MARVEL: THE LAST THUNDER.

High above New York City, near the top of the Oscorp building, Norman Osborn sat behind his expansive desk, the glow of the city stretching endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. The lights of Manhattan flickered beneath the evening sky as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the blank screen of his computer after finally ending the video conference he'd just had with the mole within S.H.I.E.L.D. and the other individuals involved in the clandestine symbiote operation.

Each of them had their own personal motivations, ambitions, and reasons for involving themselves in the project, yet their goals had somehow intertwined. They were all intelligent in their own right, some bordering on outright genius, and despite their differences, they shared a similar willingness to venture into areas most sane people would consider unethical or even disturbing.

Together, they practiced what could best be described as the mastermind principle, pooling their resources, knowledge, and influence in pursuit of their individual ambitions while maintaining a common objective which was the study, advancement, and potential biological discoveries that could be extracted from the symbiotic aliens.

They weren't all insane in the same way Norman was, or at least not in the same way the world might imagine a Goblin-level madman to be. Their obsessions simply manifested differently, each possessing their own particular flavor of ambition. For some, the symbiotes represented scientific discovery. For others, they were a means to power, wealth, or influence. And for a select few, they were something far more personal.

Norman's obsession was rooted in something considerably more scientific.

He was a brilliant industrialist, biochemist, and weapons developer, a man whose curiosity had long since surpassed the boundaries of conventional science. More than anything, Norman was obsessed with the idea of pushing human biology beyond its natural limitations, of discovering just how far the human body could be altered, enhanced, and weaponized before it ceased to be recognizably human.

To him, the symbiotes represented the ultimate biological weapons platform—a living organism capable of bonding with a host, enhancing its physical capabilities, adapting to its environment, and potentially rewriting the very limits of what the human body could endure.

The religious beliefs surrounding the symbiotes and their worshippers, however, held little interest for him. Norman had secretly funded both the cult and the scientific research being conducted behind the scenes, but he regarded their reverence for the symbiotes and their ancient beliefs as little more than primitive superstition wrapped around something far more valuable.

"My fascination with the question is, what happens if we remove the psychological limitations between host and symbiote?" he muttered, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he leaned back into his chair.

It was the sort of question that might have made even a scientist specializing in human genetics or advanced biological sciences uncomfortable if Norman were to present it openly. The implications alone were enough to raise several ethical concerns, but ethics had never been particularly effective at restraining Norman Osborn when his curiosity had been properly stimulated.

The possibility of eliminating the mental barriers separating host and symbiote, allowing the two to function as a single biological entity without resistance or psychological conflict, was a concept that fascinated him.

For now, however, Norman had no intention of pursuing that particular line of research. There were still more immediate problems that needed solving. Despite all their resources, the scientists involved were still struggling to achieve a stable and successful bond between a symbiote and its human host. The failures were frustrating, but Norman had learned long ago that meaningful scientific breakthroughs rarely came without failure.

His thoughts eventually drifted toward another matter.

"And then there's this boy," he muttered, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface of his desk. "The one who snatched Venom before we could get our hands on him."

The image of Billy Batson appeared in his mind, followed closely by the image of the boy's alter ego, Shazam. Norman had already seen the footage and reports to know that there was something unusual about the child. The powers he possessed were far beyond anything conventional science could adequately explain, and that alone made Billy worth watching.

"Might want to keep a close eye on this kid and those strange powers of his."

Norman's expression remained thoughtful for a moment before a crooked smile slowly spread across his face as possibilities began flooding through his mind almost immediately. The sheer amount of power contained within Shazam was staggering, especially considering that the person wielding it was still a child.

"But such power in the hands of a child..."

His smile widened as his imagination began running wild with possibilities. What could be accomplished if he could somehow study Shazam's abilities? What could be extracted from his biology? Could that power be replicated, transferred, or perhaps even combined with the symbiotes? The thought alone sent a spark of excitement through Norman's mind as he imagined applications that could fundamentally change everything he knew about human enhancement and biological warfare.

A sudden knock against the office door abruptly pulled him from his thoughts.

Norman's smile disappeared almost instantly, replaced by the composed expression of the respectable businessman he presented to the outside world. His eyes shifted toward the entrance just as the door opened with a slow push, revealing a familiar face.

"Hey, Dad."

Harry Osborn stepped into the office, dressed far more casually than his father, and made his way toward the desk with an easy smile on his face. Perks of being a rich kid, boy had no troubles.

"Harry..." Norman's expression softened slightly as he rose from his chair. "Welcome back, son."

He stepped around the desk and pulled his son into a hug, one of the few genuine ways Norman ever seemed capable of expressing his affection. For all his faults—and there were plenty of them—Norman did love his son. Unfortunately, his preferred method of showing that love often amounted to throwing money at whatever problem Harry happened to be dealing with and assuming that should be enough to make everything better.

"How was your trip?" Norman asked as he pulled away, his smile returning as he looked his son over.

"Well, it was quite an experience," Harry replied with a grin nearly as wide as his father's.

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries, briefly discussing the trip and everything Harry had experienced while he was away. The conversation carried a noticeably warmer atmosphere than the one Norman had been having moments earlier, the sinister implications of the symbiote project temporarily pushed into the back of his mind.

Eventually, Norman returned to his chair behind the desk while Harry settled into the seat opposite him. For the moment, they were simply father and son, enjoying a rare opportunity to catch up without business, conspiracies, or biological experiments getting in the way.

"It's nice being back, Dad. The only downside is that I'll have to get back to school soon. At least I can cover as much as I can before midterms," Harry said, settling comfortably into his chair.

Norman listened with a faint smile, though his mind had already begun working in an entirely different direction. At the mention of school, a thought suddenly occurred to him, and in his imagination, a figurative lightbulb seemed to flicker to life above his head.

‘This kid... Billy.’

Norman's eyes narrowed slightly as he recalled the information he'd gathered on the young Shazam. ‘He goes to the same school as Harry. There's a good chance they're even in the same class... though I can't say for certain.’

It was an interesting coincidence, and one Norman had no intention of wasting.

"Speaking of catching up with schoolwork..." Norman began, leaning back slightly in his chair as though the thought had only just occurred to him. "If there happen to be any new students in your class, especially ones who are also trying to catch up before midterms, it wouldn't hurt to get acquainted with them."

Harry raised an eyebrow, listening as his father continued.

"Make use of whatever assistance they can offer. If they're good at something you're struggling with, work with them. If they have access to resources you don't, take advantage of that. The point is to surround yourself with people who can contribute something useful to your goals. There's nothing wrong with benefiting from the strengths of others, so long as you understand how to make those relationships work in your favor."

Norman delivered the advice with the sure confidence of a seasoned businessman explaining an obvious principle of the corporate world. To him, there was nothing particularly cynical about what he was saying. Business was built on relationships, leverage, and knowing how to utilize the resources available to you. People were no different. If someone possessed an ability, connection, or resource that could help you get ahead, the intelligent thing was to find a way to make use of it.

"Think of it this way," he added. "You don't climb to the top by refusing to step on the ladder simply because someone else built it."

"I see..." Harry said, giving his father's words a moment's consideration.

He didn't exactly dwell on the advice, but he understood the point Norman was trying to make and appreciated the sentiment behind it—or at least what he believed the sentiment to be. With a small nod, he mentally filed the advice away for later.

"Thanks, Dad."

Besides, Harry already had people he could rely on when it came to catching up with schoolwork. With Peter and MJ around, getting back up to speed shouldn't be much of a problem.

Norman nodded approvingly before glancing toward the time. "You should head home and get some rest. Give your body some time to adjust to the time zone again. You don't want to drag yourself into school exhausted."

Harry nodded and rose from his chair, making his way toward the office door. He reached the entrance and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, but before he could pull it open, Norman's voice stopped him.

"And, Harry..."

Harry paused, turning his head slightly while keeping one hand on the doorknob.

"There's a couple thousand in the safe," Norman said casually. "Help yourself to whatever you'd like."

He tilted his chin toward the side of the office, gesturing toward the safe as though he had just offered Harry something as ordinary as a cup of coffee. For Norman, money was one of the easiest ways to take care of his son's needs. Whatever Harry wanted—or whatever problem happened to arise—could usually be solved by throwing enough money at it.

Harry gave his father an appreciative nod without bothering to say anything else. He pulled the door open and stepped out of the office, leaving Norman alone once again.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the warmth that had briefly occupied Norman's expression faded away.

For several moments, he remained seated behind his desk, staring at the closed door while his mind returned to the boy he'd been thinking about only moments earlier.

Billy Batson.

If fate had placed the boy in the same school as his son, Norman had to wonder just how much of an opportunity had been handed to him.

Perhaps Harry could prove useful after all.

- - -

Back at Avengers Tower, the interrogation of Eddie Brock had reached something of a stalemate.

Eddie remained seated inside the holding room, looking increasingly exhausted as the Avengers continued trying to get answers out of him. The biggest problem, however, wasn't Eddie himself. It was the fact that Venom had flat-out refused to come out.

The symbiote wanted absolutely nothing to do with the people standing outside that room, especially now that they were asking questions about the Klyntar. After what had just happened with the Xenophage, Venom had become even more paranoid. A creature specifically designed to hunt symbiotes had come after them, and if something like that was already on their trail, there was only one conclusion Venom was willing to entertain.

Knull had to be looking for them.

And if Knull was looking for them, then the last thing Venom wanted was to draw any more attention to Eddie or himself. As far as the symbiote was concerned, the best course of action was simple; keep their heads down, stay hidden, and give whoever was hunting them no reason to find them.

Captain America finally made it back to the Tower, arriving just as the rest of the team had gathered outside the interrogation room. They stood in a loose huddle, quietly discussing how they intended to proceed, their voices kept low enough that Eddie couldn't make out the conversation through the door.

They needed to be careful.

Any attempt to forcibly establish contact with the symbiote, especially through torture or more extreme methods, could backfire. If Eddie and Venom decided that their only option was escape, the captive they were currently trying to question could quickly become an escaped captive for they had no idea the many things the symbiotes could possibly do aside from those Shazam had witnessed. None of them wanted to make the situation more difficult than it already was.

"We need to be smart about this," Steve said, his arms folded across his chest as he listened to the others.

"All we can do at this point is talk to him," Shazam suggested, standing among the others with his arms crossed. "And if words turn out to be ineffective, a couple of electric shocks here and there could prove to be quite persuasive."

The suggestion was met with several slowly turning heads.

For a moment, the group simply stared at Billy, each of them seemingly trying to figure out exactly where the broad line of his morality ended.

Clint, however, couldn't help the amused grin that spread across his face.

"Have I ever told you how much I like how disturbing your mind can be at times?"

"Don't encourage him, Bart," Bruce said, giving Hawkeye a disapproving look.

"Nope, but glad to hear it..." Shazam replied, rubbing the back of his neck before adding uncertainly, "I think."

A few of them exchanged looks before ultimately giving reluctant nods. As questionable as Billy's suggestion sounded, they were running out of options, and a more direct approach could always be considered if the diplomatic one failed.

Strange, however, remained somewhat hesitant. The Sorcerer Supreme wasn't particularly fond of the idea of simply going along with the more... aggressive approach without first attempting things his own way. Still, even he had to admit that Billy's suggestion was worth keeping in reserve. If a peaceful conversation failed to produce anything useful, they could always consider other methods later—methods Strange would personally prefer not to resort to unless absolutely necessary.

With their approach settled, the group finally moved toward the holding room.

- - -

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