EMTA 8
The Burned Sector, Gotham City
“Stop hogging the blanket!” she hissed.
“You have all of it,” he sneared back, “I can’t I even have a corner?”
“I hate you!” she hissed back.
“Look Pam,” he turned to face her, “It’s bad enough the Greek chick tried to turn you into one of their mindless walking trees, but it’s YOUR fault that you exploded and tried to kill the bat when he couldn’t change you back! If you had shone him some graditude, maybe you wouldn’t be on the run in this ruined factory. But you were a giant homicidal cunt and that’s why you are stuck here with me!”
“I hate you Clown!” Pam breathed.
“Good thing I already got my good night kiss,” the Joker snickered before turning his back towards the steel girder.
“Jerk…” Pam muttered and thought about her life.
*
1944
Doctor Pamela Isley sat at her desk and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was about to put the magnifying goggles back on when the door opened. She looked up at her boss Doctor Jason Woodrue.
“Any progress Doctor Isley?” he asked closing the door behind him.
“I Think I have found something,” Pamela looked at her boss, “At sixteen I graduated High School Early, at twenty I graduated Ivy University as an undergraduate with triple degrees in Ecology, Botany and Plant Pathology. At twenty-four I was hired by the department of Agriculture as soon as I got my Doctoral degree. I was hired to stop the dust bowls and keep them from happening again, and now I am here trying to find a way to keep soy bean from being eaten by insects for the Army!”
“I recommended you for the DA project because you are the most brilliant student I every had,” Woodrue said, “But after the Japanese attacked, the Army got congress to sell all of us into their service for a smile!”
“Oh you are just suffering in bondage strutting around in your greens with those fancy tie tacks on your shoulders,” Pam paused to put as much venom into her next words as she could, “COLONEL WOODRUE.”
“Look you weren’t in Honolulu when it was bombed, San Francisco when the Japanese firm bombed it,” Woodrue started.
“Neither were you,” Pam interjected.
“No, I was just outside of LA when they gassed it!” Woodrue glared, “Like everyone else with a Doctor attached to their names in California, Nevada and Arizona I was drafted and put right in the hospitals to treat the Phosgene gas victims.”
Pam sat in silence.
“Now you identified the traces of Herbicides in the Black Blizards,” Woodrue said, “You know that someone tried to kill the plants holding the soil together. Now as soon as the Quartermaster Corps goes to soy beans for food production we get hit with a soy bean targeting beetle.”
Pam flicked the sample soy bean at Colonel Woodrue as a silent display of her displeasure.
“Now, you have seen the data that the censorship office has been keeping from the public,” Woodrue kept going, “Unless we get a break throw it will mean that the rations program will allow either kids at home or troops in the field eat but not both.”
*
1946 (Liberation day -1)
Pamela didn’t know what was going on but Woodrue was sleeping walking throw the halls to his office. She followed him from a distance. What peaked her interest was seeing May June, the WAC running the liaison desk, walk into the office behind him. Of all her professors, Woodrue was the only one that hadn’t tried to sleep with her. Heck Pam often wondered if Woodrue was a homosexual.
She snuck closer to the door to ease drop.
“Good little doggy,” May said, “Now repeat back you orders for Mistress.”
“Tomorrow call a lunch meeting in the center court yard so Mistress can lock us in the court yard,” Woodrue spoke in a monotone, “There I am to keep the science staff calm while awaiting capture by Mistress’ forces.”
Pam covered her mouth to keep from making an audible gasp. But it was already too late, a bag was pulled over her head and someone grabbed her wrists.
“You really should have come to our discussion groups on why we fight Doctor Isley.”
Pam recognized the voice of the Women’s Reserve Corps of the Navy, the WAVES, ensign assigned to the liaison office.
“Yeah Doc,” the Army Nurse spoke, “Lets go for a walk.”
*
1946 (Day 83 of Captivity)
Pamela sat in the makeshift cell in the basement. The small rooms of the basement had once been used to store files and such, but just before the invasion the traitorous girls had turned them into rows of cells. Pamela was the first prisoner but was joined the next day she was joined the rest of the research staff. After about a month one by one the research staff had been taken away and now Pamela was again alone. Over the last few weeks the traitorous bitches had started wearing silver bangles and in turn started to grow taller and stronger. Only May June hadn’t changed, but she had always been over six feet tall, but now she wore the tunic, pants and armors of the rest of these evil women.
She tossed the eaten pear core into the waste bucket she had been given.
The door to her cell opened and in walked May June and another woman in an old style Greek dress.
[This is the last one Priestess] May spoke to the woman in robes in Amazonian Greek, [She was the first one we took prisoner. She refused to listen to us and the Beacon of Truth.]
[It is the will of Physis that she be offered up to her service,] the priestess smiled, [This mortal child shall join the others in the loving embrace of Physis and in service to the Gods.]
“Get away from me you whores!” Pamela spat.
[Perhaps she would like to see one of her friends?] the Priestess asked.
“The Priestess wants to know if you want to see your friends,” May asked in English.
“What have you done to them?” Pamela shouted, “Where did you take them?”
“Woodrue come here,” May called to the hallway.
Pamela was prepared to see the brainwashed doctor, but she was shocked to see a tree walk into her cell. The more she saw of it the more humanoid it was, it even almost had Woodrue’s face…
[She must be hungry Nymph, give her a treat,] the priestess said with a sadistic smile.
Woodrue to human tree raised an arm and pulled a fresh pear from its elbow. Pamela looked at the Woodrue tree and then to the waste bucket filled with pear cores… She tried to cry, scream and vomit all at the same time!
“Don’t cry,” May snickered, “Tomorrow you will join him in service to the true gods and help to feed the orphans of this oppressed lands we have freed!”
*
Pamela was tied to the alter in the center of the courtyard. Dawn was still hours away, but she could see none of Gotham city’s lights only the dim ember glow of fires beyond the horizon. Torches and incense were being lit around the courtyard. All around her were to larger traitors and their muscle women mistresses. The priestess walked up to Pamela and muttered things in her foreign langue as she started rubbing oils on her face and neck.
“Is this a private party?” A boy in a red outfit called before spraying the muscular bitches with one of their machine guns.
Then the Batman jumped down and started brawling with the women in the courtyard. The Priestess shouted orders to the women and tried to keep preforming her ritual. Pamela saw the flash of black, yellow and red behind the priestess. The blow knocked the priestess forward and into a jar of the oils spilling it all over Pamela.
“My name is Batgirl,” the red haired girl in the costume said pulling out a knife, “I am on damsel rescue duties today, how may I be of assistance?”
“Get me out of here!” Pamela hissed.
The Batgirl cut her bonds and pulled the woman up. One of the Amazons was tossed onto the Alter by the Batman, knocking Pamela off and she struck her head on the concrete below.
*
“… So unless we find one of these priests willing to undo the magic,” the Batman intoned, “There is no cure.”
“What?” Pamela shouted as she woke up.
“And she is awake,” the boy said.
“Ok, Doctor,” The Batgirl tried to calm her, “You have been out for two days, take deep breaths.”
“What…” Pamela gasped, “No Cure?”
“The oil that you were doused with,” The Batman stepped in front of Pamela, “Chemically it was only Olive oil, rosemary and monkshood. Nothing mutagenic by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Mutagenic?” Pamela asked still confused.
The Batman made a gesture and the Batgirl pulled a makeup compact from her belt and handed it to Pamela. Pamela took it and then the small flash light that the boy held out. She opened the compact and pointed the flashlight at her face and flicked it on.
GREEN, she was Green! And there were traces of Spanish moss in her red hair. She gasped in panic.
“Deep Breaths,” the Batgirl grabbed the compact and tried to reassure the doctor.
“Robin make sweep the perimeter,” the Batman ordered the boy, “Doctor you need to calm down and focus. We have been here at the zoo for too long already, we need get moving.”
“Focus? Move?” Pamela shouted, “I am green and have moss growing in my hair!”
“Doctor,” The Batgirl tried to calm her, “Please breathe, listen to me you are having a panic attack, take deep breaths.”
“Get away from me!” Pamela shouted swinging her arms wildly at the costumed renegades before her.
Around her the bushes started to move a form wild punches at renegades as well. The Bats ducked and bobbed to avoid the blows from the plants. All that stopped as the planter crashed into Pamela’s head.
*
Four days and seven fights lighter,
Pamela came too, her wrists were lightly bound with cloths line. She twisted her wrists and freed herself and then pulled the sack hood off of her head. She was surprised to find herself in the shattered ruins of her apartment. The place had been ransacked multiple times and a hole had been blown in a wall. Pamela got up and looked around. Clearly a few people had died on her bed and bled out. Pamela shook her head in disgust and found a tattered green blouse and her gardening slacks.
“You must be crazy to come back home Doctor,” a man’s voice whispered in the otherwise silent building.
“Who are you?” Pamela called.
“I wouldn’t be so loud if I was a wanted woman,” the man stepped out bundled in a trench coat and fedora, “This is you right?”
The man held a wanted poster in his hand with her picture and description and an offer of an extra weeks worth of rations and a hundred silver Obols.
“Are you going to turn me in?” Pamela paniced.
The man burst into laughter and doubled over.
“Ha ha ha ha! That’s rich! I turn you over for lunch and a few coins?” he lost his hat, “Lady look at my wanted poster!”
Pamela looked out the window where the man was pointing. It was a billboard declaring “Wanted: The Joker; Three months extra rations, two thousand Silver Obols and ten pounds of gold for the death or information leading to the execution of the Joker.”
“They must really want you dead,” Pamela said.
“Almost as much as old Guano-boy!” Joker snickered, “But since we both have Amazons to fry, he is willing to let me be a partisan against them so long as I leave the poor folks of Gotham alone.”
“Guano… The Batman,” Pamela put it together, “You were one of the Batman’s villians?”
“Oh no Doctor,” Joker’s smile became terrifying and evil, “I was HIS VILLIAN. How about this, I need someone to watch my back and I am sure you could use some leasons in how to kick glamizon butt. I can’t promise that this will be a happy marriage, but for right now we need each other.”
*
EMTA 8
Pamela woke with Joker’s hand over her mouth.
“Three twat patrol moving throw the factory looking for refugees,” Joker said, “I got a whoopy cushion but I need you to get me an orange tree.”
“What?”
“Orange tree in the main hall under the hole in the roof,” Joker whispered.
Pamela tried her hardest but felt the plant’s anguish as it was plucked of its fruit and then drowned in toxic gases.