"Wake up."

I don't want to… no…

"Wake up, Batman."

I just…don't…want to…

"Wake up… Bruce."

Bruce's eyes snapped open. He had went out like a candle being snuffed, down into darkness and cold. Now, awakening, all memory came flooding back to him as he realized that was strapped to a flat table, situated in an upright position, bound with thick…thick vines. Very thick vines. These vines seemed to be alive, pulsing with breath of their own, and were protruding from-

"My God…" he breathed. The room was a massive laboratory. The chamber was completely floric in form, the floor being dirt and walls a strange, green, organic matter. Mounds of vegetation flourished in this place, and the vines that bound him against the table were coming out of the giant maw of what looked like an elephant-sized onion…except the onion had teeth, and its coloration was a faint blue. All around him, there were giant capsules, well-above the average human size, filled with a thick green gel, and in several of them there were floating bodies! People, it seemed, suspended within, unmoving, with thick, tan tubes plugged into their bodies. Beside each capsule, a terminal.

"Oh, you're going to be so beautiful, Bruce." Bruce turned his head and saw Woodrue walking towards him from the shadows. He was nude. Bruce saw that upon the man's chest was a fierce tattoo, elaborately designed: it looked like a highly detailed map of some sort of metropolis. Woodrue, noticing him looking, grinned and chuckled a little. "Oh, you like it… why, yes… I'm a bit eccentric, I admit. I had this drawn into my flesh during my college years, and even then, the artist thought me a looney toon. It's a map, you see, of the Edrenial Square, a pivotal place of commerce within the city of New Eden. New Eden, you see, is my utopia. My vision. And a vision that will see itself through for this entire planet…" He stopped before Bruce and stared passionately into his eyes. "But you know all about eccentricity, don't you? I say… Bruce Wayne himself is the Batman. Honestly, when it really comes down to it… it makes total sense. It really does. In fact, I don't see how you've kept your identity a secret for so long. I mean, all, the pieces fit, really."

"Woodrue," Bruce said slowly, inhaling deeply, "let me go now. I'm warning you."

"Are you now?" Woodrue's eyes lit up a fire within. "Tell me something, Bruce… you clever boy you… you knew of my Doppelganger because of the eyes. I commend your abilities. Tell me, then: Did you see a future within that creature as you studied its eyes and realized what it was?"

"A living, breathing mimicry of plant-life. No, Woodrue. I don't see a future in something like that. You notice it fell apart very easily, right."

"Oh, I did that," Woodrue assured him, sitting down upon the floor and spreading his legs wide. Bruce felt bile in this throat. The man had castrated himself completely. "I did that very much. You see, those creatures are merely puppets to a puppetmaster. That would be me. And how so are they puppets? Why, can you guess, Bruce?"

"A device implanted?" Bruce suggested, trying as subtly as he could to fight against the hold of the tendrils… but it was for naught. Woodrue shook his head.

"No, no… not a device. Not technology, Bruce. Life itself. A hive mind. They are connected by a hive mind. I'm the hive mind." He gave a small bow. "You see, when I was a boy, I was never shy about my utter fascination with the continuation of plant-life and the survival capabilities they showcase. Pansies, for example. A common name for a wimp, but probably some of the strongest flowers there are in nature. I was always a pansy, too, growing up. They mocked me all the time. Gave me their own special name. Something you can relate to, right, Bruce? You're called, "Batman." Well, they called me, "Floronic Man." Ha, ha. We could be brothers, couldn't we, Bruce?" He gazed longingly at the floor and spidered his hands about. "But I aimed to live up to their name for me. I aimed to prove how correct they were about calling me the 'Floronic Man.'"

He stood to his feet and walked over to one of the capsules. Knocking loudly on the glass, he turned and said, "See here? Within?" Bruce studied it. A woman was inside. Long flowing, chocolate-hair, skin like almond. "Lasetta Rilee, daughter of Jaquez Rilee, the man responsible for the Oregon Coup de Grace. It will be the largest hotel chain in the Western United States when it's completed… of course, construction has been halted. A letter was delivered to the office of Jacquez, requesting the construction ceased and $40 million in cash sent to an anonymous bank account, which is safely secured elsewhere, for my immediate benefit. You see, in exchange, he gets his daughter back alive…" He gazed lovingly up at the floating, nude woman and slowly licked the glass. "But first," he whispered, "I aim to perfect her. I'll turn her into something marvelous." He looked around at Bruce again. "She's been calling herself 'Poison Ivy,' hasn't she? Awful name. 'Rosethorn' would be my preference, if ever the wasted goddess needed an alias. Well, Bruce, let me allow you in on a secret." He stepped forward and grinned. "'Poison Ivy' is merely a prototype. A failure, really. Just a failed experiment. Unfortunately, an experiment that survived when she was never meant to survive… I blame myself." His head hung. "I should have made sure the machine killed her before I left Gotham. But I was in a hurry that day. I had to get to the airport…" He beamed at Bruce. "Nevertheless, this perfect goddess of poison and toxin that has claimed so many lives in Gotham is merely a prototype. This one, here…" He gestured at Lasetta. "…she will be the true Poison Ivy. The true Mother Earth incarnate. But, safely under the management of the Hive Mind…me. Together, we're going to create my utopia. The city of New Eden will expand across the entirety of North and South America and all in between. Lasetta and I will exterminate humankind little by little…while giving glory to the Chosen."

"Chosen?" Bruce repeated, almost sickeningly entertained, he realized, by Woodrue's delusions. "By all means, give me exposition, Woodrue." Keep him talking while I figure this out. The hold of the giant plant was too strong… Breaking free was not the solution. Forcing it to let go was. One thing of note: Woodrue had either chosen not to or had been unable to remove his armor. He felt no pressure below against the tendrils, and thus he knew that the utility belt had been removed… but the utility belt was not what he needed anyway.

"The Chosen." Woodrue gestured again at Lasetta. "She has been chosen. As has he." He motioned to a capsule on the other side of a chamber, in which floated a skinny African American man. "And you." He pointed right at Bruce. "You've been Chosen, obviously. You will be our Guardian, Bruce. Lasetta and I will require a Guardian. A Protector. You must be ours."

"Well, considering you're a Hive Mind, that sounds great," Bruce reasoned, nodding and smiling encouragingly. "Sounds very great indeed."

"You think?" Woodrue looked happy enough with his smirk. "I think so too. I'm going to put you in this one." He knocked on the empty capsule next to Lasetta's. "You will hibernate for three months as the dosage of enhanced toxins gradually increases. Lasetta's been in here for three already. In just a few more days, she will be reborn as the goddess Gaia. Sadly, she will have to wait three months for her lover to emerge." He nodded at Bruce.

"Me?" Bruce smirked. Woodrue nodded encouragingly.

"Yes. I'm going to have you mate, Bruce. You, and Lasetta. You will take her as your wife, and she will take you as her husband. Together, the two of you will plant the seeds for New Eden at my side."

"I thought you were going to take her as your wife, Woodrue…"

"Oh, I am. Don't get me wrong. But you first, Bruce. The Emperor has full rights to all of the wives in the kingdom. She will be the property to us both. I cannot bear children, you see. That is the purpose you will serve: to give her offspring. I…cannot." He gestured at his missing privates. "I cut them off myself," he whispered, his expression blank. "To make myself worthy for Gaia. In its place, something truly marvelous will come. A distributor of pollen and seeds that will give birth to an entirety of vegetation. Pamela Isley received me in human… but when I have Ascended, the entire world shall receive me."

"I see…" Bruce was getting sicker with each passing second. "Sounds good. When do I get to start mating…?"

"I have told you, Bruce. In three months times, after you have been properly assimilated. Your body will not be able to handle Lasetta until then: she will be overflowing in very potent toxicity. You would die. Poison and floric convergence is what separates the Floric Children from the Humankind."

"Floric Children?"

"I named us myself. I, God. I, Hosana. I named us. I, the Creator. I named us."

"Point taken. So, then… why not get me started? She's very fetching. I long to give you the children you desire."

"In due time, Bat-, I mean, Bruce… no… no, not Bruce. Not Bruce, and not Batman. No, your name shall be… Custos. Custos, yes… Latin for "guardian."

"How beautiful your mind works," Bruce whispered passionately. He was gently rubbing a little of his upper arm against the plant that bound him… trying to hit the com-link button… "Tell me something, Jason-"

"Not Jason!" Woodrue snapped, his head twisting around as his angry eyes bored into Bruce's. "Viridi Deus, Custos. I am Viridi Deus!"

Bruce nodded. You're a lunatic is what you are. "Well, Viridi Deus… tell me something, please… Will Lasetta love me? I need her to love me, Viridi… I need her to need me…"

"She will love you, Custos," Woodrue hissed, practically hugging Lasetta's capsule, one leg spread wide over the glass, as if he aimed to hump it. "I will ensure that she does."

"Fine enough for me… isn't she beautiful?" Bruce forced his arm forward as much as he could, and saw the blue LED light shine on his arm. Connected! He prepared himself. "Well, I should hope that you won't have me tied up for too long, Wood-, I mean, Viridi Deus…" He knew that, on the other line, Alfred and the others were listening in. "It would be a shame for me to be bound to this table with this giant plant that I can't break out of… I want to show my friends what I will become."

"You will show all the Earth within three months' time, Custos… and when you do, they will have to prove themselves worthy of receiving the endowment of Ascension…"

"I understand, my lord." Bruce felt sick and odd talking like this, but he had to keep the man distracted long enough to get his message to Alfred across. "I'll be…godlike…sort of like a friend that I know in Metropolis... Guy can move like the wind and reaches places very, very quickly. He's gotten me out of some tight spots before… Aint that right Alf-, I mean, Viridi…?"

Woodrue was looking funnily at him now. "You seem to be taking this very well, Custos…"

"How could I not look upon the face of god and not take it very well, Viridi?" Bruce imitated sounding insulted. "You can give me the power to be the true justice of Gotham and beyond… Vigilantism has no bearing on what I can and must do for the future…"

"The future is your mission, Custos. The future is your calling…"

"So give me my power already… give me my Superman already, do you know?"

He was not sure how much he could really nail it in… he merely had to hope…

Woodrue approached the capsule next to Lasetta, and began to type commands onto the terminal. "I'm going to begin the setup process for assimilation, Custos. Give me ten minutes, please, and the first coolants will be safe enough to administer. Your three month hibernation will begin."

Bruce nodded, trying to look excited… Please, I need a miracle… Come on, Alfred…

The telephone ringing this early made Clark Kent frown. Even though it was already 9 o' clock in the morning in Metropolis, he never usually received calls until midday at his apartment number… unless something serious had happened, of course. When he picked up the phone, he became very surprised to hear the voice of Alfred Pennyworth, a man he knew very well from Bruce Wayne's press conferences concerning outsourcing in Metropolis. But it had been a good year since the last time they had spoken, and it took Clark a moment to realize that it was indeed Pennyworth.

"I am speaking to Mr. Clark Kent, correct?"

"This is Kent. How may I help you? This another angle for the Plant? If so, then I'm actually fixing to-"

"Alfred Pennyworth, sir." The man sounded agitated about something.

Kent smiled. "Of course, Mr. Pennyworth, it's fine hearing from you. Been a while… Bruce still got those scars beneath his eye?" He grinned at the thought. A giant crocodile, an ice-cream stand and nude nun from the local Abernathy Sanctuary in Metropolis… what a day it had been…

"Please, listen to me carefully. We've deciphered a message from Master Bruce and it's urgent. He needs your help."

Kent's smile faded at once. "What's happened!?"

"He's in trouble. He went to apprehend a murderer from Gotham. Dr. Jason Woodrue, who-"

"I've heard of him. He's quite a-"

"Let me finish, please!" Alfred cut across him urgently. "He specially requested for you. He went to capture Woodrue and bring him back to Gotham, and we just received a transmission from the com-link in his suit! Woodrue has his trapped and is fixing to do something; it sounds like he's going to experiment on Master Bruce, do something unnatural. There's eight minutes at best for you to reach his location and get him out of there."

Kent sat frozen, stunned by this turn of events. "W-where is he?"

"The Sotton Cove of the Oregon Coastline. A place called the Zodiac Shire Estate."

"And he's on the estate… in a manor?"

"Yes. Woodrue has a manor there. If I had a way of sending you coordinates…!"

"No need," Kent said quickly, leaping to his feet. "Let me handle Bruce."

"Please, Mr. Kent, he needs you. You're the only person who can get to him in time!"

"I said let me handle Bruce, Mr. Pennyworth. I'm disconnecting."

"But I haven't told you about security, or-"

"Don't worry!" He disconnected from the call and sighed. Bruce Wayne, what have you done to yourself this time…?

"What are you doing to yourself?" Pamela Isley asked herself, gazing longingly into the vertical mirror before her. All around her, her worktable was cluttered in what seemed like hundreds of beakers and paper cups. Leaves and mushrooms of a fierce, colorful variety lay scattered all over the floor; the entire room smelled bad, like old, sweaty boots, emitted from the hazy pink fumes that swam about in the air, wafting from the bubbling mixtures of organic matters… She herself was a frightening mess. Her crimson hair was tangled and messy, giving her the appearance of a ghost. Her simple, lime-green dress was tattered and stained. Her mascara was running badly. "What are you doing, Pamela?" she whispered to her reflection.

The reflection blinked, frowning. "What the hell do you think I'm doing!?" it snapped back. "I'm showing you that you can be in control, too. I'm showing you that there is the promise of salvation!"

"Salvation from what?" she moaned moodily, grabbing her head as her headache intensified.

"Salvation from spending the rest of your life as the carpet," the reflection proclaimed. "Take a leaf out of my book for a change, Pamela. Give me a fighting chance to correct your fuck-ups."

"My…fuck-ups…?"

"Yes. Let me take you for a whirl. Let me put Otto Rock into your power…"

Pamela bit her lip. "It's illegal," she whispered. "It's against the law…"

"The law?" Her reflection smirked. "The law, Pamela, or THE LAW? Which one do you worship more?"

"The Law, of course!" Pamela exclaimed desperately. "Mother Earth has always come first!"

"Then put her first, if she must come first. Finish the entrapment. Now."

Pamela looked around at her table of delicates in terror. Out of each Beaker, Otto Rock's head protruded, and each one had a sour face. Each one spoke at once, a unison choir of taunting: Fuck the plant…fuck the plant…fuck the plant…

"You want me to fuck the plant?" Pamela whispered, reaching out and picking up a beaker of pepto-pink mixture. "Is that what you want? You want a plant-fucking?" The beaker trembled wildly in hand. "Okay… okay, fine… you'll get something from me you'll never forget… you'll know what it feels like to be enslaved, to be humiliated!"

Yes, Pamela, humiliate him! Let him realize his sin, and let him live with that knowledge!

"YES!" Pamela screamed, throwing herself forward as she set to work, adding new mixtures to the batch of powdered mushrooms and grinded halberly-caps…

Extract of Philloneus capastrotum. Mixed it with powdered Killiosus septaline…

The effects of this potency, Dr. Necrox had told them, will not be unlike the stories of Sirenic voyages. It is believed that Homer, in his epic, 'The Odyssey,' was referring to the effects of the Nibonese star, a common flower sighted in the Tiberian Forest along the Asia Minor, known for its hallucinogen properties that could incite powerful suggestion within the minds of its inhalants…

She inhaled the flower petals deeply. Immediately, she felt her own mind lessen, her nerves freezing almost entirely as utter relaxation came upon her, utter intrigue… She turned, and when she saw herself in the mirror, she cooed at her reflection and set herself against the glass, desiring to reach through it and embrace herself…kiss herself…make love to herself…

I would… I would do just that… I would do just that…

"You need not ever give them the way in, Pamela," said her reflection. "You need only give them the need to."

The need to…

The need…

The…

Th…

T…

…

Why she awoke later out of a strong daze, Pamela neither knew nor cared. It was midnight, and it was October the 29th. A time of festive change was at hand. Her dormitory room was filled with powerful pheromone fumes, the fruits of her extensive labor…

She was ready, mind and soul, to move forward with Eden's summoning.

"I don't know what will happen," she would later remember herself breathing in fear and in excitement. "I don't know how much bad will happen before the good…"

"And thus I stepped forward," Pamela Isley told Fredericks, "and became magnificent."