Marvel: The Enlightened One#112+113: Harry, in Search of the Spider-Serum—The Scent of Hell at a Funeral

Hawk stood at the edge of the Times Square building’s rooftop, his hands in his pockets, and spoke calmly as he looked at Spider-Man.

Peter figured Hawk was just showing off.

But—

On second thought, he immediately understood the real reason Hawk had intervened.

And it wasn’t just Peter.

Later, after Peter and Mary Jane had reunited and headed for the subway, Hawk was driving Gwen home when she, too, figured out why he had suddenly decided to get involved.

Gwen glanced over at him, a curious look in her eyes.

“If it hadn’t happened in Times Square, would you still have done something?”

“...”

Hawk met her gaze, gave the question some serious thought, then laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The only reason he had acted was because it was Times Square.

It was the single most unforgettable place from his memories of this life.

Bar none.

Because here, on September 10th, 2009, he had lost his sister, Anya—the girl he had grown up with, the girl who, despite her congenital heart condition, had been brilliant and sweet and wonderful.

Electro’s appearance in Times Square, regardless of the reason, was an act of desecration.

He was pouring salt on an open wound.

Times Square would not be the site of another tragedy. Not on his watch.

And so, Electro died.

There was no other reason. He had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That was all.

...

The next day.

As expected, the story of Spider-Man’s battle with Electro in Times Square was once again front-page news.

The Daily Bugle, in particular, ran a stunning 4K, high-definition photograph.

Hawk stared at the picture of Spider-Man, contorted in an acrobatic mid-air maneuver, then looked up at Gwen. “I don’t know how good Peter’s photography skills are, but his selfie game is getting better and better.”

Gwen, who had been rinsing the sink, released the retractable faucet and let it snap back into place. She walked over to the kitchen island and glanced at the newspaper in Hawk’s hands. “That one earned him a five-hundred-dollar bonus from Scrooge.”

Everyone knew the owner of the Daily Bugle was a modern-day Scrooge.

Hawk drew in a sharp breath. “Five hundred? Seriously? What got into him?”

“That’s what Mary Jane said.”

Gwen shrugged, then remembered her earlier call with MJ and told Hawk with an amused expression, “Speaking of which, Peter let Mary Jane down again.”

Hawk raised an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

“Peter said that with Spider-Man back in the headlines, he needed to get out there and take more pictures. Said he wanted to, and I quote—‘squeeze a few more bucks out of Scrooge.’”

“...”

After a moment’s thought, Hawk laughed and put the paper down. “His Uncle Ben is gone. It’s just him and his Aunt May now, and the property taxes on that house are no joke. He’s probably just trying to help her out. Besides, Peter’s not like me.”

Hearing this, Gwen leaned her hands on the island and smiled at Hawk.

“How is he different?”

“He’s a genuinely good person.”

Hawk drained the hot chocolate Gwen had brought from home and looked at her. “Anyone else with Peter’s abilities would have been financially independent by now.”

Gwen blinked, watching him. “So that’s why you offered to pay for his trip to London?”

Hawk just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m financially independent now.”

“Hawk...”

“Yeah?”

“You’re very kind.”

Gwen’s gaze was direct, unwavering.

Hawk met her eyes.

The next second, Gwen smiled, clapped her hands together. “Alright, Mr. Kindness, finish cleaning up breakfast and get out to the backyard. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

She had grown up in an apartment, but she’d always had a dream.

That after she got married, her home would have a backyard, filled with flowers she had planted and cared for herself.

And now—

It seemed her dream had come true a little early.

A little while later, Hawk slid open the glass door and stepped onto the back porch. He looked over at Gwen, who was already holding a small trowel. “I don’t think I can help you with that.”

Gwen turned. “What’s wrong?”

Hawk shrugged. “Harry just called. He invited me to his estate, asked if I had time.”

“Harry?” Gwen was surprised, her expression curious. “He has free time now?”

Ever since Norman Osborn had died, Harry had been completely swamped with Oscorp business—so busy he’d even missed prom a few days ago.

He hadn’t even had time to attend graduation yesterday.

“Are you and Harry that close?”

“We’re alright.”

“Well, then you should go.”

“You’re not coming?”

“No.”

Gwen shook her head, her eyes scanning the yard. “I’m going to stay here and work on a design for the garden. I’ll make a 3D model on my computer. You’re going to love it.”

“If you’re the one doing it, I’ll love it no matter what.” Hawk replied, then said to Gwen, “Alright, I’m heading out”

Gwen waved him off.

Hawk smiled, turned, and left the backyard, heading for the garage.

He didn’t really want to go to the Osborn estate.

But if he had to choose between yard work and the Osborn estate, he’d take the Osborn estate.

...

Two hours later.

The Osborn Estate.

Just as Hawk drove up to the main gate, he saw a familiar face standing just inside.

“Peter?”

“Hawk.”

Peter, who had been about to walk up to the house, saw the Audi A8 approach. His eyes lit up, and he walked over, opening the passenger door and getting in.

Peter was surprised.

“What are you doing here?”

“Harry called and invited me.” Hawk said, then, as if realizing something, he glanced at Peter as he drove onto the estate grounds. “Did he call you too?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, this morning.”

Hearing that, Peter seemed to put two and two together and glanced back at Hawk.

Hawk smiled.

As the main house of the Osborn estate came into view, he already had a good idea of what was going on.

Sure enough, after a brief, awkward greeting, Harry led them into a private study and played a video file from the Oscorp archives—a video about the original spider-serum.

But—

He was still confused.

Hawk watched the video, already knowing what Harry was going to say next. But he didn’t understand why Harry had invited him.

Harry needed Spider-Man. Peter was all he needed for that.

It was a well-known secret in the media world that the Daily Bugle’s Peter Parker had an exclusive deal for photos of Spider-Man. He obviously had a way to contact him.

But him? What did he have to do with it?

Until—

Harry handed him a photograph. Hawk took it.

Peter leaned in to look.

It was a picture of the two of them, standing on the edge of the rooftop in Times Square, just before the fight with Electro.

Hawk raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry.

“You’re having me followed.”

“No.”

Harry sat down on a nearby sofa and shook his head. “I hired a private investigator to follow Spider-Man. I was trying to find out who he really is.”

Hawk nodded and handed the photo to Peter.

Peter stared at it, then looked at Harry. “Harry, why are you looking for Spider-Man?”

Harry didn’t hesitate. “The Osborns have a genetic disease. My father had it, and now, so do I. Spider-Man… his blood… it might be the only thing that can cure me. So, I’m asking you both. Tell me who he is, or give me a way to contact him.”

Peter opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Hawk cut in.

“We just happened to be in the same place at the same time last night. That’s all. If you want to get in touch with Spider-Man, you should talk to Peter. He’s his personal photographer.”

He had no interest in getting involved.

This was between Peter and Harry.

After speaking, Hawk got up from the sofa and began to wander around the estate’s living room.

He thought he smelled something… familiar. Something almost chemical.

But he couldn’t quite place it.

He walked toward a connecting room, following the faint scent.

Harry, seeing him leave, turned his full attention to Peter.

“Peter?”

“Harry…”

Peter met his friend’s desperate gaze. “I… I’ll send him a message. I’ll ask him to meet with you.”

A brilliant, relieved smile spread across Harry’s pale, drawn face.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Peter smiled back, but his own smile was strained.

...

Half an hour later.

As Hawk drove Peter away from the Osborn mansion, Peter finally broke the silence. “He wants Spider-Man’s blood.”

Hawk glanced at him. “So?”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “He thinks it can cure him. But I found some old video logs my parents recorded before they disappeared. The original spider-serum… it was fused with my DNA. It’ll only work for me. If anyone else injects it, it could kill them.”

Hawk said. “Peter, do you remember what I told you in the sewer, back when we found Connors’s lab?”

“Uh…”

Peter’s frown deepened.

Hawk let out a short, cold laugh. “My choice is whether or not to give it to him. His choice is what he does with it. The consequences… are his alone.”

Peter fell silent.

<><><><><><><><>

A few days later.

Hawk was in the backyard, taking directions from Gwen on some landscaping project, when a flash of red and blue swung over the fence.

Peter Parker, in full Spider-Man suit, landed in the middle of their garden, startling Gwen.

Before she could even react, Peter had pulled off his mask, his voice low and heavy.

"Harry's dead..."

"..."

The news hit Hawk like a physical blow.

Gwen, still recovering from the shock of his sudden arrival, just stared, her own expression turning to one of stunned disbelief.

After a long moment, she finally found her voice. She looked at Peter, who had collapsed onto the porch steps with his head in his hands, completely overcome with grief.

She moved to Hawk's side, her voice a whisper. "What happened?"

Hawk’s voice was quiet.

“It’s about what happened at Oscorp the other day.”

"...Oh."

Gwen remembered. She looked back at Peter, who was still cradling his head, and asked gently, “Peter... was it because of your blood?”

Peter looked up at her and nodded, his face etched with guilt.

Another deviation from the original story.

In that version, Peter had refused to give Harry his blood, which had led to Harry becoming the Green Goblin, and eventually, to his tragic death at Peter's own hands.

But this time, Peter had given it to him.

And the result...

Was the same. Harry was still dead.

Hawk's brow furrowed. He looked at Peter, a note of genuine confusion in his voice. "That doesn't make sense. Didn't you warn him? Didn't you tell him your blood could be poison to him?"

"I did."

"And?"

"He called me yesterday. He was so happy. He said it worked."

"Wait."

Hawk cut him off. "Harry injected himself yesterday?"

Peter nodded. "Yesterday afternoon. He said it was a success."

"And he died this morning?"

"Yes."

"Then what does that have to do with you?"

Hawk processed the timeline and shook his head, a look of frank disbelief on his face. "Peter, listen to yourself. If he had died the second you gave him the blood, I could understand the guilt. But he died a full day later. How is that on you?"

Peter froze, still hunched on the porch floor with his head in his hands.

He looked up at Hawk, his eyes wide and unblinking.

Hawk just shrugged. "Am I wrong?"

"But... if it wasn't the serum, then how did he die?"

"You're asking me?" Hawk let out a short, humorless laugh, then his expression turned curious. "Who found him?"

Peter pushed himself to his feet.

"Felicia."

"The assistant?"

"Yeah."

Peter nodded. "Felicia lives at the mansion too. She noticed he hadn't come down for breakfast this morning, so she sent a maid to wake him up. When the maid opened the door... she found him. Dead in his bed."

Hawk caught the keyword.

"Found him dead?"

"I didn't ask for the details. I was just calling to see how he was doing, and Felicia answered. She told me not to say anything yet, but... I didn't know what to do. I came here."

"She's right. You can't say anything." Gwen, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. "Harry just took over Oscorp and stabilized the stock price. If news of his death gets out now, it’ll be a massive blow to the company."

And it would be a disaster of epic proportions.

The Osborn family had a history of a rare, genetic disease that even modern medicine couldn't explain. And the Osborn line had always been thin.

Norman Osborn had been the one to build the empire.

And Harry was his only son.

But…

Harry had never married. He had no children.

Now that he was dead, the future of the company, whether it would even remain "Oscorp," was in question.

...

And sure enough, three days later, when the news of Harry Osborn's death from a "sudden illness" finally broke, Oscorp's stock plummeted.

But with three days to prepare, the board had managed to implement a series of damage control measures that slowed the freefall. The stock was still dropping, but it was no longer in a nosedive.

At the same time, Harry Osborn's funeral was held at the family's private cemetery, just behind the Osborn mansion.

Hawk and Gwen, as friends of the deceased, had received invitations from Felicia.

The service was presided over by Felicia herself.

Because, as the world had learned just yesterday, thanks to the tireless efforts of the paparazzi, Felicia Hardy was Norman Osborn's adopted daughter.

And according to a leaked detail from Harry's Will, in the event of his death, she was to inherit his entire estate.

"It's not just a rumor." Peter, who was standing with them, whispered, "It's true. I knew about it."

Gwen looked at him.

Peter explained, "After Norman died, Harry was in a really bad place. He told me he didn't trust anyone at Oscorp, that he felt like someone was trying to kill him. So he made a will. He left everything to Felicia."

Gwen's voice was a whisper. "So, Felicia is really his sister?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. Norman adopted her when she was a kid, but he never made it public. Harry told me a long time ago. He made me promise not to tell anyone."

Gwen nodded in understanding, then looked over at Hawk.

But Hawk's attention was elsewhere.

Gwen followed his gaze to the open casket at the front of the service. She gently nudged him.

"Hawk?"

"Hm? Yeah."

Hawk snapped back to the present and looked at Gwen. “What’s up?”

Gwen just blinked. "What are you looking at?"

"The coffin."

Hawk was thinking about his last visit here, about the strange yet familiar scent he'd picked up. He had followed it through the mansion to the family cemetery and brushed it off.

The trail had led to Norman Osborn's grave, and at the time, he'd figured it was just the smell of death.

But now, here it was again...

And this time, it wasn't coming from Norman's grave. It was coming from the coffin that held the body of Harry Osborn.

Hawk looked at Peter.

"Do they know what killed him?"

"Yeah."

Peter nodded, his voice low. "Retroviral hyperplasia. The Osborn family disease. Felicia said that after he took my blood, he was fine. Cured. But then..."

After a few days, Peter's guilt had faded.

Because Harry hadn't died from his blood.

His blood had cured him.

That was a fact.

As for why the disease had suddenly returned, and with such a vengeance… that was a question science couldn't answer.

Just then, Mary Jane, who had been silent, whispered, "It's starting."

Hawk and Peter looked up and saw the other guests rising from their seats. They stood as well, preparing to see Harry one last time.

Harry lay in the casket, dressed in a black suit, his eyes closed, looking as if he were just asleep.

But—

As Hawk walked up to the coffin and looked down at Harry, his gaze fell on a wisp of black energy gathered between Harry’s brows. And in that instant, he finally realized why this scent felt so familiar.

It wasn't Norman Osborn.

It was Mephisto.

Back on the African savanna, after he had killed the Demon Hulk, the lingering projection of Mephisto had carried this exact same scent.

It had been months, and the scent was so weak, so subtle, that he hadn't placed it at first.

But now, looking at the wisp of black smoke on Harry's brow, Hawk finally understood.

This was the scent of a demon.

Hawk's expression didn't change. He followed Peter past the coffin, took one last look at Harry, and then walked away.

Half an hour later.

The coffin was closed and lowered into the ground. The funeral was over.

Hawk and Gwen, along with Peter and Mary Jane, didn’t stay for the reception. They chose to head home instead.

It was already getting late.

Hawk and Gwen dropped Peter and Mary Jane off at the subway station in Queens, then started the drive back to Manhattan.

...

As they crossed into Manhattan, Gwen finally broke the silence. "Okay. Spill it."

Hawk just smiled. "Was it that obvious?"

Gwen shrugged. "Please. If I didn’t know you, how would I have found you all alone in Maryland? What did you figure out?"

Hawk didn't hide it from her.

"A demon."

"What?"

“I suspect the Osborn family’s genetic disease isn’t a disease at all. I think it’s because of a demon.”

"..."

Gwen was quiet for a moment, then understanding dawned on her face. "Peter said that at first, Harry was cured. But then the disease came back fast and violent. If you're right... it sounds like the demon got pissed off and decided to finish the job."

Hawk just shrugged.

...