Gotham GCP. A towering structure of fine marble and iron works. Five stories in its standing and watched over by cameras positioned in every degree of its width and length. Police cars decorated the main parking lot tonight, however, in the most laid of ways: they were flying. Gotham City had seen its fair share of strangeness, the super-villains notwithstanding, and this was indeed a sight to behold. When the police cruisers took wing, they took wing with fire, burning so beautifully well as the explosions from the homemade bombs sent them into a morbid rendition of Gotham Lake.
The thug responsible for setting the bombs were running about, guns popping off as they howled with maniacal laughter. One of the thugs, of course, walked patiently, a woman held in one arm as he escorted his hostage towards the front doors of the GCP where police were barricaded behind desks to fight off of the attacking gang members, whose numbers were very well enhanced.
The police saw the thug coming, the struggling, screaming woman that he held at gunpoint doing her best to fight him off she he came, but the thug was confident, and held her against all the strength that she could muster.
"Open the doors now!" the thug, a burly Indian man of imposing muscle build screamed for the police inside to hear, as his soldiers grouped behind him in their mass of twenty, hiding behind the burning police cars that their bombs had sent flying into the middle of the massive lot. "Open the doors and allow us entry now!" He cocked the gun loudly against the screaming, sobbing woman's head. "Do it or I'll re-decorate your parking lot with this whore's brains!"
"PLEASE!" the woman screamed horrifically, thrashing about wildly against his hold, but he only grinned darkly as he held her there, knowing that she was fully within his power. "P-PLEASE, HELP ME! HELP ME!"
"I swear I'll kill her!" the thug promised the police, whom he could see were whispering to each other urgently, looking frantic. Where had all of the thugs come from? That was probably what they were trying to comprehend. "I'm gonna count to three!"
The gun was shaking in his hand, his expression mad. The woman had lost it, sobbing as her body went limp, knowing that the man was going to end her life at any second. Unless the police intervened… OH, please let them! PLEASE! she cried inside of her mind.
"ONE!" the thug called out, grinning at them and shrugging his shoulders. He was indifferent to their decision. If they allowed this woman to die, he would be fine with it.
He saw one of the guards stand up, throwing his arms in a silent plea, his face strained with fear.
"Alright, kid, don't!" the man called out from behind the glass. He was an older gentlemen, looking ripe to the age of fifty or sixty, and he looked scared, even as he stood there, gun trembling in hand. The thug snorted.
"You gonna let me in, then!?" he cried, kissing the woman who held hostage upon the head.
"Alright, alright!" the old police officer gave in, and they saw him ordering his own men to stand down. The hostage that the thug held was whimpering, shaking madly.
"Hey, calm down, it's okay," the man assured her, brushing her hair sweetly in hand. "Shush, shush… they're gonna let us in any minute, you're gonna be fine… I'll be nice, huh?" He squeezed one of her buttocks and she cried louder, more frantic as she squirmed her end away from the man. The thug laughed, pleased by the fear that she held for him. "Good woman. You know how to be afraid. I love it when you gals are afraid…"
"Sir!" the old policeman called, a megaphone suddenly in hand. He still held his gun, and the other police inside of the building were still hidden in the shadow, their own weapons ready. "You can come in, but we will not stand down. You come in here and you talk to us, alright!?"
"Talk!?" the thug cried out, suppressing a laugh. "You want me to talk to you!?
"Yes, sir, you just come on in and we'll try to work this out. Come inside and tell us what you want. There's been no casualties yet, and I'd like to keep it that way!"
"Oh, there's gonna be casualties, my good man!" the thug sang happily, his head ducked beneath his hostage so as to not give the police an opening. Just then, the woman he held kicked at his shin, and he hissed at her, pulling her more closely against her. "Not ah, you're not going to fight with me, you little bitch, you got it!? Get moving!" Pressing the back of her head firmly against the gun barrel, he began to march himself and her forward. "We're coming in now, so don't try anything funny. I have twenty men standing behind me and they're ready to overtake the building. But just in case you've called in back-up from around the city, we're also ready to blow the GCP sky-high!"
"You have a bomb!?" the police officer demanded.
"It's set and armed, yeah, and we're not going to tell you where it is. All you have to do is comply, and there won't be any casualties, like you said… not that I have faith in you idiots…"
The police were giving nothing away in their faces as they listened to this. There were no indication to genuine reaction on either side. The thug sounded serious, and truly genuine in this "promise", just as the police remained blankly-expressed, not indicating as to whether or not they thought him to be telling the truth or bluffing. It was chess. You had to play a subtle role.
The thug and the female hostage took the stairs, a set of ten steps leading up to the front doors of the GCP, behind which were desks that the police had drug into the hall and overturned to use as barricades when the thug militia had attacked, twenty-one minutes before. They had sprung from the shadows, starting off their attack with a bang, cop cars exploding in a brilliant display of fire and cheers. This told the police one thing: they had wanted a reaction at once. They could have performed a silent infiltration, as the GCP was not a major containment structure and it did not have the protection that prisons did. So why had they wanted to draw out the police? Perhaps they were just moronic…
The thug reached the glass doors and forced the woman face first against the glass. She whimpered in pain, shaking terribly, her face constricted into fear as the thug, a malicious grin upon his face, pressed the gun into her like he would a knife. He grinned at the police inside, who were all looking scared. One wrong move, and this woman's life could end...
"Son, I'm Officer Stephens. You want to just-just put down the gun and we c-can talk, alright…"
The old man, his piercing blue eyes seemingly filled with tears, looked very shaken.
"You wanna talk, huh?" the thug laughed, leering darkly. "Well, Officer Stephens, let's talk. You call off your men in there, are this little bitch gets a bullet for dinner this evening. Your call, and don't keep me waiting."
"Fine!" Stephens hissed, his hands shaking with rage, but he knew better than to risk the woman's life. The thugs had not killed anyone yet. Property damage and attempted murder, but they had taken no life yet, and Stephens aimed to keep it that way. "Officers, stand down!" he commanded, not taking his eyes off of the thug, and not lowering his weapon. "You can join me in the office, huh? Just the three of us?"
"You think I'm an idiot!?" the thug snapped. "You barricade me in an office and then your men ambush me when I'm put in a tight corner. I want all of them out of there except you!"
"Now you're insulting our own intelligence," Stephens snapped. "My men go out there and yours will slaughter them!"
"I'll slaughter this bitch in my arms if you don't focking remove them NOW!" The thug was overcome with fiery rage, a monstrous anger as he shook in place, his eyes bulging madly. The hostage looked pleadingly into Stephens's eyes, begging him, silently screaming at him to comply. She did not want to die! He looked into her eyes, and a small smile crossed his face. He nodded, knowing what he had to do.
"Alright, alright… men, barricade yourselves inside of Recreation now!" the officer ordered his men. All of them gave him funny looks, some outraged, some highly confused. Stephens stamped his foot down hard. "You heard me, I'm not joking! All of you, in Recreation, now! And-" He continued to glare angrily at the thug, who smiled, waiting… "-you, sir, will call off your men, got it? They are not to move in on the GCP while we talk. Is that fair!?"
"Sounds fine," the thug said smoothly, nodding, a pleasant smile upon his face. "Alright, fine, give me the mike…"
Officer Stephens indicated the end of the hall with his finger, staring pointedly around at his men, all of whom moved at once, throwing their leader dark looks as they begrudgingly walked down the corridor, mumbling. Stephens pushed open the door ever so slightly, and he nudged the woman hard in the back with his knee.
"Go ahead, beautiful, make the call," he ordered her. The woman, whimpering softly, her hand shaking uncontrollably, took the megaphone at once. The thug was not going to let free his gun hand on her.
She began to press her lips against the speaking end, but the thug knocked her head out of the way with his own. She yelped loudly as the man spoke into the end, "ALRIGHT, BOYS, THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING! HOLD THE FORT THERE, HOLD POSITIONS! YOU'RE NOT TO MAKE ANY MOVES UNTIL I RETURN! BECOME AS TIGERS AND HUNT THE LIONESS FOR MATING!"
He grinned. Those final works were the key words. They knew he meant what he said. Smiling kindly at the officer, he nodded at the megaphone, and the cop took it back with a trembling hard. He backed away, and the thug led himself and the woman into the hall.
"We can talk in this office!" Stephens told him nervously, nodding at an office door to the right. The thug clicked his tongue.
"I like tight spaces. You know that, honey?" he whispered into his hostage's ear, licking her cheek. She groaned loudly, tormented by his advances. The three of them entered the office, a clumped room of overfilled filing cabinets, a wide desk scattered with folders and three empty coffee mugs, and posters of half-naked women decorating the walls. A scanner system and a television set sat perched onto a counter filled with coffee and sweets supplies. The thug kicked the door shut behind him, switching off the main, bright light of the office while Stephens flicked a lamp on upon the desk.
He now forced the hostage onto the chair before the desk, who looked up at him, no longer crying. She looked calm, a smile crossing her face.
"How was that?" the thug asked her.
Poison Ivy, smiling from behind the long blonde, curly wig that she wore, grinned maliciously, her hand stroking her fishnet clad legs.
"Beautiful performance," she sighed, reaching for his face and pulling him down to her. She kissed him lovingly, pulling the gun from his hand as she did, the pheromone mesmerized thug that she had controlled in order to orchestrate all of this fell dead, the life shooting out his body as he fell with a horrified, and betrayed, look upon his face. His head came to rest beside her flip flopped clad foot, and she rubbed the top of his head with it for a second before turning to face the police officer on the other side of the desk, who was gazing at her so lovingly…so transfixed, as if he were under some sort of spell…
"Takes care of him," she cooed.
"Rawl," Officer Stephens, highly under the influence of Ivy's pheromones, imitated in the fashion of a cat. "All for you… all for you…"
She slapped his cheek playfully. "Well, now that your goons are stored away for the time being and asshole here's gotten me in, I suppose you've done your job as well."
"Yes… just like you asked me… oh, Ivy…"
"Poison, babe, not Ivy," she corrected him, grinning when she realized that the man was standing with back just against the large glass window. She winked at him, reaching into the blue-jean mini-skirt that she wore and pulling out a small black device, with only one button built into the center. Grinning madly at the man who stood transfixed by her, she pressed the button.
At once, the window behind Stephens shattered as Bane's arms crashed through, gripping the officer tightly by the neck. Stephens's eyes widened, his mouth flying open as Bane's hands wrapped around his neck, crushing his windpipe and breaking his neck in one fell gesture. Ivy watched patiently, enjoying the sight extraordinarily well, even if time was against them, and when Stephens fell dead onto the floor, Ivy sighed as a woman whose life just felt so complete. Bane stepped through the glass, stomping into the office, and in his hands, he carried a set of clothes and a brown wig: the same disguise she had worn to the Observatory party.
Ivy stood at once, stripping her clothes off as quickly as she could, tossing the blonde wing that she wore aside. She felt a momentary pleasure sweep her body as she stood nude and redheaded once more. Poison as Poison should be. But it was to be short-lived, as she quickly hurried back to the falseness, grabbing the disguise from Bane's hands as she dawned the black dress and brown wig once more.
"It's a real shame," she sighed, throwing the dress over her head, "that I couldn't keep the other look. A blonde me really is fetching, more so than the corpse Isley could ever be… I suppose we did good, though, huh, Bane? A pretty blonde hostage suited well to the compassion of the GCP than average Isley could ever secure…" And, to get the costume, I got the chance to kill another mammal, she thought as something of an after consideration, her mind going to the young woman that she had had Bane strangle, some several blocks from here. She had needed the right kind of clothes for the charade. Her pheromones had taken care of the rest. When she had left the Observatory, she had proceeded at once to the home Gerard Stephens, a veteran of the GCP. Earlier following her arrival into Gotham, she had spent some time learning the names of addresses of the major authorities in Gotham, just in case she had ever needed to use one.
Her pheromones had worked wonders in convincing the man that, in order to serve the goddess that he suddenly found himself in love with, he would leave the solitude of his current vacation to work the GCP for a night. She had placed securely within the headquarters, instructed on all that was going to happen shortly after her arrived there. Stephens had prepared himself, as she had enticed him to do, playing his part well when Ivy's thugs, all of them rounded about from the Poor District, had marched on the GCP. His considerable influence could not be questioned by his fellow officers. He had managed to send away the mass guard that had assembled to stop the invasion of the headquarters, and now she was in. The blonde disguise, of course, had played well to the infatuations of the officers, making her seem a very valuable form to allow the thugs a chance not to harm her. They thought with their dicks, not with their minds.
Now, since Stephens had ensured that the other officers were all contained inside of Recreation, phase two could begin (and she had her thugs waiting outside, if anything should go wrong)…
Bane, before he had come to assemble himself outside of the window to the office that Ivy had suggested Stephens use for when the thug demanded to be let inside, had sabotaged the EXIT door of Recreation, a massive gymnasium of a room with no windows. Now, their only escape was through the entry door inside of the building, as the emergency exit door currently had been deprived of half of its handle, as well as blocked by one of the very police cars that had sat assembled in the lot, prior to the attack…
Now disguised as the corpse Isley once more, she motioned for Bane to follow quickly, ensuring to step on top of the dead thug's body as she went, and the two of them took to the dark, now deserted hall. She could hear them, for the Recreation door, closed and secure, was just ahead, at the end of the hall. A heavy steel chair Bane was now carrying, one that had sat behind the desk of the officer that the two had just exited. Bane placed the steel chair just against the door handle, and when the officers inside heard the scarping noise, they immediately began for the door. But the chair, being placed where it was, held firmly, as she grinned as she heard their struggles from within, trying to force the door open.
"And now," she whispered to Bane, "phase three."
This was going to be her favorite. Bane, who happened to be wearing his heavy trench coat at the moment, reached into its depths and produced a leather bag, rather heavy and bulging. The banging against the Recreation door got louder as the steel of it shook, but Ivy knew that there were not getting out. Trapped. A wonderful thing for what was coming next. She dropped to her knees and opened the bags, breathing in deeply as she smelled the bitter rankness that jumped out of it. It smelled so terrible, its odor the strongest form of poison… and she loved it.
The bag was releasing black fumes, coming off from the terrible thing within: it resembled sand, but was far more jelly-like in anatomical structure, and its color was dark green. A weapon that she had developed for situations that required mass murder. The jelly-like substance was an abomination, a mutation of a rare flower originated from South Mexico known as "Muerte es Bonita". Death is Beautiful… The flower grew only in one specific region, the Oaxaca state, born in a deep ravine near Monte Albán. It had been a present from Woodrue, one of his findings during his excavations into Mexico searching for appropriate animals to test during his prototype stages of the Venom formula. The madman had given the flower sample to her, knowing how much she would love it for its rarity and its deadly abilities, its petals coated with a rare poison that could induce paralysis and eventual nerve damage within seconds of contact. Of course, this had all been an attempt to get into her pants at the time, but she had appreciated it nonetheless.
Following Ivy's arrival in Gotham, this little beauty had been one of her experiments. She had amplified its obvious, natural mutations in a variety of ways, enhancing its toxicity and effects. This was the first time it was going to be put to the test, and she felt confident in her baby. The green mess of an existence was a beautiful life form, a plant given its own Ascension, and she loved it. It was her baby.
She shook the bag, letting the green mass slide onto the floor. Upon contact with the cold tile, it squirmed about, and tendrils, long, thin, and dark red began to spread forth from small pockets in its sides. She clutched her heart, tears in her eyes. It was so beautiful.
"Oh, look at you," she whispered to it, taking off one of her gloves so that she could feel it tendrils with her skin. The moment she touched it, it jabbed her in the side of the hand with its end, sharp like a syringe or a knife, and she felt it inject its severe toxins into her system. She breathed deeply, feeling a rush of energy emit from the toxins. Kissing the tendril lightly, and only for a second, she pushed it away and whispered to it, "Kill for mommy…. Go on, kill…" She motioned with her hand, releasing pheromones from her body as she did… and the plant swayed, the tentacle-like appendages following her movements as the vine-like arms suddenly began to burst forth small golden petals… the same petals from the original flower that this Ascended beauty had come from.
She saw the tentacles worm their way about the floor, sliding across towards the tiny gap underneath the door of Recreation. She grinned, her heart exploding with joy as she saw the mass of the plant following its tendril, squeezing itself against the door in order to enter just as the police inside started to notice.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING!?"
"Squash it!"
Oh, please, attack it, Ivy thought nastily, knowing what would happen if they did. And sure enough, a few seconds later, the plant mass jiggled and forced itself forward in a quick motion, squeezing into the room beneath, just as the first screams and horrible choking sounds of pain began… for the poison that now thrives inside of this plant was the same poison that lived within her own body. The hemotoxin, fully enhanced beyond the normal snake's abilities, as her own was. The plant was a little bit of herself. She was the only who was truly in there, whipping frenzying tentacles about, stabbing the mammals who fought in vain against it as the toxins poured into their systems, dropping them dead like the flies that they were…
Ivy walked away now, enjoying their horrified screams as they were picked off one by one, tapping the elevator button lightly as she and Bane ascended to complete Phase Four.
"Can you imagine a million of those things, Bane?" she asked the titan, her voice dreamy. "I'll make a thousand and set them free upon Washington, and New York, and… oh, where won't they go!?"
Bane gave her a look, but said nothing. She had expected as much. Ever since the incident in the limo, Bane had barely spoke to her at all, and when he did, she could hear the contempt in his voice. He had had enough of her childishness, and would no longer tolerate it in any form whatsoever. But this was fine, to her. Because this was going to be the last task. Once the job here at GCP was finished, Bane would be handed over to Freeze, into the snowman's employment once and for all. And then she could plot Bane's murder in peace. Enjoy your apprehension while you can, Bane. Freeze will need your help, during the Observatory Operation… but after that, dear Bane… after that, you're dead. She swore it.
The elevator came to a halt on the top floor, and she jingled Gordon's keys lightly in hand. There was a short step-well leading to the ROOF, as it was labeled, as she inserted the keys, twisting the door unlocked with a malicious grin.
The roof was silent, a peaceful plane of existence, and the wind was blowing cool up here. And there it was. Situated between two metal exhaust pipes, the massive, round Bat-signal, not currently activated… The structure, according to a file handed to them by the infatuated Stephens, described it as "specially modified Klieg searchlight, customized to fit an indication of the Batman's insignia, which resembled a bat with spread wings…" And it was as beautiful and admittedly alluring as had been promised.
"Let there be light," she whispered, reveling in its sight, and Bane moved forward at once. He bent down, gripping tightly the edges around its base, and the titan hoisted the massive searchlight into his arms. Metal strands that bound the light to the roof broke free and sparks flew up in dazzling mini-blasts, the feeble metal crunching only the tiniest bit under Bane's hold, but he managed to remove it decently well without damaging the main understructure. Ivy delicately removed the large cables that connected the light to the outputs built into the roof. Those had to be kept safe. They were stealing this light not to destroy, but to alter and use for themselves. "Good job, Usel- Bane," she corrected quickly. After the incident in the limo, she no longer dared to call him that to his face. Bane, not listening, hoisted the light across the roof and crowded into the elevator. There was barely enough room left inside of it for the two of them, and Ivy had to squash in a most uncomfortable manner, the metal of the light pressing firmly against her as she was forced against the wall. She looked pleadingly at Bane, but the titan did not move to help her, and she punched the 1 button furiously.
Several scores of hellish seconds later, the elevator door opened once more and Ivy ran out, shaking with anger at how uncomfortable the ride had been. The screams issuing from the Recreation room had ceased. Ivy smiled, contented, for the chair was still in place. Her baby had killed everyone inside. As Bane lumbered forward behind her, she walked to the door and pulled the steel chair out from under the handle, throwing open the recreation entry and gazing excitedly within.
She may have been there herself. A foul odor met her nostrils as she breathed in the death. The poisonous scent a pleasurable thing indeed. The black spores floated from their dead bodies, every single one of them lying upon the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, their skin swollen and green in color, skin sunken in, as a mutated monstrosity of a plant slithered over their bodies, sinking in its tendrils into their corpses as it drunk deeply from them their nutrients.
"I am so proud of you," she proclaimed, joyous, motherly tears in her eyes. "Eat and drink, baby. They're all yours."
She turned away, fanning herself to keep the tears of pride at bay. Bane followed her, only slightly slower, down the corridor and back to the entrance doors. Her enchanted thugs saw her walking out and began to murmur excitedly as she came. She grinned at them all, waving her gloved hands even as her ears picked up the distant sounds of sirens…
"Hurry, Bane!"
She began to sprint across the lot, running with all haste for the large pickup truck, its bed covered with a massive, thick green tarp that awaited them across the street. Several thugs reached slowly for her as she ran past, ogling, calling out her name, but she ignored them. The sirens were getting louder. The police were almost here! Bane slid the giant light beneath the tarp of the truck as Ivy jumped into the passenger seat, and the titan moved quickly, climbing into the driver's chair just as the first cop cars rounded the corner behind, from the west. Ivy had already ignited the engine before Bane climbed inside, and he pressed his foot upon the accelerator at once, speeding off just as the cop cars behind closed in on the headquarters fence. Gunshots sounded in the air. She had given the thugs a final order: she had ordered them individually. The moment that they were intercepted with police vehicles, as she had expected them to be, selected individuals were to shoot themselves in the head at once. The remaining survivors that she had chosen were to fight the police, but due to eleven of them mindlessly pulling the triggers against themselves, having believed that they could have her sexually upon obeying the command afterwards, they became far outnumbered, and the bloodbath was only a temporary incident, giving Ivy and Bane ample time to drive away.
The thugs had played their parts well, as had Stephens, and now they had secured the Batsignal. Mother Nature had played well in their favor.
Ivy sat back in comfort, allowing the freezing cold of the air conditioning unit to blast upon her face. She ripped the wig from her head at once, and promptly tossed it out of the window to her door that she opened. Finally, Pamela Isley was fully dead. She would no longer have to hide beneath the corpse's look. She was free to be as she needed to be: Poison, redheaded and perfect. Her Ascension had completed now. Now that Isley had been left in the dust. Soon, Robin, the young idolizer to her charms, would come to find her. He would die, and shortly afterward, the Dark Knight would join him. In less than twelve hours, Gotham City would be dead… and Eden could truly take wing.
There would be no one to stop her. No one at all.
Eden, my love… Poison is coming for you.