Chapter 19: The Lizard's Origin
During breaks from his Thanos serum research, Ryan would occasionally analyze the blood samples from Steve Rogers and Jessica Jones.
Compared to Thanos's complex genetic structure, these two specimens were considerably more straightforward.
The enhancement compounds within their gene sequences were minimal—merely amplifying existing human capabilities rather than fundamentally altering them.
While Thanos's serum represented a complete genetic overhaul, Steve and Jessica's formulas were sophisticated performance enhancers at best.
With his Thanos research hitting a wall, Ryan shifted focus to studying the super soldier and enhanced human serums.
The next morning, Ryan finally received word from Wilson Fisk.
"Ryan, I found that chemical compound you need, but there's a problem—they're refusing to sell."
Fisk had exhausted considerable resources tracking down the rare substance, but no amount of money could convince the supplier to part with it.
"Kingpin, you're a crime lord," Ryan said incredulously. "If they won't sell, then take it. Why are you acting like a Boy Scout?"
On the other end of the line, Fisk nearly crushed his phone in frustration. After taking a deep breath, he managed to keep his voice level. "Ryan, I'd prefer the direct approach, but we're dealing with a major corporation here. A robbery could have catastrophic consequences."
Fisk had been under intense pressure lately. Daredevil—that masked vigilante from Hell's Kitchen—had been methodically building a case against his organization, gathering evidence of his criminal activities.
Additionally, they'd just eliminated the Russian mob the previous night, putting the entire city on high alert.
Antagonizing one of America's largest corporations at this moment would be suicide, even for someone with his resources and influence.
Ryan rubbed his temples thoughtfully. "Send me the address. I'll handle this personally."
After hanging up, Fisk immediately texted the location to Ryan's secure phone.
Ryan changed into street clothes and took the private elevator down to the building's elegant lobby.
The concierge smiled warmly and offered him an umbrella. "Mr. Ryan, the weather forecast calls for rain today. You might want to take this."
"Thank you, Lawrence. I appreciate it."
Lawrence was approximately sixty years old, impeccably dressed in a traditional black three-piece suit with white gloves, his silver hair perfectly styled. He embodied the classic image of a distinguished American building manager.
Ryan stepped outside and hailed a yellow taxi. After providing the driver with the address, he settled back to watch the bustling Manhattan streets pass by.
Halfway through the journey, light rain began to fall, creating streaks on the taxi windows.
Fortunately, Lawrence's weather prediction had been accurate—otherwise Ryan would have arrived soaked.
Minutes later, the taxi pulled up to their destination. Ryan paid the fare with a generous tip and stepped out, opening his umbrella against the gentle drizzle.
He tilted his head back to read the corporate sign above the building's entrance, and felt a spark of recognition.
"Oscorp Industries."
No wonder Fisk had been reluctant to make a move. Oscorp wasn't just a biotechnology company—they were also a major military defense contractor with deep government connections.
Going head-to-head with an organization like that would be corporate suicide, even for the Kingpin of Crime.
Ryan entered the Oscorp lobby, shook the rain from his umbrella, and approached the reception desk.
"Good morning," he said professionally. "I'm interested in purchasing specialized chemical compounds from your catalog. What's the standard procurement process?"
The receptionist looked up from her computer screen, immediately brightening with a practiced corporate smile. "Chemical purchases require consultation with our sales department. They'll match you with appropriate products and provide pricing quotes. Here's your appointment number."
She stepped out from behind the curved reception desk, handed Ryan a numbered ticket, and gestured toward the elevator bank. "Please follow me to the sales floor."
Ryan nodded and followed, noticing her deliberately professional yet subtly flirtatious demeanor—clearly part of Oscorp's client relations strategy.
As they rode the elevator with other employees, the woman gradually moved closer to Ryan in the crowded space.
The elevator chimed softly as they reached the sales floor.
"Please have a seat in our consultation area. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?"
"Coffee would be great. Black."
Since his serum enhancement, Ryan's metabolism had accelerated significantly, requiring more frequent fuel.
A few minutes later, the receptionist returned with coffee and what appeared to be her business card, complete with a subtle wink before she walked away.
"Next!" came a voice from one of the consultation offices.
Ryan entered the office, set his coffee on the desk, and got straight to business. "I need potassium anthraquinone sulfate—it's a specialized organic compound. I require at least ten liters."
The sales representative paused mid-keystroke, his pen clattering onto the desk.
"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that particular compound."
"I'm certain of the name. If you're not sure, please contact your supervisor."
Within ten minutes, the request had been escalated through multiple management levels, eventually reaching Oscorp's board of directors.
"Good afternoon. I'm David Thornton, Senior Director of Oscorp's Biochemical Division. That's an extremely specialized compound with very limited applications—primarily in advanced genetic research. May I ask what brings you to us?"
They shook hands briefly, Ryan noting the man's firm grip and calculating expression.
"Ryan Williams. I'm a genetic biochemist."
Upon hearing Ryan identify himself as a scientist, Thornton's entire demeanor shifted to one of professional interest.
"Excellent. Would you mind joining me in my private office? I have something that might interest you—perhaps we can arrange a mutually beneficial exchange."
"Lead the way."
Ryan followed Thornton to the executive floor, passing through corridors lined with awards and patents.
Once in the office, Thornton immediately drew the blinds and retrieved a confidential file from his desk drawer.
"Mr. Williams, I have a research report here that's been giving our team some trouble. Would you mind taking a look?"
The report contained no proprietary data or experimental procedures, so there were no confidentiality violations in sharing it.
Ryan accepted the document and scanned through it quickly, his expression growing more interested with each page.
"If I'm reading this correctly, this appears to be research into regenerative healing factors."
"Precisely. Many species in nature possess remarkable self-healing capabilities. If we could successfully adapt this technology for human application, it would revolutionize medicine."
Lizards, starfish, crabs, planarians, and numerous other creatures could regenerate lost limbs or organs. Stem cell research had been pursuing similar goals for decades.
Ryan closed the report and slid it back across the desk. "Biological regeneration isn't exactly groundbreaking research. The reason we haven't achieved human application yet is that our technology can't properly decode the cellular decay and regeneration parameters."
Thornton looked confused. "So what's your assessment?"
Ryan shrugged casually. "Depending on which animal genome you use as a template, you might end up creating something monstrous instead of miraculous."
Ryan had noticed the signature in the bottom right corner of the report: Dr. Curtis Connors.
Combined with regenerative research focusing on reptilian DNA, Ryan was almost certain this Dr. Connors was destined to become the Lizard.
The appearance of another enhanced individual didn't particularly surprise him—given his own presence in this timeline, multiple variables were bound to emerge.
End of Chapter 19
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