."

One of the board members beside Norman sighed as he finally broke the silence.

At that moment, Norman's heart felt as though it was weighed down by the crushing weight of billions in debt. His expression became increasingly complicated.

"Why… why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"We didn't want to create division. If you were here, this deal wouldn't have happened."

"You can either stay or resign, Norman. The board will help expedite your resignation if that's what you want."

Suddenly, Norman felt weak in the knees. He gripped the edge of the table, collapsing helplessly into a chair.

At that moment, the effects of the drug seemed to fade, and he felt as though the world had abandoned him.

This company, Osborn Industries, had been his life's work, his entire investment of energy and soul.

But now, before he even had the chance to return and fight for it, the company was no longer his.

Norman sat slumped in his chair, letting out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

Even though he had developed a new drug, the company was no longer his. What more could he do?

Two days later, when Miss Stark returned to New York, she received two surprising pieces of news.

The first was that Space Exploration's acquisition of Osborn Industries had failed. The person leading the acquisition had been murdered at home, and the original contract had been stolen.

No one knew what had happened, but Stark suspected Norman Osborn was involved.

She had planted spies within Osborn's ranks and learned that Norman had shown up at the board meeting.

Given that he had survived his health scare, Stark believed Norman had likely developed a new drug.

In the end, he had probably become the Green Goblin, and the murder and theft of the documents were likely his doing.

Afterward, Space Exploration abandoned its acquisition of Osborn Industries, only managing to purchase a small portion of shares.

Miss Stark had also attempted to buy shares during this period, but to her surprise, another company had entered the fray.

What surprised her most was that this company was none other than Fisk International Financial Group.

It was a New York-based investment firm, owned by a man named Wilson Fisk.

Yes, Wilson Fisk—a name she wouldn't have thought much of if not for the fragmented memories she had.

However, behind the respectable exterior of a businessman, investor, and philanthropist lay a much darker identity.

Wilson Fisk was the undisputed king of New York's underground, known to all as the feared crime lord—Kingpin.

He was a formidable villain, an enemy of local heroes like Spider-Man, Daredevil, and the Punisher.

Wilson Fisk had clawed his way up from the streets, becoming New York's crime boss through sheer determination.

Every ounce of his muscle was earned on the streets, and his power and wealth were entirely self-made.

Although Fisk wasn't a typical hero, Stark couldn't help but admire the man's sheer grit and ambition.

Especially after accessing Wilson Fisk's personal file through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database.

In a world filled with geniuses and incredible opportunities, Fisk's hard-earned success stood out.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., send a letter to Fisk International Financial Group. Tell them I'd like to arrange a meeting."

"Certainly, Miss. I'll make the arrangements. Shall I assume you'll be stepping out for this?"

Noticing Stark changing clothes on the surveillance camera, J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.

"I think Norman Osborn has likely discovered the flaw in his drug, so now is the best time to negotiate."

Miss Stark chuckled softly, adjusting her outfit as she headed toward the underground garage of Stark Tower.

As she suspected, just two days later, Norman Osborn realized there was something wrong with his drug.

Yes, he had stolen the contract from Space Exploration. But the murder… that was also his doing.

Norman had grown stronger, much stronger than an ordinary person, thanks to the super-soldier serum.

Only with this newfound strength had he dared to personally break into the negotiator's home.

Yes, he had only intended to steal the contract to sabotage the deal with Space Exploration, not to kill.

But after sneaking into the negotiator's home and finding the original contract, he had destroyed it.

Just as he was about to leave, the homeowner—Space Exploration's negotiator—spotted him.

When the negotiator grabbed a gun and reached for the phone to call 911, a sudden urge rose deep within Norman.

He was no longer an ordinary man. Laws, guns—none of it mattered to him anymore.

He didn't even know what happened—when he came to, the man was already dead, killed by his own hands.

Luckily, Norman had worn gloves, and being a computer expert, he quickly erased all evidence of his presence.

When the police arrived, they found no leads. To cover his tracks, Norman had paid off the right people.

But the fact remained: when he killed the man, it was as if he had been possessed by a demon, entirely unaware of what he had done.

This realization made Norman see the true problem with the drug. As it turned out, the Goblin Serum was indeed a devil's potion.

And now he was afraid—afraid of losing control again, afraid of hurting those closest to him.

The only person who could help him now was Dr. Curt Connors, the man who had developed the drug in the first place.

But as brilliant as Dr. Connors was, even he struggled to address such a metaphysical issue.

It was at this moment that Miss Stark, carrying a case with the Extremis Virus, barged into Norman Osborn's office.

"Mr. Osborn, do you really plan to make your son use the same flawed enhancement drug that's driving you to such emotional extremes?"

Miss Stark wasted no time in getting straight to the point, leaving Norman Osborn in stunned silence.

To be honest, Norman had no way of answering her question.

It wasn't just a matter of how she knew about the problem with the drug. If he answered, it would confirm his guilt in the murder.

"You don't need to worry about that. If I sent you to prison, you'd lose your value to me. I'm here to talk business."

With that, Miss Stark placed the alloy briefcase she was carrying on Norman's desk and opened it for him to see.

A cold white mist leaked from the briefcase as it opened, the kind used to preserve certain special substances.

As someone in the biotech industry, Norman immediately recognized the case was used for storing sensitive materials.

Just as he expected, inside the briefcase was a silver vial, kept in low-temperature storage by a temperature control system.

The vial looked like an oversized fuse, with metal caps on both ends sealing the container.

Inside the glass tube lay a double-helix structure resembling DNA.

Within this spiral structure flowed a glowing orange liquid.

"I didn't think I was so out of touch with trends, Miss Stark. I've seen Resident Evil."

Looking at the vial in the briefcase, Norman couldn't help but sweat a little.

He half-expected to see the Umbrella Corporation logo on the case.

This thing really looked like a prop straight out of the Resident Evil movies.

"Don't mind the theatrics, Norman. I just wanted to stay trendy, so I designed a cool container."

"At least it looks impressive—better than an ordinary vial. But trust me, it does the job."

Miss Stark chuckled and shrugged at Norman's reaction before continuing.

Dr. Helen Cho had pointed out more than once that Stark's choice of vial design was overly flashy, but Stark still found the aesthetic amusing.

Along with the briefcase, Stark also presented Dr. Helen Cho's research papers and experimental records on the Extremis Virus.

Norman took the documents and began reading, but as he read, his expression became more and more peculiar.

He could tell that this wasn't some baseless theory. The content was so professional that only a true expert in biology could write it.

At least, someone like Stark, who specialized in mechanical engineering, couldn't have produced such a report on her own.

"Is this thing really as powerful as the report claims? Has it undergone clinical trials?"

Norman was half-convinced, but someone as cunning as him would never fully believe anything without proof.

"Yes, it's been through clinical trials with excellent results. Or would you prefer something more... exciting?"

Miss Stark grinned mischievously at the middle-aged man in front of her, placing her hand on his desk.

"Exciting? What do you mean?"

Before Norman could finish his sentence, he was confronted with a bizarre sight—

Miss Stark removed her outer coat, rolled up her sleeves, and in front of him, lifted his office desk.

Norman's desk was a large, commercial-grade piece of furniture made from rosewood, heavy and expensive, with no corners cut in its construction.

It had taken several strong men to deliver the desk to his office.

Yet now, the desk—so heavy that it took a team to move—was effortlessly lifted by Miss Stark.

The sight was truly shocking, and beads of cold sweat began to form on Norman's forehead. He wondered if the office air conditioning had malfunctioned.

The desk was massive, and Stark, though not particularly large herself, held it effortlessly.

Under normal circumstances, the weight distribution should have caused some imbalance, with one side drooping lower due to gravity.

But in Stark's hands, the desk remained perfectly level, lifted without any tilting.

This feat required not just inhuman strength but also an incredible degree of control.

"There you go—after injecting a similar drug, could you do this, Norman?"

After placing the desk back on the floor, Miss Stark brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and nonchalantly asked.

For a brief moment, Norman doubted whether his desk had been replaced with a lighter version, allowing her to lift it so easily.

But no matter how many times he tried, with the strength granted by his enhancement drug, he couldn't lift the desk like she had.

"So, the Extremis Virus's enhancement effects are no joke. What about its ability to treat illnesses?"

By now, Norman was about 80% convinced. He began to show interest in the Extremis Virus and pressed Stark for more details.

"To be honest, we originally developed it to regenerate lost limbs."

"But eventually, it turned into a universal cure, with the bonus of granting super-soldier-level abilities."

When it came to her field of expertise, Miss Stark became noticeably more talkative, explaining everything in detail to Norman.

"It's a drug, but it's also a virus. It will consume your cells and assimilate them."

"Afterward, there won't be any disease left in your body, and you'll become a walking, oversized Extremis Virus."

Norman remained silent, but inside, he felt a storm brewing. His thoughts were racing, his heart filled with excitement.

He had personally injected himself with the Goblin Serum and experienced the extreme side effects firsthand.

The serum had amplified the darkest parts of his personality, making him prone to uncontrollable rage and violent outbursts.

The result was that he had lost control, killing someone who should never have been harmed.

Even though he had lost consciousness, and his body was driven by a bloodthirsty instinct, it was still him who had taken that life.

As a father, could he really allow his son to use the same flawed enhancement drug, one that would magnify negative emotions to such extremes?

"I have just one question—can this thing even fix what's happening to me right now?"

"Of course. Once you become the Extremis Virus, how could there be any more problems?"

Hearing Norman's question, Miss Stark shook her head lightly and casually answered.

"I want it. What will it cost me?"

At that moment, Norman's desire for the Extremis Virus was undeniable. He briefly considered simply taking it by force.

But after witnessing Stark's strength, he started to question whether he could even defeat her in a fight.

To obtain something valuable, one must be prepared to lose something else. But Norman felt he had nothing left to offer.

Although Space Exploration had failed to acquire Osborn Industries, the company's market value had already plummeted.

Norman didn't have much money left. All he had were a mountain of debts, the result of unfulfilled contracts.

If Osborn Industries didn't file for bankruptcy, the penalties would continue to pile up until they were either paid off or the company collapsed.

"It's simple—I want all of your shares in Osborn Industries."

Miss Stark had considered cash or other forms of payment, but by now, Norman was worse off than she was.

The billion-dollar value of Osborn Industries had drastically shrunk, and the company had little liquid capital left.

Norman was already contemplating selling off real estate just to pay off his debts. It was a pitiful sight.

"I want your shares. Along with what I've already acquired, I'll become the largest shareholder in Osborn."

"I'll help you clear all the debts—don't worry, Stark Industries can afford it."

As she spoke, Miss Stark flashed a sly smile, one that sent a shiver down Norman's spine.

"But… wouldn't that just make me your employee?"

Norman thought about it carefully, only to realize that aside from his shares, he really had nothing left.

If he gave up those shares, what role would he have left in the company?

"I just want to be the majority shareholder and receive my share of the profits."

"There's only one condition—you'll hand the company over to your son when the time is right."

"Then, as the CEO of Osborn Industries, you'll run for mayor of New York City."

At last, the truth was revealed. This final request was Miss Stark's true purpose—to have Norman run for mayor.

Why she wanted Norman to transform from a businessman into a politician was clear to her but remained part of her long-term plans, which she didn't elaborate on here.

In the end, Norman Osborn agreed to Miss Stark's terms, calling in his lawyer to sign the stock transfer agreement on the spot.

Once the agreement was finalized, Miss Stark handed over the syringe containing the Extremis Virus to Norman.

The metal caps at both ends of the syringe concealed a needle, making it easy for direct intravenous injection, far more efficient than other delivery methods.

The Extremis Virus took effect quickly, and the veins under Norman's skin began to glow with a golden light.

Thankfully, unlike Dr. Connors' serum, the Extremis Virus didn't cause excruciating pain during the transformation.

"Damn, I should have agreed to this sooner…"

After a brief rest, Norman suddenly realized that his body had grown even stronger.

The Extremis Virus had consumed the troublesome Goblin cells within him, while simultaneously restructuring his abnormal genes.

His long-standing issues with poor eyesight, neck pain, and herniated discs had all disappeared without a trace.