Chapter 567 - Doctor Rogers (1/2)
A shout-out to Douglas J for the patron support!
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While the New York Hall of Science became the focus of attention, one of the most prominent locations regarding the entire event remained unchecked. With another growl of rev from her bike, the biker turned left and came to a squeaking stop of her tires. Taking off the helmet and revealing her long red hair alongside a pretty face, Natasha hung the helmet on her bike's handle before walking towards the entrance of Osborn Corporation. A skyscr.a.p.er with a hidden wealth of knowledge and technology. Clearing herself from the entrance security, Natasha looked around while casually walking to the escalator leading to the second floor. Despite Norman's absence, the place ran as usual. The company had its own line of responsibility and accountability that didn't involve Norman on a daily basis. The company's headquarters itself contained a research center alongside the section for commercial employees.
”Hi, I am looking for Harry Osborn,” Natasha smiled at the receptionist of the first floor, ”He called me saying that he urgently requires me... assistance,” Natasha uttered, making the dull receptionist who had already lost her drive for the job sigh. ”Harry Osborn doesn't work here.” Frowning at her words, Natasha tilted her head in confusion and shuffled a picture out of her back pocket, causing quite a few men to glance at her direction, ”Um, he doesn't work here? He said that he'll be present in these hours.” Natasha said while placing the picture face-front on the counter, inducing the receptionist to tilt the picture slightly and instantly put it back with a blank expression.
”You mean Norman Osborn?” The receptionist inquired to confirm as Natasha shrugged. ”I am told that he is Harry. How would you expect someone like me to know all the names, eh? In fact, the man asked for a special service with conditions that he is not to be pointed out publicly. So... can you call him?”
”Oh, no way, sweetheart,” The receptionist gave Natasha a spiteful smirk, ”I ain't losing job for a booty call this early in the day. Tell you what, I'll contact the P.A. Just go to the thirteenth floor. The entire place is Mr. Osborn's office.”
”Aw, thank you,” Natasha smiled and took the photograph with her, seductively pushing it back into her pocket while winking at a nearby researcher who was making his way in the opposite direction. Once the woman entered the elevator, she took out a small chip with one side sticky. An encrypted bug. Which she instantly placed against the circuit board of the elevator, letting the S.H.I.E.L.D tech do its job. Finally, after she reached the thirteenth floor, she found a beautiful woman dressed in formals waiting for her. ”You must be the 'service'.” The woman commented softly, ”Please wait. I have already sent a message to Mr. Osborn—”
Before she could complete, the red blink of the security camera behind her went off, pulling Natasha into action as the redhead instantly jumped and straddled the secretary's face with her thighs and twisted her waist to being the blond woman down with a muffled yelp before a punch to her face silenced her. ”Huff,” standing up, Natasha walked towards the interior of the office. The personal space of Osborn wouldn't be littered with bodyguards is there wasn't Norman in the first place which made Natasha's job quite easy. Within a few moments, she reached the heart of the office where the decor wasn't a lavish collection but personal items. Pictures, collectibles, and other items of emotional importance.
”Okay...” Muttering to herself, Natasha let her eyes take the entire view of the office. The furniture structured by the finest quality of wood. A self-portrait hanging to the right for guests to see. A monitor in the center of the table and a set of sofas and an ornate table to the left corner aside from the two chairs present to the opposite of the master seat that faced the monitor. ”Right... so, hidden compartments it is.” Natasha walked towards the portrait while letting her fingers run through the wall itself, trying to find any discrepancies. Tilting the portrait in various directions and then removing it failed to bring any change. Shifting her focus, Natasha walks up to the monitor and attaches a flash drive to one of the ports present on the system as the background of the monitor slides open to reveal a background function already working.
Instantly, a window popped open. A video feedback featuring Norman Osborn looking directly into the webcam installed while snarling grimly. ”I've had enough people snooping around. I just wanted to break my family's curse but no. All of you with your selfish agendas. I am coming for all of you. Should I survive, the end of your lives would begin.” As the video disappeared, the entire system crashed, making Natasha groan in frustration as she took her flash drive back and took out a tiny communicator with a single function to contact a certain individual and receive the information from that very individual himself.
”Director,” Natasha sighed as the Nick picked up from the other side of the line, ”Norman knew about us spying on him. He just went hail mary on his entire research. Somebody must have tipped him off. I'll try to salvage anything from the main system.”
”You do that. We don't want other departments to know of our involvement so keep it discreet. With S.I.N's failure, many old wounds are being opened as we speak.”
”I'll keep that in mind. Discreet.” Natasha smiled and hung up before looking at the picture present on the table. It was a young Norman alongside his father but gazing at the picture carefully, Natasha furrowed her brows and decided to take the picture with herself, leaving the empty frame behind. ”Now, let's discreetly have some fun~!” Natasha snickered, walking out of the office while letting her butt sway in a hypnotic swing.
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”You do that. We don't want other departments to know of our involvement so keep it discreet. With S.I.N's failure, many old wounds are being opened as we speak.” As Natasha hung the call, a chuckle interrupted Nick Fury's train of thought. ”Am I an old wound now?” Turning his head, Nick Fury gazed at Steve Rogers eyes and shook his head, ”More like a savior, but still an old one.” Meanwhile, packing his duffle bag. ”I am no savior. Just a soldier who needs adapting to his home after a war. Still, take care of yourself, Nick.”
”Think carefully, Captain”