Pamela walked through the dim corridor, the red emergency lights glowing faintly overhead. The air pressed heavy against her lungs, thick with dampness and the sharp tang of antiseptics. Her footsteps echoed against the concrete floor until she rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks.
Three Seedlings waited for her in the hall. Unlike the half-formed ones she had fought before, these stood upright, their movements steady and deliberate. Thorny bushes stuck out from their backs, thick with leaves and flowers in full bloom. Their limbs no longer looked clumsy but smooth, wood grafted seamlessly into muscle and bone, vines twisting tightly around their joints. The tanks on their heads gleamed under the lights, water sloshing with every step as the twisted plant masses inside writhed and pulsed. Their soaked shirts bore red-stamped numbers: Seedling-38, Seedling-41, Seedling-47.
Pamela read the numbers aloud, her tone sharp with sarcasm. "Seedling Thirty-Eight? Forty-Seven? Just how many people did you abduct, professor? You're not a scientist—you're a goddamn mass murderer." Her voice dropped lower, bitter. "I wonder if Joker or Two-Face ever racked up body counts this high." A hollow laugh slipped out. "Body counts. He he." She caught herself and shook her head. "Focus, Pamela. Now is not the time for stand-up comedy."
Her eyes narrowed on the figures ahead. "Fine. Let's take out the trash."
The Seedlings reacted at once, breaking into a run. Their wet footsteps slapped against the floor, water spilling from their tanks as one gurgled, a deep bubbling noise that made her skin crawl. Pamela raised her left arm. The Midnight Rose bracelet pulsed against her wrist, its thorns twitching with anticipation.
She clenched her fist, expecting the familiar vine whip to lash out—but instead a sharp crack split the air. Wood tore from her wrist, twisting and growing in an instant, wrapping up her forearm. It stretched forward, shaping itself into a massive clawed talon. Red thorns sprouted out from its edges, jagged and dripping with sap. Pamela stared in awe for half a heartbeat before the first Seedling reached her.
She punched forward, driving the wooden talon straight into Seedling-38's chest. The strike tore through bark and flesh, bursting out its back with a wet pop. The Seedling froze mid-sprint, its limbs jerking as the mass inside its tank shriveled. The water bubbled violently, steam fogging the glass. Pamela pulled her arm free, and the gore coating the talon sank into the wood, vanishing into it like water down a drain.
Her lips parted, stunned. "Holy shit… it evolved."
The talon withdrew slightly, reshaping itself with her movement. She flexed her fingers, feeling the wood shift as though it breathed with her. "You can grow with me, can't you? Adapt to what I need?" Her voice softened as she whispered, "You're not just a weapon. You are my new best friend."
Another gurgle snapped her back into focus. Seedling-41 charged, arms lifted to crush her. Pamela ran straight at it, ducking low beneath its swing. She drove the talon upward, stabbing into its gut. The wooden talon ripped through its torso, exploding out from it's spine in a spray of black-green blood. Its limbs flailed wildly before cracking and drying in seconds, bark falling away as it crumpled to the ground.
Pamela spun, her chest heaving, eyes fixed on the last Seedling. Its glass tank sloshed as it walked closer to her, its steps faster than the others. She lifted her arm again, her voice steady. "Come on then. Let's prune you too."
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