This had to be most unorthodox of ways to get into a show like this secretly, but she had to leave an impact. Going through the old fashioned way, with signup sheets and videos about why she wanted to make an impact upon saving the rainforests were mediocre at best, reserved to the limitations of mankind in its weakness. She would leave a stronger impression. She had nothing to prove. She was saving the rainforests, but executing the human race by the masses. She wondered, as she walked through the roof rafters of the Arboreal Museum, just how many mammals her new soldiers had removed. Not enough, in her opinion.

The costume was overly ridiculous. An ape. She felt insulted to be wearing its fur, to be bearing its image. A pink gorilla, no less. Stupid, unheard of, troubling… but it mattered little. It was only a disguise for a temporary time. Bane would be in the DJ room even now, snapping the snack of the man hired to do the job originally, with her music introduction ready to play when she motioned for him to do so. Her orders had been simple: play the music when given the sign, and kill anyone who happened to walk into the booth with him. Easy to do. Easy to do. How she hoped there would be many to enter that room…

She stood in the doorway of a hole that led onto an upper balcony above the massively crowded lobby below, and watched the scene with interest. The place was so beautifully decorated. Long strands of ivy, vines in brown and vibrant green, trailed across the ceiling, and mammals, male and female, dressed in loin clothes and Jane-esque togas, a real Tarzan of ridiculousness. Hundreds of people were assembled, all of them rich, wealthy beyond measure and snooty beyond regards, puffing cigars with foul smells to them and boasting loudly of their immeasurable wealth. On the stage, women strode about in ridiculous costumes meant to imitate flowers, tulip hates and lily gowns flubbing around on their heads as men whooped at them and voted out their biddings. Apparently, the rich men would bid for the women on stage, to take out on a date of sorts. Oh, this was just getting delicious…

But her main focus was caught upon two certain figures who stood upon the stage surrounded by the costumed women, waving and nodding (though uncomfortably) at the massive crowd before them. And they were most interesting…

Both were tall, heavily muscular, and armored in disguises of their own. The taller of the two hid himself in full black, a pointy eared cowl upon his head and face, a cape flowing from behind, his gloves reinforced leather, his chestplate secure and tough. His companion wore similarly constructed armor, though in color red and black, his head uncovered but his face hidden behind a thick mask that covered his eyes and half of his nose. He was the younger of the two, boasting with a certain freshness that she could easily work against him… These two, undoubtedly, were the two Caped Crusaders she had heard so much about. Batman, the dark one, and Robin, the young and vibrant one. And to think…

To think they would willingly stand out there, flaunting themselves around for attention like this.

She had done research in the last twenty-four hours, compiled newspaper reports revolving around the two protectors of Gotham. Know your target. Apparently, Batman had been around for some time, for over ten years, at least, facing unthinkable odds. In 1985, Gotham City had been attacked by a madman calling himself the Joker, taking on the persona of a clown maniac who, like her, had taken many lives in his quest for anarchy. Batman had personally killed him, or so the newspapers had said, but not before the Joker had poisoned a great many of Gotham's inhabitants… if only she could have met the man. Not too long after that incident, a second criminal had appeared, this in the form of a creature calling himself Oswald Copplepot, who had tried to destroy the city with the bombs strapped to penguins… he had reportedly drowned in a sewer of toxic waste. That would have been so beautiful to witness. Again, Batman had brought about this lunatic' demise…

And then, there had been two years ago… two years ago, two more criminals had appeared, and one of them she had known personally. Very personally.

His name had been Edward. Edward Nygma had been a brilliant neuron researcher, an employee of Wayne Enterprises like her, based here in Gotham at the main headquarters. His studies had led to the development of a device known as The Box, as he had put it, which he had been able to utilize for stealing information out of people's minds to become a "god" of ultimate wisdom. Accompanying Edward had been an ex-crazed district attorney by the name of Harvey Dent, who had met his demise on Claw Island, where Edward had been based, calling himself the Riddler. Edward had been damaged in the brain and incarcerated at Gotham's own Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

All of this, of course, had been enlightened upon her by her father, as well as a few researchers at the South American arboreal preservation lab. The truth of the matter had been that she and Edward had once been involved… it had not gone on for years, as she had hoped it would. The two of them were completely obsessed with their work, loving it more than they had each other, and Edward had been little more than a screw buddy for her for a year and a half, as she had been to him. They had not minded, of course. Work stress had dissolved any implications for true love. Romance had been all that they had needed to keep themselves sane during their hard times in the company. They had only ever shared a few dates, most in Sao Paulo when he had flown in to visit her… and then he had vanished from her life, leaving her at the Sao Paulo airport, only slightly heartbroken and more insulted.

Edward Nygma had been a special part of her life, but he had also become meaningless as well, short-lived pleasure that had adapted itself more appropriately when she had discovered what she could truly be. He was here now, in Gotham, up in that Arkham hellhole, and she cared none. He had flubbed up and allowed himself to be caught. What did it matter to her? Although… during her time here, if she could, perhaps she would visit him. In some ways, she wanted him to see her as she was, to know that both of them had become lunatics, that their madness was shared…and perhaps, also, their passion for each other could potentially grow. To kill Edward Nygma… the thought was romantic, and it would be a nice way of greeting an old friend…

But for now, she could turn her attention to the matter at hand: the Flower Ball.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Gossip Gerty of Good Morning Gotham and I welcome you to the gem of our evening!" the Maestro Charles, host to the evening, announced before the crowd assembled. Everyone began applauding, and Ivy began to shift her gorilla costume into position, making her way around the back of the room, above the heads of those assembled, all of whom had their eyes pointed stageward.

She noticed the annoying reporter she had come across at the telescope presentation. An pang of annoyance shot across her heart. How loathsome it was to be in the same room as Gossip Gerty…

"The famed Heart of Isis," Gerty announced, " on loan from the Collection of my close, personal friend Bruce Wayne!" The crowd roared more loudly, and Batman and Robin both began to clap respectfully. The strangest smile was fixed upon Batman's face. Ivy smiled, too. With that kind of armor strapped around him, she was sure that this Batman saw Bruce Wayne as an amateur billionaire in comparison. What were diamonds to professionally reinforced battle armor like that?

"Tonight, on auction, an opportunity to dine with one of our fabulous flowers, the famed diamond draped around her neck." The Maestro seemed impassioned by the proclamation. Ivy briefly imagined herself wearing that beautiful diamond necklace. Indeed, she would be soon. It already belonged to her, the mammals did not know it. She fingered the make-up mirror that she had attached to her true costume underneath. The pheromones were ready, even for a large crowd like this.

Gerty began to grab the attention back to herself. "Ooo, look at all these luscious lovelies. let's start the bidding!"

And the mammals, no doubt mentally beating their hands against their chests and parading around making animal noises, began to indulge in their animalistic rituals of mating. In a way, the demon Cambier was immediately reminded of the Come Agua, who had also idolized the chances to be with her, when she had ruled, all that long ago.

"Ten thousand for Chrysanthemum!"

"Twenty thousand for Lilac!"

"Thirty thousand for Rose!"

"Boys," Gerty cried. "Show some gusto!"

But now Ivy was waving her gorilla arms in plain view of the Dj box, and Bane saw the signal at once. She saw the large shadow in there move, and at once, her music began to blow. It was the most enchanting melody, something Indian oriented play with tambourines and Indo-flutes. Seductive was its rhythm, fluid like a river, and as it began to swell, still in gorilla form, she began to sway her arms in a mystical sort of way. The music swelled so loudly, and suddenly she realized Batman and Robin, as well as the many girls onstage, were focusing upward at her. Slowly the crowd was beginning to follow their gazes, to see the mysterious apparition above them.

She began to strip, as she done many times since her arrival here before an entranced crowd. Though no nudity or flashy tease seduced them here, as none of them were meant to die. Yet. Modesty was the better choice in this case, for modesty had a more beautiful way of alluring to the physical needs of the opposite sex. She cast away the fur of the gorilla suit, to reveal the slender green, leafy leotard under, the glistening jewels adorning her body. She waved her hips in such wondrous ways, twisting her neck and flinging her hair in a seductive manner, as now all eyes were fixed upon her.

Then, the pheromones. Masses and masses of it, her lips pursed passionately as she blew, the pink mist falling down upon the crowd like rain in a light meadow. And when it touched them, they came dazed where they stood, entranced by her beauty, the most wondrous in the entire world, mesmerizing them beyond their ability to cope. She winked directly at the duo of Crusaders, standing there stone work to anticipate the viewer, and promptly threw herself over the bridge she stood upon. Several men in the loincloths below caught her, and she pushed herself up from them, kissing two of them on their cheeks as they held her up, their eyes dilating with worship. The poison began to slowly cook away at their skin, but it would be a while before either of them realized it. And by then, it would make its way into their mouths and it would be too late.

She began to make her way forward, carried in each hand by the two men she had kissed, and as she walked so many more of the wild mammals fell to their stomachs, allowing her to trample upon them as a bridge, digging her heels in intentionally hard as she stepped on top of them. They belonged to her.

When she reached the stage, she came to stand between Batman and Robin both, smiling sweetly at the two of them as they gazed, transfixed and dazed, into her eyes.

"Hi there," she whispered.

"And…you are?" the Maestro breathed.

She smiled. Tell them your name, Poison. Your name, and then your title. "Poison," she said with a deliciousness about it, stressing the beautiful word. "Poison Ivy."

The crowd began to chatter excitedly, some of them even whispering her name in fanatic gesture. She turned to Batman and delivered unto him a second dose of pheromones.

"Why not send junior here home early…my garden needs tending." She said the words, but little did she acknowledge why she had chosen them. Perhaps, in this strange sort of moment, she had only desired to speak what was odd, what was unnatural. A corniness, the sort of bad joke used to describe your vagina that made people stare, because it was a night to be silly. She shrugged, however, deciding to produce the bad humor again. She turned to the young one, Robin, who looked weak and ready to fall to his knees. She blew the pheromones into his face and he shook violently. "On the other hand, youth does have its advantages. Stamina…endurance… forget the geriatric Bat. Come, join me."

She then turned to the Maestro, her hands reaching for the pillow in his hands that bore the sparkling, brilliant diamond necklace. "I'll take it from here, pal," she said, snatching the diamonds up and throwing it over her neck. They had not announced the winner of the night, but that was because they were far too entranced to bear the strength to say her name loudly.

"Wouldn't you like the earrings, too…?" the Maestro asked stupidly, but she ignored him, snatching his microphone from his hand and gazing out into the massive crowd.

"Some lucky boy's about to hit the honeypot," she said seductively, pointing at a region below. I'll include an evening of my company for the winner. I'll bring everything you see here. Plus… everything you don't." It was a promise. And a genuine one. Whichever victim she brought home tonight would be given everything. The afterlife awaited them. Their reward would be waiting. She gave the microphone back to Maestro and stood once more between the two vigilantes.

"50 thousand for Poison Ivy!" someone in the crowd screamed.

"One hundred thousand for Poison Ivy!" another snarky rich man cried out. He looked familiar. Like someone who hated vigilantes. Which was fitting, because-

"One million!" Batman suddenly cried, much to her amazement and the crowd's shock.

"Two million!" snapped Robin, his eyes blazing with a kind of fury at once. Batman turned to him, a dark expression on his hidden face. Ivy grinned. Yes!

"You don't have two million," he snapped. "Three million!"

"I'll borrow it from you, four million!" Robin screamed, his teeth gnashing in anger.

"Five million!" Batman snapped.

"That's a utility belt, not a money belt, six million!"

Batman's face froze. A dark look, but a smirk of a look, rose over his features. He pulled something from his side. "Seven million." In his hand, a VISA of sorts. A credit card, black, with his logo printed upon it, the name as Batman, the expiration date, forever. Ivy and the rest of the crowd gasped horrifically. To see that something could exist! To see a horror like no other was a dream. This was terrifying, the existence of a Bat credit card. Ivy had been pushed into toxic chemicals and strangled with poison, but she had not seen anything so vile and repulsive as a Bad credit card. She could hear the crowd inside of her head booing, somewhere else in her mind, a child crying at the sight. And in another part, an angry man, with a shrill voice, screaming obscenities about how his soul and childhood was being raped by the sight of the Bat credit card…

"You're not going to fight over little ol' me, are you!?" she asked them quickly, trying to put a distraction into place that could ensure the Bat credit card would not haunt their attention. He dropped it quickly, his face awkward, and everyone in the room sighed with relief.

But distractions were far from over.

The world exploded around them. A bang, like something she could imagine being let off from a small nuclear blast, emitted around the air before them. The floor shook violently and the crowd screamed. Everyone's attention suddenly turned to something that had happened in the back. Rubble was flying in every direction and thick, light blue smoke was pushing its way into the room. A massive cold suddenly enveloped the room, the temperature dropping as if it were in free fall.

Ivy stared at the sight that had suddenly made itself known.

A massive tank-like vehicle, parked in a massive hole that it had stabbed through the wall, its front end adorned with fierce, thick spikes. It was emitting some powerful emission of freezing cold mist, and there was someone sitting atop the large tank. Someone heavily armored, in a bright silver armor that was both bulky and well protective of blue skin underneath. The armored blue man stood up tall, where the rest of the room could see him clearly, and in his hand, he carried a thick, fat gun of some unknown origin. It looked like alien technology.

"Alright, everyone!" the armored man cried aloud, his accent something like thick Austrian. "Chill!"

And he cocked the fat gun in hand, aiming it directly at the crowd…