Briar awoke to the smell of smoke. Blurrily, she opened her eyes slowly. Walls were engulfed in flames, the orange tendrils licking at the table she was sprawled out next to. Coughing, tears running down her sooty cheeks, the girl pushed herself to her knees, slowly standing. The lab table was engulfed seconds later. Gagging from the smoke fumes, Briar stumbled out of the lab, into the main hall. The blaze had completely overtaken the building, leaving no avenue of escape. Terror sunk into the girl's body, immobilizing her, keeping her rooted to the ground she stood upon. Raising a hand to cover her mouth, she scanned the area, noting a window nearby that was blocked by more flames. Desperation pooled in the pit of her stomach. Her time was running precariously thin. Slowly, she limped over to the fire that kept her from her goal- safety. No way to get around it.

Clenching her free fist, she screamed out, "FUCK!" The frustration swirled like a tangible force, then every window and door in the building shattered. The glass shards flew everywhere, but miraculously, none of them even came close to hitting her. Wiping her sleeve across her burning eyes, Briar skirted the now-calm flames, and climbed out the non-existant window. As her feet touched the concrete outside, the flames built up again, forcing her to retreat into the street, just to avoid being scorched. A black sedan swerved to avoid hitting her, honking angrily. Coughing again, the girl started to notice the cold, snowflakes coating her tattered form. Gasping in greedy mouthfuls of oxygen, she crossed the street and began slowly walking down the worst neighborhood in Gotham.

The shivering was starting to slow the young woman, as she reached the run-down hotel that The Riddler used as a base of operations. Glancing up at the dilapidated Gotham Down Inn sign, she found the strength to walk into the lobby. Several men came to their feet, pointing semi-automatic guns at her. Coughing once more, she offered a weak smile, "Is Riddles in? Tell him Briar-Thorn is here. I'm one of Poison Ivy's kids." With that sentence out, she fell to the ground, consciously noting that the 'wood' floor was really cheap laminate. The second thought that hit her was, "Why is my hair white? Is it ash? I feel so hungry..." One of the thugs grabbed her upper arm and roughly yanked her up, accidentaly brushing against her back. As a hiss of angry pain escaped the woman, the man was flung into the receptionist desk by an unseen force. The other men nervously eyed the female, then one picked up the receptionist phone, stepping over his unconscious comrade, "Hey, boss. There's a raggedy-ass chick down here claiming to know you. Say's her name's Briar-Thorn and that she's one of Ivy's. She looks like she got in a fight with Firefly. Yeah, yeah. No boss, white. Okay, hold on."

Cupping the receiver, the man glared at Briar, "Boss says Thorn has black hair, not white." Sliding back down into a sitting position on the laminate, the girl gritted her teeth, "You tell Nigma that if he doesn't get his ass down here NOW, that I will tell Ivy that he has been stealing her hemlock extracts to use for his green paint!" Obviously the point made it across, because the phone was suddenly screeching with obscenities, as the thug had not covered it well. Gulping, the man held the handset a few inches from his ear, "Yes, boss. Of course..." After flinching and cupping himself, the thug hung up the phone, "The Riddler is on his way down. He said not to move an inch." Clenching her fists in severe annoyance, the girl stared long and hard at the man's pants, wishing she could wipe the condescending look off his face... Whoosh! The crotch of the man's jeans were suddenly ablaze, and he was shrieking like a girl, smacking at the fire. Just as suddenly, the flames died completely, leaving a big charred section of material. The idiot wasn't taking a second chance, and shimmied out of the pants, wearing only a tattered pair of red boxers.

Meanwhile, Briar was looking down at her hands, astounded. Had she made that happen? Staring hard, she silently willed the receptionist desk to move. With the shriek of nails on a chalkboard, the oak desk slid a few inches on the ground. Dropping her hands, Briar shook her head in denial, thinking, "No! That wasn't me! I'm just a normal girl with a supervillain for a parent-figure... Wait! Supervillain... Batman, he dropped me in Ivy's specimens... I remember... Pain, burning... No! They must have done something to me! Like Ivy..." The girl's train of thought was interupted by the arrival of Riddler,swinging his trademark cane, "I must say, I do like what you did with your hair, darling. But riddle me this, why is Ivy's protege so scuffed up? And why are you here, Ivy I do know, but you I have only met once before." Absently touching her white tresses, Briar pushed herself to her feet, "Batman burned down the gardens. Everyone was gone and I remember Ivy mentioning that your base was here, nearby..." Steadying herself, the girl placed the heel of her left palm against her ashy forehead, groaning, "Batman knocked me onto some chemicals, and when I woke up, the place was on fire." Whistling lowly, the Riddler fixed his gaze upon the haggard figure of the girl, "Well let's get you cleaned up. If Ivy saw the state you were in, she'd feed me to her plants without even bothering to ask what happened." Tipping his venom green bowler hat up, he motioned to a skinny thug, "Scorpio, take her to the silver suite, and lend her some clothes, you're small enough that they should fit her... Aries, why are you lounging about in your all-together? Nevermind- I don't care. Just go put some pants on. And why is Leo out cold on the floor? You numbskulls give me a perpetual headache!" Muttering to himself, Riddler stomped back to his office, slamming the door behind him.

Scorpio silently led the girl down a long hall, before opening a door with the number 129 upon it. Glancing around, the room contained a queen bed, two dressers, a walk-in closet, and what looked to be a jaccuzzi tub in the bathroom. As Briar tore her eyes from the silver comforter of the bed, Scorpio walked back in, handing her a black undershirt and sweatpants. After a curt nod, he left her to herself. Carrying the clothing into the restroom, she shut and locked the door. Exhaling, she placed the clean garments onto the sink, before starting the hot water. Stripping down, she finally looked into the mirror. Her hair was now snow white, with one silver streak running down the side. Once grey eyes were now a deep shade of violet. Turning, she noticed faint scarring on her back, in the shape of a rose. Running her fingertips down the slightly raised flesh, she turned away, slipping into the hot water.

Staring up at the ceiling, Briar crooked her finger at the shampoo sitting on the sink. Nothing. Turning her head, she stared at it, holding her empty hand out. Quickly, the bottle shot into her outstretched palm. Sighing loudly, she began washing her hair, the water slowly turning grey from all the soot and grime. After her ablutions were finished, she got out of the tub, beckoning to the plug. With a whoosh, it started draing as she began pulling on the loaner clothing. Wrapping her wet hair in a towel, she unlocked the door and re-entered the bedroom. A paper McDonalds bag sat on the dresser. Striding over, she pulled out a BigMac, and began munching. At least Nigma wasn't going to starve her... Actually, considering the circumstances, he had been more than reasonable. God knows that TwoFace or Joker probably would have thrown her back out on her ass, while laughing. Mouth tightening, she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the towel from her hair, letting it hang damp over her face. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would find Ivy. Tomorrow she would find Ivy, and then begin her plans to make Batman pay...