She stared at the creature… and it just stared right back. When she fidgeted, it shook violently, crouched on all fours. When she moved to the right, it followed her as such, staring with yellow, terrible eyes… Drool slivered down through its fangs: it looked as if it were trying to smile, the way its teeth fit together in that Cheshire fashion. Bulky, dark green and scaly, the reptilian monstrosity had grand claws and a frog-like demeanor.
The classification above its bulletproof glass tank read MA-121 "Hunter α." CAUTION: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY… Authorized personnel? She blinked hard at the words. What authorized bastard would want to enter the cage with this thing prowling about within? Its habitation unit was filled with heavy foliage, great shrubs and the like allowing the creature hiding space… though it was very intrigued by her presence. Hungry and intrigued. Wesker stood some feet behind her, analyzing her reaction carefully. He detected how enthralled she had become.
"We keep him separate," he told her quietly, stepping up beside her now and watching the creature's prowling movements. "We've named him 'Stephen,' after the first researcher he killed following his first breakout."
"F-first breakout?" Pamela moaned, paling at once, even more so than her usual color. Wesker nodded.
"The isolating protocols malfunctioned. Devices installed in the cage for security, you know. By this point, the creature has learned not to attack the glass: the danger zone is there." He motioned at the floor, where a long red line had been painted the width of the floor of the cage. "When he passes it, the isolating protocols will activate and an electromagnetic discharge will take effect from these." He prodded the glass sharply, making the creature within jump back, and Pamela saw little black spheres lined along the bottom of the glass on the other side. "When he first escaped, it was because these devices had malfunctioned. The creature… it had sensed the electricity in the air vanishing. It can pick up traces for up to thirty feet. The glass, too, was not as reinforced as it is now. It murdered several researchers when it escaped. We lost thirteen in staff. Its ferocity and huger seems almost insatiable."
"It's… looking at me as if it wants to eat me," Pamela noted.
"It desires nothing less. You're a living target, and that is all it cares for. Though, with your unique biology…one must wonder if it would survive such an action."
"It looks amphibious. DNA extraction from a frog breed?" she theorized, pressing her face against the glass to study its features more carefully. In response, it began to crawl forward, hissing loudly, its lips trembling as saliva poured onto the floor.
"Actually, no. Amphibious as it looks, we used the DNA of American alligators. The alligator DNA is injected into a fertilized ovum. A human ovum," he added, answering the wide-eyed look that she responded with. A vicious smile crept onto her at that.
"So this…creature…" She gazed back at it longingly. "In a sense, it's an unborn child. But how? How does the creature survive in that manner?"
"By application of a tying agent. Namely, a virus, capable of mutating the resulting anomaly into a functional creature."
"A virus?" She tapped her lips with her finger lightly, as the "Hunter" on the other side of the glass came right up to the red line, but not a step more. It was shaking with some aggressiveness to it. "What kind of virus?"
Wesker smiled, and placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder… which she promptly jerked away. "The virus," he said, "that you will learn about soon. But not now. I want to show you the full potential of this facility and its research. Come with me."
He led her away from the giant tank, and she gave a half-hearted wave of goodbye to the creature, who followed them along the sides of the tank, now growling loudly. It sounded like a yelping, and it made the hairs upon her neck stand on end.
The corridor beyond the chamber was metallic and mirrored, and as they walked its length, light blue gases spewed out from a ceiling ventilation, raining sterilization down upon them both.
"Biological organic weapons are only primitive in their current developmental stages," Wesker told her, as they entered a new chamber: this one smelled awful, like a kennel at a shelter. "The reason that Stephen was isolated is that his aggressiveness was anti-social in nature. He used to be in a pin with five others. He killed them all, and savagely at that. The others… are more tuned to their own kind, a pack of beneficials to one another. Stephen was no such thing…"
"I admire him for it," Pamela noted, examining the room around her. "Pack mentality is a liability."
The chamber was smaller than the previous one, but sizable enough to allow for a room tall shelf of large, metal kennels. Inside several of these kennels were animals of great variety: sleeping goats, meowing Tabbies and cougars, barking Doberman pinschers and Rottweiler's, bleeting sheep and whining foxes…
"Test subjects," Wesker told her, "for the virus."
"All of these animals are going to be injected, then?"
"All of them. In particular, we've found success with the Dobermans. Behold…" He motioned behind them, and she turned to see a wall at the back of the room sliding upward, revealing another glass enclosure. Inside of this much larger entrapment (it extended deep into the enclave) were four of the Dobermans, all resting comfortably upon large mats near their side of the glass. One of them sleepily raised its head to acknowledge them, but simply yawned and rested its head once more. Whatever this virus was, it had given these dogs a strange color scheme, their black fur matted with portions of red… and then she realized that the red portions were not fur, but rather-
"Tissue… their skin… Why is there skin falling off?"
Wesker sighed. "An unfortunate side effect of the virus. But their aggression and durability far exceeds their negative impacts. They're fast and efficient hunters. What they lack for in the kind of durability you would find in, say, a Hunter, they make up for in their agility."
Pamela read the sign above the enclosure: MA-39 "Cerberus."
"You've named it after mythology," she analyzed. Wesker nodded.
"Their pack mentality is also a way of life. These creatures are efficient in bringing down a pack of prey when working together. Let me show you." He walked over to a control panel set beside the cage, and flipped open a metallic lid labelled Feeding Control. Three buttons, each one differently colored and labelled, were on the other side. The first button OPEN, the second ALARM, and the third CLOSE. Wesker lightly tapped the first button, and at the end of the cage, two small sections of wall slid upward, revealing holes that led into some room beyond. Wesker then hit the second button.
In the distance, a loud yelping sound emitted from the holes, jarring the sleeping Cerberi awake. Their growling intensified as they began to sniff at the air, seeking that which they may devour… And it came. The alarm that Wesker had activated had scared their prey into the cage. A warren of jackrabbits burst into the room, scattering in their desperation to escape the horrid alarm. The Ceberi now acknowledged the incoming creatures with vicious snarls, and immediately set to their food, the four of them sprinting forward and bounding through the air. The rabbits made haste to escape their pursuing prey, but the Cerberi moved quickly, snatching them by their tails and pulling them in, slicing open their rabbits' bellies and digging deep into their entrails. Blood spewed everywhere, and flowed like a river.
All the while, Pamela stood, fascinated and energized, clawing at the glass with a satisfied expression. She was lost in the sight of the carnage, her fascination with the blood flow quite clear. Wesker watched her with an interested expression, noting her fascination with his work as something foreign of late. As they watched the rabbits succumb to demise, a few researchers entered the room from the other side of the chamber.
"Morning, Albert," one of them, a young woman no older than twenty-five, called out, checking out Pamela's ass as he walked over to the cages with a clipboard in hand. "Showing the new girl around?"
"As a matter of fact, you were supposed to have fed these creatures an hour ago, Wilson," Wesker called back to him, looking annoyed. "Where were you?"
"Got a call from the wife," Wilson replied, as he checked each of his assigned cages and scribbled down notes on the animals within. "Had to work out an issue with my stepson at his school. Little shit hit a teacher…"
"Your duties are still relevant, Wilson, no matter the personal issues."
"Yeah, I know… go ahead and submit a report to Birkin. It's my first offense in three months." He turned his back to Wesker and continued his work. Pamela turned around and studied the two men who had come in. Wilson was frail and shaky. His partner, who tag read "Charlie Anders" were heavy and sleepy looking. Anders gave her a small smile and a wave, which she only returned with a cold expression and a look of disgust.
"So how do you like the facility?" Wilson called over to her, checking a paw on one of the Rottweilers. "You show her the assholes, yet?"
"Asshole?" Pamela smiled now, her eyes narrowing. "Do tell…" There was something dark within her smile, and Wesker noticed it at once. Her fingers were doing a strange little dance. She took a step forward. "Tell me about these assholes." She giggled softly, playing with her hair in a very subtle manner…
Wesker grabbed her arm and squeezed it firmly from behind, sending a silent message. The man on the other side of the room looked flabbergasted, and blushed, looking away.
"We'll get to those," Wesker said loudly. "I'm escorting her out. Put these creatures under anesthetic once they've finished eating, Wilson."
"If you say so," Wilson muttered quietly, sneaking a glance around at them as they left. Pamela looked over her shoulder and blew them both a kiss, winking as she was escorted out of the room. As they walked down another isolation corridor, Wesker whispered into her ear, "I will not have you harming the staff. Understand this."
"I just want control," Pamela sighed, head bent, a mad grin on her face. "Give me some control and I'll be fine…"
"You'll do as you're told. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Do I?
"Do you understand what I am saying?" Dr. Woodrue asked the assembled class as he mixed a vial of OC-322 with Yellow Bajorn-59. The resulting effect was a strong cloud of green smoke, foul smelling and bubbly. Everyone watched with fascination, particularly Pamela, who jotted down notes furiously as he progressed through the lesson on exterior hardening for cellular walls. "You cannot legally home-base these chemicals in the manner that I am displaying before you. These chemicals are highly irradiated in the wrong dosages. That is why, as your instructor, I have taken it upon myself to show you the real deal. Now, can anyone tell me why cell division occurs more rapidly in an undeveloped ovum than in a developed one?"
"Because," Pamela said automatically, without looking up, "the undeveloped ovum is threatened by exterior parasites, thus the bodily reaction for more rapid division, allowing a better revitalization period that-"
"-Sure, if you want to believe that," Woodrue cut across her. "-but exterior parasites are key in growth. When the body is destroyed, the distribution of itself impacts a system of life through nourishment. Death, in key, is a seed to greater life."
He walked about the room and settled himself on a chair before the front row…right in front of Pamela. It was her who held his attention. She flushed red.
"Plants are an essential part of this destructive process," he said. "Endangered by the actions of humans who destroy them, they adapt to harsh conditions. Why do you always see them breaking through concrete? Their resilience is birthed entirely by the attacks from exterior parasites. And in adapting, they become stronger and stronger."
Now Pamela was smiling. "So you see, Miss Isley," Woodrue continued, "plants need to be attacked, so that they can realize their full strength and retaliate with adaption, and overcoming, of the natural world and the exterior parasites."
Pamela had never thought about it like that before, but Woodrue's words rang strong, and they rang true. Death was always the first step to greater becoming, and as such required an acknowledgment of fate to prepare. The lesson progressed as it should have, with a deep theoretical analysis of enhanced cellular walls and the effects on the plant membranes… basic with a deeper meaning… a philosophical meaning….
The class itself sat divided by Woodrue's passion. For some, it was art. Others, it was a waste. These latter people were stupid, and needed to die. For Woodrue's words, his teachings, she deemed them worthy and thus noted his necessity. He understood plants as plants must be understood, and she would have to use him…
When the class ended, the room was filled with the foul-smelling vapor and many students retreated in haste. Pamela herself needed to return home. She needed to check in on dear, dear Alissa…
"Miss Isley?"
She jumped when he said her false name, and looked around, wide-eyed. Woodrue was capping the steaming vial of gas (non-lethal at his dosage) and regarding her with a curious smile. "Do you have a class after this?"
"No. This is the last one for the day…"
"Good. Good. Then walk with me." It was not a request, but a demand shrouded in honey. She stood her ground.
"Why the hell would I do that?" she mumbled, one foot out the door already. Woodrue grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. The room was steamy.
"Because I need to discuss your work in my class, that's why. Come on, now." He motioned for her to follow him to the other side of the room. There was an exit door here leading to the outside, into a garden-based parking lot for the biology building. Pamela followed suit, frowning, feeling off about those words. Her work? What was wrong with her work!?
"Problem with my intellect?" she demanded as they crossed over into the cool afternoon, the wind blowing heavily around them. Rain was coming soon.
"As a matter of fact, no," Woodrue said softly, and he looked at her with kind eyes. "More, with the lack of intellect on your peers' behalf."
"Comparison?"
"You could say that. I'm a teacher, Miss Isley. A damn good one, too, who doesn't follow the bullshit regulations of proper instructor etiquette. I play favorites and I'm not afraid to admit that, compared to you, everyone else is a short side of inferior genes. You're the only one who seems to have… the passion."
"Call it an obsession," Pamela replied calmly, walking a little ahead of him as they circled around the lot and in the direction of the woods, near her house. "If we're being honest."
"An obsession? And you consider it that way, truly?"
"Lovingly so," Pamela whispered, pausing before a low-hanging tree and tenderly stroking a blooming pink rose. She could see these things from her window each morning, and they always inspired within her work for the sake of Mother Earth. "I consider myself their servant."
"Is that right?" Woodrue laid himself across the grass and studied her closely for a moment, before turning his gaze to the darkening sky. "I see. Tell me, Pamela, when did this obsession begin?"
"Ivy," she corrected him promptly, finally having enough of the ignorance. "My name is Ivy."
"Ivy?" He considered her, amused. "Alright, then: Ivy. When did you realize you loved these children of the earth?"
Pamela saw a genuine desire to know within that smile. Everything about him, from facial expression to his comforted seating, implied that he was sincere. Thus, she sat down beside him and too laid back to gaze at the sky.
"From childhood," she said softly. "They used to be my only friends."
"Used to? So you have friends, then, beyond them?"
"A few. Maybe. I never really can tell anymore. There are passerby and the like who forget me in time… or I forget them. No true commitment…" She glanced at him. "You have any friends, Dr. Woodrue?"
"Jason," he corrected her, smirking. "My name is Jason."
"Hardee har har," she mocked. "Well?"
"Plenty. The roses in the fields, the grass beneath my feet. I feel them speak to me at times. They give me comfort, and they assure me that my chosen path was the correct one." He glanced back at her. "Human friends? Sure. Empty faces and sexual gratifiers when the need arises. Humans are tools, Ivy. Don't you think?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Tools?" Inside, her heart was beating. What was it about this man? What was it about his words and the way he looked at her?
"I'm no fool, Ivy. I see it behind your eyes. I've seen it for the past two weeks now. You've lost something valuable, a human tool needed for some emotional triumph. Your friend, Alissa…"
Ivy's heart jerked hard. What did he know!? WHAT DID HE KNOW!?
"I heard about the poor girl's disappearance. And I heard the police gave you a hard time, demanding any information you could give. You two were close, weren't you? It must be hard, not knowing where she's gone off to…" He began to study the formations of the clouds. "…especially in this city. Gotham City, where it's not normal unless ten murders are committed a day, and abductions are as common as sneezing. It hurts you. I know it. I can see it."
"I… I think… I don't know…" Her voice quivered. And it quivered without her actually acknowledging that a fake was needed. So… then her voice was really quivering! But why!? This effect that he had on her…
"And then, of course, I heard about the things you went through before school. Your family, and the trouble you endured at the hands of your peers. As I understand it, Dr. Stefan Mimaste was once assigned to you, correct?"
"You…know him?" Now her voice was shaking. As was the rest of her body. This man unnerved her… and she could not for the life of her pinpoint why. Woodrue shrugged.
"Had to work with him briefly," said Woodrue, "a few years back. Got into a little stint with the law when I first moved into the area. He's a very well-practiced man, but clueless on the reality of his patients' dilemmas. He sees not the struggle and need for the struggle, but rather a solution to a non-existent problem."
"Agreed," Pamela laughed bitterly, close her eyes into relaxation. "That's why I stopped seeing him. I managed to talk him into releasing me…"
"Really now?" His voice betrayed no hint of a deeper curiosity. "That's very interesting." His smile, she saw when she opened her eyes back up, was very, very curious. "Interesting, interesting… Well, Ivy, it looks like it's going to storm soon. I think for now I'll have to settle with the disappointment of a rain check. No pun intended. Tell me…" He slid over onto his side to face her, and smiled that… just that… that smile… She gazed at that smile and found some kind of hiddenness to it, a secretive invisibility… "Mind joining me for a weekend ride down to Bludhaven? I could use some intelligent conversation during my visit there."
"B-Bludhaven?" Her mind was swirling now. She felt… she felt dizzy. Slightly, but still there. She shook her head. Perhaps it was just hunger. She had not eaten much that day.
"I'm attending a conference there. Wayne Enterprises is unveiling a new energy plan that is going to pose a danger to our friends, Ivy."
"A deforestation?"
"Not exactly. The company is radically excavating an important site for a rare flower in South America. The flower is endangered, and Wayne Enterprises has shown no interest in rectifying this movement?"
"A rare flower?" Her heart tightened. "What kind of flower!?"
"Isavain moreshade," Woodrue replied, his face darkening. "Commonly, the 'Mortmaiden flower' or 'Shadowmania.' A very poisonous plant, and an essential one to the system of life within this particular South American sector. I've assembled a team to protest this movement and negotiate a rescue with Bruce Wayne. You've impressed me with your passion, Ivy, and I feel you deserve to be a part of it. Interested?"
"Very," Pamela sighed, blushing fiercely. "I… I don't have much experience in the way of protesting, though… I'm more of a hands on person."
"What kind of hands on person?" Woodrue asked, intrigued, his eyes shining as the first fall of rain began. Pamela grinned darkly.
"I like to hurt people," she whispered. And then she stopped herself, because she realized what she had said all too late. Her face shrunk, her heart leaping. Woodrue, however… he smiled that smile again! She felt her soul diminish.
"Hurt people?" Even though the rain began to pour down upon them, positively drenching their clothes, hair and bags, neither of them seemed to notice the water in that moment. "How so?" He was fascinated by this. A true scientist fascinated!
Pamela, feeling more comfortable now and grinning narrow eyed at this odd man, looked around awkwardly and said, "Sometimes I beat on people who don't respect the earth…"
"What else do you do, Pamela?"
"Oh, no. You lose, Jason. My name is Ivy, remember?"
"I- of course." He bowed his head to her. "Well, about tomorrow, then? I can try again on the car ride."
"It's a deal."
They both shook hands, and Woodrue began his journey away, leaving her sitting there, watching the man leave with such… newfound spirit. The man had been confident and sincere throughout the entire thing, and judgment? None at all… When he had vanished up a hill, the rain-soaked Pamela Isley finally found her legging again and she bound off for home, grinning the entire way there. She grinned as she burst through the door, as she bound through the living room, and promptly leapt upon her bed in joy, crying out happily and punching the air. On the bedside table, Archie's preserved, severed head watched her joy and excitement implode interior and exterior movements as she offered sweet, silent prayers to Mother Earth, worshiping her and thanking her for introducing yet another Essential for Ascension. This man had given her a feeling since the first day she had met him, and she now knew why: this man was going to play a part, and she had to prepare for him a place.
"I've done it, Archie," Pamela whispered to the severed head. "I'm assembling a team."
Now, she had to go see the other.
Downstairs, in the dark basement, the shadow moved around in the corner, whimpering and sobbing. Pamela switched on the lights at once, flooding illumination, and the create in the corner of the basement screamed, shielding her eyes at once, the chains around her arms shaking ghostly and loud.
"Bright, bright, too bright!" the starved, bruised, pale creature sobbed into the floor, desperately trying as hard as she could to keep her eyes covered from the lights. Pamela ignored the screaming and came to visit with the thing, sitting upon the floor and trying to force the hands away. The filthy, anorexic nightmares struggled against her, whimpering loudly. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…"
"Come on, now, Lissa," Pamela said in irritation, forcing the hands apart. The creature held its eyes firmly shut, the light so painful to behold. "You have to acknowledge the sun. You cannot grow if you do not bask."
"Please… the dark, the dark… need the dark…" Alissa Jagner no longer existed. In her place, the most terrible creature, inhuman. Skin sagged off the bone. Cuts and bruises decorated her limbs. Her smell was beyond foul. Pamela checked her newspaper, and found little pellets there, and little stains of piss. The animal had not eaten much in the last few days. Pamela sighed.
"Why won't you eat, Alissa?" she whispered, her heart breaking. "All I want for you is for you to get better."
"Away, away, away!" Alissa snapped, her teeth gritted. "Go away, go! Go, go, go, go! Turn the light off! Turn the light off!"
"Alissa, I have something to tell you!" Pamela said loudly over the muttering lunatic. "I'm going to be leaving tomorrow, so you'll be by yourself okay. Down here. In the dark. Are you going to be okay with that?"
"Away, away," Alissa sobbed frantically, shaking madly, "please, away, go away, go away, go away…"
"I'm going to Bludhaven," Pamela continued onward, "with a new professor friend. Alright? There's no telling when I'll be coming back. I have… things that have to be done there, it seems. I can make a difference, Alissa. I know I can. All I need for you do is hold onto the hope that I will succeed, and our Ascension will be clear. Understand this, alright?"
"Kill me!" Alissa hissed, her eyes snapping open in rage. She lunged for Pamela, who easily slid backwards, smiling softly, and sadly.
"Don't worry, Alissa… you'll soon understand. I swear it. I'm going to leave you some food, alright? Some good food, this time. I know you don't like the dog food much… I'll find something better. Just… just give me time, alright?" Tears were trickling down her face, and she turned to leave the room. "I… I know I can do the right thing for us both… I can save the world, Alissa… I can save the world…"