Everyone present as the Observatory celebration (and there were hundreds) all seemed to be doing their best to stay focused on the fun and the joy that this brought. But so many whispers still overlapped the conversations. People were shaken, many of them doing their best to drink themselves into a coma. They were all whispering about the same thing: the horrific terrorist video and letter that had been delivered on the GCN this morning. People were bolting their doors, buying guns and ammunition by the gallon, even drinking doses of lethal chemicals in small amounts, in hopes that they could quickly build up an immunity to toxins if they persisted. All of them moronic.

Dr. Pamela Isley walked about the party with a contentedness, wearing a simple black dress with brown leather gloves and a shimmering green collar, her large, out-of-style glasses bugging her eyes, but she still looked incredibly beautiful nonetheless. She sipped wine and laughed with a few parties as they conversed, lectured a few uneducated fiends on the importance of preserving the environment, even managed to get a plate full of the most delicious shrimp imaginable, all humbly funded by Bruce Wayne himself.

It was important to keep an eye out for Gordon. She had seen the chub of a man waltzing about with his wife and a few friends, bur Dr. Isley simply could not make her move until he was alone. He was wearing his finest Marines suit with its several honorary badges, grinning and chuckling at everyone he passed, all of whom seemed to have a lot of respect for the man and his services to Gotham.

"Nice glasses," muttered one party goer as she brushed past him, the snob chatting away with a couple of other rich kings and queens of Gotham, all of them snickering as they got a good look at her.

"Nice tombstone," she predicted darkly, briefly imagining what she could and possibly would do to the man now that he had said that. But he would have to come later. She made a mental note to kill him before she left the Observatory. For now, she had to focus on Gordon. The police commissioner was moving towards a secluded spot near the bathrooms in a corner of the room, taking a breather as he polished off his shirt and took a few sucks from an inhaler. She smirked.

He was still not fully alone. There were a couple of his cop friends nearby, waiting for him to return to the conversation that he had left. She drummed her fingers against the wall impatiently, not looking directly at him, as she did not want to draw attention to herself, but merely glancing out of the corner of her eye.

I'm waiting…

"Hey there, good looking."

She jumped, looking around to see who had spoken. Bruce Wayne, his arm wrapped around his beautiful partner Julie once more, nodded as he raised a glass of wine to her.

"Enjoying the party, Miss Isley? It's good to see you again."

Ivy smiled briefly, looking down at the floor. "Yeah, it's a great party, Mr. Wayne. Very petite."

"Petite?"

"Or whatever, I don't know," Ivy shrugged. She looked Julie up and down, who raised her eyebrows.

"Why are you standing alone, not mingling?" she asked Ivy, her voice only half filled with genuine interest.

"That's right, Dr. Isley, this is a good chance to talk with some of the right people, get a replacement job after your work station burnt to the ground, yeah?" Bruce noted. She gave him a dark look.

"Oh, Bruce… Bruce, Bruce, Bruce… Physical perfection, charm and wealth tossed over for a dowdy spinster. How do you explain your behavior?"

Bruce looked perplexed, as did Julie.

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, you obviously just had to come and talk to me, didn't you?" Ivy teased, rubbing her hand up the billionaire's chest. Julie's hand snatched out at once, pushing Ivy's hand away. Both women stared each other down, each one flaming within the eyes.

"Don't touch me," Ivy hissed, jerking her arm away at once.

"Don't touch him, then, you got it?" Julie returned, just as fiery, with an even fiercer stare. Bruce, sweating at the sudden discomfort, stepped between them.

"Come on now, girls, don't be wild mammals, huh?" Bruce gave her Ivy a wink, as well as a flashy smile. Ivy returned it, glancing up at Julie, whose face was beat red.

"Yeah. After what that crazy psyco-bitch said on the telly today, the last thing we want to be is a bad mammal, right?" She laughed heartily, and Bruce grinned a bit himself, nodding in agreement. Julie looked stony, cold, very much unamused. "It could get you killed…" She nodded pointedly at Julie. Bruce's partner snatched his hand turned away, furious. Bruce, looking awkward, nodded at her with a brief grin as he was dragged away. Ivy stared after them, hating the pair with most poisonous loathing. The way that tramp had touched her!

She felt the side pocket of her dress, fingering the hidden knife inside. Sized up Julie as she walked away. A stab to the stomach, for starters, and then a nice carve through the intestines… yes, that would do real nicely. There was the second mental note for the night. She glanced back over at Gordon. His friends had moved on. Now!

She moved forward quickly, coming to a halt right beside the man as he was reaching for a platter set on a side table, carrying fine white grape wine.

"Commissioner Gordon," she said aloud, and the man gave a turn, looking around inquisitively to see who had said his name.

"Eh?"

"I've always wondered," Ivy soothed, her back turned to him. "Where does that big old Bat light in the sky come from?"

She spun around, her handheld mirror opened wide, and she blew a great amount of pheromone dust into the police officer's face. Gordon mellowed out at once, his mystified expression exchanged for one of intense joy, his eyes squinting.

"Why… why it's up on Police Headquarters, of course."

Ivy smiling, took him by the shoulder and walked him about a bit. Heel, boy, heel. "I'd just love to see it," she told him, most seductively. "But you probably don't have access."

She looked pitifully at him, blinking her eyes in a suggestive way, licking her lips. He grinned dumbly, chuckling a bit.

"Why, my dear lady, I am the police commissioner, I have the keys right here in my pocket." He took them out and jingled them in her face, and then his goofiness turned to one of instant seriousness. The seriousness of a man who had fallen in love. "Would you like to see it?"

Yeah, I just bet you'd like to get me alone, chubby, she thought to herself. She blew another, stronger cloud of pheromones into his face, and Gordon absolutely dropped to his knees. A few onlookers noticed this but looked away quickly, shaking their heads and grinning. They noticed the wineglass in his hand, and unfortunately, James Gordon had always been well know for not being able to hold his liquor well. They obviously thought he was smashed already.

Ivy slipped the keys to the roof of Police Headquarters and pocketed them at once.

"Who are you?" he sighed passionately. She leaned forward, ever so slowly, considering killing him right here and now… but doing so in this crowded room would destroy everything. She wretched as she smelled his alcohol scented breath up close.

"On second thought, you're way too old for me," she insulted him, before turning on her heel and marching away. She began to push her way through the crowd, many onlookers noticing the sudden dark expression upon her face. Now that she had the keys and the location of the Signal, she could proceed with the other two jobs she had planned. The man who had insulted her glasses was standing alone at the wide banquet table piled with food, helping himself to some more shrimp. Ivy approached him at once, stopping before him and glaring at him intently. He noticed her after a few seconds, and frowned.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, alright…"

Ivy noticed the bathroom door just beside the end of the table where he stood. She put her hand upon his mouth to silence him, shaking her head. Smiling seductively.

"I thought it was bold of you to say something like that. Really… really… bold." Her hand casually found his crotch and the man gasped, his eyes widening. Her smile became very wild. "I love a man that's not afraid to show his dark side. You wanna slip into the bathroom for a bit and get filthy together?"

"W-what!?" the dark haired man laughed, looking at her as if she were crazy. No, she could not possibly be crazy. Ivy nodded at the door, then shrugged, her face indifferent.

"Hey, you're an adult, I'm an adult, we laugh, we cry, we fock. The world's gonna end soon and we may as well make the best of it, right? So make it up to me. Come join me in the bathroom and ride me for a little bit, I don't think anyone will notice…" She looked around mischievously, winking at him.

The man was so amused, his eyes alight with a joke of sorts as he studied her forehead closely, as if he were trying to understand her brain to some degree with an x-ray vision of sorts.

"Aw, man, you must be really wasted!"

Ivy frowned darkly. Wasted? That was such an immature term for "drunkenness". As adults, she preferred the correct, professional syntax to the situation. How old was this guy, exactly? That was no less than a form of high school talk! But, in all manner of zaniness to be realized, she decided to emphasize the situation with her own little joke. She raised the leaf mirror into the air and blew a heavy amount of pheromones into the man's face. His amused expression suddenly turned to amazement, as he stared at her in such a way that meant no less than seeing the woman you loved with all your heart and soul.

She squeezed the erection that had grown with hard pulses, working her pheromones secretly from her own body. The man breathed them in deeply, his eyes widening as he breathed softly.

"I really, really want you," she whispered to him, moving in close and running her tongue up the side of his neck. She felt him tremor.

"Hell yes," he whispered, and she wasted no time is dragging him down the small corridor to the side, opening the men's restroom (which was single) and pushing him forcibly inside. Locking the door behind her, she turned to face him and raised her dress past her belly button, revealing her lacy green panties beneath. He stared in amazement at her body, his tongue wagging fiercely as she pulled her underwear half-way down her legs, stroking the red hairs of her vulva in a most arousing manner. Those red hairs which did not match the wig that she currently wore, it being the dull brown of Pamela Isley, but he did not care. She did not mind a little fun before the kill. She took his hand in her own, swaying it back and forth before his face, kissing each of his fingers lightly. And then she began to dirt it down. As much as she hated mammals, she could not deny that she truly enjoyed this sharing with them. With a trembling hand, he inserted a hand into her vagina, fingering her quite wildly, and she moaned with the pleasure of a woman in love, her eyes closed and her head bent.

"Oh, yes…"

She pushed him forcibly against the wall, sitting down upon the toilet seat, her legs spread wide. Gesturing at him with a finger.

"Hungry?" she asked, stroking her red vulva hairs tenderly.

The man dropped to his knees, his face strangled with wild passion. She wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled his head in, forcing his face into her crotch as he tenderly tasted her, his tongue wiggling around inside. Her pheromones were blasting madly and he was utterly inhaling them as he gave into his desires for oral sex. Ivy moaned, biting her lip hard and tasting poison in her own mouth as her lower lip began to bleed.

He was practically making her into a five course meal, and she held him there in place, allowing him to suck in the natural pheromones… to zombify him beyond his withstanding.

"I bet you're really enjoying this, aren't you?" she gasped, clawing at the back of his head.

He grunted loudly from below. This man was experienced, his forced infatuation with her multiplying the pleasure that he induced. She dug her heels into his back, clawing with her nails at his neck… she felt fresh blood produce from the claw marks. He did not fight back, but kissed her in her private region ever more passionately…

"So how do I taste?" Ivy sighed, smiling because she knew what she was going to do.

"Oh, my goodness…" he breathed, pulling his head back for a breather, his face wet with her lubrication. She forced his head back down, grinning as she prepared the kill.

"Well, good… then you're going to truly enjoy this next taste."

And she focused all of her willpower, all of her biological command upon the poisons in her body. She focused upon gathering a massive dose of hemotoxin, and directed it downward, to expel directly through her vagina. For a moment, nothing happened, as her concentration intensified and she willed for the man to receive the massive dose with earnest… and then the magic!

He suddenly stopped kissing her there, and instead, he jerked wildly, like they always did. She did not allow him to pull away, however. Her poison had reached him through her birth canal, and now the true pleasure could begin. She forced his head down fiercely, holding him there even as he began to struggle, could feel him retching loudly against her skin. He jerked wildly, again and again, and eventually stopped struggling, slumping to a cold still. Unmoving. Dead. Her smell was horrific, the pheromones reaching their ultimate emission, mixed in with the natural odor of the massive dose of hemotoxin that she had issued, which even now was pouring down her legs, muddy green and staining her skin. But she held his body in place, working his head in a circular motion now. They were always far better lovers when they were dead. She did not have to fight with them then.

"Now, isn't this magical!?" she sighed, reaching an orgasm as she fed the corpse. "Oh, goodness, you're such an amazing lover."

She reached back her foot and pressed hard against his temple, slamming him against the wall. His face was by far the worse she had seen yet, and the most artistically beautiful. Not a trace of his original Caucasian skin remained. Everything had pruned away into a sunken, bright green, his features seemingly melted from their original positions. She had smothered him in so much poison that it had literally destroyed his anatomical features, warping them into something that was beyond nightmare and surrealism.

She brushed his hair with her hand as she stood up, pulling her underwear back up and pulling her dress down. She made sure to keep the lock clicked into a bolting position once the door closed behind her.

"Nice corpse," she muttered as she shut the door behind him, switching off the light and leaving him in the dark.

Back in the dance hall, people were slow dancing now, the lights dimmed to perfection. How beautiful. There was so much romance in the air tonight. Bruce Wayne was nowhere to be seen, but dear darling Julie Madison was saying on the spot, drinking deeply from a wine glass, and she seemed to be crying. Frowning, wondering what the cause of it was, she moved forward, pushing her way past the slow dancers who moved around in front of the massive telescope. As she passed Julie, who was drinking deeply from her wine, she pulled the woman by the arm and drug her forcibly towards the great balcony door nearby. The balcony outside was deserted, and hidden behind a growth of very thick orchards that had been placed there for decoration.

"Hey!" Julie snapped, yanking her arm away from Ivy as she looked incredulously as the false Isley. "What do you think you're doing!?"

"Why are you crying?" Ivy demanded, tapping her foot impatiently as she glared. Julie's mouth opened a bit, looking genuinely surprised at the question.

"W-what?"

"You're crying," Ivy repeated, nodding at her tears. "I asked you why you were doing that."

"I- what business of it is yours!?"

"I'm a woman, and you're a woman. If anything, it's better you tell me about it than expect some good to come out of a man, yes?"

Julie was shocked. Her eyes widened, the tears intensifying in place as she stared.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly.

"Because I don't like to see a woman crying," Ivy told her, leaning against the balcony rail that overlooked the sweeping streets hundreds of feet below. "Woman is by far the most valuable life force of the mammals. Their pain doesn't really help anyone, does it?"

"N-no… no, I guess not…"

"So, then, what did Wayne do to you?" Ivy glanced over at her, her look demanding an answer.

Julie bit her lip, looking away at the woman that she clashed with earlier in embarrassment. "Just a little argument, that's all," she muttered lightly, tears dropping onto the balcony.

"Why did he break up with you?" Ivy asked wisely, seeing past the charade. Julie gasped.

"How did you-"

"It's because he's not the marrying type, is he? It's because he sees you as little more than a tool for public outlook, to give his stereotypically demanding role of playboy billionaire some nice credibility?"

"Who do you think you-" Julie began to demand of her, but Ivy cut across her more intently, enjoying this.

"He dumped you because you're lightweight media candy at best, and the only purpose that you truly serve is to enrich his stigma with a bit of ace de bonita. The channels love it, and they report it. When they report it, they sell good for it. And when they sell for it, they gather more initiative to pursue more enrichment in the life of the billionaire, and give him a reason to have the masses worship him with attention. It's standard, really. You don't actually mean much to him in the way of getting some of that nice worship, Julie Madison."

"You trash talking piece of sh-" Julie began to storm at her, her hand outreached in a way that suggested she was about to grab Ivy by the throat. Ivy was ready, however, the hidden switchblade with its poisoned end ready in her gloved hand. She struck out an arm and released the blade, Julie not able to stop in time as she walked directly into it, the blade sinking into her chest. Julie Madison stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening. Ivy clenched her teeth, retracting the knife and stabbing the woman again through the abdomen. Julie gasped loudly, stricken in place. Earlier, Ivy had coated the knife with an incredibly fast acting paralytic. Julie could only stand there in place, staring in horror as Ivy drew the knife back again and stabbed forth once more, this time the knife entering her lower stomach. A direct hit to the large intestine.

"Oh…" she moaned loudly, her lip trembling.

"In all honesty, I don't see you as much of anything myself, Miss Madison," Ivy whispered, drawing out the blade and coming in for one last move. Madre de Verde slit the woman's throat with one nice, smooth crave, and gently pushed Julie against the railing. Julie, choking, blood shooting from the open wounds, gagged, and sheathing her knife at once, Ivy calmly hoisted the dying woman by her legs and lifted her up.

In the next second, Julie Madison was flipping over the other side of the railing of the balcony, and Ivy watched, quite bored, to be perfectly honest, as Julie Madison fell into the darkness below, her destination the traffic busy road that was at least seven hundred feet below. Ivy watched her fall for the entire duration, seeing the dark shadow crash violently into a taxi that happened to be parked just beneath them… and even as alarms went off and people's screams filled the air, Poison Ivy was already slipping away, snaking her way back into the crowded room and making her way at once for the exit doors. Bane was waiting downstairs for her in the limo. She had tied up all loose ends, and now they could make destination for the police headquarters. The final round of this long, tiring game.

By the time police had arrived in the busy street below, surrounding the building by great multitudes, Poison Ivy and Bane of Humanity had long since vanished.