"Sir, stop! Don't go any further!" a police officer shouted as Harry Osborn stepped out from the crowd, walking steadily toward the chaos.
"Isn't that Harry Osborn, the new president of the Oscorp Group?" someone whispered nearby. "I saw him on the news recently!"
Harry barely glanced at them. "That's my employee," he said calmly to the officer and continued walking toward Max.
"Harry, stop!" Spider-Man called out urgently. The sight of his friend walking into the middle of a potential electrical storm made his stomach twist. "Don't go near him—it's dangerous!"
But Harry didn't stop. He walked straight up to Max Dillon, whose glowing blue skin crackled with electricity under the flickering Times Square lights.
"Let me introduce myself," Harry said evenly. "I'm Harry Osborn."
The name hit Max like a spark. "Osborn…" he hissed, his jaw tightening. Painful memories surged—being humiliated, overlooked, and buried by Oscorp. The blue light on his face flared brighter, electricity popping in the air.
Harry's expression didn't change. "I'm deeply sorry for what happened to you," he said quietly. "You were wronged. And I'm here to fix that."
Max's anger flickered, confusion slipping in.
"Tomorrow morning, I'm holding a clarification meeting. You'll be there as our chief electrical engineer. Your grid design—your work—will be publicly returned to you." Harry met Max's gaze without hesitation. "Oscorp needs your talent, Max."
The light around Max dimmed. "Is… is that true?" he stammered, disbelief replacing rage.
"Yes," Harry said firmly.
Then Harry reached into his coat and pulled out a small black device—a sleek, rectangular battery. "This is a high-capacity energy concentrator. It can withstand up to two hundred million volts. You can use it to stabilize the electrical energy inside you."
He tossed it gently toward Max.
Max caught it, staring at it in confusion.
"Uncontrolled energy affects your brain," Harry continued, his tone calm but authoritative. "It can make you irritable—aggressive. It's not your fault. It's the overload talking."
Max froze. He looked around at the overturned cars, shattered glass, and terrified faces. "I… I did all this?" he whispered, horrified.
Harry nodded softly. "Everyone has a dark side, Max. But I'll help you control it. We'll fix this together."
A shaky breath escaped Max's chest. He lifted the battery, letting the crackling energy from his hands pour into it. The blue light faded from his skin, replaced by a pale exhaustion. His muscles trembled, but the wild fury inside him eased for the first time.
"Sir, you're under arrest for disturbing public order," an officer said, stepping forward cautiously.
Harry turned toward him. "Officer, there's been a misunderstanding. Maxwell Dillon is Oscorp's chief electrical engineer. This was an industrial accident. Oscorp will compensate the NYPD for the damages."
The officer hesitated, looking toward his superior. After a pause, the commander nodded. The squad lowered their weapons and began to withdraw.
Money spoke loudly in New York. And the name Oscorp spoke louder than most.
From a nearby rooftop, Spider-Man sighed in relief. "Well… that's one way to end a crisis," he muttered, and swung off into the night.
Harry turned back to Max, who was trembling slightly. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," Max rasped. "It's strange… my head feels clear for the first time."
"Good," Harry said. "Call me Harry, not Mr. Osborn. You should get a full checkup at the lab—you've got a press conference tomorrow, and you'll need to look your best."
Max's eyes glistened. "Thank you… Harry."
Harry smiled faintly. "We can be friends, Max." He placed a hand on Max's shoulder and led him toward the Oscorp building.
··························
"Unbelievable," said an elderly man in a white lab coat, adjusting his glasses as he examined the data on his monitor. "He's a living energy organism. My calculations estimate his internal energy potential at one billion volts."
"Calm down, Dr. Carl," Harry said, helping Max off the scanner. "I just need a full medical overview."
Dr. Carl—Oscorp's long-time medical consultant—was a brilliant but eccentric researcher. Harry had already memorized the profiles of every key figure in the company, and Carl's reputation as a tireless scientist preceded him.
"Ah, right," Carl said, snapping out of his awe. "Mr. Dillon's physiology has transformed completely. His blood has been replaced by an electrical current. He's no longer human in the traditional sense, but a new kind of energy lifeform. With proper control, he could disassemble himself into pure energy and reconstitute his body at will. However…"
Carl hesitated.
"However?" Harry pressed.
"The current has severely damaged his vocal cords—his voice will remain hoarse. But more importantly, the electricity constantly stimulates his neural pathways. It heightens aggression and reduces impulse control."
Max's expression darkened. "If I suppress the flow—keep it away from my brain—could that help?"
"In theory, yes," Carl replied. "But it would require near-perfect regulation. You'd need to act like a living superconductor."
Max straightened, determination burning behind his tired eyes. "I'll do it. I won't be a monster again."
Harry smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "I believe you, Max."
"Thank you, Harry," Max said, his tone soft but resolute.
"Good. It's late," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day for both of us—and we can't show up with dark circles."
Carl chuckled. "At least not for him," he joked, nodding at Max's still faintly luminous face.
Harry laughed lightly. "Fair point."
He handed Max a new Oscorp ID card. "Here. Chief Electrical Engineer, officially reinstated. I've arranged your quarters nearby—Carl will show you around."
"See you tomorrow, Max." Harry waved to them both and left the lab, the hum of machinery echoing behind him.
··························
Manhattan glittered under the night sky. Neon lights, laughter, the hum of distant music. But in the alleys between those bright towers, darkness lingered—drunks arguing, gangs prowling, voices calling out to passing strangers.
It was the city's other heartbeat.
Harry walked alone, his mind spinning with plans. He didn't head for the Osborn mansion; instead, he wandered beneath the moonlight.
"Hey, boy—stop right there," a rough voice called.
Harry turned. A group of men stood blocking the alley's exit, dressed in black leather with messy hair and nose rings gleaming in the dim light.
"Talking to me?" Harry asked coolly.
"Yeah, you," the leader said, twirling a knife. His eyes narrowed. "Well, look who it is—little Mr. Osborn himself."
The gang jeered, closing in around him.
Harry sighed. "If it's money you want, take it." He pulled some bills from his wallet. "No need for trouble."
The leader snatched the cash, flipping through it with a grin. "Over a grand. Not bad."
Then his smile turned greedy. "But a rich boy like you should have way more than this. Come on—where's the rest—"
Harry's fist connected with his nose before he could finish.
The man crumpled instantly. Spider-like reflexes and enhanced strength made the blow brutal and precise.
"Get him!" someone yelled.
The others lunged, knives flashing.
Harry vaulted upward, flipping over their heads. He kicked out midair, sending two men sprawling. When another swung at him, Harry leapt against the alley wall, clinging to it for an instant with electrostatic force before springing off and delivering a spinning kick that dropped the rest.
When it was over, groans echoed in the narrow passage. A few of the attackers weren't moving.
Harry crouched, grabbed his money back from the leader's limp hand, brushed off the dirt, and tucked it neatly into his wallet.
"What a waste of time," he muttered. He pulled a tiny black pellet from his wallet and tossed it beside the unconscious gang.
Then he turned and walked away.
Behind him, the alley flashed orange.
Boom.
A burst of fire lit up the night.