Harry's hand quakes, the tendons along his thumb pulling and tightening. He can't stop it. The spasm lasts five steps, steps that bring him through the hospital floor of Ravencroft. It's bright, making the brightness of his orange uniform more unbearable, and the hall smells like antibacterial and rubber.
The Ravencroft guard opens the door to Dr. Marsh's examining room. She's already there, peering up from her papers.
"Usual symptoms?" she asks, giving Harry a once-over.
"Yeah."
Without a word, Dr. Marsh retrieves a collection of syringes and the routine begins - Harry gets a shot in his arm for the muscle spasms, a shot of painkillers for migraines, and one called "osreticin", a special formula created my Dr. Marsh herself, which is supposed to stagnate the progress of Harry's disease.
"Your tests have come in, by the way," Dr. Marsh says as she dabs at Harry's arm with a sponge.
"And?"
"The disease has spread deeper into your muscle tissue. Not by much, but enough to indicate that the osreticin is only slowing the progress of the disease. It's doing nothing to completely halt it."
"So I'm still dying."
"Not at the rate you were before. My guess is that you'll have another twenty years."
Harry scowls at the floor. Dr. Marsh turns away to put the needles in their case. She does it with nonchalance, like telling someone they were going to die prematurely was as insignificant as telling them the local weather.
"Keep working on a cure then," Harry pointedly states. "I gave you the money."
"I know, and I am," Dr. Marsh says, keeping her eyes on the case she's locking. "What more can I do, Mr. Osborn?"
Harry thinks of Peter and it makes his stomach twist. The blood. The spider venom didn't work on Harry, but Dr. Marsh theorized that having it already melded with the right blood then transfusing it into another body would make all the difference. Peter won't help him though, especially after their fight at the clocktower, months ago.
At least Harry has more time now. If he's lucky, he'll have his solution.
A few days later, Gustav Fiers enters his cell.
"I need to use some of your connections, Fiers," Harry says.
"And what's your request?" Fiers says, tipping his head.
"I need access to some classified records. I wanna know if Peter has a clone."
