"Close," he murmured. "But incomplete."
The poison wasn't gone. The nerves were being forced to fire through damage, worsening the internal strain.
So the solution wasn't removal alone.
It was suppression, isolation, and gradual breakdown.
That was what Bruce had been looking for.
With this, he would finally get the antidote he needed.
Bruce moved faster now, hands steady but efficient. He refined the mixture, adding a third component, a stabilizing herb that slowed metabolic spread while reinforcing the vascular walls.
He injected the final compound into the poisoned mutant.
Seconds passed.
Then the beast stirred.
Its breathing deepened. The tremors lessened. Slowly, strength returned to its limbs. It lifted its head, eyes regaining clarity, and snarled weakly at the bars.
Alive.
Functional.
Bruce stared at it, then let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"…It works."
Not a cure, yet.
But an antidote.
His lips curved into a faint, tired smile.
