DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

Sunlight filtered through the scattered clouds, casting fragmented rays on Gotham's Gothic architecture. The faint light gave the cold, somber air a slight ripple, carried by a biting breeze.

Gotham wasn't perpetually cloaked in darkness—occasionally, sunlight would break through the overcast sky. It was just rarer than in most places.

The Carmine Hotel stood out as a hallmark of the city's identity, its Gothic design reflecting Gotham's eerie yet imposing charm. More importantly, it was one of the safest locations in a city rife with danger.

Even the most hardened local gangs in Gotham knew better than to tangle with old-school families like the Falcones. The hotel was part of the Falcone family's empire, untouchable in the shadowy hierarchy of Gotham's underworld.

After retrieving Hank and the others last night, Falcone's butler had arranged accommodations for Bardi and his group here. Once they'd rested, Falcone himself would host Bardi for dinner that evening.

It wasn't difficult to guess Falcone's intentions. Was he hoping to recruit Bardi? To forge some sort of alliance? Or perhaps, to gain control of him for his own ends, maybe even to dissect the man's secrets?

The reasons were unclear.

8:30 AM.

Pamela Isley yawned slightly as she slipped through the back entrance of the Carmine Hotel. Entering the staff locker room, she moved languidly, clearly not fully awake.

Pamela Isley was a striking woman with vibrant red hair cascading like flames, stunning features, and a figure that turned heads wherever she went. (Img)

As she began changing into her uniform, the door opened to reveal her friend and colleague Annie, who burst in with an excited energy. The two had met back in university and now worked together at the hotel.

"Hey, Pamela!" Annie nudged Pamela's arm with her shoulder, her face animated. "Did you hear about the crazy thing that happened last night?"

Pamela barely glanced at her, indifferent. "What is it this time?" she asked, gathering her fiery hair into a loose bun.

In Pamela's experience, Annie's idea of "interesting news" almost always involved men, particularly attractive ones. Her excitement typically followed a formula:

Handsome guy.

Handsome + rich.

Handsome + rich + cool car.

Handsome + rich + cool car + an endless string of entanglements with women Annie envied.

True to form, Annie launched into her story.

"So, last night this guy checked in, completely naked!" she exclaimed, her tone brimming with amusement and intrigue. "He had eight big guys trailing behind him. Security almost got into it with him, but nothing happened in the end. Anyway, Jennifer caught a glimpse of him and was immediately smitten. She was even thinking about, you know, offering herself to him."

Annie burst into laughter. "And do you know what this guy said? He told her her chest was too small and told her to get lost! Can you believe that? Jennifer's been fuming ever since, swearing he's into men because of the eight dudes he had with him. But seriously, I have to deliver some custom-tailored clothes to him later. Pamela, you have to let me take the delivery! A handsome guy who hasn't been charmed by Annie isn't truly a handsome guy!"

Pamela simply nodded, unamused. Annie's over-the-top infatuation was nothing new. Still, the image of a man walking into the Carmine Hotel naked made her pause.

An exhibitionist?

The thought flickered briefly in her mind before she dismissed it.

Pamela preferred plants—vines, flowers, and the green freshness of leafy life—over the company of men.

Later, after watering and pruning the hotel's plants, Pamela began her first task of the day: delivering a set of custom-made clothes to one of the VIP suites.

The clothes had been specially tailored overnight for the mysterious guest Annie had been talking about. The set included white British-style Martin boots, white socks, white pants, white undergarments, a white dress shirt, a white jazz hat, and a long white trench coat with gilded edges along the buttons.

All white?

Pamela frowned slightly as she inspected the ensemble. It felt excessive and oddly theatrical. Who dressed like this anymore? She couldn't understand it—turquoise, she thought, would have been far more pleasing than white.

Still, she loaded the outfit onto the breakfast cart along with the guest's meal. As she prepared to deliver it, her thoughts lingered on Annie's earlier comments.

Eight men in full attire, and yet the leader had shown up naked? She shook her head. It was bizarre.

The cart wheels glided silently over the plush carpeting as Pamela made her way to the elevator. She rode it to the third floor and stopped in front of VIP Suite No. 7.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pamela rapped on the door lightly and was about to announce herself when a deep, magnetic voice called from inside.

"Come in."

The tone of the voice sent a small shiver down Pamela's spine.

"The voice is… nice," she murmured to herself, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, only to freeze in her tracks.

The scene before her was one she would never forget.

The suite's balcony doors were open, dark red curtains pulled back to let sunlight stream in. Dust motes danced lazily in the golden light, casting an almost ethereal glow over the man standing at the center of it all.

Bardi stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, his figure bathed in the warm sunlight. The light accentuated every sculpted detail of his physique.

Pamela felt her breath catch in her throat. She was completely stunned, unable to move or speak.

But then her gaze dropped lower, and her face flushed red.

Why wasn't he wearing any clothes?

Even a blanket would have been better than this!

Bardi turned his head slightly, his sharp features catching the sunlight as he glanced at her. His tone was calm but carried an unmistakable weight of authority.

"Close the door. I don't enjoy being watched so casually."

Pamela snapped out of her daze, embarrassment flooding her.

You don't like being watched? Then why were you walking around naked last night? she thought irritably. And now you're sunbathing in the nude?

She swallowed her frustration, muttered an apology, and closed the door behind her, pushing the cart into the room. But not before sneaking another glance at him.

Under the sunlight, his chiseled features seemed impossibly perfect, radiating a raw, masculine beauty that made her heart skip a beat.

Bardi's gaze locked onto the name badge pinned to her chest, and for a moment, he froze.

Pamela Isley.

Poison Ivy?

On his first day in Gotham, he had already encountered someone this notorious?

Bardi's mind raced as he recalled Poison Ivy's infamous abilities. Her body had been infused with plant toxins, turning her blood into chlorophyll, making her immune to all poisons, viruses, bacteria, and fungi.

She could manipulate plants at will and secrete pheromones to control others. Even Superman and Batman had, on occasion, fallen victim to her influence. She'd once managed to turn them against each other.

In short, she was a powerhouse.

A perfect fit for the kind of subordinates Bardi sought.

Pamela Isley, of course, had no idea what was going through Bardi's mind. She noticed his intense gaze on her chest, his eyes burning with a focus that caught her slightly off guard.

Suddenly, Annie's voice echoed in her memory:

"Haha, that handsome guy said her boobs were too small and told her to get out of the way! Haha… I'm dying of laughter."

Pamela stiffened as realization struck.

Is that why this guy keeps staring at my chest?

Her face flushed slightly. Yet, being a woman accustomed to confidence and openness, she wasn't overly shy. If anything, she found herself a bit flattered.

Perhaps having a fling with such a remarkable man wouldn't be so bad.

The thought startled her, and she quickly dismissed it, embarrassed by her own boldness.

Bardi's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Pamela Isley?"

The sunlight framed his back as he turned, highlighting his tall, lean figure. The sharp contours of his muscles gave him the appearance of a perfectly sculpted statue, radiating strength and masculinity.

Pamela's breath hitched, her eyes widening. She had never seen a man whose body combined beauty and power so effortlessly.

Her heartbeat quickened, her entire body trembling slightly. For a moment, it felt as if his piercing gaze could strip her bare, seeing right through her clothes, leaving her exposed under his scrutiny.

Her mind swirled with confusion, unable to make sense of the strange emotions bubbling inside her.

Ordinary?

Bardi's eyes narrowed slightly. Activating his vision, he scanned Pamela's body but found no anomalies. She was still an ordinary human.

"How old are you?" he asked abruptly.

Caught off guard, Pamela stammered, "Eighteen… I'm eighteen."

Bardi nodded, thoughtful. That explained it, she hadn't transformed into Poison Ivy yet.

Bardi wasn't focused on Pamela's flustered state. Instead, his mind turned to how he could make the most of her potential.

Testing her further, he asked, "Do you love plants?"

Pamela blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected such a question. "Y-Yes," she answered, her voice firm despite her confusion. "How do you know?"

Bardi's response was nonchalant. "Because I also enjoy basking in the sun like a plant."

Pamela's eyes widened as understanding dawned.

So that's why he was naked.

He must really love sunlight!

Bardi continued to ask questions, gradually piecing together her story. He learned that Pamela had just started her freshman year at university and was working at the hotel part-time to support her personal research into plants.

Realizing that Pamela had not yet become Poison Ivy, Bardi's thoughts grew sharper. He saw an opportunity to recruit her before anyone else could.

"Serve me. And get me dressed."

Pamela froze. "W-What?"