Chapter 8

"Clover," Dr. Octavius called, handing her a thick report he printed out, "do you know where Mr. Osborn's office is?"

The girl perked up expectantly and responded, "Yeah, why?"

Otto knew how she never minded running around the building for him. The hallways of OsCorp were the only places she could explore outside her room and the lab. "I need you take this lab report to Osborn. Just tell him to call me if he needs me to clarify anything. Do come back quickly, please."

"Sure thing, Doc!" she chirped, snatching the report and heading for the elevator.

She willed her green skin to fade away, giving way to her albino self again. In her hair were two large, blue peonies, but Clover decided to keep them in. It wasn't like she was the only person in the world to wear flowers in her hair.

She zig-zagged down the hallways of OsCorp. She felt the carpet under the soles of her bare feet and passed several other people. Some of them gave her a second glance, confused by the sight of a barefoot albino teenager with two giant flowers in her short hair, but nobody asked questions.

Clover walked into the main elevator and was about to let the doors slide closed when she heard somebody call, "Wait! Hold the elevator!"

She quickly pressed the button for to keep the doors open, and in rushed a young woman in a business suit with soft brown hair. She panted heavily from running, holding her hat into place. "Thanks! Sorry, I'm running a tad late…"

Clover instantly recognized this woman. "Ms. Vincent? I didn't know you were working today!"

The bashful woman smiled back at her and replied warmly, "Of course I am. AllenCorp's been dropping a lot of assignments on me lately, and it's always nice to see Otto again."

Sophia Vincent was a young representative from AllenCorp who majored in biology and zoology, and she was chosen to help out in a business deal between her company and OsCorp. She was a really sweet woman who frequented in Dr. Octavius' lab, but she had no idea about anything related to Experiment 832―Osborn made sure of that. So whenever she came, Clover had to get rid of her green skin and hair flowers. As far as Ms. Vincent was concerned, Clover was just a very, very close intern of Dr. Octavius.

Clover didn't mind Ms. Vincent. She always enjoyed Clover's presence as much as Doc did. Not to mention that she was always wearing some sort of cool hat, even when it was really warm outside. Today, she was wearing a nice-looking blue cloche with a white ribbon on it. Come to think of it, she sometimes wore a jacket even in the summer months. Dang, that lady must be really immune to the heat…

"Clover, where'd you get those flowers? They look so lovely!"

Clover tensed up.

Oh no, the flowers! Would Ms. Vincent find out that they were real? And alive?

"Um, thank you," Clover answered as casually as she could. "They're peonies."

"You know, you're pretty young to be here at OsCorp. How old are you again?"

"Sixteen."

"Whoa! It must be cool working with your uncle!"

Clover looked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"I mean, Otto's your uncle, right?"

"Um…no, he's just my mentor."

"Oh," Ms. Vincent replied, slightly surprised. "I thought you two were related. After all, he treats you as if you were his own flesh and blood."

The elevator doors dinged open, and Clover waved goodbye to the woman. Clover then let out a sigh.

That was a close one.

After only a couple of minutes, she reached the giant oak doors of Mr. Osborn's large office. Inside was a wide sandalwood desk with intricate designs standing on a very nice carpet, accompanied by his tall velvet chair and two others on the other side of the desk.

Behind the desk was the most colossal window Clover had ever seen, spanning between the walls from the floor to the ceiling, providing a grand view of the Hudson River. She stared out the window and admired the magnificent skyline of the Jersey side of the river.

"Mr. Osborn?" she called, waiting for an answer.

As it turned out, she was the only one in the room. He must be around the building someplace. She shrugged. At least she wouldn't have the displeasure of seeing Osborn's ugly face more than she had to.

She placed the lab report on his desk between his computer and a stack of papers. In the stack of papers, Clover noticed two notes sitting on top of the stack, so she grabbed them and skimmed over the scribbled handwriting.

The first note read:

October 28, 2014

Dear Mr. Osborn,

I cannot thank you enough for the help you have given my colleagues this midterms. If it weren't for you, they would never have had enough money for their campaigns. If they win the House again next Tuesday, it'll be all to you! As much as I love Barack, I know you are concerned about how indifferent he is to funding your scientific endeavors at OsCorp and how he might veto any more spending for it.

Not to worry! After all, Congress is the one with the purse! We will try to get the government more involved in your research. For science, we will always stand for you, and we won't let any of those Republican troglodytes stand in our way! In fact, since you were so in need of funding for your internship and scholarship programs, I will gift you $14.5 billion.

Sincerely,

J. Conyers, Michigan

And the second note read:

October 29, 2014

Howdy, Norman!

That was a really fun round of golf the other day. I'm really glad you shared your concerns with me about how many choking federal regulations you might run into while trying to run your business. Trust me, we all know how Mr. Hussein Obama can get with successful men like you. So, in return for funding my presidential run for 2016, I would love to not only help loosen those regulations for you and many other of my benefactors, but I will also like to donate $14 billion to OsCorp Industries. Who needs a socialist government when you've got loyal friends?

Sincerely,

T. Cruz, Texas

Clover furrowed her brows.

So…Osborn has been lobbying two congressmen…of completely opposite ideologies…for two different government policies that had a high possibility of contradicting each other…

…and was getting a lot of money in return?

She scoffed.

Typical Osborn. No wonder Congress has been getting so polarized lately. She had thought at first that the entire federal government was filled with two political parties that only wanted to fight and argue instead of cooperate and get things done, but now she wondered how much Osborn could have been a ringleader in it―to, of course, his benefit.

Oh, wait, she remembered just as she turned back for the door. I have to tell him that he can call Doc if he has any questions. There have to be some sticky notes around here someplace…

Although she was able to nab a pen from his desk, she had trouble looking for some loose paper to write the note on. Perhaps she could steal a sheet from the printer behind Osborn's desk…

Kneeling under the desk to grab some paper from the printer, something odd caught her eye.

Sitting on the desk almost hidden behind a stack of paperwork was, of all the things in the world, a green-and-purple Halloween mask. Looking around her to ensure that she was the only one there, Clover reached out for the mask and gingerly picked it up. With its pointed chin and large ears, Clover thought the mask resembled some sort of monster or goblin. A floppy purple hat was attached to it, almost making the mask look silly had it not been for the sickly yellow eyes that gazed into her soul.

"Where have I seen this before?" she pondered to herself, turning the mask over and over again. She knew by now that Osborn had a strange predilection for masks. She could see his collection of wooden and clay African masks mounted neatly on the wall near her.

But this was just a cheap Halloween mask, complete with a nylon strap on the back and the words "Made in China" imprinted along the inside edge. Surely the oh-so-great Norman Osborn wouldn't settle for something so basic and crude, right? But the more she examined it, the more she familiar it felt to her.

Where had she seen it? A video? A photo?...

Suddenly, it came to her.

The Green Goblin.

She gasped. Dr. Octavius had a copy of today's edition of The New York Times with the Goblin's face strewn across the front page, and OsCorp always had copies of The Daily Bugle lying around, the poor excuse of a newspaper that always prioritized Spider-Man happenings over everything else. Clover searched the mask up and down again, confirming her deduction.

It was the same mask. The same exact one worn by the man who (quite literally) crashed L. Thompson Lincoln's gala the other night and terrorized the guests.

"No, it can't be…" she whispered.

"Who's there?"

Swallowing a gasp, she immediately hid the mask behind the stack of papers again, put on the most innocent smile she could engender, and turned towards the door.

Norman Osborn had just opened it, and he was looking straight across the room towards her.

"Clover?" he retorted, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Dr. Octavius wanted me to bring you his report," she quickly answered, her heart pounding madly in her chest. "He said to call him if you have any questions."

Osborn rolled his eyes and mumbled, "He should've gone himself and left you in the lab. He knows better than to have you prancing around the building, letting anybody see you."

Striding towards her, he stated, "Get back to the lab. I'll speak with the doctor later."

"Yes, sir," she nodded casually, heading back out the door and pacing down the hallway.

I've gotta tell Doc! she thought anxiously, accelerating to a slow jog.

OoOoO

The elevator opened, and Clover burst out of it and sped down the stairs, almost tripping.

"Doc!" she called, heading for the electromagnetic emitter chamber.

She paced into the chamber. "Doctor, I've got to tell you…Doctor?"

She froze in her tracks.

Her mentor was leaning against one of the control panels, sweating and shaking. He was hyperventilating in short gasps, clenching the edges of the panel to try to steady himself, but from the blank, fearful look on his face, Clover immediately knew something was wrong. The doctor was muttering anxiously to himself, "No…no…I'm such a monster…no..."

"Doc, you alright?" Clover asked nervously.

Dr. Octavius yelped in surprise, jumping from the floor and turning to see his assistant watching him closely.

"Oh, uh…my apologies, Clover," the timid doctor replied, still jittery. "Uh...I'm feeling fine."

"Fine?" she repeated incredulously. "You just had another panic attack!"

"It's really nothing, my dear…"

She shook her head. "No, Doc, it doesn't look like nothing."

Her mentor remained silent, not knowing how to respond.

"You know, Doctor," she asked, "I really can't help but tell that there's something wrong. You've been checking over your shoulder a lot, you looked worried every time you watch the news…it's as if you expect somebody to sneak up behind you and stab you in the back."

Dr. Octavius sighed. Her statement was all too close to the truth. This was not his first bout of anxiety. They came to him every day in some way, shape, and form, and Clover had been keen to notice each time it happened.

It's been a week since he started working in the underground lab with Osborn and Hammerhead, the Big Man's right hand man, and the doctor had been successful in creating distractions for Spider-Man. He remembered quite clearly how he felt when he turned Flint Marko, one of the Big Man's street thugs, into the Sandman. When he realized the experiment was unstable, he tried to stop it, but Osborn had coerced him to let the experiment go on.

When the procedure was over and a pile of sand had replaced Marko on the floor, Dr. Octavius was utterly terrified that he actually killed him. Fortunately, Marko had been alive the whole time and was able to materialize into his normal self again, but the doctor couldn't shake off the thought of what might've happened if he actually did kill him.

I'm glad O'Hirn's procedure was much simpler and less life-threatening, he thought to himself. But who'll Osborn bring in next? What if the last is a fatality? I could never live with myself knowing that I took an innocent person's life! I mean, that's what they say, right? "Third time's a charm?" More like, "Three strikes, you're out!"

"Otto!"

The sound of his name made him snap out of it. Standing right in front of him was his young, half-plant assistant, staring at him with the deepest concern in her eyes. The doctor didn't remember the last time Clover had been this serious with him; even with two giant, blue, silly-looking peonies growing out of her hair, he knew that she would not take no for an answer.

"You aren't acting normally, Dr. Octavius. It scares me to see you like this," Clover stated bluntly, crossing her arms. "What's wrong?"

Dr. Octavius stood frozen there for a minute. The easy way out would've been to brush it off again, but he realized that he cared too much for the girl to lie to her. In fact, he wanted to tell her. He felt like she was the only one he could trust, but at the same time, he wondered if telling her would also endanger her.

If there was anybody who scared him more than Osborn, it was Hammerhead. Those brass knuckles he always wore always sent shivers down his spine. Was there a chance that he might hurt Clover if he found out she learned about the experiments?

Well…it's not as if she has anybody else to tell anyway.

Here goes nothing…

"Clover, my dear," he replied slowly, inhaling deeply and steadying his nerves. "I've been doing horribly wrong things. I…I've started dealing with the wrong people…"

This was not what Clover expected to hear, but she said nothing as the doctor breathed, "I must sit down, first…"

As he searched for a chair, Clover said, "Hold on a sec..."

With a flick of her wrist, a large plant sprouted from the floor, catching Otto by surprise. It didn't grow that tall. It stopped near Otto's rear end and bloomed a giant sunflower. "Go ahead, Doc. Trust me, that one's comfier. I use them in my room all the time."

Otto couldn't help but let his worries escape him for a few seconds. Over the years, Clover had been regularly practicing her powers, much to Osborn's chagrin. As she grew, her plant powers had become more and more powerful. All she had to do was wave her hands around, and she could summon any species of plant to grow wherever she wanted. It wasn't uncommon for Otto to find a daisy or a dandelion growing in some random place in his lab.

Along with that, Clover could make existing plants grow bigger, and once or twice, she would heal a broken or wilting plant. When Dr. Toomes had visited the lab once, he actually brought his potted dried-up fern and asked Clover to bring it back to life. When she waved her hand, the fern's brown leaves had suddenly turned green, and the stems perked up again.

Clover then made herself another sunflower chair across from the doctor and sat down cross-legged, placing her chin on her hands to listen to him while Otto situated himself on his large, yellow flower.

And with that, he let the words spill out. All inhibitions were lost. He did not neglect to reveal any detail to her―the conversation he had with Osborn that started it all when Osborn blackmailed him, the mysterious Big Man he kept referring to, Hammerhead, the shady LTL Body Shop that disguised the laboratory underneath, Flint Marko, Alex O'Hirn, how Spider-Man was nearly killed not once but twice, how the NYPD might be on his tail, his fears of what the web-slinger himself would do if he caught the doctor…

…and Clover let this absorb into her system without any word.

When the doctor was finally finished with his confession, he exhaled one last, heavy breath of air, and for a very brief moment, the clouds of worry that haunted him for days thinned slightly. He gazed across towards his assistant, who still focused her attention to him. In her eyes, Otto spotted no signs of confusion or contempt; only concentration and concern.

"Let Osborn fire you," she stated flatly after Dr. Octavius finished.

Otto's eyes grew wide.

"What!? I can't!" he cried back. "He'll mark my record! Norman's right! Who'll employ a scientist who tampers with his superior's experiments? No respectable company would think to hire me!"

Her eyes narrowed. "Funny how Osborn never thought of what said employers will do when you tell them about the experiment in question."

"Clover…y-y-you don't understand!" he stammered. "This is Norman Osborn we're talking about! Everybody looks up to him! Not a single soul would believe me if I tried to tell them about you!"

"But you can't just let Osborn bully you like that!" she spat back scornfully. "He's so full of himself, and he treats you like his personal servant!"

Her mentor shook his head. "But there is nothing else for me to do!"

"You can quit! Osborn can't do anything to you if you're not here. If you're not here, Osborn won't be able to push you around!"

"But I've seen too much! I know too much!" he countered frantically. Sweat collected on his brow again. Beginning to hyperventilate, the doctor continued in despair, "If I leave, the Big Man might hunt me down and kill me. Osborn knows where I live! If I stay, Spider-Man will surely find me and do something horrible to me!"

He then looked into her eyes and cried, "Besides, if I leave…I won't be here for you anymore."

That silenced Clover.

Her mentor's last point dug up old memories from her eleventh birthday when Dr. Octavius resuscitated her after Osborn shocked her. It was also the day when he promised Clover that he would never let anything bad happen to her.

One of her oldest memories of him also revisited her: the time when she was only five years old when the doctor had yanked her away from the electromagnetic emitters. For all her life, in spite of his diffidence and cowardice towards Osborn, he had still managed to keep her safe and support her when he was there. He was always by her side, always willing to protect her.

And now, her mentor was damned no matter which way he turned.

Clover's brow furrowed again, and she stated flatly, "You know, Doc, one of these days, you're going to have to stand up to him. Show him who should really be giving the orders around here."

After a pause, she finished, "I know I will."

They both heard the elevator doors ding open.

"Otto, I need to speak with you," Osborn's voice carried down the lab.

The doctor and his assistant exchanged looks of terror before bolting out of their flowery seats and turning towards the control panels again, pushing buttons and writing down numbers in an effort to look busy.

But Osborn had walked into the emitter chamber earlier than they thought. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "What are you two doing?"

"We were just sitting down for a bit," Clover lied quickly, shrugging her shoulders casually.

Looking between the two giant sunflower chairs, Osborn reproached, "Clover, what have I told you about making plants like this outside your room?"

Without looking at him, she kept recording data on her clipboard and replied, "Nobody can see me in here, Mr. Osborn, and Dr. Octavius doesn't mind at all as long as they don't get in the way."

Dr. Octavius added tentatively, "Um, her plants actually touch up the lab quite nicely, sir…"

Osborn shot him a warning glance that silenced the doctor.

"Um…my apologies, sir…" Otto muttered quietly.

Turning back to Clover, Mr. Osborn continued, "And should any nosy reporters stick their faces through the windows, they wouldn't mind seeing your plants, either. Now, Clover, I want you back in your room, so would you mind waiting by the elevator while I speak with the good doctor in private?"

Clover narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, thinking, Why do you always make your orders sound like questions? If I don't have a choice in the matter, don't try to fool me into thinking I do.

"Yes, sir," she complied icily, setting down the clipboard and giving a farewell glance to the doctor.

Dr. Octavius gave her a warm, shy smile and nodded. Telling her about his experiments was one of the scariest things he had ever done, and he was afraid that Clover would despise him―but ever since Adrian had been arrested, she had provided more comfort and understanding to him than he expected.

Otto observed the girl walk slowly towards the elevator and up the stairs, watching the two men from the corner of her eye.

Now, Otto was alone with his boss. Clover's words echoed in his head: one of these days, you're going to have to stand up to him. But what was he to do? Even the way Osborn towered over him was enough to keep him up at night. Osborn had made his plans and expectations for Otto very clear since that day in his office, and Otto couldn't fathom what his boss might do to him next.

Adrian had been right this entire time. He should've never set foot anywhere near OsCorp.

He turned to his superior. Perhaps if he could reason with him…

"Um…Norman?" the doctor started slowly. "Um, I believe we should, uh, stop the experiments…"

His boss' gaze pierced straight through him. "Stop the experiments? Goodness, Otto, that's quite forward, especially from a little mole like you. Why would you say that?"

"Well…I, uh, I just…I don't think they're working."

"What do you mean, 'they're not working?' The Big Man's operations are going unnoticed, just as we needed."

Otto felt the urge to just drop the subject completely, but his fear of Spider-Man overcame his fear of Osborn. The doctor walked towards a metal stand that held his harness in place, its tentacles lying still on the floor.

Otto argued shyly, "B-B-But what about the Spider-Man? He's battled Sandman and the Rhino!"

The doctor lifted up his arms, letting his harness snap into place around him. He then continued, "He could trace them back to OsCorp! To me!"

Osborn rolled his eyes.

"Enough!" he barked impatiently at the scientist. "You whine more than my son!"

Otto reached behind him and carefully slid the inhibitor chip into the slot near the base of his neck. His tentacles suddenly came alive, whirring loudly and swaying around him.

Walking menacingly towards the doctor, Osborn growled, "I can't have weak men in my organization, Otto. Don't make me get rid of…"

The way Osborn bore his eyes deep into him aroused Otto's fears again.

Suddenly, the fear combusted into sudden anger. Otto felt defiance similar to Clover's arise within him, surfacing a hatred towards Osborn that had been festering within him for year after year after year. All the belittlement and blackmail behind the relationship with his boss ignited a blaze of fury deep inside him. Before Otto knew it, one of his mechanical claws grabbed Osborn and shoved him violently against the wall. Nothing would make Otto happier than hearing the sound of Osborn's neck snapping and his skull being crushed into pieces…

"…Octavius? Are you in there?"

Otto shook his head. There was Osborn, still inches away from his face and looking down on him.

Otto blinked several times.

It was just his imagination.

Coming back to reality, the doctor squeaked meekly, "Yes. S-Sorry. I'll do what I'm told."

Osborn strolled past him and headed up the stairs, where Clover still waited for him. She was peering down on them, and Dr. Octavius realized that she had been eavesdropping this entire time.

The doctor stared back at her. Did she see him space out? How long had he been standing there with his mouth open like that? What would happen if she knew what he had been thinking?

And why was I thinking that? the scientist thought. I can't live with myself if I ever hurt somebody…

"That's all I ask," the businessman retorted, stepping up the stairs. With a smile, he finished, "Now run your experiments like a good Doctor Octopus."

Clover nearly cringed at the sound of that name. She felt Osborn reach across her shoulder and nudge her towards the elevator, saying, "Come now, Clover. Let's not bother him anymore."

Clearly hurt by what he called him, Dr. Octavius stuttered as they left, "Mr. Osborn, please, I've told you, that name is so―"

The elevator doors slammed shut behind them.

Clover could imagine her mentor saying demeaning.

The bluish hue of the fluorescent lights occupied the rigid atmosphere surrounding the girl and the businessman. She looked straight ahead at the metal doors, trying to dismiss the new facts she learned about Norman Osborn.

She stole a sideways glance at the man who ruled her life from Day One and could feel her blood boiling under her green skin.

All you care about is yourself, she wanted to snap at him. You think you're the king of the universe, don't you? You treat your employees like slaves, and you use everyone around you for your own gain. Spider-Man might track down Dr. Octavius and drag him to jail―or worse―but I bet you'd love to see that, wouldn't you? Just another day at work for you.

Osborn interrupted her thoughts. "Clover, we have some extra tests for you to do once we get to your room."

Clover frowned and muttered coldly, "Yes, sir."

Catching her tone, the businessman replied in a low voice, "Don't take that tone with me, young lady. I'm the one who created you. I don't take that kind of disrespect from my employees, and I certainly won't be taking it from you."

The elevators doors slid open.

"Oh, and Clover," he added nonchalantly, "while you were at the lab this morning, we made some…renovations to your room."

Clover noticed the door for her room down the hall. The normal, metal door with the knob had been replaced with a tightly fashioned vault. The large, high-security key lock budged only after Osborn slipped a key card out of his pocket, slid it on a keypad next to the vault, and dialed a set of numbers into the pad. He turned the large, metal wheel that served as the door's knob.

The enormous deadbolt lock made a loud clack sound before creaking open. The vault was more than twelve inches thick, and the heavy cogs could be heard from down the hall.

Clover stepped into her room where one of Osborn's researchers waited for her with a metal cart next to him. On it were a series of vials and medical instruments, including the most frightening syringe that Clover had ever seen. It had a long, fourteen gauge needle almost six inches long that looked like it was once used to euthanize baby elephants. She watched the researcher snap on a pair of elastic, blue gloves and pick up the needle, sticking it into one of the vials and filling it up with an unknown liquid.

"Sit down," Osborn ordered.

Clover almost didn't hear what he had said; she was too absorbed by the massive length of the needle that she knew was going pierce her skin. Unsure what else to do, she obeyed him. Her feet dragged themselves along the tiles beneath her as goose bumps spread across her arms and legs. Her bed caught her as she sat down, and she watched with wide eyes as the researcher approached her.

Glinting in the light, he needle loomed over her, and a drop of the unknown liquid escaped out the end and fell to the floor. Clover's heart throbbed so fast, she thought it would leap out of her chest.

Grasping her left wrist tightly, the scientist lifted her arm up and pointed the needle to her shoulder.

Clover held her breath.

The sharp end touched her skin and pricked it.

As she felt the metal go deeper and deeper into her shoulder, Clover let out a high yelp and bit her lip. A sharp sting came first before a slow burning sensation pervaded her entire shoulder. Through short gasps, Clover asked, "What are you putting in me?"

"That's not important right now, Clover," Osborn answered mechanically.

The needle kept digging into her skin, multiplying the pain. As she shut her eyes in agony and clenched her right fist tightly into her bed sheets, she heard Osborn tell the researcher, "Make sure it goes well into her bone. Experiment #832 can then be observed more thoroughly."

Her heart stopped.

Through her clenched teeth, she murmured, "That's not my name."

Osborn pretended not to hear her.

She squirmed and groaned, "Stop it…I can't take it…it hurts too much…"

Osborn then stated, "Clover, be quiet. You know that we can't record any data properly if you keep―"

"Please! I said stop!"

Eyebrows furrowing, the businessman hissed, "Are you deaf? I said to be quiet!"

As the pain in her shoulder grew and grew, making her entire upper arm ache and burn as if it was on fire, Clover felt a much stronger blaze light up deep within her. The needles, the names, the scalpels, the lies, the pills, the guilt-tripping, the grow lights, the gas-lighting, the endless pricking and prodding and tests and torture…and this was for what? Her safety? This was all because she was so valuable?

Every single one of Osborn's old comments resonated between her ears: see how stupid you are? Why are you always this irrational? You can't think for yourself. Goodness, Clover, I can't believe how incredibly naïve you are sometimes.

Each time he tried to make her look like a complete fool angered her by the minute. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve any of this. She was never Clover; she was Experiment #832, the blue-ribbon lab rat of Norman Osborn. Her life always began and ended with OsCorp. She was nothing but a specimen to be observed under a microscope, not a living human being with her own thoughts and emotions.

She scowled. Osborn had been telling her the truth this whole time:

He never cared for her. He valued her. Like a trophy prize.

Clover's eyes shot open.

A dark grimace spread across her face.

"I…said…stop!"

In a blind rage, she shot her right hand in the air.

Up from the floor sprung a thick, large vine covered with thick thorns three inches long. The creeper crumbled the tiles around it and spiraled around the leg of the researcher, who screamed in terror as the vine's thorns sliced through his skin and gripped his leg, crushing his tibia and femur in one fell swoop. He yelled in pain when his leg was crushed, and dark red blood spilled freely across the tiles as the vine lifted him high into the air, hitting him on the grow lights and sticking small shards of glass into his face and arm.

Furious, Clover flicked her wrist, and the vine crept further up his body and coiled rapidly around his neck, pushing the shards of glass further into his skin. The researcher's fear-stricken eyes looked down on her as he kept screaming, and she grinned from ear to ear, enjoying the way he suffered the way she always had been. The thorns poked into his face as the vine tightened around his neck. His neck blue and his lab coat stained dark red, the scientist flailed his limbs wildly and clawed at the vine that was choking him, desperately trying to pry it off his neck.

Clover's eyes flickered ominously.

When she clenched her fist, the vine snapped the researcher's neck loudly, piercing his jugular veins with the thorns. More blood spurted out and drained from his corpse onto the floor.

Before Clover knew it, though, she felt something sting her from her other shoulder, and she turned to see that Osborn had stuck a different syringe into her. As she turned to attack him, Osborn's hand came up and gripped the back of her neck tightly as her vision began to black out.

OoOoO

Blinking rapidly, Clover woke up in her bed.

Her shoulders still ached, and a migraine pounded beneath her forehead. Disoriented, she scanned the ceiling above her with black spots popping up here and there to cloud her vision. By instinct, she started to sit up, but something stopped her.

She tried to move her arms, but she couldn't. When she tried to move her legs, they were immobilized as well.

She craned her head to look in front of her.

Around her wrists and elbows were thick nylon straps with fastened buckles that were attached to the metal frame of the bed and restrained her tightly. Similar straps shackled her ankles and knees together and were connected to the foot of her bed, rendering her completely paralyzed. Clover yanked on her limbs as hard as she could, but no matter what happened, the belt buckles that fastened the restraints refused to get loose.

She was strapped to the bed.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

Clover peered to her right where Norman Osborn shadowed her, glaring down on her.

She looked across the room to where she had killed the researcher and discovered that both the body and her vine were gone. All that remained was an enormous reddish-brown stain on the floor and a large, green stump where her vine used to be.

She screamed fiercely, "You!"

"Now, now, Clover," the businessman retorted suavely. "There's no need to object. After all, that would be bad for business."

"Business!?" she roared furiously, thrashing against her restraints. "What kind of business? Yours? The Big Man's? So you finally admit it! You don't hide me in this building because you care about me or my safety! You only care about yours! You only care about your power over others, and God forbid you should lose it after everybody finds out! Dr. Octavius is the only one here who actually gives a crap or two about me, but you see him as a threat, don't you?! Don't you lie to me!"

"Calm down, Clover," he stated unemotionally, "there's no need for hysterics…"

She continued indignantly, "You're a despicable, arrogant fool, you know that!? You're so full of yourself that you had to create a whole 'nother person just to make an extension of you! Don't think you can keep me in the dark any longer! For all these years, you've lied to me straight through your teeth. For all this time I have wasted under this roof, you told me I was too dumb and naïve to know what was best for me, yet I was somehow the greatest thing that's ever happened to OsCorp. I'm not a person to you, am I? I'm just your little lab rat! I'm your specimen! I'm Experiment #832, the trophy prize of OsCorp!

"Well, I've had enough! Don't expect me to take any of your bull anymore! I'm not taking any more of your lies! You say I'm stupid, but I know everything now! I know that you stole from Dr. Toomes! I know that you blackmailed Dr. Octavius! I know all about the Big Man and Sandman and Rhino! I guess I shouldn't be surprised by your love for masks because you live off wearing one all day, every day. Outside OsCorp, you're a hero. Nobody sees you for the man you really are. Inside OsCorp, you're a god. Your entire profession revolves around controlling and using everyone around you.

"But you know what I find funny? That you put forth the effort to scare other people, but the truth is that you are scared of them. If you ask me, I think that's freaking hilarious. Like when you threatened to fire Dr. Octavius and ruin his reputation forever. You like to watch him tremble in your presence, but you're scared that he will tell the world all about how Norman Osborn is in cahoots with the Big Man and how he prides in his precious little Experiment #832! You wouldn't be blackmailing him if you weren't.

"Just admit it, Osborn: you hold up your chin like that because you think you're in control of the whole world, but in reality, you're a coward!"

Mr. Osborn's indifferent stare was all that answered her.

The girl with the green skin huffed and puffed, exhausted from her tirade yet still fired up enough to kill Osborn if she could.

After a deafening silence between the two, he explained calmly, "From now on, you are no longer Dr. Octavius' assistant. Every day, you will remain in your restraints except for any special testing we must do."

Clover simply shot angry eyes at him. To be honest, she expected him to say that.

Osborn strolled to the foot of her bed and reached down to pick something up. When he stood back up, he brought up her viola which still had the note from Dr. Octavius scribbled under it.

Seeing her most prized possession in the hands of the one person she loathed the most scared her.

"Such a shame, Clover," he said, examining the instrument. "It would not have been long before I would have revealed you to the world. I was going to have a press conference specifically for you, to show the world how far OsCorp has come. Imagine how famous you could've been. Your name would've been all over the headlines. Dr. Octavius would've been so proud of you."

Clover chuckled dryly out of spite.

She spat, "Did you come up with that one just now, or were you planning it for this moment?"

Osborn waited for her to say something else before he replied, "It doesn't matter either way. You won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

And with that, he held the neck of the viola firmly and swung it against the wall like a baseball bat.

The wood shattered loudly against the white plaster, sending wood chips flying all over the place. The tight strings snapped and curled up, and the neck cracked and split. The parts of the instrument that were not utterly obliterated came loose from their places and fell off, tumbling to the floor.

Clover's heart was shred into more pieces than the viola. Of course he would destroy the one thing that gave her life meaning aside from Dr. Octavius. Her wooden portal to the musical world she always ran away to was now gone forever.

Osborn let the splintered neck of the viola topple to the floor. He used his foot to brush aside the wood chips and large pieces before walking back towards Clover's bedside.

Osborn explained, "Now, Clover, I have planned something else for you: since you clearly cannot obey a simple set of rules that have been established since you were born, I have scheduled a trans-orbital lobotomy for you that should take place within the next week. I have already called the neurosurgeon who will perform the surgery, and my employees will help him out."

Clover's eyes grew wide. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

She remembered when she was younger when she had flipped through one of Dr. Octavius' old medical textbooks and came across the picture of a man with an instrument being stuck up his eye called an orbitoclast―which was, essentially, a fancy-looking ice pick. Dr. Octavius had told her how people used to do that a long time ago to supposedly help mental patients, but the procedure only made their conditions worse by destroying their frontal lobes.

Now, she would be getting one.

When he still didn't get any response form Clover, he leaned down towards her until his face was barely a centimeter from hers. Clover could smell his crisp cologne filling her throat.

He then purred, "You said so yourself, Clover. You are the trophy prize of OsCorp. You are the world's first autotrophic human being."

The corners of his mouth turned up.

"Oh, how I would hate to lose a girl like you…"

Clover kept scowling at him as he stood back up and headed towards the vault. As a last resort, she snarled, "Dr. Octavius would have none of this!"

He turned the massive wheel to open the vault.

"Oh, Clover," he crooned. "After today, you won't ever have to worry about the doctor ever again."

He slipped out the door, and the vault clanged shut.

OoOoO

Sophia Vincent belongs to Fifekun, by the way. She's been cameoing Clover into her story so much, I'd thought I'd return the favor. :)

And yes, I did add more political stuff, to which I also aimed towards political neutrality. (Trust me, the government is divided enough as it is!)

NEXT UPDATE: Friday, April 24, 2015