Disclaimer: I do not own the rights "Batman" or any of its characters, including Scarecrow, nor do I own any rights to the comics or the films. I own nothing save for any original characters I have created.
Chapter Four
Gotham is a city built of metal and glass, sleek rows of buildings towering over concrete streets abundant with a steady flow of cars. The city thrives on noise—the blaring of a train's horn, a symphony of ringing cell phones, the droning buzz of thousands of conversations blending into one. There is asphalt and there is brick and there is mortar, but there is very little of nature. Splashes of green are confined to parks; one can sit on a bench underneath a small canopy of trees, feeling the breeze play through their hair as the grass gently sways and leaves drift onto the ground. They can close their eyes and for the briefest of moments forget that they are in a city at the mercy of criminals and corruption, where the cold and the hungry and the poor vastly outnumber the rich, pampered few, and whose savior is a man who calls himself a bat.
But when they open their eyes that moment is broken, and they return to a world of technology and traffic.
Yes, there is very little nature in Gotham.
But there is someone who intends to change that.
"Remember," Crane says, his breath forming wisps of steam in the crisp night air, "say as little is possible. The less she knows about you, the better."
Teagan nods.
"She's a very dangerous woman, Teagan. Do not forget that, not even for a second, and do not allow her provoke you." Crane's eyes bore into hers with grave seriousness and she nods again, her stomach twisting into knots of anxiety. They have done many things together that she could have never imagined in her previous life, facing danger on a sometimes nightly basis, and she herself has accomplished a great deal on her own.
But this is a different kind of danger, a different kind of risk.
Crane raises his hand and knocks on the warehouse door before them—first a rapid succession of three knocks, then two, then three more. She surmises that it is a password of sorts.
After a pause Crane pushes the door open and steps forward into the building; she follows, and once inside Teagan brings a hand to her mouth in awe.
Vines wrap around the interior of the decaying warehouse, snaking tendrils covering the bricks with lush green leaves. The floor is a carpet of rich moss, so soft that Teagan is hesitant to place her foot on it, and deeply-colored flowers surround them with wide, beckoning blooms.
The petals look like silk, and smell so fragrant...it wouldn't hurt to touch them, just for a moment...
She feels Crane's hand grip her wrist and she blinks, overcome with confusion as she finds herself leaning over a bloom, her hand outstretched.
"Oh come now, Jonathan, you're no fun at all."
Teagan looks up to see a tall woman walking towards them, her vibrant red hair a fiery contrast against the lush green surrounding her. As she approaches, Teagan realizes with shock that the woman herself is green, her skin tinged with a creamy light shade. A flowing white sundress clings to the woman's curves, and Teagan wonders how she could possibly be warm in the night's biting chill.
"Miss Isley," Crane replies coolly, and the woman's dark green lips turn upwards into a smirk.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" the woman asks coyly, turning her sparkling eyes towards Teagan.
"Her name is Teagan. Teagan, this is-"
"You can call me Poison Ivy, darling." Ivy reaches forward and gently runs a fingernail across Teagan's face; up close, Teagan can see that the woman is strikingly beautiful—perhaps too beautiful. She struggles not to flinch at her touch; something about the woman frightens her, and it has little to do with her strange appearance.
"Hello," Teagan says quietly, hoping that Ivy does not detect her uneasiness.
Ivy smiles. "You're a very pretty girl, Teagan. I can see why Jonathan likes you." She raises an eyebrow in a mocking gesture. "He doesn't like very many people, you know."
"We're here to discuss business, Miss Isley, not ourselves," Crane says sharply, and Ivy turns to face him.
"Oh, don't be like that Jonathan," she says in a low, husky voice. "There's no reason we can't all be friends." She leans towards him, her face inches from his. Crane makes no effort to move; Teagan can feel a mixture of anger and dread rise inside of her, but remembers Crane's earlier words—do not allow her to provoke you—and forces herself to appear calm.
Ivy fixes Teagan with challenging eyes and presses her lips to Crane's. Teagan holds her gaze, her hands clenched into tight fists inside of her coat pocket, and swallows her revulsion and rage.
After a moment Ivy takes a step back, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Is something wrong, Miss Isley?"
"You know damn well-"
"Oh, that." Crane smirks. "I came prepared this time. I'm afraid that trick won't work on me anymore."
Suddenly Teagan remembers the mysterious plant that enticed her when they first entered the warehouse, and how she'd lost herself in its bloom. Ivy herself appears to be both plant and woman—she won't even attempt to decide which side is more prevalent—and she wonders if Ivy has found a way to harness the bloom's allure.
But what did he mean by "this time"? Had Ivy tried this before—had she seduced him? The thought makes her stomach lurch and she quickly blinks back tears. I can't think of that now. Later.
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me exactly how you managed to do that, are you?" Ivy is smiling again, but her tone contains a slight edge of anger.
"Now that would hardly be wise of me, would it, Miss Isley?"
Teagan watches in horror as vines begin to slither across the mossy floor towards them, moving with graceful speed like enormous leafy snakes. She jumps backwards, pressing her body against Crane's; he grips her shoulder and gives it a tight, reassuring squeeze, his eyes never leaving Ivy's.
"If you aren't going to play along, Jonathan," Ivy says lightly, "then I don't see any reason to continue this conversation."
"Have it your way," Crane replies calmly, "but I thought you of all people would be interested in seeing our mutual enemy destroyed."
The vines halt in their tracks and Teagan sighs inwardly with relief.
"Go on," Ivy says. "I'm listening."