29th November, 2014: A charity dinner for the Daedalus Foundation.

OsCorp Tower

OsCorp facility in New York City.



  • Waiters & Young Geniuses.

Mood Music:

OsCorp Tower has a number of rooms set aside for conferences and the largest one has been outfitted with tables, chairs and a podium for the Daedalus Foundation Charity Dinner. Founded a few years ago, the organization is the primary focus of Norman Osborn's philanthropic efforts – bringing in young, talented people from a wide variety of fields and giving them the resources they need to achieve their maximum potential. It has become quite popular with many of the wealthy elite, who not only get a handy tax write-off but often benefit from the genius of those they sponsor.

In the corner, a small string quartet plays selections both old and new. A small army of smartly-dressed waiters carry around platters replete with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Among the wealthy who seem quite in there element here are a number of young people who clearly are not. Youths from the wrong side of the tracks, most of them. Norman Osborn himself stands not far from the podium, engaged in polite conversation with the chariman of Roxxon.

After signing his name into the guest book, Morien makes his way into the large conference where the dinner is being held. He spends the first fifteen minutes offering a few greetings to a couple of other business people he is familiar with, before asking one of the servers about what is going to be on the dinner menu.

Peter Parker. Intrepid Photographer. He's not exactly here on business, even though he does have his camera hanging around his neck. No, Peter Parker is actually here as one of the possible candidates. Or something. Honestly, Peter is not even sure how he managed to swing getting an e-vite to this thing but somehow he did and here he is. He's dressed in what passes for a suit. He's still wearing jeans, but he's managed to pull together a button down shirt and a tie. He's got on one of his Uncle's old blazers. He's definitely in the underprivileged section of possibles.

As can be assumed by the way he's chowing down, monstrously, on a plate of mini-crab cakes. It looks like he's taken the tray of one of the waiters wandering around because said waiter is standing there with his palm out and the most annoyed look of the night on his face. Peter is barely noticing, because he's in the process of stuffing another crab cake into his already full mouth and chowing down.

He skipped lunch. For the past two days.

"We have saltimbocca alla Romana or Tournedos Rossini, sir," one of the waiters answers Morien, handing him a menu, "That is veal or beef. We'll begin taking orders after Mister Osborn's speech."

Meanwhile, Norman excuses himself and moves towards the podium as the band cease their playing for the moment. He taps the microphone once, the dull thump enough to cut conversations short around the room as he waits for the general murmur to die down. He's well dressed in a tux for the occasion, hair slicked back and eyes practically boring through the assembled donators and beneficiaries.

"I'm going to keep this short," he begins, "because I know how eager you are to empty your pockets for these promising young people. I wouldn't dream of standing in your way. Also, Chef Thierry insists we pay by the hour and I'm not made of money."

He grins like a shark at the little joke, eliciting a chuckle from the idle rich.

"I created this Foundation hoping that young people who had nothing of their own – much like me – could be given a leg up in achieving everything they were capable of. You may not understand this, but sheer genius doesn't always cut it. How can the chemistry genius make great leaps and strides when he cannot afford the basic tools for his laboratory? How can an artist create a masterpiece when she's had to pawn her paints and brushes? We seek to give these people what they need to succeed spectacularly. I hope you will all dig deep in the spirit of that lofty goal."

Morien tilts his head towards his left shoulder slightly as he looks the waiter up and down. A smirk appears on his face as thoughts of violence run through his head over the waiter's perceived snobbishness after the waiter feels he has to explained the dish to Morien. Morien turns from the waiter and clenches and unclenches his right hand until Norman starts to talk.

After Norman finishes with his speech, Morien joins in the applause with the rest of the crowd. He turns to start talking to some of the young people the charity is here benefiting.

The waiter wrassles his platter away from Peter and the latter decides to go to work while the speech is getting underway. He hoists up that camera and is taking shots from here and there, before he focuses his attention on what is actually being said. He might as well get a few extra bucks from Jameson for some OsCorp event that he was going to be at in the first place. Extra bucks is always good.

When the speech ends, Peter swings his camera off his neck and plants it away in his camera bag and just slings the whole thing across him. His hands go into his pockets and he starts to feel like a lobster being looked at by those that are wishing to purchase his deliciousness. Nervousness doesn't even begin to cut it. And the first thing he does is grab another crab cake. He might not even have room for the actual dinner after that.

Peter realizes a moment too late that he didn't applaud and immediately starts clapping. After everyone else is done. And with a mouthful of crab cake. And a face full of crumbs.

Norman nods politely and steps down from the podium, the band starting up again and the waiters beginning to take the orders for dinner. Osborn himself seems to be making straight for Peter's table, though he does pause to offer Morien a smile: "Good to see you, Mister Washington. I hope you're hungry."

That said, he keeps walking straight for Peter before sitting down directly across from him at the table. He sizes him up for a moment, eyes narrowed. The way his inscrutable features tense up, it almost seems like he's mad at the kid. Like he's about to run him out of the building. But then, he reaches into his pocket and produces a checkbook.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush," Osborn begins, "Your professors have been singing your praises loud enough for me to take notice. I need minds like yours at OsCorp. I'm going to write a figure down here and this will be the amount we're going to put towards a new facility right here in OsCorp Tower. You'll have free reign to work on whatever you like, along with access to a few projects we haven't told the press about just yet."

He tears the check from the book and slides it across the table for Peter to look at. More zeroes than most people ever see in one place.

"As you can see, I'm serious. I'm not toying with you. I didn't get where I am by dolling out the platitudes and wasting my time. There are people in here who would kill for a sliver of the opportunity I'm giving you here. Take it."

He doesn't bother to add the 'or leave it' part.

Morien returns the greeting, "Always, Mister Osborn. Thank you again for the invite. These are the type of charitable endeavors I would like for my company to be more involved in. After Osborn passes him, he takes a moment to looks over at who Norman's is talking, and really doesn't see anything amazing about the individual. Morien thinks to himself what is so spectacular about a guy who is stuffing his face filled with crab cakes. Morien shrugs his shoulder and walks over to a young Asian woman and starts to ask her questions about her specialty.

The look on Peter Parker's face is decidedly: Who? Me? And that look gets even more Who? Me?-er the moment that Norman Frickin' Osborn is sitting at his table. He doesn't really understand what is happening. He can't comprehend it. And it might have something to do with the fact that Norman Freakin' Osborn is sitting at his table and talking to him like he's one of the greatest gifted minds to ever grace this room's presence. And, right now, Peter feels like the complete and polar opposite of what Norman Holy Freakin' Frickin' Osborn is saying to him.

And then the check is slid over.

Peter Parker actually looks like he's about to faint. No, seriously, he's probably going to pass out because he doesn't even know how to count that high in terms of what is probably going to be capable of creating a magnificent facility that will defy all odds and then some. Seriously, he can't even understand what is happening. Or how this check is going to change his life. Or how being part of OsCorp is going to change, well, everything.

"Uhhhhh." Peter would be stupid not to take this deal. And there's also no annoying tingling going on in the back of his neck either. So there's no reason why he shouldn't go for it. So what if he's at STAR Labs. He can do both. He's good at doing both, isn't he? "Okay." Peter nods. Really, it sounds more like: YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES! in his head. But all that comes out is another, "Okay. I'll do it." And another shocked smile because: /what/.

"Of course they wanted me at MIT," the young woman Morien is talking to answers, "But I'd rather be a big fish in a small pond than a regular sized fish, you know? Ha ha ha!"

Meanwhile, Norman reaches out to put a hand over the check: "There are conditions, of course. They'll come after. Nothing you'll find objectionable, I'm sure. But if you're here at eight thirty on Monday morning we'll start making miracles."

He stands up, straightens the collars of his jacket and turns back around to socialize.

"So you are saying that when measured against some of the best, you are just average." Morien shakes his head and offers up a pleasant smile to the woman, "There is nothing wrong with being a regular sized fish in a big pond if you are out working all the other fish. Have a good evening." Morien turns and watches a female waiter move through the crowd for a few minutes. The precision of her movements, cleanness of her uniform, and the fact that she has already memorized a lot of the people's name causes him to ask her a future questions about her education.

Morien stops to shoot a glance at the excited person that Norman is talking too.

Excitement is a bit of an understatement when it all comes down to it. Really, he's a little overwhelmed and that doesn't even really begin to cover what is going on in his head at this exact moment. He's completely confused by the events of this evening and he's got some choice pictures for Jameson /and/ he met NORMAN STORMIN' OSBORN. This is incredible. He would hyperventilate if he could.

He can't.

"Uh, right! Yeah, no problem! I'll be here bright and early, Mr. Osborn!" Peter gives an overexcited wave of his hand when Norman is turning to leave and barely even notices Morien as he's back to being shocked about this entire night. "I gotta' call Gwe—" Peter stops in the mid-reaching for his cell phone. He pulls it out slower now, flipping it open and shaking his head. He hits a speed dial (#1) and brings the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Aunt May! It's Peter! You'll never guess what just happened…"

Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License