Chapter Text
Night returned to Gotham in the latter hours of the evening, casting its inky blackness over the city. It was the beginning of the three-day weekend, as there was a national holiday on the first day of the new week, and there were a vast number of people from all backgrounds partying like it was the end of the world as they knew it. The area around Georgina's apartment complex had been cordoned off, as there had been a knife-related incident in the area. The flashing blue and red lights of the police cars stationed outside the entrance alerted the perpetrators to their presence, and what followed was a brief skirmish that involved yelling and gunshots, echoing across the river to the outskirts of Arkham City.
The apartment was empty, however. That evening, one might've expected to see a depressed, tear-ridden woman shuffling her tired feet up the steps. The letters that had once piled up by her letterbox were now strewn across the empty corridor, soaring across to gently fall against the door of the landlord.
The saltwater tank containing the sea-snake hummed as usual. A continuous supply of oxygen flowed into it from the valve replaced earlier, but there was something irregular about the venomous reptile's behavior. It became distressed for a second as a hand reached into the water, gently pulling its sinuous body out and into the open air. Its small, orange-black forked-tongue flickered, preparing to bite out of the pure instinct to defend itself, only to find a soft hand caressing its smooth, leaf-shaped scales.
Georgina assessed the condition of the marine reptile. It had been milked, as the signs of trauma were still present in the way it moved within the saltwater tank. She frowned. No doubt the handiwork of a certain, bigoted herpetologist. The snakes were always stressed when he appeared, as though they somehow remembered the last time he forced their heads down against a sheet-covered pot, forcing them to bite into it and release unnatural quantities of venom. Her presence, however, had a far more calming influence.
After waiting for the last of the on-site staff to vacate the premises, and the lights to fade, Georgina snuck out of the closet she'd been hiding in and broke into the herpetology labs. It didn't surprise when she discovered Dr. Adams had locked the entrance, clearly paranoid about someone stealing his work. She couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation. The lock now lay on the ground, the door slightly ajar as she searched through the reptile room, locating a stack of glass vials in a cupboard at the back, besides the mamba vivariums.
Each of the hand-sized vials were marked with the signature skull emblem, indicating the potential danger of releasing the contents. She also found the documents placed at the foot of the cupboard, where the herpetologist had drafted acceptance letters for various awards, having miraculously discovered a cure for Alzheimer's.
There would be no glory for him - she'd make certain of it. Georgina gathered the vials and placed them in a tub. The computer she'd used to run her simulations was still protected by her password, and as she sat herself in front of it, noticing the increased activity levels of the test subjects beside it, there was evidence that pointed to the fact that - recently - Dr. Adams had attempted to crack it. Most likely to gain access to her data and corrupt it for his own purposes. She wasn't entirely sure how much time she had, given the narrow window the herpetologist spent away from the labs.
She carefully poured the venom into the container, applying it to the original formula which she'd developed over countless weeks, adding various types of snake venom before testing it on her subjects.
As she waited, a bright, luminous lilac solution dripped down the clear tube into a measuring pipette, the tip of the needle given a thorough tap. In the interest of preserving any record of this test, I will be making a written account of my progress, in fear of Dr. Adams discovering my data. With little time left, I have no choice but to risk certain expulsion. When Dr. Adams finds out I've returned the favor of betrayal, he'll cut me out without a second thought. The board will surely side with him, even if I present a worthy case to overturn the decision. I can't allow him to win. I won't. The stakes are too high. The risks - worth every ounce of hope I have left. Taking a deep breath, Georgina carefully injected the new chemical-solution into the test subject, before placing the squirming rodent back into its plastic housing. I've tripled the solution's effectiveness to trigger a more aggressive chemical reaction, given the limited time available.
Georgina raked her fingers through her dirty-blonde locks and looked down. Then, after a few minutes, something blinked on the computer. The microscopic view of the rodent's cancer cells indicated something that caused her to grip the frame of the monitor, inhaling more frequently.
She glanced back to the test subject. Significant cellular degradation. Cancer cells decreasing at a climbing rate. Subject appears to be moving at a more efficient rate. Increased respiration and metabolic response. Georgina smiled. I may have something here. Something.
"Biochemistry." A soft voice filtered across the laboratory towards her, catching her completely unawares. Dr. Isley stood in the doorway, swinging the broken lock around her index finger. "Such a noble pursuit."
Georgina panicked, dropping a pile of papers across the floor as she swung around, the lenses of her glasses allowing her to see the botanist in detail, only there was something different about her. She wasn't dressed in her lab coat, nor was she wearing her own, green-framed lenses.
"I admire your spirit," Dr. Isley said, revealing herself from the shadows, the light of the monitor barely illuminating her form. "Of all the humans I've encountered in this...form, you're the brightest among them - perhaps even worthy of my mercy."
She looked at her closely, visibly gulping as she pressed her back to the desk. "I'd be mistaken for suggesting you were human, wouldn't I?"
Dr. Isley grinned. "How astute of you, Georgina. No - yes - I was human. Something..." she sighed, "in between."
" What are you?" She catechized her in a way that failed to mask her growing trepidation.
"First, I was a seed," the redhead responded, proudly, stepping into the light. She began to peel her glasses away, pressing the tip of her finger to her eyes, removing the contact lenses she wore, revealing the bright green pools beneath. "Then, a sprout." Dr. Isley reached for the auburn-red wig, ripping it off before throwing it over to Georgina, carelessly. She untied her bun, allowing the long, wavy magenta-red strands to fall past her shoulders, bobbing against the middle of her back. The white lab coat she wore, knitwear, brown leggins - they were all gone. In their place was a tight, form-hugging green catsuit, shimmering under the low light, with swirling, crimson veins that appeared to produce their own phosphorus glow, accentuating her breasts and supple, tender curves. "Now I've bloomed."
Georgina gasped. Her hair was like a fiery waterfall. "You're..."
"Beautiful?" Dr. Isley giggled.
"Toxic," she responded, hiding the plastic containers behind her as the redhead circled like a hungry predator assessing the state of its would-be-prey.
"Aren't they one in the same?" Dr. Isley smirked, flicking her hair. "Adrian Westwood certainly thought as much."
Her blood turned to ice, lips trembling. "You... killed them?"
"I did," she said, "and not a day goes by where it doesn't delight me."
"They were innocent," Georgina stuttered, finally registering the level of danger she was currently in.
She snapped. "Innocent? The Westwood's are solely responsible for the destruction of the Bornean rainforest, amongst countless other atrocities that have pushed nature to the brink of total ecological collapse. I simply took back a little life in return for the countless acres cut down by logging. That boy would've grown up to take his father's place, jeopardizing an ancient ecosystem to make cardboard. Cardboard!"
"I take it back," she responded, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "You're completely insane." Georgina began to slide closer around the lab to the door, waiting for an opening to escape.
"Not insane ," Dr. Isley blushed, raising her hand to stroke her own venom-filled lips. "Poison... Poison Ivy ."
A gust of wind blew through the gap in the door. She tensed. If there was ever a time to flee, this was it. Georgina inhaled. "As lovely as that sounds," she replied, keeping her distance, "I don't want to stick around to find out just how lovely." As fast as her legs could carry her, she bolted towards the entrance. A cloud of pink-violet dust blocked her path.
The stream of pheromones was blown across from her palm, up-turned, and tilted in the direction of the doorway. It was a continuous flow, sparkling dust motes spiralling and coiling their love-inducing way around the young woman's head, bringing her to an abrupt halt before she had a chance to comprehend their potency. The bright, crimson-lilac leaf that sat in her palm generated an endless supply of her signature love-dust, and after testing it on the private jet, Dr. Isley - now openly calling herself Poison Ivy - had increased its strength, making resistance to her charms a fleeting notion. Georgina never stood a chance.
She watched, with a broad, smug grin, as the young woman stared at her with brand new eyes, head lilting from side to side slightly, an expression born out of pure, chemical adoration befalling her pale features.
"A far more potent dose - something to really heat that primitive blood of yours." Dr. Isley approached, entering her personal space without so much as a hint of resistance. She tickled her green-painted fingernails underneath Georgina's chin, eliciting a few light giggles in response, much to her delight. "Now that we've got all that tension out the way, allow me to be more...forthcoming."
" Sure ," Georgina responded, blushing, some of the dust particles still forming a translucent halo around her head.
"You have a brilliant mind," she nodded, "and for a moment or two, I spared a great deal of consideration into cultivating it for my own benefit."
She bit her upper-lip, arms falling uselessly by her sides as she melted into the soft touch of those fiendishly adventurous nails, crafting light wisps against her skin. "I'd love nothing more than to help you," she admitted.
"Yes," the redhead grinned, pouting her lips, teasingly. "I'm sure you would. That being said, your devotion to these meat-sacks you call kin is most concerning. If I allowed you to leave here alive, I'd be dooming the natural world to extinction, not to mention threatening the creation of my new paradise. A garden that will blanket the entire world in lush, eternal green as far as the eye can see. A cure for cancer? That would result in a catastrophic population bloom."
Something inside her love-addled mind felt an enormous sense of guilt. Georgina stuttered. "I...I can change . Let me prove it to you, Dr. Isley."
Another torrent of love dust erupted from her palm, deepening the young woman's state of subdued ecstasy. She held her chin between two fingers, bringing their faces inches from one another. "Dr. Isley perished in a fire, in the heart of the jungle along her with dreams, Georgina. Her hopes, her desires - all utterly meaningless in the face of the only thing that truly matters. Humans are a stain on the evolutionary timeline, and nature has awoken in light of their avarice, selecting her champion to bring them crashing to the ground, returning their filth to the soil from whence they came."
Dr. Isley held the tip of her fingernail against the underside of her jaw, a darkness brewing within. Scratching a wound across her skin, she watched - in morbid satisfaction - as she drew blood, only for it to rapidly turn a dull shade of ivy-green. Almost immediately, the adorable, passive expression evaporated from Georgina's crimson cheeks, replaced by an invasive web of veins that began to infect her bloodstream. She collapsed in a heap, all the warmth generated by the pheromones dissipating in an instant.
"Can you feel it, coursing through your veins?" she asked, sweetly. "It's my essence. It lives within me now: this power. The power to transform mammalian tissue into a nourishing womb for my darlings. It'll be slow, and painful." Dr. Isley whispered, sadistically. "But it's no less than you deserve."
Georgina choked as she held her neck, feeling a smothering sensation gripping every corner of her body, every fabric of her being, the chemical signals her brain sent to the working muscles cut off by some foreign material. As she watched, coughing up green blood, unable to move, barely able to blink , her lungs began to shrivel.
The botanist turned her attention to Georgina's work, the desktop still showing the procession of the data as it formulated itself into a chemical equation for further repetition. She waved her finger at the dying woman, and cut the cord to the computer, before dropping a few seeds from her free hand. The glossy, yellow pebbles sprouted and consumed the entire work-station, enveloping all her hard work. They cracked and whipped around the plastic containers, before crushing the venom vials, a rain of glass cascading all over the floor, releasing rivulets of glowing, violet liquid.
She smiled, exhaling in relief. "Wasn't that alleviating?" Dr. Isley leaned down, analyzing her latest victim in what would surely become a long list in the near future. She caressed her cheek. "My only regret is that I won't be able to watch you bloom," the redhead sighed, "what will grow from you , I wonder?"
The sound of heeled-boots clapping against the glossy, tiled floor of the laboratory filled her ears, along with the sniggering of Dr. Isley and the sparks of the electric cables. Georgina could only stutter and struggle, barely managing a few shallow breaths as the plant spores consumed her from within.
A tear dropped down her cheek, only for it to be absorbed by her parched, green lips. She reached out with the last vestiges of strength she had left, desperately trying to save her work. Blood spilled from her ears, eyes rolling into the back of her head as the white orbs were consumed by a pulsating, light-amber coloration.
Her limbs twitched. Darkness took her. She convulsed violently, and as her own life flashed before her, her heart gave up. A final poof of air escaped her throat as her eyes closed. She lay lifeless, a pale-green corpse surrounded by pools of venom.
The electrical sparks triggered a small, venom-fueled fire that burned through the plastic containers, melting them and the rodents inside. A few tried, in vain, to escape the flames, only to become trapped and burned as the fire spread. The smoke that rose to the ceiling activated the sprinkler system, deactivating the circuit board that had been exposed when Dr. Isley infected the workstation with her vines. When the primary circuits fried, the main generator attempted to divert power to the sprinkler system, only for the board to shut down completely. As the entire laboratory was cast in darkness; the last light of the unnatural, violet flames died out with a whimper.
Dr. Isley returned to her office. The growth enzyme she'd taken earlier in the day had been placed in cold storage, keeping it pure. As she opened the freezer, her eyes glazed over it with villainous intent. The answer to the solution. When I add a sprinkling of my own formula, Gotham will be ready for the greening. She placed it in a zipped-up bag, and collected a few other items she'd since stolen from the storage rooms across various laboratories. A few carnivorous Nepenthes , some unique data-recording equipment, and a file containing notes she'd compiled over the last week or so. Not far away, down the hall, she could hear the rubbery snaps of her plants beginning to spread, and smiled to herself. It always gave her pleasure, knowing her children would feed on the bodies of her victims. She was a lover, not a fighter, after all, and preferred to use her feminine wiles to subdue her targets, allowing plants to conduct her dirty work. There was, however, nothing quite like taking a life by her own hand.
Dr. Adams always considered himself a lady's man. On the eve of his grand reveal to the scientific community, he'd paid a visit to Sofia's Sapphire to enjoy the more illegal pleasures the night life of Gotham's downtown district had to offer. As he sat in the back of the limousine, heavy drum and bass vibrating the blue-leather seats, he held two young women under his arm, both giggling and sharing expensive bottles of champagne, spraying the bubbling liquid all over him. His suit - a Paul Smith design - was completely drenched and reeked of alcohol and fornication, not that the women seemed to mind. They were half-naked and had thick wads of green paper stuffed in their bras and thongs. Business, as far as they were concerned, had gone well tonight. Entertaining some wealthy scientist was a breath of fresh air compared to their usual clientele, even though the limousine stunk of depravity.
He'd spent a small fortune by the time the limousine pulled up to the entrance of the environmental sciences building at GCU. The women tried to pull him back, planting kisses all over his face, leaving their crimson signatures behind. For a moment, he almost collapsed out of the door as the sound of green bottles rolling across the concrete filled the night air, a torrent of champagne washing away down the gutter.
Dr. Adams bid them farewell before belching, and stumbled his weary, drunk way up the steps to the entrance. He fumbled through his jacket for his key-card, raising his middle finger to the CCTV camera as it blinked above, zooming in on him. The building was completely empty, the dark corridors filled with his paranoid mutterings. It was well past midnight when he found himself - after a lengthy, troubling path up the winding staircase - staring at the entrance to the herpetology lab, only to narrow his eyes as he found it had been broken into. The double-doors were pushed aside as he entered, a small rainforest looming to greet him. The herpetologist rubbed his eyes. Was he that far gone - so absurdly drunk - that he was imagining all of this?
The heels of his polished, black loafers crunched against thick roots, a network of them covering the laboratory floor, draping from the ceiling above. Wires accompanied them - sparking and flaring - oozing a liquid that filled the puddles of venom that formed between the myriad of interweaving vines. He saw something then, hidden beneath the foliage that enraged him. It was the fragments of a glass vial used to store his venom-formula, one of many he'd planned to develop into a potential cure for Alzheimer's.
It was like something out of a horror scene, especially when he pushed the door open to the reptile room. There was glass everywhere. Crystallized saltwater formed a thin, white layer across the wooden beams that once supported stacks of vivariums containing hundreds of venomous snakes. To Dr. Adams surprise, as he began to breathe more heavily, they were all gone, leaving only a few, broken skin-sheds behind to indicate they were ever there. The oval-shaped tubs filled with seawater were completely drained, as though someone had freed their occupants. Panic began to set in. The venom samples. Dr. Adams rushed over to the back of the room, hoping that his private stash hadn't been pillaged. The cupboard was broken, and the glass vials - gone.
A piercing screech cut through the air. Something scraped across the record player that sat in his office. Between the electrical sparks, he heard a familiar piece. Mozart's Requiem. The notes were disconnected, and the chorus repeated itself over and over again. Dr. Adams felt the sweat forming on his arms, his head, only for something to strike him, hurling him against the wall. The lights snapped, igniting a torrent of lights that resembled exploding fireworks, and - for a moment - his eyes were drawn to a shape moving at great speed across the room. When they eventually ceased taunting him, he saw something that puzzled him.
Stricken across the floor was a large snake-skin, but unlike any other he'd previously observed, it formed the shape of a human outline. It was slender, and betrayed the curves of a woman, with two, round areas of stretched, scaly skin resembling breasts. It was a creamy, off-yellow colour, with hints of light green in certain spots. He ran his fingers over it, crawling across the floor, cutting his suit on the shards of glass that littered it. It was fresh to the touch, and made a squelching sound as he lifted it to the light. A potent odor permeated the air around him, one that wreaked of a dead serpent. He quickly dropped the skin, detecting more movement in the shadows.
He turned, slowly. The hairs on the back of his neck protruding, warning him that he was being watched. A female voice revealed itself from the darkness, but it was ethereal, all-encompassing, not allowing the herpetologist to determine the source of its origin. "Fancy meeting you here."
As he used the shelf to support his weight, rising to his own feet, Dr. Adams peered through the gloom. A green mist rose from the human-formed skin, and out of the cloud, a goddess appeared. He gasped, almost falling to his knees. She was of tall build, with a slender, toned body; long, luscious white hair that shimmered in the low light, giving off a gentle, green hue as it cascaded in waves beyond her delicate shoulders. The damp, skin-covered mane fell against her tail-bone as she stretched her arms to the ceiling, twisting her hips in such a way that revealed the fairly concealed, tight, chiseled abdominal muscles of her midriff. Chandeliers of fresh, scaly skin hung from her limbs, a few coils still clinging to her smooth, inner-thighs. Her clothes were torn, exposing her long legs and quivering navel, as well as her ribs and part of the underside of her breasts, one of her bra-straps hanging loose around her upper-arm. To the naked eye, she resembled a ghoul, but one that exuded an irresistible allure to the warm-blooded Dr. Adams.
He stuttered, shaking his head. "... Georgina ?"
A pair of light-green eyes focused on the herpetologist. Her cracked, pale lips had been granted a new fullness that made her all the more captivating. "Let's not pretend anymore," Georgina replied, "you've always had an eye for the finer things in life, haven't you?"
Dr. Adams grinned. It was true. He had desired the life of luxury, surrounded by beautiful women and endless piles of money, and ever since the moment she first stepped foot in his office three years ago, he wanted her . "Yes, but...what happened ? The lab is a ruin. A rainforest."
"You're drunk," she purred, resting a hand on her hip. "All this is a dream, I assure you. You're going to wake up in the morning with nothing more than a nasty headache."
"Shall we get down to business?" Dr. Adams inquired, wearing a smug grin.
She stepped closer, the soles of her feet pressing against the slimy snake-skin strewn across the floor. "I thought you'd never ask. How many hours have I endured your endless innuendos and ceaseless compliments, Edward? I've been more than patient with you. All your little jokes."
Dr. Adams rose to greet her as she moved into his personal space. "Stop trying to play hard to get," he said. "It doesn't suit you at all. I know you want me . "
Something welled up within her as she hummed, tilting her head to one side, flakes of scaled skin falling from her elbow. "Well," Georgina oozed a silky, but shrill voice that betrayed both her youth and newfound toxicity, "you asked for it. I want you..." As the herpetologist closed his eyes, pouting his lips, she pulled him in close with a surprising, tensile strength he didn't expect from her.
His eyes suddenly flung open. Uhrk! Dr. Adams grunted. A waterfall of a highly corrosive, acid-like liquid poured out from a flexing, forked-tongue, flickering across his nose as a generous volume was released from the glands now situated in her upper-mouth. Everything suddenly turned yellow as his skin boiled, followed by his blood turning to jelly moments later, the venom causing blood-clots to form around his brain. The last thing he saw - as she allowed him to crumble before her feet - was her victorious expression.
" Dead ," she whispered, watching as the venom dissolved his flesh, revealing the polished, white bones of his skull.
Georgina peeled the last sheets of wet, scaly skin from her body, allowing them to clump around the single shed that gave birth to her new form. She almost felt her knees cave in as she discovered her reflection in a mirror. Fingertips prodded against her cold cheeks. She was changed.
Her blood felt cold, but at the same time, she wasn't shivering, despite being clad in torn clothing that revealed her nubile, slender form. Extraordinary. Georgina pondered, as she looked herself over. The creamy-pink hue of her skin had been drained away, leaving her resembling a corpse. She held her hair tightly, squeezing the fluid from the mane, before allowing it to fall against her side. The wound that had been sliced open under her jawbone was gone. Even the inflamed ankle she had carried for most of her life matched its twin. She inhaled deeply. Georgina rubbed her lips. The singing hiss of the venom that ate away at Dr. Adams' face generated a theory in her mind.
The power-outage didn't just affect the lights and sprinkler-system. As she lay dead on the laboratory floor, the venomous snakes broke free from their vivariums, writhing their way towards her, en-masse, in a flurry of activity that one would associate with exodus. The tubs spilled over, flooding the reptile room, a tremendous splash ensuing as the stacks collapsed from the weight of the snakes' rapid movements. They coiled and surrounded her, flowing across her body, sliding beneath her clothing and enveloping her in scaled flesh. One by one, they reared their fangs and bit into her tender skin, injecting her with enough venom to bring down the population of Gotham itself.
A chemical reaction occurred, the plant spores that were in the process of consuming her mammalian form swarmed by various types of venom, combining on a genetic level. Her eyes twitched as they tightened their grip. The tips of her digits trembled, a spark of life reigniting in the depths of her heart. And slowly, but surely, a heart-beat could be heard. Her eyes opened, the last flecks of bright blue disappearing beneath an ocean of deathly-green. As she sat up, she began tugging at her skin, peeling it away, a hard, scaly texture covering her arms, legs, midriff - even her pretty head. It made an uncomfortable sticky sound as it peeled away, taking her long, dirty-blonde hair with it. She was completely bald, but only for a moment as she removed the skin-shed from her body, leaving a glowing, pale woman underneath. Her hair grew back in an instant, but had since lost its typical shade of dark-blonde, and now boasted a platinum shade.
Georgina tore the door to the reptile room clean off its hinges, gasping at her strength. There was a small rainforest growing in the laboratory, and her workstation had become apart of an ecosystem still very much in its infancy. Her head throbbed. The broken cords of Mozart's Requiem still filtered out from Dr. Adams' office. There were flashes of images, strange things. She drew her eyes to the glass vials containing the Aipysurus venom. Her head hung low as she slammed her fist on the desktop, motioning to destroy it before she heard a faint scratching sound. One of the containers had survived, and the test subject: alive.
Carefully, she pulled the rodent free, and held it down. There was a glass vial, undamaged, that she could use to contain the cure - now present in the rodent's blood - for transit. Her eyes darted anxiously as she injected the needle through the furry skin, a torrent of crimson fluid being released into the cylinder. She blew a strand of white hair from her face as a determined look surfaced. Georgina held the vial in a manner consistent with how a mother held a newborn child, and brought it up to her eyes. That it will never come again is what makes death so sweet.
Downtown was rough tonight. Jamil had been ferrying all kinds of drunk people across the city, and the stench of vomit in the back of his yellow cab gave a clear indication as to the quality of his shift. The sirens of police cars flying past became a common ambience as he rolled the marijuana leaves into a tube of paper. The manner in which these western-types conducted themselves was alien to someone from the heart of Iran, the birthplace of a religion that protested fiercely against the consumption of alcohol. With the Westwood Corporation now moving into the Middle-East, a life spent driving a cab around Gotham seemed wiser than fighting a losing battle to save his homeland.
The passenger door suddenly opened. A young woman, clad in what appeared to be torn shorts and a green pea-coat slid across the leather seats. "Downtown Hospital," Georgina commanded, "drive."
Jamil had a good look at her through the plastic shield that separated the driver's side from the back. "Downtown? Not exactly safe for a young woman at this hour," he replied, appearing uncertain as to whether or not to activate the fare-calculator. "Particularly a woman alone ."
She glanced in his direction, showing the tip of her tongue as it wiped across her teeth. "... Drive. "
He slowly gripped the steering wheel, a strange sense of arousal overcoming him. "You must have a death wish or something, kid."
Georgina acknowledged his voice as white noise as she gazed out the window. After fleeing the laboratory, she'd broken into Dr. Isley's office and stolen her signature green pea-coat, the thick wool keeping her warm. Her legs, unusually, were hot. She could feel something flowing through her bloodstream in every direction, a mixture of hot and cold, as though her new form was adjusting to the outside world. As the cab pulled onto the main road, she glanced at the vial in her pocket. I'm coming, mother.
They passed a number of clubs on the road through Downtown Gotham. The city's 'red light district' attracted a large crowd of people, all looking to satisfy their most basic, biological urges. To Georgina, it was fascinating, and she couldn't tear herself away from the window, fogged up by her rapid exhalations. An excitement began to pulse from her stomach, and she rolled her eyes, biting the tip of her tongue. Is this...lust? She mused. It was a new sensation, at least to her. A feeling of pure, uncontrollable desire. She went through a wide range of emotions as she held her temples, the same throbbing sensation returning with a vengeance.
As the cab pulled up to the side of the hospital, Jamil checked the fare before turning to face her. "$11.50," he announced.
Georgina threw him a rolled-up pile of cash and kicked the door open, leaving a dent in the metal framework.
The hospital was rather empty, which was especially unusual for the first night of a weekend. Georgina entered through the main entrance, the twin-doors sliding open, the flow of warm air from the vent above flowing over her. Her senses alerted her. It was almost as though they had been dialed up. Something was off. The on-duty nurses and physicians were nowhere to be seen. Even the front desk had been abandoned. Her green eyes darted towards the dark corridor. Georgina's heart began to pound.
Five floors above, the young woman found herself staring at the room where her mother had been kept for the past few months. There were no signs of any struggle, or break-in, and so she entered without a moment's hesitation, throwing herself at the side of the hospital bed. "I've done it," Georgina explained, excitedly, wearing a relieved grin, "I told you I would find a cure, and I have. You said I'd make you proud." She rested her hand over Erin's palm. It felt stiff, unyielding to her touch. Cold. "Mother?"
Erin failed to respond, even as she tugged harder on her arm.
A look of sheer grief began to dawn on Georgina's face as she heard it - the flat-line of the heart-rate monitor. Her mouth hung agape, welding her eyes shut. Still she tried to draw a reaction, even lifting her hand to hold it tightly, only for it to slip from between her fingers, draping itself over the edge of the bed. She backed away. "No..." Georgina fumbled for the vial, almost dropping it before biting the cap off. Tears began to stream down her face as she injected it into the IV drip. "I can save you! I can save you!"
The flat-line never broke away from its continuous rhythm. The whirring, electrical sound echoed around the room, but was soon drowned out by the ceaseless pleading of a grieving daughter.
" No...no...no !" she shook her head, cupping Erin's lifeless chin. The tears began to fall from her jaw, staining her mother's hospital gown. Georgina trembled. "Wake up!" she sobbed, wrapping her arms around her upper-body, " please ."
"I warned you of the consequences," Sofia said, twirling the cable that connected Erin to the life-support machine around her finger, appearing from behind the curtain, a certain degree of venom in her tone as she smiled. "I'll let you in on a little secret, though. Purely for my amusement." She was flanked by a towering, muscular man clad in a black suit, wielding a silenced pistol. "I was going to give you a second chance when - would you believe it - ten million arrived on my doorstep in exchange for your head."
Georgina looked up with watery eyes. She responded, hatefully. "Fenston Westwood."
She narrowed her eyes, holding the assassin back for a moment. "Imagine my surprise when he informed me that not one, but two Westwoods were hiding in my city. I understand, of course. Secrecy is everything. Had you elected to divulge your identity to me I would've certainly tied you to a chair and ransomed you off." Sofia began to strut around the room, black hair bobbing against the shoulders of her red fur coat. "Oh," she said, pouting her ruby lips, "I don't think she's gonna wake up anytime soon."
"Your confidence is misplaced," she hissed.
"Is that so?" Sofia chuckled. "Way I see it, I'm the one holding all the cards here."
Georgina smirked. "My father's corporation doesn't deal with criminals," she replied, returning the gesture, "neither of you are leaving this room alive."
She ripped the handgun from the assassin's black-gloved hands. Sofia pointed the barrel at her chest. "You recall what I said about a bullet with your name on it?" Her index finger squeezed the trigger.
"I tried dying once," Georgina responded, as a green laser appeared through the glass window, "it didn't seem to agree with me."
A single gunshot could be heard from across the river, shattering the glass as it skimmed past her shoulder, catching the edge of an air tank. The shock-waves from the explosion were enough to force Sofia off her feet, sending her flying against the wall of the corridor. Georgina spied through the window, her head throbbing again as she blinked. In the distance, she saw a warm silhouette, her green eyes detecting body-heat, followed by the echo of a second shot that narrowly avoided her ear, ricocheting off the brick-wall.
She dove to the floor, slithering across it like a snake as she reached for the handgun, just before the assassin - half his suit burned by the rippling flames that began to envelop the room - could retrieve it. A single shot to the head was all it took, blood splattering against the floor. She exhaled, and caught sight of Sofia Falcone, smeared in her own blood, limping away at speed, a clear bullet wound in her calf. She turned to retrieve her mother, before the green laser darted across the bed to aim at her chest. Her newfound agility granted her a third escape, as the bullet ignited another tank, forcing her to escape the fiery eruption that followed.
Outside, a couple of armored vehicles pulled up to the entrance. Men wielding semi-automatic rifles formed a protective guard around Sofia as she appeared in the entrance, dragging one leg behind her. They opened fire as Georgina caught up to her a few moments late, unleashing a continuous spray of bullets, raining down upon her as she took cover. Sofia managed to haul herself into the back of a car, before it quickly sped away into the night.
The flames that spread across the hospital could be seen from all over Gotham. A bright orange glow on the edge of the city, the explosions rousing even the hardiest of sleepers from their beds. Smoke rose from the structure, shifting in the air between the neighboring skyscrapers, forming a blanket over the bright, neon lights.
The tremors were enough to disturb a roost of bats nearby, dispersing to reveal a silent guardian watching from above. A vision he'd long considered his worst nightmare suddenly became a reality. Was Luthor right all along? Was Kara responsible in some way for the deaths of the Westwood children? Had she returned to finish the job, to spite those who'd imprisoned her cousin? The level of devastation was akin to the signature of a Kryptonian. Bruce began to doubt himself. The office belonging to Dr. Isley was empty when he broke into the lab, finding no evidence to suggest she was at fault, until he investigated the reptile room. The state of the body he discovered was consistent with the victim at the airport, only this was different, more aggressive. If he didn't know any better, it was almost as though his face had been burned by superheated rays of some kind. From his experience, only the Kryptonians were capable of unleashing such a weapon.
On the outskirts of the city, a homeless man awoke to a peculiar sight. He was startled at first by the sight of a young, almost fully nude woman standing over him. She closely resembled the sculpted, Roman marble statues of the gods he'd seen when he was a small boy.
She spoke softly, offering him her coat. "Take it."
The old man reluctantly held out his arms. "You'll catch a cold in this weather."
"Not where I'm going," she replied, carrying herself down the narrow alleyway, before vanishing into the inky blackness that enveloped her. Not where I'm going.