The search hit a dead end.
Despite digging through every database and open-source archive he could access, Nathan couldn't find anything concrete about the true identity of the force behind the Essex Group.
All he uncovered were vague descriptions — that Essex was a global biotech conglomerate with vast influence across multiple industries, including agriculture, pharmaceuticals, and genetically modified organisms. On the surface, it looked like a company selling nutrient supplements and gene therapy. But that was only the public face.
In all the digital files, public listings, and even deep web chatter — there was no mention of a controlling entity.
"Too clean," Nathan muttered. "Too carefully hidden."
Even in the X-Men films, Essex remained a mystery. Aside from knowing that Dr. Les was involved, there were no confirmed identities for the mastermind orchestrating the extermination of mutants or the resurrection of the Weapon X Program.
What Nathan did know, however, was that Dr. Les wasn't the root.
Les was just another tool. A high-functioning lab rat.
The real architect had to be someone far more dangerous — someone who could mobilize an army of mercenaries, fund vast underground labs, influence governments, and manipulate supply chains to systematically weaken mutants through food and medicine.
Someone with both power and vision.
"Whoever's behind Essex," Nathan murmured, "is playing a long game."
And by stealing X-24, Nathan had just stepped into the ring with them.
They didn't know his name yet.
But they would.
He was sure of that.
And when they found out who had ruined their plans, the retaliation would come — swift and ruthless.
Nathan gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He had to be ready.
Which meant gathering intel, building resources, and understanding the enemy before the enemy understood him.
---
The car jolted as it hit a pothole on the cracked asphalt.
Bang!
The whole vehicle rattled, causing the contents of the trunk to shift violently.
Something banged hard against the metal interior.
Nathan didn't even flinch.
"It's nothing," he said aloud. "Just a pothole."
From inside the trunk, a paralyzed X-24 twitched faintly, the only response possible.
A spark of muted fury flickered in the clone's glazed eyes.
---
Nathan's destination was clear now — New York City.
Not just because it was a dense metropolis with a thousand shadows to hide in. But because it was a place of resources, connections, and access.
In a city like New York, one could buy anything — identities, weapons, information, protection — for the right price.
Nathan needed all of the above.
His first priority: acquire a fake identity. Without one, he couldn't rent a place, purchase lab equipment, or even legally drive a car.
He needed to blend in before he could dig deeper.
And secondly, he had to set up a new lab — a secure location to begin his real work: decoding the self-healing factor inside X-24.
It wasn't just about experimenting. It was about evolution.
If he could adapt that healing ability into a stable serum, it would revolutionize everything — medicine, warfare, human biology itself.
But to do that, he needed more than drive and ambition.
He needed tools. Equipment. Money.
---
Buzz.
Nathan's phone vibrated as he checked the latest response to his email — sent earlier to an old contact: Klaus, an arms dealer and tech smuggler who owed Nathan more than a few favors.
The reply came in just in time.
> "Brother, I've got you covered.
There's a safe house in Hell's Kitchen — 314 Lanning Avenue.
It has a complete lab setup, advanced computing equipment, and even a biometric vault.
Inside the safe, you'll find $20 million in cash. Use it however you need.
Consider the lab and the cash an investment — not a loan."
> "When you arrive, message me, and I'll send the access code."
> "As for a fake ID — you're asking the right guy. Go to 23 Black Duck Street, Queens.
There's a man there who creates government-level identities — forged, clean, and already uploaded to the system.
Costs $50,000, but you'll walk out with a new legal existence."
Nathan blinked at the screen, stunned.
"Klaus… you magnificent bastard," he whispered. "You just solved all my problems at once."
Safe house, money, lab, ID provider — all secured.
Now he could operate in the open again.
Now he could begin building.
---
As the car approached the outer boroughs of New York, Nathan's eyes caught another piece of breaking news on his phone — this time, about a familiar name:
Osborn Corporation.
He tapped into the article.
> "Due to the catastrophic failure of Norman Osborn's latest biotech venture — the 'Goblin Serum Project' — the Osborn Corporation's stocks have plummeted.
Osborn's contract with the military has been officially terminated.
Following a board vote this morning, Norman Osborn has been removed as CEO.
The company will enter emergency restructuring."
Nathan tilted his head.
"Norman Osborn… now that's interesting."
Osborn's public image was that of a visionary, a philanthropist.
But behind closed doors, he was rumored to be a manipulative, dangerous megalomaniac.
Nathan didn't know whether he had already become the Green Goblin, or if he was about to — but either way, it didn't matter.
What did matter was the Osborn Corporation.
Despite its failing stocks, OsCorp still possessed cutting-edge biotech patents, military-grade labs, and most importantly — the genetically modified spiders that had once led to the rise of Peter Parker, the Amazing Spider-Man.
That spider bite wasn't an accident.
It was a product of Osborn's deep experimentation into genetic enhancement.
Nathan's mind began to race with ideas.
If he could gain access to OsCorp's tech — or its archives — he could accelerate his own project tenfold.
Buy low. Dig deep.
Maybe even weaponize some of Osborn's work before someone else did.
---
Back at Essex headquarters…
Far below the surface, inside a hidden underground laboratory bathed in dim, clinical light, a different kind of conversation was unfolding.
A handful of top executives stood outside a thick security door, their backs straight, expressions tight.
Inside the room, a figure cloaked in shadow sat motionless.
His face was obscured, but his voice was cold, crisp, and merciless.
"You failed. You lost X-24. A project worth billions."
No one dared respond.
The figure raised a gloved hand and pointed a finger. "Find Steve Rogers. Retrieve our asset. I don't care how."
"Yes, sir!" the executives answered in unison and scurried out of the lab.
The door closed behind them with a hiss.
Silence returned to the darkness.
The mysterious figure leaned back in his chair, alone with his calculations.
He wasn't Essex.
He was something far worse.
---
On the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen, Nathan pulled up to a narrow street flanked by rusted fire escapes and flickering neon signs.
314 Lanning Avenue. The safe house.
He got out of the car, removed the paralyzed clone from the trunk, and carried him discreetly through the back entrance of the building.
The interior was clean, high-tech, and secure.
Just as Klaus promised.
He found the safe behind a false panel in the wall, entered the verification code Klaus sent him, and opened it.
Twenty million dollars stared back at him.
It was time to begin.
___________________________________
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