DC HERO AT MARVEL

Night time.

After the events concluded, Anton returned to New York.

In the bedroom.

He dismissed his two major clones and opened his eyes.

Who would've thought that a simple visit with Secretary of Defense John Keller to assess the situation would escalate into such a chaotic scene?

The events of the day felt more exhausting than the entire past week combined.

Still, the gains were substantial—well worth it.

Rolling out of bed, Anton headed to the living room, where the old man was sitting and reading a book.

"Awake already?"

J. Jonah Jameson glanced at Anton, who appeared refreshed after his "nap," and asked, "How it going on Batman end?"

"There were a small hiccups."

Anton shrugged, putting on a helpless expression.

"Hiccups?"

Jameson raised an eyebrow, sensing that Anton "small hiccups" were likely not so small.

"Don't worry, everything resolved!"

Anton smiled as he sat across from Jameson. Seeing the old man relax, he suddenly asked, "You've been taking it easy for over a year now. Feeling bored yet?"

"What are you getting at, kid?"

Jameson squinted at Anton. "Why do I feel like you're up to no good?"

"Ready to get back in the game?"

Anton inquired.

"Back in the game?"

Jameson scoffed. "You've been managing the Daily Bugle well. I see no reason to give up my peaceful life. To be honest, being a 'good-for-nothing spender,' like you used to be, isn't so bad after all."

"But it gets hollow, doesn't it? Even Tony Stark became Iron Man. Besides, you're J. Jonah Jameson."

Anton slyly threw in a dig at Tony Stark while elevating his old man.

Sure enough, the old man was pleased.

"Spit it out."

Jameson straightened his posture. "What do you want to do?"

"The Jameson family, under your leadership, has already reached a respectable position, but we're still lacking in some areas."

Anton explained, "On one hand, while the Daily Bugle gives us an unmatched advantage in shaping public opinion, on the other hand, we're still just a newspaper.

Even though we've dipped our toes into various industries, it been through simple investments. And just having money isn't enough to influence the bigger picture."

"Having money isn't enough? What more do you want to do?"

Jameson could hear the ambition in Anton words.

"I want to create a company like Stark Industries or Osborn Corporation—an enterprise capable of influencing global events," Anton said with a smile. "Old man, wasn't that your dream once, too?"

"Dream?"

Jameson paused, looking at Anton, his heart sinking slightly. In a serious tone, he said,

"Do you know what it takes to become something like Stark Industries or Osborn Corporation? Connections are secondary—important, but not the main thing. What really matters is that they achieved their uniqueness."

"Uniqueness…"

Anton repeated the word quietly, fully understanding what Jameson meant.

In other words, it boiled down to core technology.

Howard Stark and Norman Osborn were scientists by trade. They used their brilliance to build frameworks for their companies, filling in the core with innovation and hiring others to develop and refine their visions.

Over decades, Stark Industries and Osborn Corporation naturally grew into towering giants.

When comparing these giants to a company like Hammer Industries, the difference became starkly apparent.

Both were arms manufacturers, but Hammer Industries' reputation and standing couldn't compare to Stark or Osborn. Why?

The lack of core technological innovation.

Hammer Industries relied on copying Stark designs, offering lower prices, and raking in domestic military contracts and foreign orders.

Even at its peak, this model could not command widespread respect.

No innovation.

Unpopular products.

Hammer Industries could only settle for the leftovers—the scraps Stark and Osborn didn't care for.

Why was Justin Hammer so desperate to take over Osborn Corporation?

Because he envied Osborn advanced patents and technology in biological science and genetic engineering.

As for arms manufacturing?

Hammer Industries was comparable to Osborn Corporation, except it couldn't hold a candle to Stark Industries.

But Osborn wasn't just an arms manufacturer.

"Of course, I have something unique," Anton said, smiling confidently at Jameson. "Old man, after all this time, can't you at least have a little faith in me?"

With that, Anton stepped closer, placing a hand on Jameson shoulder.

Swish!

In an instant, the two disappeared from the room.

Jameson blinked as the scenery changed in a flash. A moment later, he found himself in a completely unfamiliar place.

Looking around at the surroundings, he asked in astonishment, "Is this… the sewer?"

Jameson was surprised. "I never knew a sewer could be this clean."

"Anton?"

Soon, a voice echoed through the space.

A few tall, humanoid turtles entered Jameson view.

Jameson immediately recognized them.

The Ninja Turtles!

Though he had been vacationing in Hawaii recently, he had kept a close eye on the news from New York.

Notably, the Daily Bugle recent output, under Eddie exceptional talent, had gained widespread recognition across New York and even the entire United States.

Eddie impressive work ethic made Jameson feel that his decision to bring him on board had been a wise one—just as entrusting the Daily Bugle to Anton had been.

"Who the old guy?"

Michelangelo looked curiously at J. Jonah Jameson, then turned to Anton.

He knew Anton rarely brought strangers into the sewers.

"Is he some kind of wanted criminal?"

Michelangelo imagination ran wild as he circled Jameson twice. "And he wearing cologne. Oh, this guy smells pretty fancy."

Jameson lips twitched in embarrassment.

Anton burst out laughing. "He my grandfather, J. Jonah Jameson, the man behind Batman and the real owner of the Daily Bugle. I brought him here today to see your latest progress."

"Progress?"

Donatello immediately caught on and stepped forward. "Follow me, Mr. Jameson. You're about to witness the greatest invention of the century."

The greatest invention of the century?

Jameson was momentarily stunned.

He couldn't imagine what invention could truly deserve such a title.

Of course, he understood it was likely just an exaggeration.

And, coming from someone personally invested, it was clearly subjective.

Still, Jameson found himself deeply intrigued by Donatello invention.

What had Anton seen that made him so confident?

Following Anton, Jameson arrived at the lab hidden in the sewers.

At first glance, he didn't focus on the various experimental instruments but on a man wearing a lab coat, who radiated a calm and scholarly aura.

Next to him stood someone less familiar, though Jameson didn't pay them much attention.

Instead, his gaze locked onto the first man, and his expression shifted to shock.

"You're… Curt Connors? The Lizard?"

Jameson could hardly believe it.

He never expected to see Dr. Curt Connors—the infamous Lizard—here of all places.

Weren't the Lizard and Batman mortal enemies?

That what the Daily Bugle always reported!

Were they lying to him?

Jameson stared at Anton, stunned.

Anton gave him a small smile, thinking to himself, You haven't even seen the real surprises yet.

Then Jameson noticed something unusual about Connors.

Both of Connors' arms were intact!

Wait a second!

Anyone in New York who followed the news knew Connors' story.

He became the Lizard in an attempt to cure his disability.

Jameson mind raced as he connected the dots between Osborn Corporation earlier announcements and Connors' fully restored arms.

Suddenly, he understood what Anton wanted to show him.

"Limb regeneration technology!"

Jameson murmured, clearly shaken. "I can't believe you actually made this a reality!"

"Exactly."

Anton nodded, smiling. "With this core technology, we can make a significant breakthrough."

"But it not enough."

Jameson, though initially excited, quickly calmed himself. "Limb regeneration technology alone might make us the next Life Foundation, but we're still a long way from Stark or Osborn."

"In addition to limb regeneration, I have far more to offer—weaponry, energy solutions, even breakthroughs in genetic science. Whatever you want, I have it," Anton said with a confident smile. "Old man, limb regeneration is just the beginning."

"You're not bluffing, are you?"

Jameson turned to Anton, his eyes alight with a long-dormant fire—a spark of ambition.

"Of course not."

Anton shared a tidbit of information. "Through today actions, I've established a connection with extraterrestrials. They won't hesitate to share their advanced technology with us."

"You're that certain?" Jameson frowned. "We're talking about aliens here."

Given the recent alien invasion, Jameson harbored a reasonable degree of distrust toward anything extraterrestrial.

"I have what they need," Anton replied cryptically, relying on the leverage of mutual interest. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Good," Jameson said, exhaling a breath of relief. His curiosity reignited, he glanced toward the other tunnels in the sewer. "So, what else haven't I seen yet?"

"Let me introduce you first," Anton began. "This is Curt Connors and Bruce Banner. They'll be our company chief scientists."

Anton smiled as he gestured to the purple-masked turtle. "And Donatello—an expert in computers and weapon modifications."

"Pleasure to meet you all. I'm J. Jonah Jameson," Jameson said, choosing not to dwell on Connors' past crimes.

After years of navigating the rough waters of journalism, Jameson had seen far worse. Connors' history of losing control was hardly shocking.

"Now that you're here, there one more person you might want to meet," Anton said, leading Jameson toward another tunnel.

Inside, a disheveled man sat slumped in a chair. His posture was weak, but his gaze burned with hostility as he glared at Anton and Jameson.

"You're…"

Jameson expression froze as recognition dawned on him. "Norman?! What are you doing here?"

"You know him well," Anton said with a slight grin. "Of course, I'm referring to his other identity—Green Goblin."

"Green Goblin?!"

Jameson was utterly shocked. Then, his expression turned peculiar, and he burst out laughing. "Norman actually blew up his own company? That not the Norman Osborn I know!"

"He not the Norman you remember," Anton explained. "Because of a hereditary illness, he injected himself with a human enhancement serum, which caused him to develop split personalities.

What you're seeing now is his Green Goblin persona. I've kept him here to treat his mental illness and eliminate the serum side effects."

"That a good idea. He the founder of Osborn Corporation—he could be incredibly valuable."

Jameson immediately approached the situation from a pragmatic, business-focused perspective.

At that moment, there was no sign of any past camaraderie Norman might have claimed existed between him and Anton.

Anton wasn't surprised in the least.

Networking among executives in major corporations is standard practice—part of the social game.

Jameson had built an extensive network over the years. It wouldn't be surprising to hear he knew almost everyone worth knowing.

But to claim he was close with all of them? That was an impossibility.

"Let go."

After introducing the current situation, Anton led Jameson away.

Before leaving the sewer, he gave Donatello an instruction: "Move Norman to the War Fortress prison. I'll have Cyborg grant you access."

"Got it."

Donatello nodded.

"Oh, by the way, how the lab relocation coming along?"

"Uh, Connors and Banner don't seem too keen on moving the lab to the War Fortress. They think the sewer is more convenient. The War Fortress feels strange to them since it not on Earth.

Anyway, with the teleportation wristbands, they can access the War Fortress computational power whenever they need, so it not a big deal."

"Alright, suit yourselves."

Anton didn't insist on relocating the lab. Experiments were best left to the professionals.

Afterward, Anton and Jameson returned home.

"Using limb regeneration technology to break into the market is easy, but expanding into other industries will be a major challenge. You'll need a flagship product," Jameson said, his excitement growing.

Having learned so many secrets from Anton, his mind was already constructing a blueprint, eager to bring it to fruition.

"That simple," Anton said calmly. "Once you've set up the framework, I can bring you new technologies whenever needed."

Anton was entirely composed—he had an entire planet of Autobots backing him, after all.

"Now, the last question."

Jameson turned to Anton. "What should we name this company?"

"Jameson Industries?"

Jameson frowned, narrowing his eyes. "Damn, some other Jameson already took that name!"

"Wayne Enterprises."

Anton thought for a moment and smiled. "Let call it Wayne Enterprises."

"Wayne?"

Jameson, having seen the Batman movies, muttered to himself, "Bruce Wayne… Wayne Enterprises… Batman company…"

He glanced at Anton, then nodded. "Alright, Wayne Enterprises it is. With Batman reputation, the company will gain recognition right off the bat."

"Trust me, before long, Wayne Enterprises will become Wayne Group," Anton said confidently, laying out his vision.

"In the future, Wayne Group will touch every aspect of society—aviation, transportation, aircraft manufacturing, biotechnology, chemicals, construction, electricity, energy, entertainment, food, healthcare, manufacturing, mining, oil, retail, securities, steel, weapons, even shipping, and more!"

"And most importantly, we'll be richer than Stark—richer than kings!"

Whack!

A sudden slap landed on Anton forehead.

"Stop dreaming! The company isn't even registered yet!"

Jameson scoffed dismissively. "Don't sell me pipe dreams! I was selling stories before your dad was even a glimmer in my eye!"