“Mr Osborn,” Hammerhead said, drumming his fingers on the desk he sat behind, looking up at the impatient business man. “I've been expecting you.”

Osborn sighed loudly, turning on the lights and bathing the office in a brilliant glow. He set down his briefcase and walked over to the desk, taking a seat on the scotch cabinet and folding his arms.

“Very nice, Hammerhead,” he chuckled. “Tell me, how long have you been sitting at my desk waiting for me?”

“More time than I'd like to admit,” he shrugged, standing up straight. “Now, the Big Man’s sent me here to have a word with you.”

“Well then,” Osborn nodded.”Care for a drink? Before the death threat, that is?””

“Why thank you,” Hammerhead nodded with a smirk. “You're awfully calm about this.”

“Trust me, I've had nothing but threats all month. Either investors threatening to pull funding from the Oz formula or board members threatening to combine their shares and take over if I don’t show results in the two projects left behind by our dearly departed Richard Parker.” Osborn sighed, pouring scotch into two glasses and placing another on the edge of the cabinet for Hammerhead to take. “My old friend left a replica of the super soldier serum, as well as leaving his cross-species research practically complete, both of which I'm extremely grateful for.”

“Before I ask about the other things,” Hammerhead said, taking his glass and sipping from it. “What's with the name “Oz”? Is that like the wizard?”

“Yes, actually,” Osborn smirked, swilling his drink around to let it breathe. “And much like the wizard, it acts as nothing more than a barrage of smoke and mirrors to hide what it really is.”

“Which would be?” Hammerhead asked.

“To put it bluntly?” Osborn chuckled. “Cloning.”

“Though with the whole charade you're putting on, it’s not as simple as nuclei swapping?” He asked.

“Correct. Think of it more as the Star Wars kind of cloning,” Osborn answered. “I'm able to take a genetic sample from a certain person, be it hair, saliva, or blood, and use that and a mixture of unspecialized cells, mostly stem for now, and use the genetic sample to copy the genetic code into the stem cells and allow them to develop and grow into a duplicate of the donor.”

“And who did you have in mind?” Hammerhead asked.

“Why, our Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man, of course,” Osborn answered, sipping from his scotch. “No better man to kill Spider-Man than himself… or, technically, his brother.”

“That… that reminds me of a story I read in school once,” Hammerhead said, downing his scotch and exhaling in relief. “Can't remember what it was called, though.”

“That story you read was most probably an excerpt from the Bible, Hammerhead,” Osborn responded. “And the story in question? A tale of betrayal between two brothers that lead to the brutal murder of the sibling who tried to do good. If I'm honest, there could be no better a comparison than Cain and Abel, don't you agree?”

“Indeed I do,” Hammerhead chuckled. “So, should I tell the Big Man you've got this covered?”

“Yes, do just that,” Osborn nodded. “The project will take some time to complete, so until then I'll be creating decoys for Spider-Man to fend off, mostly to keep him distracted and to also test the limits of his abilities, and tweak our clone’s abilities to outmatch him in every single way.”

“I look forward to seeing this,” Hammerhead grinned.

“As do I,” Osborn said, sipping his scotch again. “As do I.”