“Cameron, get away from that window,” his mother yelled across the apartment.  “It’s time for dinner!”

For hours he would sit staring out that big, clear window, hoping to get another glimpse of him.  It was complete coincidence seeing him in the first place.  Cameron happened to be looking out the window at the exact moment he flew by, leaving a jet stream trail in his wake.  That was years ago.

“Five more minutes,” Cameron shouted back, never diverting his gaze from the horizon of skyscrapers stretching all the way to The Hudson.  His building, one of the tallest on the block, gave him a spectacular view of the bustling city below.  A lofty unit on one of the higher floors, it was occupied by Cameron, his mom, his dad, and his dog, Stella.  His mother was a nurse, his father was Vice President of the electric company, and Cameron was just your friendly, neighborhood 3 year old.

Ever since that day, since the day he saw the infamous ‘Iron Man’, Cameron has gazed out that pane waiting anxiously for a second sighting.  He nearly spent his entire childhood looking out that window.  Ten years, to be exact.  Over the course of those ten years, Cameron experienced a pretty traditional upbringing.  Parents still married.  Family pet.  Toys.  Stuffed animals.  Coloring books.  Board games.  Holidays.  Sick days.  Birthday parties.  Vacations.  Homework.  Recess.  Presentations.  School dances.  Field trips.  Permission slips.  Study hall.  Homeroom…An ordinary existence for your average kid.  

Growing up, Cameron’s parents loved him very much, but had to work long hours to keep an expensive roof over their heads; therefore, Cameron was watched a lot by his uncle, Adam.  You could say he helped raised Cameron.  Mom and dad were involved, but they were his parents, and had to be strict with him.  Their focus was on the academic side things, making sure Cameron didn’t jeopardize his future by becoming a delinquent.  Uncle Adam, on the other hand, was strictly there for amusement. 

Early on, they played with Cameron’s action figures (most of which Adam bought him), horsed around, or just hang out in front of the television.  After Cameron saw Iron Man, however, he made sure whatever they did was done next to that window.  As Cameron got older, Uncle Adam taught him how to shoot a basketball and throw a football (Cameron was a natural athlete with terrific hand-eye coordination).  They regularly took Stella with them for walks in the park while Cameron rode his bike.  Though he enjoyed spending time with his uncle riding on the path, what he really wanted was to fly in the air like Iron Man. 

Not only were Cameron and Adam family, but kindred spirits, the uncle indoctrinating his nephew into the extensive lore and mythology of superheroes, reading to him comics he’d been collecting for decades from the days of his own youth.  Like Cameron, he too was in awe of Iron Man: “He’s an actual superhero!”  This made for some lively discussion and debate amongst the two of them about which fictitious heroes the real-life Iron Man could beat.   

Yes, Cameron Parker lived the life of a typical teenage boy: he had crushes, played video games, ate junk food, hung out with his friends, stayed out of trouble, and didn’t have a care in the world…Little did this 13 years old, who was about to finish 8th grade and start high school in the fall, know his world would never be ‘typical’ or ‘average’ again.   

Although ‘normal’ by everyday societal standards, Cameron Parker was abnormally bright.  His intellectual genius in the genesis phases of formation, he was drawn to the sciences, looking to concentrate on that general field of studies moving forward.  Scoring in the top percentile of students nationally on all his standardized testing, he had scholarship options to attend high school besides the public ones in his district.  That being the case, he was currently on a campus tour of one of the schools he was considering: The Osborn Institute of Technology.  He really wanted to attend ‘The Stark School for Science’, but his parents were making him explore every option; so he indulged their insistence in order to get them off his back.

If he couldn’t go to The Stark School, Cameron wanted to stay in public school with the best friends he grew up with: but his parents convinced him that in this increasingly competitive market he needed an advantage.  This was an amazing opportunity to learn from the world’s best teachers, make meaningful connections with the right people, and open doors to get started on a promising career path.  In other words, it was a wise investment in his future, yada yada yada… 

The only reason he really wanted to go to the ‘Stark School’ was because Tony Stark came out publicly as Iron Man.  He’s easily identifiable as the sole individual who inspired Cameron to get into the sciences scholastically.  Without that influence, who knows in what direction Cameron’s life would’ve headed.  Be that as it may, he’d already toured the ‘Stark School’, and unfortunately to his chagrin, Mr. Stark wasn’t present that day. 

Cameron meets Norman Osborn on this outing, who happens to be in town.  He’s the antithesis of Tony Stark: stiff, uptight, clean-shaven, phony, square…He tells him how much they want Cameron and the other students and their ‘bright young minds’ to attend the institute, before flashing that counterfeit grin.  On the surface, to the untrained eye, The Osborn Institute does seem like a reputable place to send your children; but underneath the shiny, lavish exterior lies a sinister underbelly of unspeakable and unimaginable horrors…the types of things the public isn’t privy to-yet.       

“Anybody have a question for Mr. Osborn?” asks the overly energetic guide.

“I do!” cried Cameron, raising his hand. 

“Young man,” said the charlatan CEO with the smarmy smile in the expensive suit, calling on the boy enthusiastically shooting his arm in the air.  

“Do you know Tony Stark?”

“Yes, well, I’d better let you get back to your tour,” Osborn concluded, obviously turned off by Cameron’s flippant attitude towards his own greatness.

While this exchange was transpiring down in the lobby, a more significant, though equally as important, event was occurring multiple levels upstairs.  As we covered earlier: how things appeared is not how they truly are in regards to Norman Osborn and OsCorp Industries.  Many manufacturing and production mechanisms are under the vast Osborn umbrella, with the founder and chairman having his hands in all sorts of cookie jars aside from research & development.  The Military Industrial Complex, Big Pharma, Wall St., Oil, Real Estate…Norman Osborn was involved in multiple businesses and trades encompassing the gamut of the human existence.

If there was a dollar to be made, Norman Osborn wanted a piece of the action.  A descendent from a long line of oligarchs, there was no question to his family’s lineage.  Able to trace his ancestry back ages, The Osborn’s had roots embedded deep into the soil of which society & civilization were built upon.  The genealogy of their family tree branched off into some of the most regal families in history, cementing his empire for generations to come.  From the most primitive origins of wealth, The Osborn’s rose to global, prestigious status.  His company had name recognition.  Then came along The Starks, casting Norman Osborn and his breed in quite a big shadow, relegating them to second class citizens.    

Altruism, ha!  The Osborn’s scoffed at altruism.  This world is about profit!  You see, Stark and his kin are what they call ‘new money’: his father and him and their upstart company with their ‘inventions’.  Who needed to create anything?  That’s what Osborn’s father thought.  Osborn Sr. was a dying breed, literally.  A fossil.   Norman hated to admit it, but it was true.  Norman took it upon himself to break from the mold when he got old enough to start making decisions on their corporation’s destiny.  That’s why he had to kill his father, and take control of the board, to leave a proper legacy for his heir, Harry; one that outshone The Starks and their modest attempts at rivaling his established bloodline.  Who would’ve thought Norman Osborn’s grand, master plan for world domination could’ve been thwarted by a sneeze?  On any given day, that action itself wouldn’t seem such a big deal: but on this particular day, the chain reaction of that singular act will alter the course of humanity for eons to come.  

Up on one of the top floors in the main headquarters where operations relating to OsCorp stemmed from, a scientist has caught a cold.  Well, not so much a ‘cold’, as a ‘virus’.  It’s one of the latest being patented by the OsCorp Co.  It’s not especially deadly, but over time, the revenue from subsequent medications also being patented to treat it will amount in the hundreds of millions.  This scientist’s department does not pertain to epidemiology, but his laboratory is in close proximity to his colleagues’ experimentations.  He doesn’t know it, but he is in the incubation period of the infection.  Violent sneezing one of the symptoms of OC #3475, this gentleman was displaying that indicator of the disease all morning long. 

Normally, coming into work with a cold is inconsiderate enough.  That thoughtlessness is exacerbated, however, when combined with handling arachnids injected with trial chemical compounds both natural & synthetic; the results and applications of which were to be determined and still unknown to the staff studying them.  Sniffling constantly while examining the DNA through a microscope, he assured his coworkers he was fine.  He didn’t need anyone else helping him analyze the data.  He was fully capable of running his facility; until, as fate would have it, his one mistake during his tenure as Head Technician would ultimately be the downfall of Norman Osborn, and the Osborn dynasty.        

“I think something just bit me…” Cameron remarked, feeling a tiny pinch on the back of his neck. 

“What?” says the tour guide, puzzled; not by the comment made, but rather by the commotion quickly surrounding them. 

“Nothing,” answers Cameron, also noticing the rapidly approaching disturbance in the distance.

Attention!  Attention!  Sounded a voice over the loud speaker, followed by the blaring sound of sirens echoing across every chamber of the massive complex.  This is a warning: at this time, please evacuate the premises...  

A fire drill?  Rushed aside, Cameron and the others were swept out onto the sidewalk, and informed that sadly, their tour was going to have to be cut short.  What a shame.     

There was no fire.  Turns out that scientist dropped one of the spiders he was about to dissect after sneezing, and it scurried away.  The fire alarm was a tool to get everyone out while they hunted to retrieve the sample.  They never did recover the specimen, and the employee was dealt with accordingly.

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