Dawn of the new beginning. Her earthy bedroom smelled ripe with triumph. When Abigail awoke from a deep, pleasurable slumber of the ages, she found a small present on her bedside table, wrapped in gold papering and topped with a vibrant green bow. A label simply read: "You were far too good."

Grinning, she ripped the present apart and hastily removed the lid. Inside she found a variety of objects, all fit comfortably into the admittedly small enclosure. A small, rectangular vertical envelope. A Glock 17 was also there, lying atop two magazines for loading. And lastly, a key, old-fashioned and skeletal-like. Tenderly stroking the handgun for a moment, she picked up the manila envelope and carefully opened the top. Inside, she found a check, one most beautifully dotted with lovely zeroes. Fifty grand, with the name Uma Thorma written across the line. So that was to be her new name, then.

"Roman, you shouldn't have," she sighed, lying on her back and gazing dreamily at the vine-infested ceiling. And this room had been his doing too. He had done so much for her in a very short amount of time. He truly had become her slave. She had essentially become goddess over the False Face Society within the span of twenty-four hours. The true goddess would shower her with gifts galore.

Sionis had left bow-legged and out of breath hours previously, unable to say many words at all. Her alluring contributions were dutifully noted by his security. Even now, they were probably wondering as to the possibilities of getting in on the action. But Abigail was intent on reserving herself only for the king himself. Roman was the man to manipulate, not them. Although… perhaps building an army of subservient creatures in this family would not hurt her chances. Perhaps she could seduce a few of them…

She also found new clothing in the bedside table drawer. A flowing green dress, neatly folded and scented with a fresh, flowery aroma. The dress sparkled with silver glitter, and seemed to have some kind of vine-like embroidering along it. A note was attached to this dress as well: "For your visit to Arkham. 11:00 a.m."

My goddess! She screamed joyfully in her mind, falling down onto the bed in absolute ecstasy. Today was the day! Today was the day indeed! Abigail hurriedly dressed herself in the new garment, and quickly sped out of the room, almost dancing across the hallway and the kitchen in a ballerina-like way, her heart filled with true happiness. True triumph!

In the kitchen, Quinn was sitting at the kitchen table, silently drinking a cup of mocha whilst she read from a book of knock-knock jokes. She looked up in surprise when Abigail fluttered into the room, spinning about with flailing arms and a dazed, grinful expression.

"You look like a duck when you do that," Quinn noted, turning the page in her book delicately. "Like a big red duck."

"Quack!" Abigail sang, searching through the cabinets for a coffee mug. "What kind of coffee?"

"Pumpkin spice."

"Yummy," Abigail sighed, grabbing an unnaturally large mug from the top shelf. It was shaped and painted up like Bozo the Clown. "Um, hello, stud," she sighed, kissing the ceramic clown's red lips. "I'm gonna drink you up, all the waaaaaay…"

"You're a cheerful one, I notice," Quinn said, polishing off her own mocha in one chug. "You always like this? I hope so. We need smiles 24/7."

"Oh, Harley, dear," Abigail sighed, filling the clown to the brim, imaging it screaming in pain from the hot liquid being poured into its brains. "I am alive. The goddess is alive this morning and so am I. Liberation is nigh."

"Well that's good and all, but what the hell does that mean in anti-wackonese?"

"It means," Abigail hissed, turning to face her with flushing cheeks, "that you shouldn't fucking insult me!" she screamed, taking a sip from the mocha. Quinn's eyes widened, and Abigail, withdrawing from her drink, swallowed and grinned. "Cheer up, clown. I'm kidding." She giggled in an irritating fashion. "Have a drink, celebrate. Today…is a beautiful day."

"I can see that… nice dress. Sionis?"

"Oh, isn't he a dream?" Abigail sighed, sitting down opposite Quinn and throwing her feet onto the table. Quinn pulled back, repulsed. "Isn't he a star? Sionis is a god in human flesh. But I'll conquer that god, every time he comes for me. Did you and he ever make jokes together?"

"What!?" Quinn hissed, disgusted by this woman. "Why would that even be your business?"

"Come now, child," Abigail whispered, straightening up and slamming her mug down hard. "You and he have an understanding. He gives you all this power, all this authority. Did you whore your way to the gold or are you just naturally that good?"

"Y-you… who are you, anyway, huh!?" Quinn shrieked. "What are you!?"

"Just getting to know you better, that's all," Abigail cooed sadly, mocking tears. She snorted. "Right?"

"Ask other questions, you ginger-snap!"

"Ginger-snap… good one, but it needs work. Try ginger-snapped."

Quinn stood to her feet, flushed and irritated. "I can already tell you're going to get on my nerves."

"I'm not the one who panders after clowns, am I?"

Quinn seized up, her eyes wide with fire. She looked as if she were about the leap at Abigail, as Lissa had the previous night. And just in time, there came the pitter-patter of feet that signaled the approach of Lissa. The mad woman sauntered around the corner and into the kitchen. Today, she wore what appeared to be a nurse's scrubs, vibrant periwinkle and loose on her.

"Hello, sea-gull blasphemer," she whispered at Abigail, as she snatched the coffee pot from the cabinet and began to drink from it deeply.

"Still haven't gotten over that?" Abigail asked, leaning forward and raising her fists. "Well, do you wanna have a go at me? Come on, I'll even give you first punches."

"Uma!" Quinn hissed. "Enough!"

"Silence, clown," Abigail snapped, not taking her eyes off of the enraged Lissa. "This is between me and the animal."

"I said, silence!" Quinn exclaimed. Abigail was suddenly aware of a blonde streak out of her peripheral vision, and in the next moment, Quinn had a pistol held against her temple. She was breathing hard, sweat pouring down her face madly. Abigail challenged her with a glare. "That's enough."

"Put it away," Abigail hissed venomously. "You won't spill blood of a family member without his say-so."

"Paint the room red, with blooooooooood," Lissa giggled. "Paint it red, paint it red…let me pull her eyes out, pour acid down her throat…" She began to saunter forward on toes, like a velociraptor of sorts. "I'm going to stab you, stab you, stab you, stab you, stab you-"

"Lissa!" Quinn hissed.

"-stab you, stab you, stab you-"

"Lissa!" Quinn had to forcibly hold her back. Abigail stood to her feet.

"I tire of you both already," she smirked. "I have a goddess to unleash upon the savages of Gotham. Have fun playing girls." Sure enough, it was half an hour to eleven. "You have a car, right? I have to go see Roman."

"Wait!" Quinn said hurriedly, trying to restrain Lissa. "We're supposed to be present too. You can wait a damn minute."

"It's already 10:30," Abigail pointed out. "It's too late for waiting. You were going to make late on purpose."

"We're meeting Heximal at Arkham, which is only a fifteen minute drive from here!" Quinn replied savagely. "So you can wait for the two of us to-"

"No," Abigail spat, coming so close to Quinn that their noses were practically touching. "No more waiting! No more stalling! You can't hold her back!" She began to foam at the mouth in her rage, her eyes threatening to pop out of her skull. Quinn paled nervously. "She has to be free! She has to be free! We have to go!"

"C-calm down!"

"I will not calm down!" Abigail screamed, and then she grinned in a most Cheshire-like way. "I will not! Never again! Not once!"

"Uma!"

"Harley!"

"You're a nut," Lissa whispered, slinking away for the living room, clawing at the air like a cat. "Nuuuuuuut…"

"You have to calm down," Quinn insisted, putting the gun against Abigail's head again. "I can shoot you."

"Roman will eat you alive if you do that," Abigail spat. "But if you insist on a fight, I'll gladly give you one…"

Quinn sighed impatiently, pulling the gun away and storming off, muttering to herself as she went. Abigail stood fuming on the spot, shaking with rage, burning with poisonous fire. She had to kill. She had to kill soon. These two maniacs were going to drive her…insane… Promptly, she ran back to her room and rummaged through her belongings, shakily unstoppering the Nyrox gloss and applying it carefully. She made the needed preparations and hid the essentials in her bra. Everything she needed to turn this new day into one of massacre. She had to. She needed to. The last thing she took was her mini-duffle, inside of which were the various offerings she had taken to sacrifice to the goddess. The pieces of her victims were ready to be presented. After dosing herself with a strong shower of the pheromones, Abigail stepped forward with dark purpose, intending dark things.

"So this is it, then," Abigail said at length, as the convertible sped down the woody road in the direction of the towering Arkham Asylum. The great castle was a foreboding, but very welcoming to her, form of a place, eerie in its presentation, but utter sweet in its gifts. Quinn and Lissa both wore expressions of bitterness on their faces. Quinn had slipped into a most interesting attire: Tight-fitted latex pants, one leg black, the other crimson, each leg sporting a contrasting diamond pattern. Her crop-top matched this pattern, and her blonde hair was tied into two pig-tails. An array of guns and other strange devices were strapped securely to her, and she wore a large hunter's knife on her back. Lissa, on the other hand, still wore the nursing scrubs from earlier. The only change that had been made were her lips: she had applied a black lipstick to them. "You look nice," Abigail attempted, noting the mad woman's deranged stare from behind. "I like your…lipstick."

"Yeah?" Quinn muttered. "Maybe you should let her kiss you, then."

"The Poisoners Guild," Abigail said slowly. "I can see why it's called that. We each specialize in poison-based terrorism, no? You have your Smilex, Harley, dear… but what about her? What do you use, Lissa?"

"As I said, you should let her kiss you and find out," Quin retorted. Abigail gasped.

"Me too," she said excitedly, grinning at Lissa and indicating her own shining, voluptuous lips. "How potent?"

"Brains will fade away," Lissa whispered. "Brains will melt and they'll join in the sing-song…"

"Eh?"

"She means insanity," Quinn answered. "I helped her develop it. Thought making things with her hands would enact as some kind of therapy for her addled mind. The lipstick is laced with a compound we developed called Snap. If you want a more scientific classification, it's an LK-938. Targets the neurons and stems in the brains. Degrades them rapidly. It doesn't poison the blood or target the organs: it destroys the mind."

"The mind?"

"Drives them insane," Lissa hissed ravenously, her head bent back with a malicious grin on her face. "Makes them scream and scream for hours on end. I like when they scream. And they bark, like dogs. Ruff!"

"Truly?" Abigail asked Quinn.

Quinn nodded. "Yeah. It works. I saw to it. They become feral and demented. The damage is permanent, or at least, most of the time it is. Sometimes, you get the asshole with a stubborn mental will… but that's a rare case. Brain damage, that's what it's all about. Makes them violent, and they hallucinate, which in turn makes them into useful weaponry against, say, the Bat."

"Ingenious. You are superior to me, then: you keep them tormented, instead of ending them quickly."

"Something we can finally agree on," Quinn replied. "I like my victims to go out with a smile. Lissa likes hers to go out screaming and raving like the lunatics they become. You… you're unoriginal. You kill them painfully but quickly. I saw what you can do. Did you know that Mr. S had me follow you on last night's mission and film the process?"

"Eh? Did I put on a good show, then?" Abigail sighed passionately, rubbing her leg in an arousing manner, but Quinn was not to be seduced. "Oh, who am I kidding? I know I did. You enjoyed it, I know that much. Why else would you have stuck around for so long? That kiss came after a very long struggle."

"I did enjoy it, as a matter of fact. You have talent. It's a shame it's wasted in a cracked egg like you, that's all."

Abigail's hand jerked instinctively for the knife hidden at her side… but she relented. Later. It would happen. It must happen later, without delay. She smiled sweetly. "The jokes on you… I've embraced my madness. You…you're afraid of it, I can tell."

"Afraid!?" Quinn looked sharply at her. The car veered around a corner and pulled up to the great gate of Arkham, its shadows casting a looming darkness over them. Abigail winked at her.

"Yes, you are afraid," she sighed, now unsheathing her knife and holding it up before Quinn's face. "You fear this knife, don't you? You fear being cut by it…" She held her arm up, showing Quinn the "R" that she had carved. "I, on the other hand, fear not this blade of pleasure." She demonstrated so by slicing into her skin, reveling in the pain that it brought upon her to slice her skin open, and she slowly wet strands of her hair with the blood. It blended perfectly. "Shall we?"

Quinn's face was sour and frozen. Lissa's hands were over her head and she seemed to be cowering, tears trickling down her face as she moaned like a scared pup. Abigail, meanwhile, flung herself out the car and waltzed up the way for the gate, where Heximal and a few of his men awaited them against the bars. The grounds were freezing this morning, dead, dry leaves scattered by the thousands across the rocky terrain. The air smelled heavily of frost and dew. Abigail sauntered right between two of Heximal's armed guards, and gazed one lovingly in the eyes. "Hi, there," she breathed, destroying any hope of personal space with the man. One whiff of her pheromones, however, began to sweat the man physically. Heximal and the two other gunmen stared at her with wide eyes, enraptured by the strong scent and heat that they were giving off.

"Morning," Heximal said slowly and quietly. Abigail grinned, stepping forward and licking his cheek.

"Morning, lover," she whispered. "How is it today?"

"W-what?"

She forcibly grabbed his crotch, and Heximal let out a sound like a wounded dog as Abigail brought him down to his knees. The three guards and her fellow Poisoners, who were making their way slowly up the way, could only stared in awe as Abigail pulled Heximal's face against her thigh. She cradled him there for a moment, inviting him to touch her. Inviting him to become slave to her will. Taking his away would be a blast.

"What are you doing!?" Quinn snapped, suddenly running up to them and pushing Abigail aside. Abigail stumbled on the spot, and one of Heximal's men rushed forward, balancing her before she could fall. Heximal's head was swinging back and forth, his tongue positively wagging out of his mouth. Abigail stroked her rescuer's chin lovingly, sending the man into a breath-gasm, and she softly whispered to him, "Carry me, please."

"C-carry you?" he whispered back.

"Please," she sighed sadly, squeezing his chin. "I'll let you kiss me."

The man gasped, his lips moving in for hers at once. Giggling, she pressed her hand firmly against his mouth. "No, no, no. Not yet. You have to provide a service before you get your payment. Pick me up and carry me towards the tower. Heximal, are we ready?"

"Y-yeah…" Heximal said slowly, grinning a stupid grin as his eyes dazed over. "Sure…"

"Can't you see what she's doing to you!?" Quinn asked him incredulously, bonking on his head with a fist. "She's hit you with mind-controlling powder!"

"Actually, it's vaporized. Makes the effects quite instant," Abigail corrected her as the guard hauled her into his arms and began to carry her through the open gate. Heximal led them forward, guns in hand, and Quinn and Lissa followed behind, sour and annoyed.

"So we're to fight our way in?" Abigail asked Heximal, scratching his chin from above. Heximal looked dumbfounded.

"No…we just…hand the receptionist a bill of release…"

"Is that it? Then why the guns?"

"The guns are tipped with silencers, goddess… We're to take out the staff on watch in the courtyard. They aren't on the payroll."

Abigail smirked. Heximal probably did not even realize what he had just called her. She was looking forward to more spilt blood. So they were to make this look like a genuine escape. And Sionis would have worked things out to play out to their favor.

"Our orders are clear," Quinn said at once, trying to maintain her professionalism. "The receptionist will accept the release notice. She gives us the necessary keys. After that, we put a bullet in her. She's been on the boss's list for a while. List of priors that disrespect Mr. S. We'll then move in to the main courtyard, on the botanical section. Around this time of day, Pamela Isley is scheduled to be walking the gardens."

"Excuse me!"

Everyone suddenly froze. An Arkham security guard was moving in from a toll-house, rifle ready in hands. Sionis's men turned on him at once, their black masks making the scene ripe for terror. The guard froze.

"You with Sionis?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah, that's right," Heximal snapped, stepping forward with his Glock. "Do you have the golden goose?"

The guard's face went odd. "Golden goose?"

Heximal raised the gun without hesitation and fired a shot. The silencer on his gun kept all noise at bay. The bullet hit the man right between the eyes, and he fell down dead. Abigail inhaled deeply, moaning seductively as she grinned at Heximal with proud fascination.

"Good kill, clean kill," Lissa whispered to all who would listen. "Now he's bleeding…all over the place… I need to eat him. Can I…eat him?" she begged of Quinn.

"No, no, stay silent and still," Quinn hissed. "Is that the pass-phrase, then?" she asked Heximal. "'Do you have the golden goose?'"

"And don't forget," Heximal replied, "the correct response for those involved in the operation: 'It's in the back with Clarabelle.' If that aint your response when I ask it, you get a bullet. Boss's orders."

"How sinister," Abigail commented. "I wonder how many people we get to shoot today…"

"I say we just raid the place, shoot it up and paint the walls with blood," Lissa exclaimed. "Can I kiss you?" she added, clawing at the back of one of Heximal's guards. She pushed her away, disgusted by her advances. Abigail made a mental note to murder the man for his disrespect at an undisclosed time.

"Let's get this done," Quinn said, holding a rather large, obnoxiously silly looking, fat-barreled pistol in hand. It was painted lime green, and across the barrel was written, "BANG!" surrounded by a graphic of red zigzags. The party moved forward, pressing through the front doors and into the main foyer. The great entrance chamber was empty this morning, their footsteps echoing through the place as they walked. A single receptionist awaited them at the circular desk, a nervous looking, gray-haired woman in a light green scrub.

"Welcome to Arkham. Can I help you?"

"The goose…do you have it?" Heximal asked her at once, bringing his party to a halt before the desk. The woman smiled kindly.

"In the back. Clarabelle is keeping her company."

"Not exactly the right words, is it?" Heximal spat, wagging a finger in disappointment. "You stupid fuck."

The woman looked affronted. "I suppose you want the keys, kind sir?"

"Let's have them, then." He held out a hand, and the woman slapped a link of two black keycards into it.

"There. Take it and get out of my sight."

"With pleasure," Heximal agreed, raising the gun and firing off a second shot. The woman never even had time to scream. Her blood saturated the papers on her desk as she fell backwards. Abigail was enthralled by Heximal's swift, merciless action. Heximal calmly wiped the woman's blood off the end of the barrel. He had shot her at point-blank range. Abigail slid forward, out of her carrier's arms, and ran up beside Heximal.

"Can I do the next one?" she whispered urgently.

"What?"

"The next victim. The next one we shoot. Can I do it?"

"Sure, knock yourself out," Heximal said calmly. "The boss wanted me to give this to you anyway." He reached into the side of his black jacket and pulled out a silencer, which fit decently onto the gun that Sionis had left her. She held her new toy with shaking, excited hands. Quinn came forward, dragging Lissa with her.

"Alright, we're going to go set off the distraction," she told Abigail and Heximal. "If you hear screaming and laughter, you'll know we succeeded. Try not to take too long. Lissa and I are out of here as soon as we've dealt with the undesirables. This is a pruning mission as much as it is a rescue. Mr. S wants a list of individuals dealt with, sour fruit on the employment tree. While we're off handling this matter, you get the plant and rush off. Got it?"

"Understood," Abigail said at once, enthusiastically holding her gun at the ready. "The time has come to free the goddess."

"Whatever." Quinn turned on her heel and marched away, Lissa running after, a large kitchen knife in hand, a bag of goodies bouncing up and down from behind her. Abigail wished them both a quick death at the hands of the Arkham guards. It was time to move in.

"Bang." A nurse in a puddle of blood. "Bang." A wife leaving visitation. "Bang! Bang! Bang!" Her three children. Each time they came across someone new, Abigail would bear her comrades to the punch, mercilessly gunning her victims down with utter, speechless enjoyment. Heximal and his escort could only stand and watch with expressions of awe as Abigail twirled the gun about, firing off shot after shot. People were screaming, running for their lives, papers and toiletries scattering throughout the air in their haste. Their blood flowed like a river.

"Hold on!" Heximal was frantically saying, trying to pry the gun away from her firm grip. She was breathing out of control, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and her grin Cheshire. "Wait a minute, now, the pass-phrase test, remember!?"

"Silence," Abigail insisted, dosing him another burst of the pheromones. Heximal calmed at once, stumbling backwards, his mind fogging over at once. Abigail threw her arms around the three of them and whispered slowly, "I have my own agenda. You have yours. Do me a favor and don't follow me. Do me a favor and shoot anyone who comes through." She pressed her hands firmly upon Heximal's chest. "Will you follow my word?"

"Yeah…" Heximal whispered, a mad passion in his eyes.

"Will you prove it?" she asked, more intensely, wrapping her leg around him. "Shoot those who follow. Kill them. Can you do this?"

"I…can…Uma…" Heximal swayed on the spot.

"Kill for me, boys," Abigail whispered, and then she turned on her heel, skipping merrily down the way, leaving the three False Facers in stupefaction. She wondered if they would be gunned down in their drugged state. As she skipped past the bodies of her victims, her hand reflexively went for the knife at her side…but she resisted. There was no time at the moment. That was five dead. She had earned O, M, A, N and S… but by the end of the day, she intended to earn his full name several times over.

There were many doors to her right, bolted shut and tinted, but on her left, a series of glad windows, looking into what appeared to be a massive garden. Plants of a wide variety overwhelmed the place, from gardenias to goldenrods, from hollyhock to gayfeather, and moonflowers coupled with monkshood. Orchids, ming-bursts, and Yellow Spine Tayfeathers… poison ivy, Tapestra vinus, and Xeno-blade flowers… It was paradise inside of this glass heaven. She clawed at the glass, yearning to enter that paradise and find the goddess. Heximal had mentioned that this place was connected to the main courtyard, where the goddess took her daily strides… and there was no doubt that this was where she would be. A door nearby led into the greenhouse. Swiping a keycard that noted the greenhouse on its back, she pushed it open and entered into sweet Eden mimicry.

The air inside smelled heavenly of honey and dirt, mixed into one glorious, bitter-sweet compilation. "It is time," Abigail whispered, her depraved mind coming to peace at last. It was an angelic, feathery peace. She walked slowly among the flowers and vines and lily-patches, touching every low hanging beauty with tender love and care.

The temperature was warm in here, as if welcoming her in her grand mission. Where had she been for the last year? What elements of herself had taken on a grand change, had made her into the impossible? Imitation Ivy. In the end, it was perceived as imitation, and maybe they were right when they said it. Maybe the truth was… no one could replace Poison Ivy as goddess. No one could take her place in the grand movement against Earth. Eden, perhaps, belonged to one woman, and that was the true goddess. So, if this was indeed truth, and the matter was that she, Abigail, was merely a mimicry and indeed an obstacle…she may very well have to beg the goddess to take her life. But her mission was set. Freeing the goddess was top priority. She could do it. She, Abigail, could do it! And then the mass slaughter could begin anew. The genocide of the humans, the mammals, could official begin. Abigail's heart was gone. She pitied the humans no longer, for she herself had Ascended from such a status. It was time to move on. It was time to expand her consciousness and evolve into the reality around the world.

"Goddess!" Abigail cried, falling to her knees at once and spreading out her arms. "Goddess, are you here, in this paradise!?"

"Who the fuck was that!?"

Abigail's heart suddenly froze. That was not the voice of the goddess. It was the voice of a man, and an angry sounding man at that. There were footsteps somewhere beyond the brush ahead of her, and Abigail quickly darted into a thick gathering of ivy, taking shelter beneath the fat clumps. Who else was here? Who else could be in this unholy place, lair of the goddess? Through the clump of ivy, she saw at least three pairs of feet approach, all wearing the same black, polished shoes and navy blue khakis. Guards of Arkham.

"Who's in here!?" a gruff voice hissed, and Abigail heard the click of a gun. "This is a restricted area at the present time. Show yourself!"

The man's show was only centimeters from her face. In all honesty, if it were only one man, she could stab him in the foot with ease with her knife. The poison on the blade will put an end to him very quickly. But he had two friends…maybe more, too, hidden among the place. Perhaps she should have taken Heximal with her…

Nonetheless, she held her gun against one breath, and the knife against the other. She had to wait for her move. The head guard walked forward, away from Abigail and towards the open door where she had entered. His two friends followed behind closely. Now…

Slowly, as quietly as she could, she crawled forward, trying hard not to let the ivy make a noise as she pushed it aside. She managed to crawl into the middle of the dirt lane, and stood up, right behind the guard closest in the back. Now she was grinning. It was time to murder again, and earn the last letters. She placed the barrel end of her gun against the back of the man's head, and fired off a single shot. The silencer seemed so much louder in this greenhouse.

As the man fell dead, his blood splattering her face, Abigail rushed forward just as his two friends turned. Wemore Perce saw her coming before Mark did, and let out an instinctive, "Dirk!" before Abigail had sunk her blade into Mark's temple. Mark fell with a scream, the knife still sticking into his head as Abigail let his body fall. She and Perce raised their pistols at the same time.

Abigail struck gold first. Perce fell backwards, the bullet entering his right shoulder. He crumpled into a heap of marigolds and tigerlilies. Abigail did not hesitate. She took aim at the man's right leg, and fired off a shot. It missed him by him several inches, shooting up a clump of dirt.

"You bitch!" Perce screamed, even louder than Mark, who was still rolling about the floor in agony, his body jerking violently. His veins were already turning green, his skin turning that deathly brown pale… Perce, meanwhile, raised his gun desperately, firing off a shot at Abigail, who ran to the right. The bullet missed her by an inch, smashing into the glass wall of the greenhouse and shattering it.

Abigail ran down the side of the garden, taking cover behind a long row of hedge. Perce was firing off shot after shot, and she could hear him struggling to keep up, hissing in pain from his bleeding shoulder. She had to get him when he least saw it coming. She had to jump out at him from behind and kill him without him being aware of her presence. If she could just get cl-

Her mind shattered. She had turned a corner, and had reached the end of the greenhouse, where an emptied out fountain stood. Someone was lying in the middle of that fountain. Abigail gasped loudly, his heart skipping several beats, and she fell to her knees, her hands suddenly shaking very violently.

Lying and writhing in noticeable weakness, the crimson haired goddess turned her head to look at Abigail. Her green eyes seemed almost fogged over. The goddess's face was heavily scarred and bloodied. Her clothes had been torn asunder, her bruised breasts and cut legs exposed fully. Blood trickled down her skin. Her hair was a wild mess. Green tears flowed down her cheeks.

"No…" Abigail whispered, blinking back her own tears as she crawled forward, not wanting to believe it.

"W-oo-eh…" the goddess gasped, trying to speak through the battered state. She raised an arm slowly, her own hands trembling. "Who…help…h-help…"

Abigail reached out a hand, and gently touched the goddess. Completion was imminent. Her body relaxed, and all manner of peace washed over her. She was finally here. She was touching the goddess! The feel of the goddess's skin against her own…it was transformative.

"What have they done to you, goddess?" Abigail whispered, holding Ivy's hand in her own. "What have they done!?" she sobbed, so angry and so filled with a desire to burn the world.

"Shown her her place," a voice said from behind. Abigail felt the gun push up against the back of her head. "Stand up… and drop your weapon."

Abigail did not listen. She squeezed her goddess's hand gently, whispering peace to the woman. "I'm here," she sobbed. "I'm here now. It's okay. You're not alone…"

"I said, stand!" Peace snapped, yanking Abigail by the hair and forcing her to her feet. He snatched the gun from her grip and spun Abigail around, now holding both guns against her temple. Abigail's face was red and blotched, tears overwhelming. Her expression could have been crafted from venom itself. "Before I put a bullet in your head," Perce hissed, leaning forward and pulling her chin forward, to where they were nose to nose, "tell me just who the fuck you are!?"

Abigail closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled in equal force. She hated this man. She judged him accordingly. He must die. He must be sentenced. He must be punished. Whether or not it was in her power to replace the goddess or otherwise contribute to the constant tending and regrowth of Eden… she would gladly take on the name.

"I?" she whispered slowly, opening her eyes. They narrowed as she gave him a look of pure disgust.

"Yes! Who are you!?" he snapped viciously, pushing into her temple with the end of his gun. Abigail smiled darkly.

"I am Poison Ivy," she hissed, and she forced her lips a fraction of an inch forward. When they made contact with his, her heart exploded with utter joy. He was taken aback by her advance, his eyes widening with surprise…before they widened in pain. Her hands gripped the sides of his face tightly as she forced a ravenous, wild kiss upon him, holding him in place even as he struggled, his heart exploding in his chest, the gun dropping from his hand as he began to scream through her lips. Abigail moaned loudly, raising her arm into the air, wrapping her leg around Perce's waist, sucking the life right out of him. The Nyrox was pulsing through his veins. His skin had already turned a deadly pale, as Mark's had, but she did not release him. His eyes had begun to bleed, and she promptly dug her poisoned nails into them, reenacting her murder of Hatsumoto Myazaki with tender, erotic care.

Perce fell onto the ground, taking Abigail with him, who could only crawl atop him, dominating him, never removing her lips. It was a long time before she did. He was long dead by the time she removed her lips from his. Every tender second that passed in their intimacy gave her strength and power. When she at last removed her lips from the corpse, she bent her head back, screaming aloud towards the heavens, laughing maniacally. Her laughter shattered the ears of those who heard it. In its tones, there was only madness. She screamed in joy, screamed in terrifying pleasure.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!" she was screaming, as Pamela Isley sat up, slowly, weakly, her eyes wide with the marvel she had just witnessed. "YEEEEEEEEEES! YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES! YOU BASTARD!" Abigail began to beat Perce's body savagely. "YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE DEAD, NOW! DEAD! DEAAAAAAAAAAD! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"