DC Heroes in Marvel

The Life Foundation's experimental base sat in a prime location beside the Golden Gate Bridge, a position Carlton Drake had secured at a steep price. Drake's extensive investments and promises to the San Francisco city government had paid off, providing the Life Foundation with high visibility and publicity in the competitive pharmaceutical market. 

Yet, the base itself, built at a cost of several billion dollars, was only a fraction of the foundation's true wealth. The real treasure lay in its pharmaceutical patents—intellectual property worth untold billions and fiercely coveted by competitors.

However, today, that valuable asset stood vulnerable. Outside the gates of the experimental base, protestors gathered, chanting slogans such as, "Volunteers should be released!" and "Boycott the Life Foundation! Drake, step down!"

The crowd's anger was palpable, with many calling out the corporation for its unethical practices and voicing their support for the homeless volunteers caught in the Life Foundation's schemes.

Inside, the base's security team, armed and watchful, observed the protestors with growing unease. To them, it was simply a job; after all, how much was a homeless person's life worth? But as they looked out at the swelling crowd, even the guards realized that the tide of public opinion was turning sharply against the Life Foundation.

Carlton Drake, standing atop the base and looking out through floor-to-ceiling windows, seethed with fury as he observed the crowd. "Idiots!" he muttered, grinding his teeth in frustration.

The Life Foundation had once dominated public opinion effortlessly, but the Daily Bugle had outmaneuvered him, turning public sentiment against the foundation in record time.

To make matters worse, even officials within the San Francisco city government had begun questioning his operations. If he failed to contain the situation, it could mean jail time.

He muttered under his breath, "Eddie Brock." Clenching his fists, he turned to his assistant and asked, "Any updates?"

The assistant responded, "Eddie Brock is currently the editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle, but he hasn't been seen at the company for a month. The last travel record we found for him was a plane ticket from New York to San Francisco."

Drake's eyes narrowed as he pieced together the situation. "So Eddie is in San Francisco. It must have been him who recorded that footage. This whole mess started with him." Pausing, he asked, "What was the Bugle's response to our request for silence?"

"They refused," the assistant replied nervously.

Drake's expression darkened. "Fine," he said coldly. "This won't be resolved through conventional means."

Meanwhile, inside the Life Foundation's symbiote research center, Eddie Brock was trapped in a glass chamber, oblivious to the protestors outside. He could see the faces of other homeless people around him, many of whom appeared despondent or even unconscious. A sense of dread washed over him as he thought about what lay ahead.

The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. A woman in a white lab coat approached, and Eddie felt a surge of fear. He knew they planned to use him for their inhumane experiments. When the door to his chamber opened, he made a desperate attempt to escape but was immediately restrained by the guard accompanying her.

"Tie him up," the woman ordered coldly. "He's a valuable volunteer. With the situation outside, we may not get many more of his kind."

The guard smirked. "Don't worry, we'll keep your toy intact."

Eddie's heart sank. He was escorted into another chamber, where only the woman remained with him. Desperation gave way to anger, and he spat out, "You're not getting away with this!"

The woman looked at him with a smirk. "Eddie, you're in no position to make threats. Do you know who really isn't getting away with anything here?"

The realization struck Eddie like a blow. "You…you know who I am?" he stammered.

"Of course," she replied with a smug smile. "You're Eddie Brock, the journalist who thought he could take down Carlton Drake." She leaned closer. "I'm actually a fan."

Outside, the protests continued. At the head of the crowd was Phil, an ally of Anton from the Daily Bugle, who had orchestrated the rally to expose the Life Foundation's abuses. As he looked around, he could see that public sentiment had turned overwhelmingly in their favor. Life Foundation was on the defensive, and with every passing moment, their reputation crumbled further.

Phil pulled out his phone and called Anton. "We've cornered Drake," he said, barely containing his excitement. "They're being forced to confront the public backlash. I bet Drake will soon be promising to release the volunteers."

Anton listened carefully, pleased with the outcome. "Good work, Phil," he replied. "Keep a low profile. We're deep in their territory, and it's dangerous to reveal yourself. If anything changes, report back immediately."

Phil nodded, blending back into the crowd to avoid detection. He knew that revealing himself could jeopardize the entire operation; after all, they were on the Life Foundation's turf, and retaliation could be swift.

Meanwhile, Anton received a call from Jonah Jameson, "You can congratulate me now, old man," Anton joked. "I hope I didn't disappoint."

Jameson, never one to mince words, replied gruffly, "Don't flatter yourself. You didn't do this alone." He paused, then added, "Get down here—I've sent a car for you. There's someone you need to meet."

"Who?" Anton asked, intrigued.

"You'll see," Jameson replied, hanging up before Anton could ask any further questions.

A short time later, Anton found himself in a car heading toward the Oscorp Building. He looked out the window, wondering who could be waiting for him. When they arrived, Jameson was already at the door, waiting impatiently.

"Let's go," Jameson said curtly, leading Anton inside. "Someone's been expecting you."

"Norman Osborn?" Anton asked, suddenly realizing who they were about to meet.

Jameson gave him a knowing look. "Let's just say Norman's been pulling a few strings behind the scenes. This little scandal didn't blow up on its own."

…

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