Nathan Summers paced nervously across the hospital corridor. His wife Neena Thurman was in the midst of giving birth to their first child. Nathan had done extensive research on childbirth in order to help Neena through the rough period, so he knew that it definitely did not take this long. Nathan grew more and more desperate for information with each passing second, a fact that was exacerbated by his vigilant starring at the wall-mounted clock. Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds had passed when he spotted the Doctor that had come to treat Neena once her contractions had finished. The look on the middle-aged man's dour face was grim, Nathan immediately feared the worst, jumping to the conclusion that no loving husband should have to; the death of his beloved wife. "I'm sorry -" he began before being cut off by Nathan's wail of sorrow, he couldn't lose Neena, she was the love of his life, she was supposed to be unfailingly lucky, why didn't her power save her this time? So many questioned popped into Nathan's head as the Doctor eased his into a chair and proceeded to highlight what went wrong in the birthing process. "Your wife developed a rupture in her uterus; we had to perform an emergency Caesarean section to save the life of your child. The Caesarean section was successful, but your wife had already lost so much blood that there was little we could do to save her . I'm sincerely sorry for your loss, if you need a minute to process this, then I'll wait by reception before taking you to see your son." During the entirety of the Doctor's speech, Nathan was silent, trying to take in the incomprehensible fact that Neena, his beloved Neena was no longer with him. He hollowly nodded his in acquiescence, to what he didn't know, he just need to get his son and Neena and get out of this godforsaken place that had taken her from him. "Take me to my son" he murmured to the Doctor, blindly following as the Doctor lead him to the Maternity ward.
Nathan Summers always wondered about the morality of his action in his ever-increasing age. What if he had not been forced into the future as a baby? What if he did not contract the techno-organic virus? How could he have saved Providence? Why did his powers burn out leaving him unable to return to save Neena? Was he right in experimenting on his own son to make him powerful enough to save his mother and mutants alike? That last question was the crux of the problem. Nathan remember the pain his six month-old son went through when he bonded an adamantium exo-skeleton to his body, he could see the discomfort his son dealt with when he received the DNA from Kurt Wagner, Ororo Munroe and Wade Wilson, he was currently witness to his son's isolation from the world and his complete lack of friends and social interaction with anyone other than his father. Nathan wiped a traitorous tear from his cheek, his son needed to go through this pain so that he, Nathan, Neena and the mutants could have a chance at a better life. Nathan just hoped Neena agreed with his methods. "Alright Peter it's time for your lessons" he called out to his son, retrieved the economics, history and physics textbooks from his bookshelves and prepared for his ten year-old son's arrival.
Peter Summers was an extremely powerful mutant, probably the strongest in existence. His telepathic, telekinetic, luck, and beam projection powers coupled with his superhuman strength, intelligence and endurance were inherited from his grandparents and parents alike. His father had bonded adamantium to his skeleton and used a blood sample from Wade Wilson to give him the most powerfully healing factor known to man. The powers of teleportation and flight gifted from Kurt Wagner and Ororo Munroe meant that Peter Summers could defeat any mutant or superhero in battle. It would take a team as strong as the Avengers or the entire X-Men to subdue him. The Hulk was identified as the only hero capable of defeating him in one-on-one combat, but Peter's telepathic capabilities would render his brain defunct. The now twenty year old Peter was preparing for his time-travel jump, back to the early 2000's before M-Day or the death of his mother. His father, Nathan Summers had committed suicide two-years prior, after passing on all his knowledge to his son he killed himself to join his beloved Neena, unable to bear her absence anymore. Peter took a deep breath, gazing one last time around the only home he had known for twenty years. Exhaling softly he set the self-destruct sequence on the house and made his way to the time-travel device. Setting the coordinates and date, he steeled his nerves and whispered determinedly "Time to save the World".
Pamela Isley stroked her new baby lovingly. She had just stolen Heliconia angusta plant from a government research facility in Boston. The plant was being harvested to extinction due to its ability to purify ten barrels of crude oil per stalk. Pamela silently cursed the huge blue-chip corporations that disregarded the ecosystem in favour of profit. She was broken out of her musings by a large crack and sudden appearance of a handsome twenty year old male with auburn hair and a strong six foot three muscular frame. Being a supervillainess and from Gotham Pamela was only midly surprised by the male and immediately fell into her Poison Ivy persona. "Well, well, well, what a pleasant surprise, a young stud here to ravish me" she murmured seductively, swaying her hips as she walked over towards the groggy male, who seemed completely disorientated from whatever had caused him to appear. 'Easy pickings' thought Ivy malevolently, as she released a full blast of her pheromones. The young man briefly adopted the glazed eyed lust-filled look that signified that her pheromones had taken control but he quickly snapped out of it, looking around curiously until he spotted Ivy making her way towards him. "Oh my I love a fighter!" she mock-swooned, "What shall I do to a big boy like you?" she simpered aloud, before releasing another, even stronger batch of pheromones. The young man stumbled a bit under the pressure of her onslaught until he regained his balance with a look of defiance. "Please cease my lady, I mean you no harm, I think I'm lost" he stated in a deep baritone voice that was so stereotypically male it annoyed Ivy. "Do not think your boyish charms can sway me fool, you are like the rest of your despicable gender; scum", Ivy continued her seductive walk towards the man, while simultaneously pouring even more pheromones at him, she was barely four feet from him now when his façade begin to wilt. The man dropped to one knee in a profound grimace, his handsome face twisted unnaturally as he desperately attempted to escape Ivy, his body however was still unresponsive, and it was taking so much effort to retain his mind that he could not spare the time to move his limbs. "Please…..Please…" he stuttered under great duress, "I mean you know harm, I swear….Please don't do this….". Ivy was now hovering above his shaking form after closing the small gap between them, she could feel his body reacting to her now and it seemed that finally his defences were crumbling. She had to pause to admire his restraint; no one had ever resisted her to such an extent, 'Well all good things must come to an end' she thought philosophically and with that pressed her infamously poisoned, ruby red lips to the strangers, lingering a bit longer than she needed too, a last-gift for the man who had resisted her until the very end. Ivy did not feel the man's body going limp as the poison took hold, causing her to open her eyes with a frown, as her eyelids fluttered open she was greeted by a set of alluring emerald green eyes. Ivy gasped lightly, nobody survived her signature kiss of death, 'What was so special about this man' wondered Ivy, before slumping over in fatigue, she had never had to use so much energy before and it showed. She held the man's piercing gaze until she succumbed to her tiredness and fell unconscious.
Peter Summers starred at the woman that had most definitely tried to kill him. He was provisionally angered by her attempt on his life, obviously, but scanning her memories using his telepathy, caused a polar opposite feeling to become dominant, empathy. Peter had always been secluded away from society and other people by his father. His isolation led to loneliness which led to depression. Pamela Isley had led a lonely life from childhood to adulthood and then her exploitation at the hands of James Woodrue had created a distrust of the male gender coupled with her maternal relationship with her precious plants, it all culminated in a volatile woman fraught with vulnerabilities and socially inept. Peter sympathised with Pamela's hardships and he could not bring himself to retaliate for a single transgression brought on by years of neglect by society. So Peter stayed by Pamela, watching over her unconscious form diligently, vowing silently to protect her from this day forward. In her unconscious slumber Peter could see how men became enamoured by her, she held an almost ethereal beauty with her flowing red hair shaping her soft facial features, her button nose, plump lips and almond-shaped eyes. 'She was perfection incarnated in human form' he mused romantically, while softly caressing her full cheeks. This intimate action was the first thing Pamela felt when she came out of her unconscious state. At first she wanted to destroy this man for taking advantage of her in her vulnerable state, but after a quick mental conversations with surrounding plants, she deduced that he had simply nursed her back to health. However half a lifetime of distrusting men did not simply vanish, surely he had an ulterior motive for aiding her? "I know your awake Pamela" his deep baritone voice interrupted her thoughts; clearly her attempts at feigning sleep were useless. Opening her eyes and casting a critical eye on the man, she questioned "How did you resist my pheromones and kiss? You should be dead, very dead. Do you possess some type of superpowers?". "I resisted your pheromones due to my mental fortitude and telepathic powers, for your kiss I have a regenerative healing factor that makes me virtually unkillable and yes I possess superpowers. I will never lie to Pamela Isley not like all those you deceived you before me." He responded swiftly continuing his soothing circles on Pamela's cheek. "You know my name" she breathed warily, although Peter could sense no malice or threat in her voice. "Yes, I am a telepath remember?" he said gently, "But I have always been thought equality, so a name for a name sound good? I'm Peter Summers, it's very nice to meet you ." he stated in his usual deep baritone voice. Pamela Isley starred into his emerald orbs intensely, searching for any deceit in his warm gaze, finding none, she could feel a treacherous tear break loose from her own eye. Her past, the loneliness, the isolation, the timidness that she had worked so hard to escape from, bury and forget, was returning to her in this man's presence. 'Perhaps he finally understood? Maybe she could let someone in finally after all these years of social exile?' her thoughts were rapid and so were her tears, hot bubbles of regret surfacing after so many years of suppression. Pamela felt herself pulled into a warm embrace and she felt safe, protected for the first time in her life. Her silent tears turned into heaving sobs until Peter's jacket was soaked. Pamela muffled an apology into Peter's shoulder, unwillingly to give up this safe haven just after finding it. Peter just shushed her and whispered comforting words in her ear. Pamela didn't know how long she had been pressed into Peter's shoulder but she was almost sure that the sun was shining when they started but now her greenhouse was bathed in a glow of moonlight. Finally Pamela broke off the embrace and gave Peter a watery smile, "I suppose you know all about my problems Peter? Being a telepath and all" she said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "No Pam, I couldn't abuse your privacy like that, I did search you're your name but I could just feel so many latent emotions rolling off you, almost all of which were negative I might add, that I felt you needed somebody to just stop and help you, so here I am. So do you want to be regaled with the history of Peter James Summers first or should Pamela Lillian Isley tell me how she got to living on a bed of vines?" he joked bringing a small smile to Pamela's face that he didn't observe her most secret memories and the fact that he was selflessly helping her. "You are really strange Peter Summers, I've never met a person like you, I sincerely doubt I ever will again and I can't comprehend how I am worth your time" she replied staring into his emerald eyes that exuded calmness that soothed Pamela's frayed nerves, "But let me start please and then you can decided if I am worth your time", so Pamela sucked in a nervous breath a began her tale.
The pair had talked all through the night sharing with each other their most intimate secrets, comforting hugs were given, commiserations exchanged and words of encouragement issued. Peter was slightly perturbed by Pamela's extreme environmentalism and eco-terrorism methods that had taken dozens of lives, but had accepted that the large majority of those lives deserved their faith. Pamela was surprised by the number of powers Peter possessed and enjoyed his impromptu demonstration of the abilities, although she did not appreciate his sudden teleportation onto her lap, feeling that he deserved the beating she gave him with her vines after causing her a near heart attack. Pamela had never had so much fun in another's company ever, even if she cried when hearing his tragic story of his parents and his father's subsequent experimentation on him. Peter finally feeling the intensity of the day, his time-travel, his battle of wills with Ivy, his watching over of her and the long albeit pleasant conversation with Pamela had taken its toll on him and he unknowingly drifted off to sleep during Pamela's tales about her conflicts with the Batman and his family, this went unnoticed by Pamela until Peter's head had slumped onto her shoulder. Gazing at him fondly, Pamela wondered if he was real, brushing his auburn bangs off his forehead, she heard Peter let out a soft, contented sigh that brought a smile to her face, before easing herself and Peter down onto her bed of vines to get some much needed shut eye herself. As the son rose on a crisp, Autumn morning in Gotham, Poison Ivy died to be replaced by Pamela Isley once more.