As The Only Mutant in Marvel

At dawn, Lance showed the last of his guests out the door.

Then he called one of the cleaning staff from Paradise Mansion to give the place a thorough scrub.

As a super-rich second-generation heir, Lance never bothered doing things he could just pay others to handle.

That included making friends.

For most people in his circle, money was the glue holding their friendships together.

Of course, Lance also had friends who didn't need his money—like the one sitting on his couch right now.

"What's up, Harry? What's so urgent?"

Lance pulled two cans of soda from the fridge and tossed one to Harry Osborn, who caught it and cracked it open.

Pshh—

Harry took a few gulps before putting it down.

"Lance, I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Lance asked, leaning back.

Harry hesitated.

"You know… my dad passed away a while back."

His voice wavered slightly.

Their relationship had been complicated.

To outsiders, Roman Osborn had been a powerful and successful businessman, but to Harry, he was a distant and emotionally unavailable father.

Before his death, they hadn't spoken in years.

Harry understood now, too late, that his father's coldness came from pressure—pressure he'd never been able to share with his son.

But mourning would have to wait.

Right now, Harry's problem wasn't personal. It was business.

The Osborn Group.

One of the largest biotechnology companies in the United States.

Market value? Over $1.5 trillion.

But despite founding the company, Roman Osborn had only 7.5% of the shares.

And when he died, Harry inherited them—becoming the largest single shareholder.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough.

When Harry stepped into the boardroom, he quickly realized the other shareholders wanted him out.

United against him, they were working to push the Osborn family out of the company entirely.

And Harry?

He had zero experience running a business.

Desperate, he turned to Lance.

Harry Osborn and Lance were the same age—23 years old.

Unlike other versions of this world, Harry had no connection to Peter Parker.

In fact, Peter Parker was just a 15-year-old high school kid right now.

The age gap meant their paths had never crossed.

"So, what exactly do you need me to do?"

Lance frowned.

To be honest, he didn't see an easy way out for Harry.

The Osborn Group's shareholders weren't going to budge.

Their goal was obvious—they wanted Harry's 7.5%.

And Harry?

What leverage did he have?

Nothing.

He couldn't win anyone over because no one believed in him.

Business was cutthroat.

Deals ran on trust and reputation, and Harry had neither.

But then Harry dropped a bombshell.

"I want you to kill them."

Lance froze.

Harry's face twisted with rage, his fists clenching.

He'd had enough.

The board had treated him like a joke—like a kid playing businessman.

They'd humiliated him, dismissed him, and tried to steal his legacy.

Now, he wanted revenge.

But Harry knew he couldn't do it himself.

He didn't have the skills—or the guts.

Lance, on the other hand?

Lance had a past.

Harry knew his friend had dabbled in the underworld.

Lance hadn't just talked about being a killer—he'd been one.

In fact, he was good at it.

They even called him "The Harvester."

At one point, Harry had even tried to join Lance.

Like most rich kids, he craved thrills.

Extreme sports just didn't cut it anymore.

But after weeks of failing miserably at shooting practice, Harry had given up on his dream of being a hired gun.

"You sure about this?" Lance asked, narrowing his eyes.

Taking out multiple shareholders wasn't small-time work.

Even before he awakened his abilities, Lance would've hesitated.

But now?

With teleportation and self-healing in his arsenal, it would be easy.

Still, Lance wanted to be certain.

Was Harry really serious?

Or was this just a heat-of-the-moment outburst?

Because if they went down this path—

There was no turning back.

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