In the present day, Albert and Anassa Wesker stood before a massive, reinforced tank, observing the specimen inside with keen interest. The creature inside wore the skin of a human being, but acted like nothing less than a ferocious tiger. The little capsule of P30 attached to her bare chest was filling her with such powerful, raw, animalistic tendencies.
"She already had the skill to match me in combat," Anassa noted, observing the leaping creature as the woman inside bound about with inhuman agility across ledges built into the walls, jumping at miraculous feats. The thing in there was no longer Selina Kyle. It was something else entirely, something desperate to escape from its human bonds. It looked like Kyle, save for the glowing, crimson veins and the bright, luminescent yellow eyes, but it undoubtedly her. But Kyle herself was gone. What was before them was nothing less than an untamed, snarling beast, who hid from the lights in her cell, clinging to the shadows. "All she needed was proper encouragement from the right sources to become a potent weapon. One that we can use, Albert."
Albert nodded. He was very pleased, and for once in his life, he showed it. "To well, I'd say. She's a natural acrobat, an agile killer when we put her to field. Spencer mighty be happy enough to give you pardon this time."
"Yes, he might…yeah…" Anassa's head bowed, her smile fading. Wesker noted this.
"You don't believe he will?"
"It's not that I don't believe he will notice my talents… it's more that… I don't really care to sell her to him."
Wesker flared. "You remember the discussion we had about potential give-backs?"
Yes, I remember. And I also haven't forgotten the discussion we had on more important things than give-backs. "Listen… she could be useful for our own ends. We just need to give her the opportunity. I believe in… our goals, Albert. Not his. He's no different than Woodrue. Surely you don't feel loyalty to any of these wastes of space?"
"Neither are wastes of space, though, Anassa," Wesker snapped. "They're as efficient at their work as you or I. And they're essential. Keeping Spencer under our good books is a crucial element to our goals. Woodrue is very much the same. Once your work with Lasetta has been concluded, we can make preparations to deal with Woodrue. But for now, we're discussing the future of…" He studied the woman inside carefully, his eye twitching. "…Kyle." He never uttered the name 'Catwoman.' It sounded too childish, too fun. He despised it as much as he despised the name 'Poison Ivy.'
"Alright, then, what do you want me to do? Hand over to Spencer a capable weapon that we could use to make Woodrue's removal that much easier and swifter?" Anassa fumed. "She would be an adequate guard… but also something more. She's an infiltrator. Even with my enhanced senses, Albert, she got the drop on me… in her normal state. Imagine, for a moment, what that ability, that prowess, could do for us in her enhanced state."
Wesker was too clever for her skirting to do her much good. He nodded, smiling to himself. "Luna."
Anassa swore on the inside. She had not wanted to…admit to that. Not yet, anyway. But damn it he knew. She could not beat around the bush anymore, as she desperately claimed. "Yes…"
"I thought so. Docile infiltrators work better for that sort of thing."
"I know where she's being held," Anassa said swiftly, her fist clenched. "And I know who is holding her. I will go to see him very soon. He's violating contractual obligations-"
"The Joker does not honor 'contractual obligations,'" Wesker corrected her. "That's why he has such notoriety. Woodrue, myself, you… we all were taking the greatest risk when considering him as a business partner in all of this. The man is warped; he will not honor us anymore."
"I don't intend to make him," Anassa said darkly, turning away from Kyle and staring up into his red eyes, her hand tenderly stroking his cheek. "I intend to destroy him."
Wesker nodded, taking her hand in his. "That much is evident. But at what cost?"
"No cost, love. Only peace… and a few million to put towards our endeavors. It was a mistake to take him on, I agree… but we have the chance to do something about it now. And with Kyle on our side, we can accomplish just that. What of Wayne?"
Wesker smiled softly. "Wayne is busy. He's been very, very busy. He paves a bloody way through the ranks, one at a time…"
"The ranks?"
"Tricell. Once word got out about the attacks in Gotham, Tricell representatives swept in at once to analyze the situation and see how they could profit. The creature that the Joker unleashed in Gotham, the prototype, its body fell into the river, and they've sent in representatives to collect samples. Wayne… he was waiting for them."
"You've sent him back…to Gotham?"
"He's being monitored carefully and he's being kept in the dark. I have very trusted allies ensuring it. I'll need him there. Isley's already in transit now. She'll be in Gotham by morning. I've already made arrangements to have Woodrue out of the facility. Once he's out, I'll be moving Wayne in. He'll protect Isley. Woodrue is under the impression that Batman abducted Isley alone. He'll see a mutual partnership festering between the two and not assume my own hand in the game. Once Isley's proven her adaption to Lasetta, we can begin planning an extraction."
"And you believe he'll leave the facility willingly?" Anassa asked incredulously. Wesker shook his head.
"No. Woodrue will not leave the facility lightly. My plan, however, will be more than adequate of an encouragement. You'll see soon enough."
"Or you could just tell me now."
"I just bet I could…" He turned away from her and began to walk towards a single table in the center of the room, upon which sat a silver laptop. Anassa followed him.
"Tell me!" she demanded.
Wesker said nothing, but instead sat down at the table and opened up the laptop. He began to type something quickly into it, ignoring the penetrating stare of his lover. That look upon her face had murdered countless people, but he knew she would not dare touch him. The information in this laptop was the most valuable on the planet… and in any event, he intended to show her the truth. He pulled something onto the screen, and finally turned it towards her.
She gasped.
Justice League Watchtower was labelled beneath the image of the massive, T-shaped space station that orbited on the screen before her.
In the present day, Lasetta was suffering. She lay within the safety of a massive clump of vines and poison oak, fiercely rubbing and gasping in the darkness, her smell wickedly strong, her poisonous fumes saturating the air to death. The sensation she was going through was a terrible, and wonderful, one. Desire had overtaken her, a need to touch and descend into a series of fiery actions. When she had been brought back into her massive prison, she had descended into such ravenous attitudes. Suddenly, her body was transforming from within, and the memories… the memories were becoming more and more real to her.
Even as an image in her mind, she could feel Olivero's breath upon her chest, feel him squeezing down upon her. And now, as her mind rapidly shifted itself into repair, she understood that feeling. That feeling was passion, and it was something that she was steadily coming to realize was not only a part of her, but almost a necessity. Still, the word evaded her, but the hormones did not. Here, in the dark, she enjoyed the sensation as she explored her body, discovering new roots into her vastly growing tree of knowledge into the sensual explorations of the mind. It was sweaty, tight work, a pressure like no other… and she did not enjoy the isolation anymore.
She wanted to be touched by this man again. Whoever he had been, he had given her such sensations that her vastly growing mind could revel in. When the doctors analyzed her, they spoke in whispers and in fearful glances that always found her. Woodrue had stopped visiting as much as he used to, as had Ansa (or "Ana," as Lasetta had now begun to call her, her speech and pronunciation at a very excellent level now). Sometimes Anassa came in to give her shots and candy, but always the woman was quiet and she always left quickly. They had not danced in days. It was beginning to put a deep strain on Lasetta's mind… as had the memories.
The memories would not leave her, and as her body advanced itself, the deeply intimate moments that came back to her, the ones with the man, Olivero… those were the ones that left the deepest mark. More often than not, Lasetta would find herself fantasizing about the man more than she did anything else, of his touch and sensation, the way he moved… Naturally, she had no concept of the word "sex," but she understood its power, and understood that it must have once had power over her. There must have been a point in her life when she had been experiencing these memories on a regular basis. After all, she knew them to be memories. So… there had to have been life before "Daddy" ever came along.
And that was what made her…uncomfortable. Her life had been a short one, but Woodrue had always been her life. Now, something was happening. Reminders of something lost, but not altogether missing. Something that still had a place there, waiting for her to find it. The sexual had grown rampant in her body. Already she was accelerating past the mental anguish of puberty, becoming more in tune with a natural need to mate. She would catch herself staring up at the roof of her greenhouse, now repaired and sealed off from the cracks that her plants had put into it. She would find herself staring up at the men on the walkway. Those handsome men who sent down to her physical raptures. She often found herself devising, sneakily, ways of luring those men down here, into her garden, so that she could talk them into touching her the way that Olivero did in those…memories…
Once or twice, a massive tendril, at her command, had sprouted from the ground and carried her up, up, up to the ceiling, sprawling her body firmly against the glass as she stared into the wide eyes of the young man on the other side. She had clawed at the glass, calling out to the man, begging him to join her… and he had run off, fetching those stupid security muscle heads with their stun guns. Oh how she hated those men! Oh how she despised them! She couldn't stand their smirks or their jittery movements. More often than not, she found herself thinking of ways to hurt them…
But why should she? They worked under "Daddy," and Daddy would never…never like it if…
Oh goodness…. But should I care what Daddy wants?
Rebellion. It had begun to grow within her. Soon, very soon, she was sure that Woodrue must return, and when he did, she must speak with him about moving forward from this large container and into something wider and bigger!
So she explored. So she dissolved into the natural demands of her body. The sensation, so pleasurable, was a dear highlight of existence. She wanted to feel the intoxication of her bodily labor. And the smell that came off of her, that bitter, horrid odor, mesmerized her mind as she lay among the flowers that blossomed at her touch. She wanted to find Olivero and have him touch her like this, have him climb atop and… and… Well, she wasn't quite sure. The feeling was there, but what was the feeling? What was this love dance between two people? What was this ritual? She must know. She must explore possibility. Possibility demanded it.
She reached an ultimate point in time, something she had explored some time ago. With enough concentration, she could maximize the good feeling and send it into a frenzy of goodness within. This point she had privately begun to call "cloudtop." Wet with her natural lubrication, Lasetta, ignorant and innocent of these natural, bodily obligations, ran across her greenhouse, plants exploding to life with every footfall, leaping into the air so faithfully and freely. And every time, as she willed it, as she privately commanded, the large vines would crash through the earth and catch her, giving her dominion over the air itself. Now, as her mind had finally advanced into something far greater than ever before, she was understanding just how much power she had and how much joy she found in that power.
But at the same time, privately, she held a secretive thought pattern from the plants: she hated them. Rather, she was beginning to hate them, beginning to despise how they were the only life she knew beyond the wicked room with the wicked injections that Woodrue and Ana would force her into. She controlled them, was their goddess… but she needed something beyond them, beyond this room and beyond this fortress of flora. It was unfair that Woodrue would expect her to stay here forever, now that she was learning so much about her body and… and the Olivero man. And not just him. The other people in those memories. Faces. Kind woman, kind man… Who were they? What were they to her? She had to find out. She had to know.
Lasetta rose and rose, twisting about in the air as Ana had taught her, until she was towering once more before the walkway at the top. It was late in the night, and only one person was present on the walkway tonight, silently typing away onto a laptop at a nearby desk, a cup of steaming coffee sitting beside him as his fingers moved across the keyboard with lightning speed. He glanced up, however, at her as she planted herself against the glass and stared with beaming eyes back at him.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," Grandpa said softly, his red eyes becoming brighter as he studied her. Of course, "Grandpa" was becoming an old classification too. Lasetta had finally built up the courage to ask Ana, at one point, what Grandpa's name really was, since every time she mentioned the name "Grandpa," Ana would silently laugh to herself. Now, Lasetta knew the truth. His name was not Grandpa at all. It was W.
"I'm sorry, W… I can't sleep! Too many things going on!"
"What kinds of things?" Wesker asked from the other side of the glass. "Something that we should investigate?"
"No, not really." Lasetta smiled sadly to herself, her head lightly hitting the glass as she dropped it a little. "I was just wondering how much longer I was going to have to stay in here…"
"For as long as we tell you to," Wesker replied shortly, spinning her way in his chair and crossing his arms. "Until you're ready to go out into the world."
"And when will that be!?" Lasetta demanded, crossing her arms too. "How much longer do I have to wait, W!?"
"I imagine until Woodrue is satisfied with your development. You're growing at twice the rate he had hoped for. Things are shifting, naturally."
"Well I'm getting sick and tired of this stupid place!" Lasetta snapped, feeling no need to be respectful. She did not really have a concept of respect, anyway. She had the concept of, "This is what I want, this is how I want it". "I feel like I'll go craaazzzyy if I stay in here, W! Why don't you make Daddy let me out!?" She banged on the glass irritably, and the plants, hissing loudly, slapped against the glass too. Wesker was on his feet in a flash, moving so quickly towards the glass that, had she blinked, it would have seemed that the man teleported. His fiery red eyes glared deeply into her, and he shook his head.
"No, no, no," he warned. "I don't think that's wise."
"Well I don't care what you think," Lasetta said defiantly, giving a little "Hmph" after saying it. "I want out of here. I might throw a tantrum if I don't get out of here soon."
"The consequences," Wesker said dangerously, "would be severe."
Lasetta responded by sticking out her black tongue. Wesker, an eyebrow raising, turned away in annoyance. "You should get some sleep," he told her. "You have a visitor coming to see you."
"A visitor?" Lasetta was not so easily fooled. "You mean Ana?"
"Someone new. I wasn't supposed to say anything, but if it will make you shut up and go to sleep… There is someone coming in the morning and your meeting will be of the utmost importance. Daddy… will not be around, naturally. He will be very busy with his work. I'll have the room cleared for you both so that no one will be around to disturb you. But…" He spun around and gave her a dark look. "This is secrecy. Understand it and confirm it."
"Secrecy?" Lasetta's eyes shined. "A secret?"
"No one must know. It's going to be a secret meeting. Can you keep a secret?"
"I can!" Lasetta insisted earnestly. "Tell me, tell me!"
Wesker smiled now. "Alright, then… it's someone just like you. Someone you'll be able to get very close to. Even touch."
"EVEN TOUCH!?" Lasetta screamed, punching the air and making her plants slam into the ceiling. Alarms suddenly blasted all around them, and Wesker gave her a furious look.
"You little idiot!" he spat. But Lasetta was not listening. She was gleefully singing a private little song to herself in gibberish as she spun down, down, down to the ground, sinking into her hidey hole of vines, not wishing to be seen by the storm of security forces that were pushing themselves through doors on every side, guns ready, stun rods ready. Wesker intercepted them calmly, letting them know that the alarms were a false call, but deep down, in her foliage, Lasetta gleefully punched and punched the ground, shaking with pure delight. Someone like her was coming! Someone she could touch! Someone who would not fall down and….never wake up….
This is what I'm talking about!
She already knew what she must do, then…
She must trick this visitor into helping her escape.
Pamela sat within the confines of the armored truck as it sped down Gotham's downtown district. It was early, early morning, but she could not be tired if she tried her damndest. She was home. She was finally home. The familiar, putrid smell of fishy pollution hit her nostrils hard as they swept silently into the city. Sitting across from her on mental benches, automatic machine guns in hand, were two heavily armored soldiers in thick gas masks, giving them a very phantom-like appearance. On the shoulders of their armor was a crest: a red and white hexagon. The insignia of the Umbrella Corporation.
She herself had been given simple dress attire from Wesker: a simple green summer dress. Nothing more, nothing less. It was enough to blend in well once she was on the street. However, he had drastically changed her appearance. Her hair had been tied back into a bun, dyed blonde, her green lips painted red to mask the poisonous aspects that would have drawn attention. Her eyes were no longer their vivid green, but hidden behind light blue contacts. On the street, she was to refer to herself as 'Vanessa Winter.'
All of this… all of this… the girl had better be worth a damn fortune.
Or else. She eyeballed the soldiers and their guns, and began to formulate possibilities in her mind as to how she could kill them and escape, if she needed to. One plan after another passed through, but none of which seemed wise: Wesker was offering her a future if she went through with his goals. Instead, she decided to play with them.
"Want to fuck me?" she asked out of nowhere, crossing her legs and lying across the metal bed upon which she sat. Her cuffed hands played with her dress comfortably enough. In response, guns were raised at once in her direction. Pamela grinned widely at those guns, kissing the air in their direction. "Just kidding. You're not my type… So what are your names?"
Nothing came from them. Pamela laughed aloud, putting mirth behind every note. "Come now, come now… don't be shy… I'll start: my name is Poison Ivy. Now your turn."
The armored soldiers looked at one another, and even through their helmeted heads, she could almost see their incredulous expressions. It was amazing how the inexpressible could be so expressive. One of them grunted, "Alpha 32." His partner, however, shook his head and turned away from them both irritably. Pamela smiled even more widely.
"Alpha 32. Sexy. Why don't you come sit next to me?"
"No," Alpha 32 replied shortly. "Wesker warned us about you. We have our placement orders."
"I'll come over there, then?"
Once more, guns were aimed at her. "Do it and you get put to sleep with heavy voltage," the soldier who was not Alpha 32 warned her. "Don't play with fire."
Pamela laid her head upon her hands and smiled, gazing longingly at him. "I'm going to kill you," she whispered passionately to him. She closed her eyes and kept that smile alive. "Just wait for it. You too, Alpha 32…" She yawned, positioning herself in a fetal form, all too comfortable with unnerving these two boys. They were unnerved, she knew, no matter how much they tried to mask it. She could see the way their arms shook. And why should they not be? They'd know the atrocities she had committed… the men that had fallen victim to her kiss…
It was just…fun to threaten them. She had been stuffed into the cargo hold of an aircraft and flown away from wherever the hell that Umbrella facility had been built. She'd been stuffed then into this musty old truck, and had been sitting here for hours. She was bored. She needed something to do…someone to play with…
"I wanna go to Kwanchi's Palace," she said after a while, quite unexpectedly, making her guards jump. She had feigned sleep for several minutes. "The food there is to die for…" Her lips curved into a smile. Alpha 32 swore.
"Damn it, that's enough. Be mature."
"We're all adults here," said the other. "Let's act like them."
Pamela crossed her arms, walking her feet up the wall of the truck. "I don't wanna be an adult. I wanna be a kid forever…" She sucked dreamily on her thumb. "All this steel and not enough green. I want green and dirt beneath my feet. How much longer will we drive?"
"Until he's ready to let you out," Alpha 32 said shortly… but she noticed the slight incline of his helmet. He was watching those legs of hers… She remained unfocused on him, not letting him know that she had noticed. In her mind, a plan was still formulating, an ongoing battle between Poison Ivy and Pamela Isley. Pamela wanted to stick to the plan and stay with Wesker. Ivy, on the other hand, had awoken like a ferocious beast the moment they had crossed the Gotham city limits. Naturally, both parts were one whole, but sometimes she did split on important decisions. Perhaps Gotham should start calling her "Two-Face II."
After what seemed like an eternity, the truck came to a sudden halt. Pamela sat up, not hiding her anticipation to step outside once more. She had not gotten to see any green when she had left the facility: the airplane had been situated in an underground hanger. How she longed for the earth.
Alpha 32 held a two-way radio device to his helmet and spoke into it: "Confirmation blue? Please confirm blue."
"Confirmation blue. You're clear to unload."
"Roger." 32 put the radio away and motioned at Pamela. "Stand." As she obeyed, smiling intently at him, his partner walked over to the door on the left side of the truck and punched in a code into the little numerical lock beside it. At once, the door slid open. Morning light flooded into the truck, and Pamela collapsed inwardly, basking in the radiant sun that kissed her body with a warm passion. Stretching her arms out, she stepped towards the light, a guard on either side of her, and out into the Gotham morning.
They were standing inside a heavily fenced and private garden, an abundant utopia of green hedges and twisting trees. Before her, mighty and decaying, the old observatory. She knew about this place. She had been here in her youth, as part of a school trip. That life…seemed so very, very long ago. Now it was an old building that hardly looked suitable for life, and gave off the aroma of mildew. From beyond the fence, Gotham's skyscrapers beamed down at them, and thus she was hurried away, towards the crumbling steps that led up to the observatory doors.
Wesker himself was waiting for them inside of the old, crumbling lobby.
"Welcome," he said quietly. "It's a fine thing, you being here."
Pamela shook her head. "No time for foreplay. Where's the climax?"
"Downstairs. But you need a briefing before I take you down there."
Pamela cocked her head to the side. "Challenge me."
"I will. Come over here." He gestured at her to follow him across the cold floor towards a door that read Janitor. Pamela smirked.
"You don't want to try that."
Wesker ignored her. He opened the door and showed her in. It was not a janitor's closet, though. It was a small entryway to a little lab that had been set up inside. There were an odd assortment of things in this little crevice of a lab. Beakers filled with magenta and jade chemicals. Three laptops and papers that displayed all manner of complex equations, with some illustrations that showed what appeared to be humanoid diagrams with odd, odd anatomical anomalies…
And sitting at one of these laptops was a woman. She turned in her chair as Pamela approached… and immediately, something hard leapt up inside of Pamela's chest.
She…knew this woman. There was no mistaking it. It was just something that was inevitable knowledge. Those eyes, the shape, the way she stood and held herself firmly and maturely as she faced Pamela… these things she had seen before… not at all in the too distant past…
"You!" she breathed, coming close to the woman. The woman looked back inquiringly.
"Me?" Anassa Wesker asked politely, her head tilting to the side slightly.
Ivy smiled…and when she smiled, the grin was as true as could be. "Valere Frazeer…"
The woman from the amusement park.