Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman Chapter 652: Equipment with a Built-In Self-Destruct System

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"Yes, Mr. Osborn. Is there anything you'd like to instruct us on? Or have you decided to return the machine to the production line and continue manufacturing?"

The Indian owner spoke of the outcome he most desperately hoped for.

Norman Osborn ignored the man's wishful thinking entirely.

Instead, he turned to one of his aides.

"If I remember correctly, the creator of this machine is Henry Brown?"

The assistant immediately beckoned over a young man standing against the far wall.

It was Sujay Patel.

After repeating Norman's question, Sujay nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Osborn. The machine was created by Henry Brown, formerly the CEO of Stark Pictures in Hollywood."

After confirming that it was indeed the Henry Brown he was thinking of, Norman immediately gave an order.

"Set up cameras and a live broadcast feed. We'll watch the dismantling process from somewhere else."

He glanced out the window and pointed at a gleaming office building elsewhere in the pharmaceutical company's complex.

"There's a conference room or something similar in that building, isn't there?"

Though disappointed, the Indian owner quickly answered,

"Yes, Mr. Osborn. I've prepared a reception there. Comfortable facilities, excellent food—it's the perfect location."

"Do you have broadcasting equipment available?"

"Yes, yes, we do."

"Then make the arrangements."

With that, Norman Osborn led his people out of the laboratory without another glance backward.

Several representatives from other pharmaceutical companies followed immediately without asking questions.

Others remained standing where they were, confused.

In their minds, whatever proprietary technology was hidden inside the machine, all they needed was for their technical specialists to see it once.

After that, they could return home and build something close enough.

So why was everyone acting as though they were fleeing?

Some of the sharper assistants quietly whispered into their bosses' ears.

Words such as Henry Brown, Sony, Mickey Schulhof, the former president of Sony America, and the phrase explosion incident quickly circulated.

That immediately changed the atmosphere.

No one insisted on staying in the laboratory to witness the dismantling firsthand anymore.

Anyone paying attention could tell there had been something strange about that bombing incident.

Yet somehow, everyone else had ended up destroying themselves while Henry Brown walked away completely unharmed.

Sony paid an astronomical settlement.

Tony Stark won across the board.

Even people outside the military-industrial sector knew about the case.

At that point, who still dared to assume the machine in front of them was completely harmless?

Better safe than sorry.

---

The reception prepared by the Indian pharmaceutical company might have seemed unimaginably luxurious by local standards.

To the executives attending, however, it looked crude enough that none of them had any desire to touch the food.

The broadcasting equipment posed another problem.

The request had been made on short notice, and the mid-sized pharmaceutical company had never needed such a setup before.

Preparing everything took time.

Eventually, several televisions manufactured in India were set up inside the reception hall.

Technically, they were foreign brands assembled locally using imported components, but that was enough for them to be marketed as "domestic products."

Unfortunately, their picture quality wasn't particularly impressive.

Still, nobody had come here to evaluate televisions.

They were here to observe the machine's dismantling process.

No one complained.

After receiving confirmation that everything was ready, the laboratory in the other building finally began work.

A group of highly educated Indian researchers picked up screwdrivers, pliers, and various tools.

They approached the American-made "filter."

The first step was removing the tamper seal.

Then several people began unscrewing the bolts securing the outer casing.

Before long, all four exterior panels had been removed.

The machine's interior was revealed—an intricate maze of delicate pipes and complex components.

Unfortunately, the broadcast relied on an old Sony Video8 camera.

The image quality was terrible.

The details were so blurry that the technical experts accompanying many of the executives practically wanted to crawl through the television screens.

Some had already begun suggesting that they move directly to the laboratory.

Then everything changed.

---

Inside the live broadcast, sparks suddenly flashed at several points within the machine.

At first, those who noticed assumed it was either an illusion or simply a result of the poor image quality.

Before anyone could think further, the entire machine burst into flames.

Even with the weak color reproduction of the cameras and televisions, everyone could tell the fire looked wrong.

Most people had no idea what they were witnessing.

After all, they were pharmaceutical executives and researchers.

Norman Osborn, however, worked across numerous industries.

One glance was enough.

The brightness of the flames resembled burning white phosphorus.

Or thermite.

Possibly both.

Fortunately, the machine wasn't exploding.

The area of ignition remained relatively limited, allowing nearby personnel enough time to retreat.

Those unlucky enough to have flames land on them fared very differently depending on how they reacted.

The smart ones immediately stripped off their burning clothing.

Their injuries were relatively minor.

Those who instinctively tried to pat out the flames only spread the burning material further.

Worse, it stuck directly to their skin.

Once that happened, they collapsed screaming and rolling across the floor.

Even fire extinguishers proved useless.

As for the machine itself, it began collapsing inward like soft mud melting under intense heat.

Even from the television broadcast, everyone could tell what was happening.

The machine was being completely destroyed.

---

Compared to the panic and terror of the Indian company's employees, representatives from other pharmaceutical corporations remained surprisingly calm.

Many technical specialists looked disappointed.

A potentially revolutionary technology was turning into scrap metal before their eyes.

The executives, on the other hand, were already considering market consequences.

How would this change the industry?

How should they respond?

Some had already begun planning press campaigns.

Once they returned home, they would pay for articles claiming that India's dementia treatment had been a scam all along.

After all, without the filter, the drug could no longer be manufactured.

The sooner the market returned to normal, the better.

Convincing wealthy elderly customers to abandon hopes of a cure would allow everyone to continue profiting.

The difference between a lifelong medication and a one-time cure was enormous.

Others focused on a different target:

Henry Brown himself.

Perhaps the pressure on him needed to increase.

After all, negotiations were always easier when one held leverage over the other party.

---

Norman Osborn remained expressionless.

His already severe face darkened further.

He returned to the laboratory, accompanied by several others.

By the time they arrived, the fire had been extinguished.

The injured workers had already been sent to the medical clinic.

Norman hadn't come to visit them.

He came to inspect the remains of his objective.

The sight matched his expectations exactly.

The filter had been completely destroyed by thermite.

Every piece of metal had melted together into a single twisted mass of scrap.

The intricate channels and sophisticated circuitry were gone.

Much of the machine had liquefied and flowed across the floor as molten metal before cooling.

At this point, even a genius would have been unable to determine the machine's original structure.

Repairing it was completely impossible.

The destruction was absolute.

The result infuriated Norman Osborn.

His already sinister features grew even colder.

"What a waste of my time."

The moment he finished speaking, he turned and walked away.

He paid no attention whatsoever to the devastated owner of the Indian pharmaceutical company, who looked as though a death had occurred in his family while staring at the ruined heap of metal.

Beside Norman, his assistant was already issuing instructions.

Oscorp's finance department would begin liquidating its shares in the company immediately.

They needed to find someone willing to take over the position before news of the disaster spread.

There was nothing dishonorable about it.

This was simply business

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