As the call to Marshall Blake ended he left the comm open.

"Go." He said in a voice more growl than word.

"I'm picking up all Pierce's phone conversations in the past 24 hours via WayneTech satellite and I'm reviewing his business and personal e-mails now. You really think Ivy's out to get him?" Oracle asked, after relaying her current progress to the crusader.

"No."

"No?" she echoed in a bewildered tone.

"This is too complicated. Too intense, she won't have gone to all this trouble just to kill him; she could do that without all this effort."

"Then why is she doing this?"

He was silent for longer than Oracle was comfortable with. He was still thinking, still piecing it all together—she was used to him already having it all figured out—whenever it took him this long to figure out what one of the Rogues was up to it usually meant a high casualty count. She knew this was already weighing on him, that he was probably hammering himself on the inside for not being able to realize Ivy's intentions yet.

"We need to find her." he said at last, the words spat out as if it disgusted him to say them.

"Already working on it. No signs of sudden or unexpected growth in Robinson Park or any of the local outdoor gardens. It seems like she—wait! I've got something. The old Botanical Gardens… Yeah, this is her, the gardens are over grown."

With a shrieking hiss of mechanized breaks and peeling rubber the jet-propelled vehicle pulled a brutal 180 degree turn in the middle of the nearly deserted road. Gotham drivers already knew to always give that monstrous car a wide birth; no one was in his way when he performed the maneuver and by the time he'd finished it the few vehicles on the road were pulling towards the curb, allowing him to fire the thrusters and launch himself back down the boulevard with the engine of the Batmobile belching flame and roaring like a demonic prince.

Franklin Pierce had gone through the day on an adrenaline rush and now that he had arrived in Gotham City he realized that this was probably the longest day of his life. He was exhausted when he finally retrieved his luggage after the red eye flight to Gotham. He was still on Seattle time and the coffee he picked up on his way through the terminals didn't do much to help, even if it was some of the strongest he had ever tasted.

How could he do this? Why was he doing it? His entire agreement with Witness Protection had gone up in the flames the moment he boarded his flight. The gravity of the situation was finally starting to hit him when he heard his name. There was a woman in brown slacks and a silver blouse behind him. The woman was accompanied by a man with the brightest green eyes Frank had ever seen, when the man spoke he realized it was the person he had spoken with on the phone, the person who offered him the chance to finally meet and reconcile with his daughter.

"Let me get that bag for you, Mr. Pierce." Eric offered with a pleasant smile.

There was something about Eric Walsh's movements, from his extended hand to his smile, that didn't sit right with Frank. It was almost like watching a well rendered CGI movie, everyone looked extremely realistic and life like, but they lacked the little facial tics and imperfections that distinguish a living human from a graphic rendering.

Eric's smile didn't reach his eyes, and his gestures were slow and methodical as thought he had to plan out every motion before performing it. It was just beginning to make Frank feel truly unsettled when the woman caught his attention and distracted him from the rising suspicion in his mind.

"Mr. Pierce, I'm Dr. Hazel Birch, your daughter's psychiatrist." said the woman, extending a delicate hand to shake Frank's own.

"Oh! Of course, we spoke before I boarded the plane, thank you so much, you have no idea how much it means to me to know she wants to meet again." Franklin said, shaking Doctor Birch's hand with both of his own.

"It's the only thing she's expressed real interest in since her parole." Hazel replied with a warm smile that was everything Eric's wasn't.

"Is- Is she here?"

"No, she's waiting for us at a place she thought would be more comfortable for everyone. If you'll just follow Eric we can be there shortly."

With nothing but joy in his heart Franklin now happily followed Eric as the younger man walked through baggage claim with a slow, loping stride. Eric's route took them out to a waiting car, where Franklin and Hazel settled in the back while he made his way up front. As he settled into the driver's seat and started the car Eric smiled, he knew that soon his Mistress would have what she wanted, she would be happy, and she would adore him for his service to her.

With a whine of twisting cable the grapple line recoiled into the grapnel gun, hauling the caped crusader through the air and up to the roof of the old botanical gardens. This old building had become outdated over a decade ago, but the gardens had only gotten a new home a year ago. Ivy had never used this building as a lair before tonight, but he always knew she would eventually so it was one of the first places he checked whenever she was loose in the city.

Before he even got close to the skylight he could tell something was wrong. Something was writhing against the glass, clumped tight and squirming in discomfort and agitation. The sight was something like night crawlers packed tight in a bait jar, piles of writhing tendrils slithering over one another, but these weren't worms.

"You're out doing yourself tonight, Ivy." He said, with a modicum of respect blended into a disdainful sneer.

As he got close to the window he recognized the plant life—hedera helix, better known as English ivy. When it was well maintained, such as at Ivy League schools, it was viewed as a mark of distinction, but without proper care it went wild. In this instance, Ivy must have produced something with accelerated growth, and she had made a clever choice.

English Ivy was notoriously difficult to defeat with an herbicide, the only guaranteed way to stop it is removal by hand, and he didn't have the time or the raw strength to uproot and entire building full of the stuff—luckily, he wouldn't have to.

Reaching into his belt he procured a small capsule of luminous blue fluid. With a flick of his wrist he threw the capsule against the window, shattering the capsule and unleashing the cryogenic flash-freeze compound inside. It was something he had created after reverse-engineering one of Mr. Freeze's weapons.

As the window froze over with a sheet of icy the writhing vines pressing against it chilled, and then froze as well. For almost 20 yards around the window the rapidly growing vegetation creaked to a halt. Ivy and glass shattered and the dark knight plummeted through the window into the central chamber of the old gardens.

The moment he hit the ground vines began to grow over his boots and wrap around his legs. Another capsule stopped them, allowing him to kick his way free and look around, his eyes hunting for any movement other than slithering vines.

Above his head something moved, a body, suspended by a length of rope he recognized as hemp.

"Selina…"

The Catwoman was hanging upside down by her ankles. Her entire hands were bounded together in a huge ball of duct tape, ensuring she wouldn't be clawing her way free, and she was completely unconscious. All of this, however, was secondary—his primary concern now was that the ivy had already overgrown the rope she was hanging from, and had coil around the entirety of her legs, all the way up to her waist. This wasn't Ivy's lair; it was a delay to keep him from finding her faster than she wanted.

[Author's Note]

Readers, I'm very sorry this took so long to get to you. My studies this year and family obligations have completely consumed my time, but the semester is about over and I'm now able to get back into this story and bring it to its much-anticipated conclusion!

Thanks for all your patience!