Cold, and it smelled. Foul and unwanted was that smell. Was it rotting? The smell of decay? Of course it was, it had to be. Why else would it be so nauseating, and familiar? Outpulse of tissue, and something else…chemicals, maybe.

Our original sponsor had no stomach for military applications, he cut the funding for our work…

Of course, chemical odors were nothing new. Nothing unprecedented. There had to be some sort of foulness when working with things like this. It came with the job, was natural to the environment…the environment!

Without your research, I could never have come this far! Join me! The two of us joined, side by side…

Side by side? Oh, hate you! HATE YOU! HATE YOU SO MUCH! COLD EVERYWHERE BUT YOU WANTED WARMTH AND GAVE ME NONE! HATE! No, no, you only ever cared about that work and where you could stick your tree branch…and this is where it's landed me…l-lan…

Well…I can respect your opinion…but sadly, I'm not good with rejection. I'm afraid you'll have to die.

And so, with a scream of rage, she had descended, down into Hell? To the confines of Hades itself? It was so dark all around. So cold, and empty. Blackness. She was alone, utterly without self and company. It made her cry. Those were tears falling down her face, and they hurt. Hurt as much as the chemicals that were burning into her skin right now. She lay clumped in a mass of what felt like vines, probably from her desk that he had pushed down upon her. There had been a great clump there. She could feel her eyes open, could feel the world around her, and she knew that this was evidence as to her livingness. She was alive, had conquered the grave, even?

He had spilled those chemicals all over her…and she had felt their sting! And what a sting it had been. Nausea and fire within her, pruning away her organs to the point of pure torment, thorns of vines stabbing into her from the masses of plant-life that had been on that shelf…and she had felt all of it. Had endured pain beyond measure. And where was he? Up there, in the land of the living, auctioneering that poor man. Antonio Diego. She remembered that name, for Woodrue had pronounced it so grandly. What had it meant to her? Who had this man been to her but, as Woodrue had stated, "a serial murderer serving life"… And yet, here she was, dead in the darkness, underneath a grave of vines and the fragments of broken shelves, feeling the utmost pity for him? Woodrue…he deserved to die. It was that simple. He had destroyed Diego's life far more than Diego himself had with his "serial murders", and then, to follow it up, the creature had made a move upon her, going as far as to actually try and murder her for refusing him of his lusts…and oh how he had failed.

She lay here, in the darkness, and contemplated her luck. She was not dead, and that was a plus. Officially, however, Woodrue would be logging in an "incidental fatality attributed to accidental elements", as was required by Wayne Enterprises mandate. "I always stick by the rulebook, it's my one positive characteristic," he had once joked. Always following the rules, her foot! The creature had bent more than one hundred rules in the last seven years of their work together. They had always been small, subtle, the inconspicuous nature of his doings well hidden beneath the eyes of top men such as Bruce Wayne and Fred Stickley. Subtlety had always been his poison. Poison…

She was swimming in it. Could feel it corroding her pores. FIRE!

Of course, subtlety had always been his strong point. She had not seen it coming, not the storm that had taken her, filled by that lust, disgusting breath and all. She hated it, despised the very idea of it. Hated him…if only she could have run. She would die, in this darkness. Why was she not dead yet?

Something slithered nearby. It passed underneath her arm, where she lay entangled by vines, and the feel of scales was so evident. One of her rattlesnakes. Oh, what the hell. I'm going to die anyway. Come here, baby… She gripped a hand around the snake and pulled it towards her. She felt it writhe in her hand, and she felt its head strike. The pain that came with it was intense, but she suddenly welcomed the pain. She felt the venom flowing into her from the snake's bite, and closed her eyes. Even through the pain, it was suddenly all she wanted. It's snake venom, and it's going to kill me soon. Go on baby, bite harder. She forced herself to place a hand upon the creature's head, which still had its teeth within her arm, and she yanked it out. The snake struggled but now she had it by the "neck" and she pressed its face against her lips, releasing her grip only slightly Even in the dark, the creature desired to defend itself and it bit right into her lower lip. She closed her eyes, her stomach lurching as the snake venom burned into her.

She reached with her other hand and grabbed the snake tightly, squeezing hard as she twisted. The snake's neck broke with the force she put into it, and she removed it from her lip, tossing its body aside even as vomit went up her throat. Even as her head fell, bile expelled from her throat, she felt an immense feeling of satisfaction. The snake had survived the mass of chemicals and acidic properties. She had killed it. Killing it had been satisfaction. She could not explain as to why this was, but it felt good just to kill. In this moment, everything had been taken from her and she was going to die any moment now. Enjoy it, Pamela…enjoy it so. Be just as venomous as him, love that hate…

Hating everything seemed to help her relax her breath. She could still feel the snake's boiling venom within her bloodstream, but she welcomed the pain now.

"It-" It was an unconscious act upon herself, and she pursed her lips together, surprised by the sudden act. She had spoken. An eternity it had felt, since he had pushed her into this grave, and the pain of the poisons that he had killed her with had simply muted her. She had thought it for indefinite timing. Now, sound! Actual sound. "Ah…" She forced the single syllable out, as a test. Her voice came out hoarse. Dusty. Dirty. Yes, dirt. She managed a shaking hand against her chin. Her face was dirty. Of course, Mother Earth had left its mark on her. She had been forced down into a grave of nature. "Do…r-re…mi…fa…s-so…l-l-la…ti…do…" Each breath that she took was painful, a fiery strain upon her vocal chords. She could feel a hot liquid corroding her throat. Felt more vomit pushing itself up.

Remember, Pamela. Stay calm in situations of great distress, her mother had told her. The smallest miracles can arise when we're anticipating them. And you sure as heck can't do that if you're hyperventilating.

Alright, Pamela Isley, stat calm, then. And speak. Say a sentence. A short sentence.

"Woodrue…hoh!" Just saying his name was like fire, and she was sure that it was only half related to the convulsions of reactions taking place from her natural hormones mixing with the animal plant toxins. Years of research and it was corroding her from within. The snake victim was tormenting her. She began to cry, her tears themselves hot, as if poured from a half boiling pitcher. There was the strangest sensation of bubbling in her lips, too. She touched them, pondering as to the nature of the bubbling, and wondered frantically whether or not it was finally her time to shut down permanently.

Her skin was getting hot, and she was beginning to sweat, enclosed within a tiny space. The heat was rising fierce now. Was it a sauna? No, not a sauna. Beneath the world, but not that deep! She could feel her rubber boots burnishing against her shin and the heat was building up from within. Weakly, she struggled against them, kicking the boots off, and she heard them fall away, somewhere down into the darkness with a thump some ways below. Just how deep had she sunk down…?

She grabbed at her black stockings and ripped them apart, sighing with relief as what small coolness that came with lack of claustrophobia came with her free legs. She forced off her lab coat, stretching out her arms, but she was still sweating. Her black tanktop clung tightly against her skin, constricting her ribs. She strained against it, clawing at the shirt and ripping its down, piece by piece. There was suddenly so much anger going through her, furious flames of a woman who simply must tear, must destroy.

"AAGHH!" she screamed, tears falling down her face. She hated him! Hated him! He had killed her, and for what!? FOR WHAT!? Oh, sorry, Jason, I won't whore myself around with you and help you take over the world with a bunch of test subjects who have been forcibly mutilated into weapons but hey! You know what, I'm fair, so go ahead and push me into a shelf of highly deadly toxins, kill me, why don't you? I deserve it, as I'm obviously not the one who's listening!

Madly did she rip shreds from her shots, ragefully did Pamela Isley rip the bandana that she wore upon her bed, fiercely did she rip her own hair from her head. She was shaking with uncontrollable rage. Hate and more hate, just focking hate all over, let's share it! Share it loudly and proudly! Go ahead, Woodrue, you sick experiment upon mankind! Go ahead and destroy everything, because you are going to focking get YOURS! She was with nature now, in this deep, dark grave. And she must simply refrain from being trapped within the confines of humanity. This was her moment to die. Her moment to perish. And she was going to become animalistic in nature.

If only I had the chance to take him, as he took me, and kill him, as he killed me. It had been romance. And romance it would be, to see him broke…to see him poisoned, as he poisoned me… those toxins belong in HIM! Why should I suffer!? Why should I torment!?

Suddenly, something moved beneath her. She became still for a moment, closing her eyes and taking in a breath, hoping it was another rattlesnake. She wanted more venom inside of her. She wanted something else to kill as well. Both desires were of the essence of romance, in her new warped perception. Her tears that fell dropped down and tapped lightly against something that was moving around her mid-section. So, then, it was a snake. Well, come here baby, bite me and then I'll return the favor…

"Don't s-struggle…I-I can do it…come h-here…" She was forcing words to come now with a newfound strength. Surely death had to be seconds away. It had been delayed for this long. She had to keep defying until the moment she dropped dead. And that smell…that foul odor was getting worse. And the heat! The heat was getting beyond the point of ability to withstand! She grabbed at the entwining around near her belly, but gasped as she realized that she was holding not a scale creature but something softer, and something so much more familiar. In her mind's eye, she could almost see it. "Ivy…"

It was moving on its own accord, surviving down here in the darkness with her. And it was snuggling. Snuggling up to its mother, she who had raised it from birth, and caressed it night and day, for the longest time. She loosened her grip and the ivy simply sailed through her fingers as if it were a snake.

"Oh, baby…" she whispered to it, still crying softly. "You wanted to be with your mother in her last moments…why? Do I deserve it?"

Its response was to snake its way onto her left arm, where it began to entwined itself, like a snake upon its favorite branch. She laughed, but only just a little. A shell of a laugh. She could feel the thing gripping tightly against her skin, longing for its "Mother". Mother… Mother Nature. Yes, what a fitting name indeed. Crown yourself, Pamela, crown yourself!

"Oh, baby, I love you," she whispered to the ivy. "Don't be afraid. Take mommy. Take me…please take me…" The request was turning into a desperate plea. "Take from me my humanity, if you will. Help me forget about the cold world of mammals. Yes…yes, mammals…all of them are undeserving animals. That's what he is. Him, and his sexual advances…how dare he try to defile me…how dare he focking touch me the way he did…well, babies, I hope that when he finally passes, the earth cripples his corpse in his focking grave." She closed her eyes in satisfaction as she imagined the broken, lifeless form of Jason Woodrue, squeezed between the thickest vines and squeltered into natural fertilizer. She lay her head back, her long flowing hair, now unbound from the bandana that had held it in proper place, touching a thick clump of vegetation behind her. More ivy came for her, moving on its own accord as if propelled by some sort of powerful, knowledgeable force….Yes! The force of Mother Nature! Her! She who had caressed her babies, she who had given them life and reason!

And not only was the ivy overtaking her arms and legs, but now she could feel it tugging at her hair! Actually tugging, like a small child tugging a mother's arm or attention.

"Yes, baby, I can feel you," she told it tenderly, in the most loving voice. "Why don't you come to me, dear? Go ahead, decorate mommy's hair for her. Make her look focking gorgeous!"

Something rushed up before her, and though the blackness obscured the knowledge of its identity from view, she knew it to be a vine. Could smell its natural scent. It was before her face, as if staring into her eyes deeply. She stroked it gently with her hand.

"I love you," she told it passionately, and she meant it. She truly loved it, and in this moment of death, truly needed it. A sound emitted from the plant life before her, and she gasped, her fascination within curiosity getting the better of her. She was as a child to the wonders that were occurring before her. And then the strangest feeling. Coldness was suddenly hitting her face. Something like tiny sprinkles, as if in a light rain. She felt the droplets hit her cheeks and chin, and many of them cascaded against her very lips. And with each drop of whatever water or fluid hit her, there came a soft sizzling noise, and the strangest sensation of bubbling upon her skins. Within her very pores! She closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly as a strong rustling sound emitted, and suddenly she was very much aware of several of the plants rising above her, like judges looking down upon innocence. And such rain! So much rain falling down, that same chemical sprinkling down from every direction, and her pores accepted them without question. She could feel vines entwining her ankles and wrists tightly, and loved their presence as the plants rained down their substance with a form of blessing. A blessing over Mother Nature.

She could feel the sensation rushing through her skin and into her veins. And suddenly, that burning feeling had gone! Instead, it had been replaced with something entirely different. Breath of fresh life exploded in every cell of her body, and the heat that had overtaken her was suddenly not that nasty, slimy negative, but a soft, warm sensation like that of a basking plant. Like sunlight. The sensation reached upward, and she could feel particles rushing through her hair now. Rustling in every strand of hair, to be exact. Changing her. Yes, change! That was what was needed right now. The ultimate change!

"Am I going to live, going to die, who knows?" she said to her babies, basking in the invisible radiance that they brought upon her. We love you, Mother, the plants said to her. Even though they could not speak this, of course, she could feel the words within her. Could smell them in the sweet scent of her children's emissions. Could taste them as droplets of chemical burned into her tongue, merging with her cells. They were the new life, the restorative fruit that could never fail her. Plant food to this new plant in its first stages of life.

A bud. A bud to sprout at any time now.

She could not see herself withstanding the death that was coming to claim her, but that did not matter in this moment. All that mattered in this moment were three things: one, that she obsess over the idea of hating Jason Woodrue. Two, the she acknowledge the Venus-hood that these plants brought upon her, and loved the changes that were to come. And three, most importantly, that she mentally set herself an imaginary goal until the end: to be free of the dark and embrace the light above, and then, when she emerged, to find Jason and make the same advances upon him that he had made upon her…and, with all manner of reflection to his deeds, kill him, as he had killed her. Never to happen, but to trick her mind into thinking it would happen…that was the dream.

"Change me, babies. Woodrue failed to kill Pamela Isley off for good. I say she has no place, either. You, my babies…I want to be like you. Would you accept me?"

She closed her eyes. Yeah, Pamela Isley had to die. And it was simply because Pamela Isley was no good in this world. But something else could grow in her place. An example of nature. The blueprint of natural evolution.

"Ivy. I really like that name…"

And she began to shake….