The midnight rose slithered out of the bathroom, dragging the mangled corpse of an officer in its thorny jaws. Blood dripped across the tiled floor, petals twitching with a predator's hunger. The gunfire from earlier echoed through the precinct, pulling reinforcements like moths to flame.
Four officers rushed from nearby offices, weapons raised. They froze at the sight of the monstrous bloom blocking the corridor, its vines stretching across the walls like living barbed wire.
One stammered, voice cracking. "What the hell is that thing?!"
Another shouted, "Quick, shoot it!"
The hallway lit up with muzzle flashes. Bullets slammed into glistening vines, shredding barklike skin and tearing chunks of tissue. But the plant absorbed most of it, its mutated fibers closing almost as quickly as they were split.
The rose lashed forward, faster than their eyes could track. Two whip-like vines wrapped around officers and yanked them screaming into the air. The maw gaped wide, rows of jagged thorns clicking together.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
Both men disappeared into its throat, blood raining down on their comrades.
Pamela staggered against the side of a building a block away, her body trembling with the rush of vitality surging through her veins. Her breath came sharp, and a quiet moan escaped her lips.
Barbara glanced at her, her eyes narrowing. "You're enjoying this too much, Pamela. I wish I could get in on the action."
Pamela's cheeks flushed as she steadied herself. "Oh, it'll be fine. After all, my plant will get that money for us."
Harley giggled, bouncing on her heels. "You're a genius, toots."
Pamela tilted her head, smiling darkly. "This is only the beginning. Maybe you should consider joining my harem."
Harley barked out a laugh, waving her hand. "Dream on, babe."
Pamela only smirked faintly, her voice low. "You'll come around."
Inside the precinct, the gunfire drew heavier boots. Three SWAT officers stormed in, clad in black tactical gear, MP5s at the ready.
"Open fire!" one barked.
The corridor thundered with automatic bursts. Brass clattered against the tiles. The rose shuddered as its vines shredded, but then it struck.
One vine speared through a man's torso with wet finality. He screamed once before his voice died in a gargle. His body shriveled as the plant drained him dry, then dropped him like a husk. The holes in the rose's vines closed, its body knitting back together with stolen vitality.
The other two froze, terror breaking through discipline.
"Oh my God," one whispered, voice rising to a scream. "What's going on with this thing?!"
"I don't know, Jimmy!" the woman shouted back. "I wish we had a flamethrower!"
"Tammy, I don't think even that would stop it—"
Her words cut off with a snap. A vine coiled around her throat and twisted. CRACK. She fell limp, dragged toward the maw, swallowed whole with a wet, crushing sound.
Jimmy's scream rattled the corridor. "You bastard! I was two days away from proposing to her!"
He fired wildly, emptying his magazine in fury. Bang after bang roared through the air, bullets sparking off vines and thorns.
The rose reared, enraged, and surged forward. Its maw clamped down on his chest, biting him in half. His legs collapsed twitching to the floor, blood pumping across the tiles.
The hallway was littered with bodies, blood pooling in the cracks between floor tiles, spent shells glittering in the carnage. The midnight rose pushed forward, reaching the steel door of the Evidence Lockup.
Two thick vines raised high and slammed down.
BOOM.
The reinforced door shrieked as hinges tore from the frame, the slab of steel crashing against the far wall with a deafening clang.
The plant slithered inside. Rows of sealed cabinets lined the walls, stacked with weapons, narcotics, and confiscated contraband. In the center, a pedestal glimmered beneath fluorescent light.
A silver briefcase rested on top, labeled with the case number from Joker's last arrest.
The rose opened its maw, teeth clicking. It leaned down, jaws widening, and swallowed the case whole. The petals folded back, twitching in satisfaction as it sealed the evidence inside its gullet.
The mission complete, the plant coiled back around itself. It turned, dragging bloody vines through the corridor as it retraced its path. Bodies lay broken in its wake—officers slumped against walls, blood soaking uniforms, guns scattered uselessly across the ground.
It slipped back into the bathroom, its bulk folding impossibly small. The sink cracked as it forced its way inside, vanishing into the drain. The pipes rattled, and then silence swallowed the precinct.
The only sounds left were the buzzing of the overhead lights and a drop of blood hitting a floor tile.
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