Pamela's eyes fluttered open to the harsh glow of fluorescent lights above her. A pounding ache throbbed in her skull. She tried to move, only to feel her chest and limbs strapped down. Thick leather restraints locked her to a padded gurney, tight enough to bruise. Panic surged in her chest. She jerked violently against the bonds, her breath ragged. "What's going on? Where—? Oh my god… I was kidnapped…"
Her voice echoed faintly across the sterile chamber. She forced her eyes to focus. In the corner of the room, under the heat of a UV lamp, sat a planter box. Inside, her Midnight Rose glowed faintly, its black petals catching the light. As Pamela's gaze lingered, the flower stirred. The petals shifted and unfurled slightly, as if answering her.
Her throat tightened. She pulled against the restraints again. "I need to get out of here… I have to find Barbara."
She called louder, desperation rising. "Barbara! Are you here? Can you hear me?" The silence pressed in around her. Pamela's gaze returned to the rose. An idea began to form.
Across the underground complex, Barbara Gordon sat bound to a reinforced chair, wrists locked in heavy steel cuffs. The lab around her hummed with the sound of machines and glowing tanks filled with plants under bright lamps. The door opened, and Professor Jason Woodrue walked in, his lab coat crisp, his steps calm.
Barbara lifted her chin, eyes hard. "Professor, what the hell are you doing? Why did you abduct us? What did you do to Pamela?"
Woodrue stopped at a digital terminal, his gaze moving over genetic charts scrolling across the screen. "Pamela Isley is the culmination of decades of research," he said. "For years, I have sought to bridge the gap between flora and homo sapiens—to create a symbiotic hybrid capable of photosynthesis, cellular regeneration, and full-spectrum ecological control."
He gestured toward a glass tank. Inside floated a bloated corpse riddled with vines, its skin stretched and veins pulsing with green tissue. "I grafted living botanical tissue onto dozens of test subjects. None could withstand the cellular rejection. Their immune systems revolted. Until Pamela."
Barbara's jaw clenched. "You experimented on her without consent. You used her body like a petri dish."
Woodrue's voice rose, tinged with pride. "Her physiology is unique. A rare combination of latent mitochondrial mutations and chloroplast-compatible proteins. She accepted the grafts. Her body embraced the plant DNA. Even her immune system adapted to accelerate the fusion."
He turned toward her, his expression sharp with ambition. "She is the prototype for a new species. A post-human form. Within her bloodstream now circulates a genetic serum of incalculable value. The serum is alive in her body. It's Responsive. Adaptive. And with your technological expertise, I can extract it and replicate it for myself."
Barbara recoiled. "You want to become like her?"
Woodrue's eyes burned with obsession. "Better. I will be the pinnacle of human evolution—one with nature, immune to disease, capable of healing the Earth or reshaping it to my will. I will command forests like armies. I will be a Plant Messiah."
Barbara spat at his feet, her voice hard. "You're insane. My father's Commissioner Gordon. Do you really think you'll get away with this?"
Woodrue only smiled. "Your father still believes Gotham can be saved through justice. I've moved past such quaint ideas. Evolution doesn't ask permission. It simply happens at my demand." He turned back to his console, his hands moving across the controls as machines whirred to life.
Back in the restraint room, Pamela's eyes locked on the Midnight Rose. The petals trembled again, shifting toward her as though stirred by her heartbeat. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, her voice a whisper. "Please… help me."
The flower shivered. A vine slipped over the planter's edge, twitching faintly as if answering her call.
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