The talkative raven in the world of American comics

Chapter 31: A Short Interlude

"Mr. Toms."

The little old man with a hooked nose was sitting on the public sofa area in the lobby. Upon hearing the sound, he immediately picked up the paper cup on the table and jogged over to the person who spoke.

"How is it?"

Toms didn't seem to mind that his assistant was several generations younger than him; he wore a fawning expression on his face.

"Did you ask? Norman... I mean, what did Mr. Osborn say? Isn't this technology very promising?!"

After he finished speaking, Toms noticed that the young assistant's throat moved, indicating that he was about to speak.

So he handed over the paper cup he was holding, "Have some coffee, I just got it from the vending machine over there."

The young assistant frowned and took two steps back, but the old man didn't care about appearances at all and took two more steps forward.

"..."

"So what do you think of my design?" Toms stared intently at him, his eyes shining.

The young assistant sighed and pushed away the paper cup in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tooms," he said, "your magnetic levitation design... is not perfect in the eyes of the Osborn Corporation."

boo.

The paper cup was instantly crushed.

The coffee inside spilled onto the young assistant's expensive suit.

Toms roared, "Not perfect?! I've been researching this field for fifty-six years! You're telling me it's not perfect?! Who has the right to say my design is imperfect?! You?! You snot-nosed brat!"

The young assistant was startled by the old man's ability to change his expression so quickly.

Toms grabbed his collar: "Where are my design drawings?! You said my design was flawed, you should at least give me back the drawings!?"

"Where are the blueprints?!"

"The blueprints belong to the Osborn Group, Toms."

A voice with the air of a superior came over.

Toms turned his head to look.

His slicked-back hair was shiny, he wore an exquisite and expensive suit, and exuded an air of composure.

It was Norman Osborn.

Norman waved his hand, signaling his assistant to step back, and said he would talk to the troublemaker himself.

"Give me back my blueprints, Norman!"

Tooems didn't bother to show any respect and went straight to the point.

"Yours?" Norman scoffed. "Your magnetic levitation technology is indeed impressive, but your blueprints... are suspected of plagiarism."

"Plagiarism?! Your Osborn Group's flight technology is worth me copying?!"

For this technological research, Toms has gone from youth to middle age, and from middle age into the approaching old age.

No one understands this flying technology better than him.

Nobody's here!

He has been researching for so many years just to show the world his results, and now he is suddenly accused of plagiarism?

He Tums disdained to do such a thing!

"In fact, the group began research on flight technology many years ago, Toms."

"Bullshit! Your research is dog shit! Pure dog shit! The smelliest and longest dog shit in the world!"

Toms' eyes lit up, as if he had realized something, and then he said:

"I see!"

"You're trying to steal my research! Give me back the blueprints!"

Toms tried to grab the other person by the collar, just like before, but this time he picked the wrong person.

Seeing the potential danger to the company's CEO, several tall bodyguards stood in front of Norman Osborn, blocking Toms's advance.

Norman tapped his bodyguard on the shoulder with a finger, and the bodyguard immediately made way for Norman to see Toms.

"Your remarks are very dangerous, Mr. Tooms."

Norman stepped forward and looked down at the little old man.

"It's dangerous and unbearable, listen up, you little bald guy."

Norman placed his hand on Toms' head, but Toms slapped it away. The next second, Toms was restrained by a group of burly men.

He chuckled as he rubbed his wrists, "You've been researching this field for decades, but you've achieved nothing so far, and you even need me to provide you with opportunities to showcase your talents."

"Osborn Corporation stole your research? That's the funniest joke I've ever heard."

"When you were young, you didn't have any noteworthy research achievements. Who would believe that you, almost an old man, could invent flight technology?"

After saying that, Norman waved his finger and ordered, "Now, kick this guy out of the company. He reeks of sourness."

"Norman Osborn!!!"

With his arms held up, Toms was lifted into the air as if by some kind of flying technology, letting out a bloodcurdling scream.

Toms swung his legs back and forth in mid-air. "You just wait! Osborne, you'll get what's coming to you!"

Norman simply chuckled and didn't seem to care.

He only prepared to leave after Toms was out of sight. The other party's blueprints could be handed over to the R&D department, which would definitely improve the group's flight technology.

Just as he took a step, he heard hurried footsteps behind him, followed by a sound.

"dad!"

Norman turned around, glanced at his son, and frowned slightly.

"I've told you many times, Harry, as a member of the Osborn family, you need to have a calm and composed demeanor."

Harry, who looked rather thin, pursed his lips. "I'm sorry, Dad..."

"Speak up, what's wrong? Running out of money again? What have I been teaching you—"

"No, no, I have enough money, there's plenty more."

Harry immediately interrupted his father's lecture.

However, he began to stutter when he spoke, largely because he was afraid of the man in front of him.

"I'm thinking...maybe I don't need to transfer schools...you know, I just made a really good friend...I think maybe..."

Snapped!

Norman slapped his son hard across the face.

Harry covered his face, tears welling up instantly.

Norman snapped, "Look at yourself! Cowardly, timid, like a pathetic little dog. Have you forgotten what family you belong to?"

Harry whispered back, "Osborn."

Norman simply couldn't bear to see his son look like this; he was nothing like him!

He took a deep breath, and just as he was about to say something, he suddenly coughed.

"Cough cough—"

Seeing this, Harry quickly went to help him up, but Norman blocked him with his hand.

"unnecessary."

"I'm sorry, I was just worried about you..."

After coughing for a while, Norman felt refreshed. He believed that it must have been Toms's fault that caused the poor air quality here.

Listen, child.

Norman's tone softened a bit; after all, he was still his son.

He said, "Osborne is cursed. If you want to break the curse, you have to grow up instead of acting like a crying baby."

"Loneliness is the norm for us; it constantly reminds us of our identity."

"Those other bonds are superfluous for us."

"Do you understand?"

Harry wanted to say he didn't understand, and that if he hadn't met that friend, he might have continued to believe this.

Under his father's authority, Harry ultimately couldn't utter a single word of rebuttal, only managing a brief, simple sentence.

"I see."