章 65: The Olive Branch
GR-27 was originally developed in Osborn Pharmaceuticals' lab to treat genetic defects in the human body. Burdened by his family's hereditary disease, Norman Osborn invested heavily in this drug and held great expectations for its success.
However, whether due to technical issues or some other unforeseen reasons, GR-27, before reaching clinical trials, mistakenly targeted the immune system of the test subjects—lab mice. The so-called "modification" led to the death of all forty test mice within seven days, without exception.
This catastrophic outcome was the reason GR-27 was sealed away, earning its ominous nickname, Devil's Breath.
Olivia Octavius had calculated that the GR-27 she had stolen was potent enough to spread throughout New York in minutes, carried by the city's night winds to every corner. Yet here she stood, atop the Osborn Tower, waiting like a fool for death to take her.
Half an hour had passed, and she found herself leaning against the wall of the rooftop, her expression growing complicated. What had gone wrong? What detail had she overlooked? She clenched her fists, a look of sorrow flickering across her face.
But then, Olivia noticed something odd—her body, which had been ravaged by ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis), now felt... normal. She, who had struggled to even hold the vial of GR-27, could now move her limbs as easily as a healthy person.
Yes, she was moving freely—no longer bound by the debilitating effects of her disease. But that, in itself, was the problem. ALS was supposed to be irreversible, so why could she move as though she were healthy?
Staring in disbelief at her hands, Olivia's gaze shifted toward the shattered vial of GR-27 discarded nearby. Could it be that, without her knowing, Morgan Michaels had completed GR-27?
Given the current situation, there seemed to be only one answer: Devil's Breath had been perfected.
Not only had it spared her life, but it had also cured her ALS at the genetic level. That explained why there had been no immediate effect—GR-27 was no longer a killer, but a savior.
What Olivia didn't know was the status of GR-27 when she stole it. She had simply snatched it from the Silver Sable International's armored transport without hesitation.
Wait. The armored transport... That's when it hit her—what detail had she overlooked?
She had hacked into Silver Sable International's internal network to track the transport's route. Without that, she would never have found the vehicle and stolen GR-27. But what she hadn't considered was: Where was that transport headed?
Her gaze slowly drifted toward the distance, past towering skyscrapers, until it settled on a familiar landmark—the Stark Tower, a beacon in the heart of Manhattan.
GR-27 was being delivered to Stark Industries. And what did that mean? The answer became clear.
If the woman at Stark Industries had interfered, then it wasn't surprising that GR-27 had been perfected.
Anthonia Natasha Stark. The name was not unfamiliar to Olivia Octavius. It was this very woman who had gotten her removed from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Project Pegasus.
As that realization sank in, Olivia's face darkened, her expression becoming unstable.
The situation she found herself in—the hatred and suffering—was all tied to Stark.
A flicker of madness shone in her eyes, and her face twisted into a snarl. In an instant, she activated her mechanical arms and left the rooftop of Osborn Tower, heading straight for Manhattan's city center.
Meanwhile, back at Stark Tower, Anthonia Natasha Stark had no idea that a dangerous woman was now targeting her. Nor did she know just how many people harbored grudges against her.
At this moment, Stark had returned to her luxurious penthouse at the top of Stark Tower. Dressed in a white flannel bathrobe, she gently dried her long hair, which was still wet from the rain.
It had started pouring on her way back, which was why she had decided to take a hot shower upon returning.
"Jarvis, get in touch with the management at FedEx for me. I'll make time for a visit," she said casually.
"Yes, Miss. I'll contact them right away—oh, wait, no. This isn't good."
Before Jarvis could finish, his tone suddenly changed, sounding uncharacteristically frantic.
"Jarvis—my dear, what's going on? What happened?" Stark paused, her brow furrowing.
It was rare for Jarvis to exhibit such a panicked response, especially since he technically didn't have emotions. Still, she could sense a note of urgency in his voice.
"Miss, you need to evacuate immediately. There's an intruder. My sensors have been hacked."
If Jarvis hadn't hacked into the nearby building's surveillance systems, they wouldn't have noticed the intruder until it was too late. All of Stark Tower's sensors had suddenly gone dead, as if disabled by some external force.
On one of the exterior walls of the building, a figure was rapidly scaling the structure.
"What the f— Wait, how did this octopus woman find me?!" Stark cursed under her breath as she saw the projected screen light up, revealing a figure climbing the wall in the pouring rain.
The glass windows of her penthouse shattered with a deafening crash, shards scattering like snowflakes. The reinforced glass couldn't withstand the massive mechanical claws, which tore through concrete as well.
Stark watched as a rain-soaked figure in a white lab coat burst into her penthouse. It was Olivia Octavius, drenched and bedraggled, standing before her.
"This is all because of you—why did you have to stand in our way?"
"He should have been punished. I wanted to reveal his ugliest side to the world!"
Stark could clearly see the madness hidden beneath Olivia's twisted expression.
"You need to learn to let go of your hatred. Revenge isn't wrong, but you can't let it consume you."
From Nick Fury's story, Stark understood that this woman had been an innocent person, inadvertently hurt by her actions.
It was her mistake that had driven Olivia down a dark, antisocial path.
Fine, maybe taking the Tesseract from S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't exactly a mistake on her part. But still, it had been a thoughtless act, and Stark wasn't one to shy away from taking responsibility.
There's a universal truth—some mistakes can be forgiven, but others cannot.
For those mistakes that can be forgiven, there are ways to make amends.
Stark had made a mistake, and she was determined to fix it.
"Let go of my hatred? That's easy for you to say!" Olivia's voice was full of derision. "You, standing at the top, how could you ever understand what people like me have gone through?"
Her face twisted in mockery. She hadn't been born into wealth and privilege. Everything she had, she had fought for herself.
They were both geniuses, yet why was Stark the one standing above everyone else, solving problems with ease?
"You think I don't understand? You think I don't get it?!" Stark's voice rose sharply.
She kicked over the sofa that stood between them and strode forward.
Even Olivia was momentarily taken aback by Stark's sudden outburst.
"Olivia, no matter what you think, there's no reason for us to be enemies."
"Instead of fighting, I'd rather make a deal with you."
Perhaps it was Stark's boldness, or maybe it was the automated sentry guns hidden in the walls that Olivia had noticed—but she decided to listen.
"Let's make a deal. I'll cure your disease. In return, you come work for me."
"Whatever you need—research funding, or anything else—I can provide it."
Stark had learned that Olivia Octavius was Peter Parker's mentor, which meant they were more connected than either of them realized.
So Stark made a decision—she would recruit Olivia to her side.
She knew Peter Parker couldn't bear the thought of his mentor becoming a villain. And as Peter's self-appointed mentor in life, Stark felt it was her duty to step in.
Even if it meant paying a higher price, it was worth it.
"Even if you want to string up Norman Osborn and beat him, I won't stop you," Stark added with a nonchalant expression.
...
The sun had risen by dawn, piercing the night and illuminating every street and alley of New York City.
Miss Stark finally dragged her sleep-deprived body back to the warmth of her bed in her penthouse atop Stark Tower.
Workers had already begun repairing the shattered glass and claw marks left by Olivia Octavius' mechanical arms from the previous night's intrusion. Wrapped in her blanket, Stark gazed blankly at the sunrise through her floor-to-ceiling windows, her mind gradually emptying.
Yes, she had successfully signed a top physicist to her team as an investment for the future. But in exchange, she had spent a hefty amount soothing the somewhat obsessive Dr. Olivia Octavius.
She had not only taken over Olivia's tech lab but also bought out her research team at Oscorp Industries. While Stark Industries had formed a strategic alliance with Oscorp, proper business dealings could not be bypassed. This meant pulling several disaster management executives from their beds to handle the overnight accounting work.
Still, Stark believed the investment was worth it.
First, Dr. Olivia Octavius was undeniably a genius, possessing cutting-edge technology. Her misfortune stemmed from not having a proper investor who recognized her value. Stark, sympathizing with Olivia, willingly took on the role of an angel investor.
Of course, the main reason Stark could afford such largesse was because she was rich—what's the point of making money if not to spend it, after all?
On the other hand, Olivia was Peter Parker's mentor, the one who guided him on his path. For this reason, Stark felt obligated to extend a helping hand and couldn't stand idly by.
She provided Olivia with a dose of Extremis, along with research funding. Stark knew the capabilities of GR-27 better than anyone—except for its creator, Dr. Morgan Michaels. GR-27 could only suppress Olivia's ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis), at best delaying its progression. To fully cure the disease, Olivia needed the powerful regenerative treatment offered by the Extremis virus.
By the time Stark returned to Manhattan, the sun had already risen. Technically, with Extremis coursing through her, she no longer needed sleep like a regular human. Her so-called "rest" served as a reminder of her humanity.
For someone in her position, pulling all-nighters was a thing of the past—there were always people who could take over her tasks. Still, it was early morning now, and lying in bed, she found herself experiencing a rare bout of insomnia.
But soon enough, Jarvis's voice broke through the peaceful morning.
"Miss, there's an issue that requires your attention."
"What is it, Jarvis? If it's not something important, don't bother me," Stark replied weakly, cocooned in her blankets.
She genuinely felt mentally exhausted, mostly due to the recent whirlwind of events. From the appearance of the Inner Demons wreaking havoc in New York, to S.H.I.E.L.D. stepping in to restore order; from establishing the Disaster Control Company to the sudden arrival of Octavius—all had unfolded too quickly.
"Miss, Thanksgiving is approaching. Do you have any plans?" Jarvis reminded her.
If Jarvis hadn't brought it up, Stark wouldn't have realized it was already November. Autumn—no, winter was near, and the weather in New York was growing cold.
Perhaps due to Extremis, or maybe the advanced clothing she wore, Stark hadn't noticed the temperature dropping. Upon reflection, half a year had passed, and so much had happened that she hadn't had time to process it all.
"You're right. Thanksgiving is almost here. What did we usually do?" Stark asked, glancing at the clock on her bedside table as she lazily turned over.
"Normally, you would host a party at home, inviting a large group of people. Should I start contacting them for you?" Jarvis responded after a brief pause, ready to summon a party to the penthouse at a moment's notice.
"I've said it before, we're leaving the old me behind and stepping into a new life. So maybe we should try something different for Thanksgiving this year..."
She paused, a playful smile crossing her lips as an idea came to her.
"I recall... isn't Martin Li's estate currently up for auction by the New York City government?"
"Yes, Miss. It's listed on the city's illegal asset sales website."
"Buy the homeless shelter for me."
"The transaction is complete, Miss. The shelter now belongs to you."
"May I ask why you purchased it?" Jarvis, ever the dutiful assistant, asked after completing the purchase.
Since ancient times, the Stark family had held the proud tradition of "buy first, ask later," and Jarvis knew this well. Or perhaps, Stark's wealth had simply reached the point where she could purchase anything without a second thought.
"Oh, nothing major. I just want to build up my image as a charitable entrepreneur," Stark replied nonchalantly.
"Or perhaps use charity events and donation accounts as a tax shelter, Miss?" Jarvis quipped.
"Oh, Jarvis, you're getting sharper every day, my dear."
Judicial auctions are a legal means by which courts or governments sell off bad assets. When Martin Li, aka Mr. Negative, was captured by S.H.I.E.L.D., all his assets were marked as bad and seized by the city. There was no need for a court trial—his possessions were directly handed over to the New York City government.
The funds used to buy the Feast Homeless Shelter were drawn from Stark's private account. When the staff at the city's illegal asset sales website saw the transaction, they were initially stunned.
Not because of Stark's identity—they were accustomed to that—but at the size of the early morning transaction. Stark had been a regular customer on their site, purchasing several facilities over time, primarily because bad assets were cheaper than market value.
As such, her name was well-known to the staff—she was a top-tier, VVIP customer with a clean record and transparent finances.
The transaction was swift, and within moments, the shelter was under Stark's ownership.
By around 9:30 AM, a black Audi pulled up in front of the Feast Homeless Shelter.
"So, you dragged me away from my work to bring me here for what exactly?" asked the woman who stepped out of the car, her white coat gleaming in the morning light as she glanced at the shelter's sign with confusion.
"Oh, nothing much. Just introducing you to a few people—after all, Thanksgiving is approaching," replied Stark with a smile as she casually shut the car door.
Dressed in a sharp green business suit, she led Dr. Olivia Octavius into the shelter, which had once belonged to Martin Li.
The shelter was a repurposed old gymnasium, bought by Martin and converted into a place for the homeless. Its hardwood floors and walls plastered with athlete posters still retained traces of its former life as a sports facility.
Upon entering, Stark immediately felt the weight of numerous gazes directed at her from all sides.
The homeless people in their ragged clothes, though relatively clean, carried a look of hopelessness in their eyes. They were of all shapes, sizes, and ages—some lying on makeshift beds, others gathered in small groups—but all turned to watch.
In truth, homelessness is a severe issue in America, deeply tied to the capitalist ethos of profit over people. Many of these individuals had once had respectable jobs and families, until unforeseen events upended their lives entirely.
Veterans suffering from PTSD, bankrupt middle-class citizens evading debt, or addicts from society's underbelly—they were all trapped in a vicious cycle where the poor became poorer, and the rich became richer. Without a home, even basic sustenance was a daily struggle. And without an address, finding employment was nearly impossible.
This self-perpetuating, distorted system left them no chance to climb back up.
To his credit, Martin Li had put great effort into his charity work. The shelter provided food, medical care, and housing, helping some of these unfortunate souls reintegrate into society.
Despite his secret life as the mastermind behind the Inner Demons, there was little Stark could say against Martin's visible contributions.
As the two women, whose attire and demeanor clashed sharply with their surroundings, walked further into the shelter, all eyes remained on them. But Stark didn't sense hostility from the gazes that followed them—only emptiness.
The lifeless stares made Stark instinctively shrink into herself. She began to wonder if buying the shelter had truly been a wise investment.
She was no stranger to the battlefield. She had felt the malice, hatred, and fear of enemies. But these people, these long-homeless souls, had eyes that were disturbingly vacant.
Leading Dr. Octavius, Stark pressed on until they reached the center of the gym, where the oppressive feeling from those gazes finally lifted.
In the heart of the gym, which had been converted into a massive dormitory filled with beds and homeless people, Stark spotted Peter Parker working in the kitchen. Beside him, she noticed two elderly figures—Benjamin Parker and May Parker, Peter's beloved uncle and aunt, his only remaining family.
Stark had crossed paths with Uncle Ben before, like the time she had saved him from a gunman.
"Good morning, Peter—and it's a pleasure to see you, Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker," Stark said, ignoring Peter's stunned expression as she approached to greet Uncle Ben and Aunt May.
"Oh, my God! Miss Stark! Dr. Octavius! What are you two doing here?!" Peter exclaimed, his bright mind struggling to process the unexpected sight before him.
He clearly remembered Olivia's madness during the incident at Ryker's Island, and now, here she was, standing before him in a completely different light. He couldn't quite wrap his head around why these two women were together, acting so familiar with each other.
"Go on and talk to him. He's your intern, after all, so you should handle this," Stark said, nudging Dr. Octavius toward Peter with a grin.
"In fact, I'm now working for this young lady. She gave me a very large laboratory," Olivia began, her expression a mix of awkwardness as she looked at her former student.
"But it's obvious that running it alone is a bit... much for me."
As she spoke, Stark couldn't help but smile at the scene, watching Olivia struggle to broach the topic with Peter.
"It's been a while, Mr. Parker. You're looking well. How have you been?" Stark turned her attention to Uncle Ben, greeting him warmly.
"Miss Stark, thank you so much for all you've done for Peter," Uncle Ben replied with a kind smile.
"No, he's a good kid, worthy of the investment I've made in him."
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