The cell door alarm buzzed as it was unlocked, waking Poison Ivy from her troubled sleep.
"Come on, you knew not to get cozy. Up and at 'em."
She was too bleary to even try flipping off the custodians moving in to escort her out. It was only the day before that she had been informed they had dropped her threat class, and thus would be moved out of the constant watch hall.
It had been several months since the incident with Dr Quinzel, and weeks since she had heard from her at all. What had gradually become a somewhat tolerable escape from the sheer monotony of her life had been taken away so cruelly. The only other visitor in that time had been Bruce Wayne on one occasion, and she made very clear that he was never to come back.
Now, she was being manhandled against her will yet again. It was plain that they had woken her far too early to keep her out of the mood to struggle as they hauled her through the darkened hall. Almost stumbling her footing from lack of coordination.
When she eventually reached the new cell, she was practically thrown in the door so it could be shut hastily. The cell itself was closed off, double layers of reinforced glass making up an otherwise inaccessible window for light. The door was solid metal, padded on the inside, with an antiquated food tray flap and sliding peephole.
The rough handling woke her up more anyway, making the prospect of getting back to sleep on one of the two provided beds that much more dubious. It hadn't quite registered to her that the presence of two beds meant she was inevitably going to be left with a cellmate.
As if being locked away in Arkham Asylum wasn't torturous enough. They had to make it feel like her college days.
For the time being, she resigned herself to the bed on the left. Crashing back down against the uncomfortably thin mattress. Trapped in that point of being physically exhausted, but unable to slip into unconsciousness.
All she could do was weakly stare around the walls of her new room. The painful excess of aquamarine green. Somehow more bleak than the cold grey and glass of the high risk wing.
The window was more of a taunt than a comfort. A reminder that the outside world did in fact continue to exist. That she was powerless to stop the assault on nature continuing on in her absence. No-one left to fight for the trees and plants. No-one even able to speak on their behalf like she would.
Until Dr Quinzel returned, she was well and truly isolated. Her vision of being the last human on Earth, tending to a planetwide guardian, was very different from that. The comfort of knowing she would never be bothered, that she could be at peace. To be locked away instead, forced out by the rest, that cut deep to her soul.
The enclosed cell was a double edged changed. It felt even more confining, having four solid walls surrounding her. But, it was also a lot more private. No longer promoting the feeling that she was a creature on display for any who passed by to view.
She spent what felt like hours in that dazed state, slipping back into sleep somewhere along the way. Occasionally woken by another buzz, or a patient starting a commotion, but eventually she found the capability to sleep through all the noise once more.
By the time she woke again, daylight had faded. At first she assumed it was well into night, but the eventual sound of rain pattering against the window threw that guess altogether. A further taunt she had to endure, not being able to feel rainfall on her skin.
Another buzz interrupted the moment, perhaps for the best. Her frustration continued when she realized it was her own door being opened. Possibly a roll call for dinner, now that she'd be expected to eat communally. If she behaved.
She sat up just as the door was pulled open. To her minor relief, and simultaneous annoyance, it was to allow another patient into the cell instead. Having the cell to herself now felt like a distant wish she should have been more grateful over while it lasted.
The patient in question puzzled her. The orange jumpsuit was standard enough. But it was the bizarre red-black headpiece that caught her attention first off. That she had been allowed to keep it at all felt like a far departure from having her head forcefully shaven. Even then, it was only just barely reaching neck length again.
More than that, the domino mask and apparent heavy make-up in stark white across the face seemed entirely excessive. How, why she had been allowed to keep any of it while incarcerated was so confusing that it took Ivy's mind off the frustration altogether.
All the while, she felt a nagging sensation of familiarity with her new cellmate.
She waited a little longer before saying anything, particularly for the door to be closed. It gave her a bit more time to look over the other woman, strange as she was.
"So, what's your deal? Circus runaway? Stage performance gone wrong?"
"Eh, I busted some heads for Mr J. Guess I should'a known I'd wind up back here before long."
The voice confirmed Ivy's growing suspicions. Her accent was far stronger, but there was no mistaking the facial features that were practically burned into memory by then.
"Quinzel?"
"Matchstick."
Ivy sank back against the wall, arms slowly folding up. She didn't know what she was feeling at that moment. There were a lot of feelings.
Irony of all ironies, the one person who used to be able to explain what she was feeling was now the one causing them.
In delirium from exhaustion, on top of everything else being upended, Ivy started to laugh.
"This is a joke… This is one hell of a fucking joke, Quinzel."
"Eh, for the record, I go by Harley Quinn these-"
"Oh fuck you, Quinn."
Ivy stood up and marched over to the door, slamming her fist against the thin padding. "You hear me!? This isn't gonna work! I know what you're all doing! This is all some sick prank! Take my fucking mental doctor and make her my roommate! You're all the ones who are sick in the head!"
"No-one's out there, Matchstick."
With a furious scream, Ivy span away from the door, Harley becoming her new target of aggression. "Call me Matchstick. Call me that one more time, I swear!"
"What else am I gonna call ya? Sayin' Poison Oakey every time's gonna get old, ya know?"
It was an obvious bait to rile her up more. As much as Ivy wanted to take it whole and vent her frustration on Harley, she pulled back with a growl and returned to her bed in a huddle. Her fuming glare across the room was the most she could do without playing into more of the former psychiatrist's tricks to open up her emotions.
"Gonna have to think'a somethin'. We're gonna be here at least a few hours." Harley tilted her head with a pout. In the dim light, there was an odd brightness, almost sparkle to the green eyes looking ready to slice through her. A beauty in the intended menace.
Ivy didn't move from her hunched position. All she could do was stare at the latest person to betray what little trust she had to begin with. The promises of being able to walk out of the asylum a legally sane woman one day, gone. The promises of being able to interact with other people without envisioning vicious deaths and other horrors, the ability to sleep at night without going into hysteria over the constant threat to the many forests of the world.
It was all swept away by Harley's own altered state. Her own selfish decisions. She had withdrawn her offer of real help to pursue a man that Ivy despised from their few interactions already.
Worse than being stuck with a cellmate, she was being tormented with one that would constantly remind her that she'd never be allowed to leave. Ever.
"Greenie? Plantie? Eh, then again you're bein' a real sook of it, nothin' cheerful's gonna work for you, right?"
"How about you actually call me Poison Ivy, you fucking twerp."
"Hey, how 'bout some mutual consideration first? You twerp!"
"Clown! Pomf!"
"Misery guts!"
Ivy sank deeper into the huddle again, nails digging into her knees and shins through the jumpsuit. No-one had come by to tell them to shut up. They really were being left alone in each other's company. She hated that even more.
"Come on, Poison Ivy. Gimme somethin' to work with. Mr J says the best way to make a friend is to make 'em laugh. I say the best way is to figure out a cute nickname."
"We're not friends. We're not going to be friends. I wanted out of this shithole, and now I'm stuck here because of you. You are literally the worst person in my life right now, Quinzel."
"Yeah yeah, that's what all patients say to their therapists at some point or another. The bad ones anyway."
"And what does that make you, hm? Oh right, you're wearing a jester hat, a dumb mask, and you're caked in white make-up. You're not just a bad therapist, you're a freak!"
"Then we got somethin' else in common after all, hm? We're both freaks, we're both women, we both have chemicals and crap runnin' through our bloodstreams-"
"I'm not caked in make-up. We're nothing alike."
"Well, ya right and ya wrong." Harley started reaching for the collar of her jumpsuit. "As I was gonna say, since you keep bringin' it up…" And began pulling down the zip. "This ain't make-up, sweetheart."
Mild curiousity about what Harley was doing brought Ivy out of her huddle. When she caught on, she very nearly went back into it.
"Oh god, please tell me you're not actually-" When the zip went past the collarbone, she twisted her head away, then her whole body. "Okay okay okay! Fine! It's not clown make-up! Jesus shit, don't need to do a whole strip tease to prove it, Quinn!"
"I wasn't gonna." Harley left the corner folded down, leaving most of her bleached white neck exposed to prove the point regardless. "Oh yeah. We didn't exactly get around to fixin' the whole childhood homophobia for you, huh?"
"And whose fault is that?"
"Well, at least you ain't swearing and calling me awful things no more."
Ivy rolled her eyes again, then took a chance on starting to twist back around. The whole experience had thrown her off brooding angrily for a few moments, and left her feeling that much more uncomfortable about the prospect of the shared arrangements.
"Touch me, and I will find a way to break your arms."
"Hey, it's ok. I'm a one-man woman these days. No wanderin' hands here to be worried about. Promise." Her attempt to put on a bright smile made Ivy retch.
When the revulsion passed, Ivy took a breath and sat up properly. Staring back at Harley once more. "Fine, while we're laying down ground rules, let's start with no fake therapy sessions. I already hold this whole establishment in contempt. I'm not going to be treated by some hack who's had her degree revoked for getting checked into the same asylum she used to work at. Especially one who starts stripping out of nowhere!"
"My ground rule is that you try to be nice to me, then. When I heard they were gonna stick you with a cellmate, I begged to be the one they picked, 'cause I know you'd go berserk if it were any of the others. 'Specially Livewire."
"Oh yeah, I'm totally not feeling the urge to go berserk having been stuck with you for the past hour or however long it's been. That was such a wonderfully caring and considerate decision you forced on me without even thinking to ask, Quinn."
Harley's smile faded after that. Contempt was creeping back in.
"You're really gonna stick to being a miserable sack'a shit huh?"
"Gee, I wonder why that is when I've got someone yapping in my face as if that's all I need to start feeling good about life again. By the only person on this entire planet who'd actually have a remote chance of knowing what does and doesn't work for me no less! Who walked out on me when I needed help!"
There was a glint to Ivy's eyes after that, her breathing silent, but heavy. When the rush of anger wore off, she immediately went back to her huddle. That time, burying her face and eyes below her arms.
Harley leaned back with a sigh, folding her own arms. "There I was, thinking all those barbs and insults durin' every one of your sessions meant you didn't want to get better. For what it's worth, Ivy, it was nothin' personal to you. You just wouldn't understand what Mr J means to me."
After a bit more thought, she zipped her jumpsuit back up, then moved to sit beside Ivy instead. "Look, I'm gonna square with you. I like you. You ain't like a lot of the other loons I tried to treat here. I figured if I was gonna be stuck in here for embracin' who I am instead of what I've been pretendin' to be, there'd at least be one gal I actually thought wasn't all that bad. Since, y'know, they obviously ain't gonna let me bunk with Mr J. Or any of the guys. 'Cause this place still runs on sexist-slash-outdated assumption's about female sexuality and all that, as you'd put it."
There was no response from Ivy.
"Truth be told, I figured we'd even get to come up with some escape plans together. Obviously gettin' Mr J out is my number one priority, but if I could get you out too, I'd really try. Then, you started callin' me names, and was just kinda all around insultin' and unpleasant. Toxic, even."
She snickered at that, completely oblivious to what Ivy was doing by then.
"Toxicodendron Radicans. That's Latin for 'poison ivy', right? Maybe that's where your nickname comes from. Toxi, Dendy? Rad?"
At that moment, she looked right at Ivy again, glancing over the mess of red hair above the orange.
"Red?"
Another buzz came from the cell door alarm. And then from the one opposite in the hall outside. Then the four on either side of those two. In succession, more and more alarms buzzed out the warning that their respective doors had been unlocked.
Harley immediately stood back up, ripping some of the fabric from her own bed that she quickly twisted around into a tight rope.
"Guess it's goin' down early after all."
Ivy had come back out of her huddle by then, concerned about the alarms, and now worried about the fact that Harley seemed to have been expecting it.
"What?"
"I might'a been fudgin' the truth when I said I'd be in here long enough to come up with some escape plans. But you were bein' so cranky and mean, I didn't know how you'd act if I told you what's actually happenin'."
The buzz of the alarms was soon replaced by the clamour of banging metal and shouting voices. It was the prelude to a full blown riot, and by Harley's own words, an escape attempt.
Once done with the fabric, Harley wrapped it around a hand each and pulled it tight. "Look, Red, I don't blame you for bein' upset with me. But if you really want outta here, you gotta do what I say. And more importantly, you don't talk back to Mr J. This is his break. You upset him, or mess up his plan, he'll kill you on the spot."
It all happened so quickly from Ivy's perspective. Harley's complete tonal shift especially left her drawing a blank. The sickeningly bubbly personality was giving way to something far darker with every moment. Particularly the improvised garotte.
She had moped about plenty, especially about how much she simply wanted to go outside. But the brewing storm at night felt so very ominous. Ripe for an appearance of the Batman. And he was actually the least frightening thing she could think of when trapped in a riot, or racing off into the pouring dark rain alongside the criminally insane.
Making that run with her former therapist was one thing. Knowing she'd have to stay in the company of the Joker as well tugged at the theological strings of her mind. What few there were to begin with anyway.
"Harley, there's so many things that could go wrong. Starting with him not even wanting me in this escape-"
"Yeah, I know!" Harley approached the door, tightening the cloth again while reaching up to slide the peephole open. "But your other option is stayin' here, and hopin' no-one comes through this door. Mr J promised he'd look after me, so, I'm making you my plus one on the ticket outta here. Up to you Red."
It wasn't how Ivy envisioned her eventual release from the asylum. But, a quiet way out was always going to be a remote possibility anyway. It was probably the only time she'd have someone genuinely watching out for her in a violent escape.
"If this gets us killed, I'm haunting you from the Green."
"That your plant-based afterlife or somethin'?"
Ivy tore more fabric from Harley's bed, that time to wrap around her knuckles for some protection if it came down to punching people. "Not in the way you're thinking. Afterlifes of any kind don't exist, Harls."
She winced right after that, frowning more at Harley's clear glee. "Oh yes, yuck it up, Harleen."
"Hey, Red's already been catching on." Harley motioned for Ivy to take position on the opposite side of the door, reaching up to the peephole's gap in the padding. "Anyone's out there, you lure 'em in." She tugged the garotte to demonstrate her part of the plan. "Alright?"
"Yeah." Ivy took a few more fabric strips from the bed, stuffed into the collar of her jumpsuit, before taking position. "Just my luck and it'll be Zsasz on the other side…"
She put her fists up level with her neck at first, then with her head at a silent gesture from Harley. Her laziness on learning hand-to-hand was coming back in a karmic manner.
When the door was pulled open at last, she tried not to close her eyes in anticipation of being jumped immediately.
After a few seconds of squinting, she came to realize the hall was empty.
"Okay, either everyone's moved on, or they haven't tried leaving yet. Which is worse?"
"Don't you mean 'which is better'? I know for sure we covered positive thinking, Red."
Ivy rolled her eyes instead of going for another verbal quip. Staying quiet was what the situation demanded from that point. Avoiding attention from both the employees and the inmates was far more important than winning the spat at that point.
The first few seconds in the hallway felt the worst. Constantly looking over every single door, worried that one would burst open to someone they couldn't take down together.
She nearly jumped when Harley touched her shoulder on exiting the cell. The exchange of mean-spirited glares, and subsequent poking, took her focus off watching the hallways for any movement.
"Don't do that Harls!"
"You've moved exactly one foot out of the cell, Red! It's not exactly sneaking up on you!"
"Anything is sneaking up on me when I'm trying to watch for literal serial killers!"
Their aggressive whispering stopped at what sounded like a door being slammed, somewhere further down towards the cafeteria.
When it happened again, and a third time, they both had the dark realization it was gunshots. Paced out like executions.
"That'll be Mr J, I think."
"Or maybe the guards have had enough, Harls."
Both stood there in silence. The uncertainty on top of all the tension and stress was pushing nerves well past tolerance. Going back into the cell would definitely keep them both alive, but if it was the Joker in control, they would be giving up their only chance at escape.
"You worked here, Harley. I didn't even think they had guns on site, what do you know?"
"They installed a locker with maybe half a dozen shotguns when they moved Waylon Jones here. Made all the staff go through training on how to use 'em, what to do if he ever broke out. Which I kinda skipped out on..."
"Harley-"
"I know, I know." Harley looked down both ends of the hallway. The security office was in the opposite direction, and if there were guns present at the cafeteria, they had likely all been taken anyway. "I think we should take the chance. If it's the guards, we just surrender, and if there aren't many left we can probably take 'em by surprise."
"And if we run into Killer Croc, or one of the other supervillains that has it out for us?"
"I pray, you complain about praying doin' nothin?"
The lights began flickering, then surging brighter, a few even blowing out before the rest returned to normalcy. Another of Livewire's tantrums, or possibly her last stand depending on how things were playing out. It caused all the locks to reset, sealing off anyone that hadn't already ventured out.
Ivy approached one of the points of debris, carefully looking across the shards until she spotted a suitably large piece. She drew one of the cloth strips from her collar to wrap around one end for a makeshift shiv.
"Fine, cafeteria it is. Maybe don't go in there looking ready to strangle someone."
Harley loosened one end of the garotte, following behind Ivy as she reached the glass shiv behind her back.
The entire way, both were eyeing the doors. Some had been left open, allowing various kinds of smells to enter the hall. Others had been thrown shut, based on the dents left on the locking bars that had slid back into position. Those that hadn't been opened at all no longer posed a threat, aside from the intimidation factor they all posed by default.
Another two gunshots rang out as they drew closer to the cafeteria doors, spaced apart like the first few had been. There was virtually no commotion to be heard otherwise. It definitely wasn't an active fight going on in there, whomever had the weapons.
"Make or break, Harls. I've known Joker for longer than you have. I really hope you're right about swaying him."
"He'd never cross me, Red. Trust me."
For Ivy, trust was a dubious prospect, even then. She worked up the nerve to put that trust in Harley and take the plunge, pushing the left door open with her free hand.
The cafeteria looked straight out of a slasher film. A gothic hall plastered in toothpaste green paint and tiles had in turn been coated in blood splatters. So many of the asylum staff were dead, guards and custodians alike. In one corner, the resident psychiatrists and some of the cleaning stuff were tied up, watched over by two inmates in rought clown makeup.
In the middle, the rest of the inmates that had escaped the bloodbath were sitting around, laughing at the Joker atop his throne of plastic chairs and tables as he gave a sketch to the masses.
"...because the daft thing didn't know how to use a wrench!"
There was a lot of blood on his hands and jumpsuit. As the pair drew closer, viscera on the shotgun slouched across his lap became evident too.
"Oh boys, look who it is! My favourite little Quinntesence!"
Harley was bounding over towards him with a squeak, slipping right back into her persona with a fluid display of acrobatics. Within seconds, she was atop the makeshift throne, casually kicking the shotgun away to take its place.
What followed made Ivy look away in disgust, her grip tightening on the glass. Wrapping it in cloth first had proven to be a very sound idea.
"And she's even brought a friend! Good ol' Poison Ivy. Deadly to the touch, even by women's standards!"
The grip tightened, Ivy gritting her teeth. It was the same Joker she remembered from her low-threat days, through and through.
"Looks like she's brought a gift along, too! Or perhaps a weapon! Why don't you share with the class, mm?"
There were at least three guns in play, and far too many inmates for her to fight alone. As much as she hated the notion now that it was playing out, she went along with the Joker's 'games'. The only thing more sickening about the whole display was how ignorant Harley looked to be about the casual barbs, grinning it up without a care in the world.
When the glass shiv came out, she winced at the laughter it earned in response.
"Glass! Ooh, now that's a juicy throwback for you, Ives, isn't it? Jolly ol' Woody boy taking one in the chest!" The Joker thumped his fist against his heart, mimicking a stab. "And uh, what's her face, that Harper woman? Thwick!" While making the slicing sound, he flicked two fingers across his throat in demonstration. "Good to see old habits die hard, am I right?"
Ivy folded her arms, keeping the glass ready. The lack of open support from Harley was exactly what she expected would happen, as much as she wished otherwise. All she'd have was someone to whisper in the Joker's ear if he let things go too far.
"It's clean, if you haven't noticed. Anyone comes near me, I'll go right back to those 'old habits' and change that."
The cackle from on high was chilling, the Joker swaying his throne as he slapped his knees in delight.
"There's the Poison Ivy I remember! None of that screaming lunatic nonsense! Sharper than those little bolts you like to sling around! I just love the unapologetic hatred for humanity! No sympathy! No remorse! Just cold murder in good fun!"
"Harley told me this was part of a break out attempt." Ivy gave a sarcastic look to either side. "I still see four walls, a ceiling and an intact floor."
"Oh, patience patience, Ives! Any minute now, the loons and crazies of Arkham will be pouring out into the delightfully rainy Gotham night! Until then, we're all enjoying each other's company."
The entire building shook a little, a rumble that came from the ground rather than any nearby lightning strike.
It brought the Joker to attention, scooping Harley off to stand atop the makeshift throne. "That's our cue, boys! Remember, it's every man for himself out there! And if the Bat shows up, I want him on my doorstep alive! At your earliest possible convenience."
The rest of the inmates began arranging the rest of the tables into a makeshift barrier against the outer-facing wall. Those guarding the staff simply moved further away, leaving them completely exposed to whatever would be breaching.
Ivy made a fierce glare in Harley's direction to remind her of the pact before moving to find cover for herself. Well away from any of the others, and especially the ones with the guns.
In the distance, the sound of a deep horn blared out, growing louder by the second. Before long, it overwhelmed the ruckus sound of the others crowding behind the throne.
The outer wall erupted inward to the impact of a truck. Dust and debris flew everywhere in the first several seconds. Shards of plaster and brick struck the barricades and the unprotected staff. After a few seconds, the hall was filled with the engine's roar as the driver reversed out of the compromised wall.
Rain began hammering down at the breach, ominous shards illuminated by the surviving headlights.
The Joker was the first back on his feet, cackling at the sight of freedom.
"Way's open, boys! Have fun swimming to Blüdhaven or the downtown! Harley and I are off to the races!"
Ivy gripped the edge of her cover tightly, a dark look crossing her face. She emerged back into the dust-filled open, locking eyes on Harley. Doing everything she possibly could to make sure she acknowledged the pact, and upheld it.
When Harley did finally take notice, she winced mildly from the glare, then looked up to the Joker as he started leading the way out.
"Uh, Mr J? We got room for one more in the truck, right?"
The commotion around the breach grew louder. More of the asylum's population were scrambling to freedom. Some going for the cars and motorbikes, others heading on towards the bashed-down gates.
The Joker continued on towards the waiting truck without a pause in his step, leaving Harley to trail behind. Ivy remained at the threshold of the asylum's demolished wall.
"Harley Harley Harley, as much as I admire your ability to put an awkward question so delicately..." He climbed up to throw the driver's door open, after the driver himself had already moved into the back cabin. After motioning for Harley to get in, he slung the shotgun back up over his shoulder, glaring right at Ivy. "In this case, three's company."
After pulling the door shut, shoving Harley aside, he put his head out the window to address Ivy directly.
"Unless of course, y'know, the ol' hitchhiker's favour is on the table?"
Ivy tightened her grip on the glass once more. That time, feeling ready to try throwing it. It was far more likely to just bounce off the windscreen or another part of the truck, but even a glancing blow to the Joker's punchable face would give her some satisfaction in the face of Harley's spineless behaviour.
"Chew on a bullet."
"Don't say I didn't try! Toodles, Weed Queen!"
The truck began to pull away, giving Ivy one brief look at Harley and her garish headpiece behind the blinding lights. Her grip tightened further. Then the muscles in her arms tensed.
The shard of glass smacked against the passenger window, shattering on the ground where it landed.
Combined with her tears being lost in the rain, her sarcastic side would have had a field day with the overbearing metaphors if she wasn't already overwhelmed by the gutted feeling.
All of the other escapees had already climbed the outer walls or fled through the gates by then. Sounds of the injured still inside were starting to pick up. Above, thunder was rolling on.
In the distance, the fireball that had consumed one of the major bridges was blazing into the night. In all likelihood, the source of the rumble prior to the breach, and why there still weren't any police cars charging up on the asylum.
Observations and speculations circling around her mind as it completely emptied of thought and feeling. Raw facts and simple thoughts to occupy the vacuum that had been left in the hope given to her by Harley Quinn, and snatched away by her complete cowardice.
Her one chance at getting better had not only been snatched away, she had been made to look at that same person be reduced to a spineless lackey. Under the leash of a perverted, sociopathic murderer.
In the end, all she could do was scream. Scream until her throat felt fiery against the harsh rain, eyes stinging, ears throbbing with the rush of blood to the head.
She hadn't screamed like that since her first day of being bombarded by the call of the Green. Screaming at the Parliament of Trees that remained silent to her pleas for freedom, for an escape from her newly resurrected tormentor. Even screaming at his face on everyone but the Batman had never reached that level of complete anguish.
Step by step she stumbled towards the gates. As much as throwing herself on the asphalt would sate the twisted need for pain in that moment, the soaked grass called to her a lot stronger. Her one chance to come into contact with nature again, before she was inevitably dragged back to the prison of concrete and glass.
Her skin had turned cold by the time she felt mud splash around her ankles, instead of the endless water pouring down around her. So much of her body was numb when she dropped to her knees, then rolled onto her side, matted red spreading through the brown and green of the trampled grass.
One ear buried in the mud, the other battered by unrelenting rain. Both finally able to catch a fleeting hint of the Green's melody. The call to war, to be nature's vengeance on the world. The song that Woodrue had weaved into her blood when drowning her in the muck that started it all.
Little by little, her eyes closed. Sinking further into the call, letting it guide her broken psyche once again.
A space devoid of everything but the grass below, and the perpetual glow of faint green light. One of many interpretations of the plane that the Green existed in, applicable to the mortal gaze. It was the view that Pamela Isley had seen on the day she became Poison Ivy. It was the view she had on her return.
This is where we began. This is how our purpose came into being. This is what we are.
Ivy strode across the endless grass for some time. The orange jumpsuit of the real world was discarded, taking her back to the befitting green outfit she had chosen for herself when taking that new identity. It was as close to being who she truly was, with what she could achieve at the time.
Born of bitterness. Of revenge. Of anger. A lack of empathy, a lack of caring, a lack of hope.
Her wandering came to an end when she reached a tree stump. Unlike so many others in the real world, it was a natural death to the equivalent tree. Moss lined the long-since rotted rim of the fallen giant. Brought down in a storm when its time had come to rejoin the soil below.
When the Child of the Forest tasted freedom from the shackles of the the Pretender to the Throne. When she looked upon a world ignorant to its own self-destruction, and deemed it beyond redemption.
After some thought, she climbed up over the rim of the stump, the jagged edges long since softened by age, to curl up within its circumference. Tracing her fingers along the many rings below, visible only to her in the Green, where the layers of rot and decay could not hide them away.
When Mother Greatest chose to become a Destroyer. A Deathbringer. When she chose to devise a means of exacting doom on those who rejected her. Her creation, her weapon, her final judgement on humanity.
Her tracing eventually drew her to the very centre ring, around which she had encircled herself. The tree's first layer as a sapling, hidden away for over a century. From there, her hand drew up closer, lightly brushing along her lower stomach, a faint sigh following after.
And so we came to be. A fragment nestled inside Poison Ivy's psyche. Born of thought and mind, of will and intent. But not yet given physical form. Imbued with purpose, without means to fulfil it. Aware, but not yet alive.
When Ivy woke up, it took her several seconds to regain feeling at all. Virtually all the tangible warmth had been sapped from her body by the rain. She felt limp, unable to move. And yet she was alive, conscious, and intact.
It wasn't until she tried moving her head that she noticed an alteration to her form. Resting on the back of her hand were small tendrils of green, leading out from a vine that went under the sleeve of her jumpsuit, along her arm. As more sensation returned, she could feel similar vines layered to her neck, back and other limbs. A mesh of plantlife entwining her.
For the first time, her pleading to the Green had actually been answered in a tangible way. However long the gift lasted, it was clearly intended as a second chance. Not just at living for the cause, but for her immediate escape.
It wasn't its function as a living exo-skeleton equivalent that gave her the true advantage in the coming hours, as much as she did need that anyway to sustain her hypothermic body. Parts of herself, aspects that required tools to access, she knew she could conjure freely. Something she had desperately wanted for so long, but had never been granted the opportunity to attain, until that night.
She lifted herself from the mud a little, watching a new set of headlights come up the road. Whomever was behind the wheel, police officer, reporter, or unknowing staff member, it didn't matter.
All she had to do was play the part of the helpless victim. Making herself visible, watching those lights come to an abrupt halt, and finally the sound of the driver door being opened.
The voice calling out was barely audible against the hammering rain. It didn't matter to Ivy. As soon as she saw the figure move closer, silhouetted against the headlights, she lifted her hand towards them. Supposedly reaching out for help.
A sensation rushed through that arm, the plant bonded to her body surging forth. Taking chemicals from her blood, moving them towards a flower that began blooming on the palm of her hand.
Once the stranger was close enough, the flower sprayed a potent burst of Ivy's pheromones. Most of the cloud was drawn away by the wind and rain. Enough found its mark, working right into the brain. Drawing the woman into a state of blissful obedience.
The flower retreated back into the vine, allowing Ivy to grab onto the woman's outstretched hand freely. Pulling herself up from the mud until she was able to stand, coming to a direct eye line with her.
She stared at her stunned expression, locked that way as the pheromones took hold. There was something vaguely familiar about her face, but nothing Ivy could pin down. At that point it didn't matter, when she lacked time to slow down and compose herself. She had to go into hiding first.
"If anyone asks, tell them this. You drove up, saw the breach, and turned back to go home. On the way, you saw someone in distress and got out to help, but they ran off. You didn't see where they went."
After a few seconds, the woman blinked, her confused face settling back into a more natural smile as she began guiding Ivy to the car.
Being completely soaked after the mud had washed off, Ivy went for hiding on the floor of the back seat. The trunk was far too claustrophobic, and laying on the seat would leave her too visible to anyone passing by at slow speeds. Such as when masses were trying to get around a freshly destroyed bridge.
It was uncomfortable physically, but once out of the rain, the warmth from the air conditioner made any awkward positioning worth enduring. With just a few items spread atop, she was practically invisible. A far safer escape into Gotham's dense hideaways than trying to make it on foot, or especially in a seat next to the Joker.
To the city outside, the next morning was just as dreary as the previous afternoon.
For Ivy, it was melancholy made manifest.
Months of entrapment had come to an end. She was free. Free to go outside, feel actual plantlife again, smell the admittedly bitter air that still felt better than Arkham's stale, recycled atmosphere.
But that was only true in a half sense. Batman had been absent throughout the escape, something he was bound to try and make up for in the coming days. And while Joker and Harley had become the big focus of attention thanks to her recent turn to villainy, she knew she was still high up on GCPD's target list. Being a walking bioweapon guaranteed that by default.
Her freedom consisted of curling up on the couch, watching the rain outside through a tiny crack in the curtains. Afraid to open them even a little more in case she was being watched.
The vines bonded to her body were already starting to weaken. Her gift was short-lived indeed, and without access to her old hideout, she would be defenceless again very soon. No wristbow, no laboratory, no weaponized plants. No costume.
Patience was what she needed in the days to come. Patience didn't come easy after feeling trapped for so long, and the path to freedom was finally within reach.
A groan from the bedroom drew her eyes away from watching the rain. She had instructed her impromptu roommate to go right to bed when they reached her apartment, and had taken the couch as her own resting place for the night.
The pheromones had almost certainly worn off in that time. Not knowing just how long they'd last, or if she'd be able to maintain control, she had held back on sustaining her enthrallment.
Ivy stood up calmly, reaching her hand out once again as she began approaching the other woman, letting the flower bloom back out in preparation.
Upon regaining some of her senses, the other woman leaned back in apprehension, inhaling sharply.
"Pamela wait! Please, wait!"
The use of her former name made Ivy freeze up, almost clenching down on the flower in reflex. Again she locked eyes with the other woman, feeling the sensation of recognition all over again. In better lighting, without rain pouring down over them both, it clicked over at last.
"Bella? Bella Garten?"
Bella lowered her guard just a little. "So you do remember. Last night sure was a nice way to greet an old friend come to check on you."
Ivy pulled her hand back a bit, but kept the flower ready regardless. "Sure, within an hour of the Joker busting half the asylum population out. Just a freak coincidence, right?"
"Yeah, actually. I tried calling ahead, believe it or not, but they said your personal therapist hadn't been showing up to work. I thought I'd come and look into getting you someplace better, without slackers."
It sounded contrived, and after the night she had been through, trusting in help from others was the last thing on Ivy's mind. Putting Bella back under the control of the pheromones felt like the correct move. But it would also deprive her of the only person around she could tolerate talking to in her current mindset.
The conflict flared away in her mind behind gritted teeth, until she dropped her hand altogether and withdrew the flower.
"Turn the TV on. I can probably show you just what happened to my 'personal therapist'. That backstabbing bitch."
Bella raised an eyebrow, then moved past Ivy once she was out of the way. Her enthrallment hadn't prevented her from changing prior to going to bed. Waking up with a dizzying headache however meant that she hadn't bothered to change out of her pink silk bedrobe.
"Therapy hasn't cleaned up your language, Isley."
"Ivy. Poison Ivy. No variants, no nicknames. Pamela is dead, keep it that way."
After a roll of her eyes, Bella brought the TV to life as asked. She remained standing for the moment, watching the footage play out.
"-as of yet, the Gotham City PD have yet to apprehend the apparent masterminds of the breakout; the Joker, and once-praised former psychiatrist Harleen Quinzel."
"And you say I had extremely convenient timing, Ivy."
"It's all over the news, every five minutes." Ivy circled around the other side of the couch, eventually flopping down into it. That earned another glare from Belle, which she knowingly ignored, nodding to the displayed photo of Harley instead. "That's her. The 'slacker' that dropped everything to start fucking a killer clown."
"Eesh, sorry hun. As far as ways to get dumped go, that's probably up there."
Belle settled onto the other side of the couch, looking over at Ivy again. "So, you went through a bunch of my towels drying out the garish mess that screams 'I'm a prisoner, report me to the cops!' instead of just grabbing some actual clothes?"
Ivy shrank away a little, shooting another brief glare back before looking to the TV again. Her energy had been burned out by the night before, leaving her with little motivation to argue again.
"I don't have the audacity required to wear pink suits."
"You think that's all I have back there?"
"I didn't look."
"-in the wake of this latest night of terrors, and the apparent rise of new vigilantes such as the Crossbow Killer, one question is on everyone's mind; where is the Batman?"
The assertion made Ivy wince, given how true it was. She was even more out of the loop than the rest of the city. Even the Joker and Harley had to have known more based on the timing of their escape. Whatever was going on with the Batman that kept him away from such a widespread attack, it had to be heavy.
Noting as much, Bella muted the TV for a bit more focus. "Maybe I'm missing something, Ivy, but I recall you being one to peek in our dorm. And now you're completely hands off, while also having used mind control spores on the first person you saw. I don't get it."
"Pheromones, I'm not a mushroom. And you don't know me at all, Bella." Ivy shook her head in disbelief. "God, why is this even a problem? Shouldn't you be grateful that I didn't rifle through all your clothes, or I don't know, that I'm not an awful shitty person that actually roofies people?"
Bella leaned her head against a fist, shifting to sit side on and look at Ivy directly. "I wasn't going to waste time on platitudes you wouldn't care about anyway. I would've helped you get away from the cops and let you stay the night if you'd asked. But what's the point in being angry about a mental patient not having much in the way of trust? That's how I see it."
She reached up to her eyes with her other hand, pinching along her nose while breathing out calmly. "I'm not upset that you didn't take advantage. I'm concerned why you went so hard the other way. You have nothing to prove to anyone." Her hand lowered when the rest came to her. "Except yourself. What happened to you, Ivy?"
By that point, Ivy had tuned out her surroundings again. She wasn't staring at the TV either, but rather beyond it, watching some of the visible rooftops and edges from that slim view of the outside world. Looking for the one person always out to stop her, while claiming to help.
Trying to escape the waking nightmare creeping into her thoughts. Joker's taunting laughter, describing her actions on that horrific day, when her old life came to an end.
Her fingers clenching around a broken test tube, plunging it against Woodrue's chest again and again. Being grabbed from behind, turning, slashing Olivia's throat. All while the green poison spread through her body. Eating away what made her Pamela Isley, to be replaced by a monster.
And Harley had done the same thing. Willingly. For someone far worse.
She felt a hand touch her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw navy blue painted nails, a black pinstripe suit. Burned into her mind from the way Olivia would touch her on visits to the lab.
Her trance broke violently, her hand lashing around to grasp Bella's wrist while she twisted around, trembling right after from the rush.
It was a harsh wake-up call to Bella's own laid-back attitude. When the tension passed, and Ivy let go of her hand, she kept her distance properly that time.
"Not the first time I've seen a reflex like that. Shame on me I guess." She rubbed at the marks left on her wrist for a few moments, then turned away a little to give Ivy more space. "You can stay here until you're back on your feet, Ivy. But so long as you're living here, I don't want you doing anything that'll bring the cops sniffing, or gets me fired. Okay?"
Ivy kept her silence, responding with a small nod.
"For the record, I actually support what you're trying to accomplish, Ivy. I just can't be involved right now. If you want to go back out and start attacking factories again, please do it when you've got somewhere else to live. It's that simple."
Bella got back up after that, taking a moment to recompose. "I only drink tea, so I hope that's what you're in the mood for. Unless you're strictly on water?"
The physical response was so lacking that Bella rolled her eyes and walked off instead.
Ivy's eyes began darting about shortly after, fixating on random points in front of her for a few seconds at a time. Trying to escape the mental loop she could feel herself slipping into at being forced to relieve that awful day.
The most she could do was drag herself forward to a mildly less terrible time. When the web of insanity placed over her by Woodrue had been broken by Harleen and Batman on their own fronts. What was supposed to be the end of her nightmarish existence. The start of a path to becoming someone less smitten with perpetual rage over nature's fate.
Harleen had abandoned her. But on the flipside, one other had only been giving her token support throughout. Not even bothering with a single visit to apologize for all the misery he had put her through.
She didn't even notice the tea being placed in front of her at first. It took the wafting scent to break her out of the manic staring. In the process, she almost forgot the question she now had to ask.
"Who sent you to check on me?"
"You're welcome for the tea, Ivy."
Ivy clenched her fists, turning her head towards Bella slowly. "Who sent you? No-one just randomly decides one day to go see their college roommate-turned-supervillain at an asylum, especially unannounced. And in the middle of a breakout, coincidence or not."
"Took you that long to think of how to justify a three word question, huh?" Bella sat down with her own tea, once again keeping distance between herself and Ivy, taking a long sip first. "You've probably guessed already; Bruce Wayne."
After the expected round of scoffs and other grumblings from Ivy was done, Bella continued on. "He called me a few days ago asking for help. Said he needed someone who knew you, but wasn't closely involved within the past few years, and a college roommate was his first idea. Apparently showing up in person himself would just upset you too much."
"I'm already upset."
"Yeah, and I am sorry for the shoulder thing. Point is, all I had to do was check on how things were going, and see if getting you a transfer would be worth it. And ask if you'd even want a transfer, face to face. But obviously things didn't go down that way, so if Bruce calls, I'm sticking to the story you cooked up last night. Might as well keep it consistent."
Ivy glared at her a little while longer before eyeing the tea. "Got this all wrapped up nicely, huh? Nothing bothers you. Answers for everything."
"And right now a cool head and a firm grip on the mess that is your life is exactly what you need, Ivy. Some might be grateful that a distant acquaintance they haven't spoken to in years is going to this much effort for them on a dime, hm?"
"More than a dime when Bruce is paying. A lot more."
"He can't pay for clothes and food if he doesn't know you're here." Bella took another long sip. "But if you want to keep being cynical, I'll just go and call him-"
"No." Ivy winced, putting the base of her palm into her eye. "Look, it's complicated, and messy, and nothing feels right. For two years, everyone I've been close to has used me. To make money, or other things..."
She took a long breath to try and calm down, lowering her hand afterwards. "I can't trust people right now. No matter what they say or do, it just doesn't click. I keep thinking about exactly when they'll stick the knife in, or just drive off without me, or whatever. I can't control that."
"And I'm no psych student, so I won't even pretend to know how to fix this for you." After taking a much longer sip, Bella set the cup down and made ready to get up. "You can't go on like this, Ivy. And I'm not going to let you freeload indefinitely. If you want to stay here, you don't cause more incidents, and you start giving real thought to checking into a better facility. Or at the very least seeing a therapist that isn't going to rat you out to the cops. Those are my ground rules."
"Always with the ground rules. Two roommates in as many days. And don't say 'it's college all over again', Ms Pink Suits and Smiles."
Bella stood up after that with a sarcastic smile and aversion of her eyes. "Just drink the tea before it goes cold. Or make your own in future. Showing just a little gratitude can't be that difficult, Ivy."
Once Bella had left in the direction of her bedroom, presumably to get dressed, Ivy twisted herself back around. The muted news had become visual noise in the meantime, and now that it was in focus again, seeing the drawl of world events and other politics seemed like a waste of her now abundant time.
It was all so meaningless. Tensions, trade agreements, mediocrity about people and families that did nothing but draw attention away rom the real issues. The ones with all the power in the world, and had absolutely no intention of using that power to save it.
At the edge of her hearing, she began to hear the call of the Green once more. The vines embedded to her skin gathering new life again.
When the next news subject came up, she reached for the remote to unmute it. Not to drown out the melody, but to follow what it was calling her attention towards.
"-inquest into the dealings of current Ace Chemicals CEO, Daniel Lager. Mr Lager was alleged to have wilfully violated several environmental regulations in regards to the disposal of waste product produced at his facility. Today he struck back at these allegations, referring them to as 'baseless and defamatory, a vile and sanctimonious attack on an already maligned industry'."
Every second, the melody grew louder. Igniting memories of Ivy's old hideaway at the botanical gardens. Where she kept her costumes and weaponry, when she still had a double life to lead.
"Rumours that the inquest will be dismissed are running abundant. As the integrity of several members, including the CEO of rival company LexCorp, Lex Luthor, has been called into question as part of Mr Lager's countersuit against the State of New Jersey. If the inquest is indeed brought to a premature end, it may be some time before these allegations are revisited. Many in the environmental activism community are declaring this, as quoted, 'a miscarriage of ecological responsibility'."
The melody reached its peak, strong in its drive, pushing all of Ivy's attention towards thinking about the botanical gardens.
A few minutes later, Bella returned in all but the jacket from a teal three piece suit. Before she could get a word out, her eyes landed on the empty couch where Ivy had been sitting not too long ago.
A cursory glance at the open apartment door, and the faint tremble of footsteps below filled in the rest.
"Shit. Couldn't even go a full morning..."
She went right for her phone, which has thankfully not been taken in Ivy's abrupt departure. While bringing up the first contact that came to mind, she glanced over at the TV to try and guess what had set her off.
When the call connected through, she winced sharply.
"Yes, it's me. We have a problem. It's Poison Ivy, she's in a much worse state than we thought..."
Well into the storm-ridden afternoon, it could have been night for all the city knew. Rainfall so perpetual that it went beyond washing away the grime and filth of a dismal city, looping back into uncovering the bleakness everything was built on, eating away the layers that did more good than harm for the city's image.
It didn't change the very atmosphere of the foundry district, especially not from Ivy's perspective. Nothing could dislodge the scars of reckless industry. The polluted soil that refused growth of even the hardiest weeds. The abundant red brick, caked in soot, hardened into rock by bleaching heat.
Everything she was thinking remained bottled up internally. Her enthralled driver, who had taken her to the botanical gardens for her equipment, and now to the gates of Ace Chemicals, was completely blank behind the eyes. Not that she really wanted to discuss it anyway.
The whole area sickened her deeply. She intended to be there and gone as quickly as possible. No time spent on gloating, or speeches. Her melody called for blood to be spilled, and she had plenty of bolts to issue in that pursuit.
Her one alteration from the original outfit were the pair of gardening boots instead of her softer fabric ones. The potentially toxic mud she had to trudge through when sneaking into the factory itself required putting rubber between herself and the ground, as uncomfortable as it made her feel. It was still preferable to potentially being exposed to herbicides and the like, something her toxin immunity wasn't guaranteed to hold up against.
Even while moving under the umbrella, she could taste the scent of smog on the mist that seeped through. One more bit of reinforcement to her mindset as she approached the building perimeter. And, with some simple lockpicking, breached inside.
Inside Ace Chemicals felt like a true antithesis to her being. An enclosed forest of metal. Pipes branching everywhere. Lakes of sludge and other fluids. A canopy of scaffolding, topped by moldy carpet.
Were she in a better equipped position, she would gladly tear the whole place down of her own volition. Piece by piece, until only desolate rubble stood around her. Like so many real forests of the world beyond.
In addition to the hammering rain, thunder kept her ascent through the metal maze from being overheard by the few workers maintaining the machinery. The only thing sparing them from a volley of bolts was her overriding desire to stay ahead of the law after carrying out her task. Killing too many people would simply elevate her perceived threat level before she had time to re-establish a new safe haven. Away from the cops, and possibly the reach of the Batman himself.
Guards were a different matter. In the upper levels of the building, where the maze of gangways and scaffolding turned to enclosed hallways and thin-wall office rooms, evasion ceased to be viable. The body count began once she caught each guard in a critical blind spot from the others. The only sound of their incapacitation being the suppressed twang of the crossbow, and the click of the next tranquilizer bolt being loaded.
The raw-tipped, lethal bolts she kept in reserve, ready to drawn on them by the time she reached the topmost office. A view overlooking a sizeable swath of Gotham's downtown roofline, at some long-past point anyway. Pollution had clouded all the glass, while leaving it a security weakness. With the heavy rain, all subtle sound was drowned out, disguising her approach completely.
It also necessitated raised voices, giving her the final assurance that her target was on the other side.
Whatever Daniel Lager was conversing about on the phone, she didn't care to learn more about. It would all be immaterial within the next minute.
Steeling herself, she readied her next bolt, lifted her wrist into firing position, then kicked the door in.
In the second it took Lager to spin his chair around, he went from the smug feeling of triumph over the courts to abject terror at the bolt being aimed at his head.
The rest occurred in a seeming blur. Ivy fired off her weapon, skewering Lager's hand to the side of the desk as he leapt for the floor in retreat. A small splatter of blood went across his back and the side of his face, his cry of agony muffling out the mechanical click of the killing bolt being loaded.
Before Ivy could let it loose, the glass windows shattered inward in a terrific crash of glass and rusted metal, letting the full fury of the storm blow in through the office space. The sound of sirens became audible, right on cue as a powerful spotlight illuminated the shape of the Batman.
"Pamela stop!"
She very nearly fired the bolt in that moment. A fleeting moment of anger at the name. At the moment being interrupted yet again. A twitch, a curl of her fingers was all that it took. Somehow, she hesitated.
"Why now?" Her arm trembled a little, rage billowing back up as she directed her eyes towards Batman. Almost wincing at those vacant white eyes glaring back at her. In contempt, in judgement. In fear of what she would do.
He approached with great caution, re-examining the scene before him now that events had been set in motion. Arriving too late to prevent the attack on the guards was already weighing heavily on him. Saving one life was all he could think about in the moment.
"Ivy please! Killing people won't achieve what you believe it will! You're only damaging your own cause! Enough have died in these past hours!"
In that time, shock had begun to set in for Lager, dulling his agonized moans while he looked to Batman in pleading, and Poison Ivy in fear.
Ivy tensed up from it all, holding her aim true. "You don't know anything about my cause! Humanity doesn't care! Peaceful protests across the decades have done nothing! All these people understand is blood and violence!"
"Taking lives won't save the planet, Ivy! You had the potential to be better than that! Better than what Woodrue tried to shape you into! But you're not being an environmental activist! You're becoming a serial killer!"
It was another sting to Ivy's mindset. Rather than making her relent, or even doubt her actions, she doubled down on them.
"I've done nothing to these eco-destroyers that the Huntress hasn't also done to the mob! Everyone calls her a vigilante, and you do nothing to stop her! I go after this forest-burning shitbag, and that makes me a serial killer? A villain?"
It brought on another frightened bout from Lager, which in turn worried Batman further. He could see Ivy's marginal sanity slipping away. What little kept her grounded, from falling into the complete delusion fed to her psyche. The blindness to the sheer damage she would cause with her reckless killing.
He had to act decisively. Find a way to ease the tension before her nerve broke, to create enough of an opening to disarm her altogether.
Confrontation wasn't working. As much as it could backfire, exposing himself seemed like the only way to end the stand-off safely.
"For what it's worth, Ivy, I am truly sorry! I also put my trust in Harleen Quinzel! Trust that she would help you overcome the damage Woodrue caused! Trust that she would turn you away from wanting to kill people in the name of the Green! I didn't see her falling for the Joker so quickly, and I failed to stop her from turning! I know full well what her abandonment, her betrayal must have felt like."
After the rising anger at the accusations and the double-standards, what Batman said cut right through to Ivy's core. Spelled out so plainly, so clearly, the exact cycle of feelings she had been going through the past day and a half.
Her arm trembled again, beginning to falter from the dead aim on Lager's head. Doubt was rising at last.
"How?"
It was the key moment Batman had hoped for when taking the gamble. Now, it was his turn to double down, and hopefully end things there and then.
"Harvey Dent was a friend. I was the one who asked him to be Gotham's White Knight. I couldn't save him. I tried to save you." He stepped forward at that, trying to position himself for disarming her safely when the time came. "Don't throw away the last part of your humanity, Pamela."
Many things went through Ivy's mind in such a short span, one after the other. Memories of her time with Harvey, both good and bad. Experiences under the influence of Woodrue, while also remaining aware of the descent of her ex-partner into Two-Face. The effort that Batman really had directed towards trying to help her. The day that she woke from her nightmare, and agreed to help cure Harleen.
Her hand lowered, pointing the bolt towards the floor. Below, she could hear Lager sigh in relief at being spared. Watching as Batman took another step forward.
The melody of the Green rang harshly in her mind.
"My humanity died when the only one who could save it turned into a clown!"
Before Batman could intervene, she lashed her wrist out and fired the bolt. It flew right through Lager's throat, sending him straight into a fatal coughing fit as his last breaths were flooded by his own blood.
"No!"
Batman lunged across the space between, striking Ivy directly in the left cheek with a hard punch. While she fell to the floor, he immediately turned back to try and wrest the bolt from Lager's throat.
Blood poured over the thick black gloves in those last seconds, the seizures coming to a chilling halt as Lager's eyes went blank. He had failed to stop Poison Ivy's new murder spree. Failed to save her from her own violent tendencies. Woodrue was no longer to blame, it all rested on her head alone.
"Damnit Ivy!"
Bleeding from the cheekbone, and part of her lip, Ivy struggled to lean herself off the floor, still stunned by the force of the impact. In her eyes, it was a victory. Whatever would befall her didn't matter in the moment at hand.
"One less tree-killer in the world! A hundred forests saved! You hear me? One less-!"
She was sent back to the floor when Batman grabbed her left wrist and pulled it back. When grabbing for the right, he yanked the crossbow off aggressively, then brought both hands back to put her in cuffs.
A few minutes later, they exited the building to the bright display of spotlights and police cars in a tight barricade.
Gordon signalled for the other officers to stand down once he felt certain that Batman wasn't being swayed into aiding Ivy.
"Batman! What happened?"
Batman grimaced as he approached the barricade, rather forcefully pushing Ivy towards a pair of cops ready to detain her.
"Daniel Lager is dead! Others may have been poisoned! They need toxicology experts immediately!"
Cursing under his breath, Gordon motioned for Bullock to oversee Ivy's official arrest, grasping at his chin afterward. "Goddamnit. I never liked the man, but I wasn't celebrating when he refused police protection. Then again, I didn't expect Poison Ivy to be the one to go after him."
Rather than responding with some form of consolation, Batman narrowed his eyes, then looked away. "I failed, Jim. I thought I could leave to aid others, just for a few days, and I wouldn't be missed. This is my fault."
Across the yard, Bullock was opening up one of the vans for Ivy's transport. The miserable rain had already soured his mood. Having to watch Gordon talk with Batman in such a personable manner made him feel sick in the stomach.
"I don't care what the regs say! Nobody rides opposite this piece a' work! Don't even touch her with bare hands while ya at it! No telling what might happen if…"
He faltered a little when Ivy made eye contact. A piercing glare, full of malice, of cold hatred. After swallowing lightly, he reached up to his soaked tie to adjust it, trying to reaffirm himself.
"Ain't gonna mince words and play nice with a killer. Get up in there and-"
That time when he cut himself off, it was because of his observation catching the cuts across her face. The shape of a fist was already starting to bruise at the surface of her skin, with similar marks across her right wrist.
His nerve returned in full force, prompting him to clap one of the other officers on the shoulder. "Get her outta here. Let the biohazard department clean her up."
He made a direct line for the pair, a fire rising up against the cold soaked into his skin and clothes while he tried to stare down the taller figure of Batman.
"Ain't nobody you pull your punches on, huh Batman? Bet Poison Ivy put up a real good fight huh, bare-handed against you and your padded gimp suit!"
"Harvey-"
"Beggin' your pardon, Commish, but I got a bone ta pick with this lout who's taken it upon himself to start beatin' up women! Ain't gettin' enough kicks bringing cronies to us with the occasional broken bone or hairline fracture?"
Batman turned to him directly, tightening his fists. He even shook off the hand Gordon put on his shoulder.
"You weren't there, Detective. She murdered a man in cold blood. Shot him through the throat. Go and look for yourself if you don't believe me."
Possibly tempting fate, Bullock remained stalwart. "Oh, so you watched it happen? Whatever happened to those bat-rangs of yours, huh? Punchin' her down is fine, but knockin' a gun or whatever outta her hand is a step too far? Not personal enough for ya?"
There was no further response from Batman. After continuing the staredown, he pushed aside and approached the Batmobile, hopping in to speed off into the storm-ridden night.
"Jesus, nerve of that guy." Bullock looked to Gordon, and after watching his disapproving glare for a while, scoffed it off to return to his own car. "What do I know? We hit anyone like that, we get written up on report. Batman does it, people cheer."
It left Gordon alone in the middle of the yard, half-blinded by the array of spotlights, watching silently as the diligent went about securing the crime scene. When it came time, he watched the van containing Poison Ivy drive off at last.
One day out of the asylum, and she had already started killing again.
The Batcave echoed the roar of the car as Bruce raced down the long approach, coming to a skidding halt on the landing pad. He was out of the car just as quickly, practically brewing a storm himself as he marched towards the main computer.
Having been on observation for the operation, Alfred left his seat to approach with great concern.
"I tried, Alfred! I tried to reach out to her!"
Bruce yanked off the cowl and tossed it aside, slamming both hands on the desk of the Batcomputer.
"Harvey lost his inner war with Two-Face! Harleen fell for the Joker's manipulation! Selina ran off with the Gabriel cipher! Even Oswald stabbed me in the back, and Luthor just outed himself as a war profiteer! And now Pamela has chosen to be the monster Woodrue was shaping her into! I turned my back for two days and everything is falling apart! Everyone I trusted is turning against me!"
In a fit of frustration, he slammed his hand across the table in a furious sweep, casting all the papers and other files sprawled across it to the ground below.
It disheartened Alfred greatly. Moreso when he could hear Bruce on the verge of a complete breakdown.
"Master Bruce, I…" He felt so dumbfounded, so helpless in that moment. In the end, the most he felt he could do was reach for his shoulder, for all the minimal comfort it could possibly provide. "I'd hope that you know, in your heart if nothing else, well, that I'd…"
The anger faded, Bruce pushing back the impending breakdown. At least for a while. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached his hand up over Alfred's.
"I know. I didn't mean to-"
"Yes, I'm sure. Well, perhaps it just felt as if it had to be said out loud."
After some time for them both to recompose, Alfred leaned back and straightened himself up. "Master Grayson will be expecting dinner soon. I'll inform him that you'll be occupied elsewhere."
"No, wait." With a deep sigh, Bruce pulled himself back up from gripping at the desk, looking over the mess he had caused dismally. "I'll clean this up, then come upstairs. I think it's time I had a talk with Dick. "
"Very good, sir. And please, get some rest before you do anything else."
Following the day she had been through, Ivy found herself in an odd state of peace in the back of the van. Something that wasn't quite euphoria, but close to it. A sense of fulfilment. The melody of the Green had become serene at last, no longer the call to action it had been for months on end.
With Arkham still in shambles, her destination once cleared from her biohazard check would be Blackgate. Crowded as it was already, and soon to be moreso, none of the facilities were designed to hold her. Earlier, she had been resentful of the notion of ever being taken back into custody. Now, she felt she had the patience to bear it out, and wait for the Green to enable her actions once more.
It was the first time she had willingly taken a life. Not in self-defence, not while under the influence of another. She felt no guilt, no anguish, no regret. Merely simple satisfaction at having staved off nature's destruction a little more.
Her tranquil contemplation was interrupted by the van coming to a sharp halt. Right after the screeching stopped, several gunshots rang out, most accompanied by the shattering of glass. Unable to release the seatbelt binding her, all she could do was try to peer through the small glass window between her compartment and the front seats ahead, only seeing a dazzling light in front of them.
It was then that she noticed the rain wasn't hammering down on the roof above, meaning they were under a bridge or in a tunnel. An ambush, deliberately stopping the van from reaching its destination. The lack of constant sound meant that she could hear two people approaching the van, one on either side.
Sure enough, the two pairs of footsteps came to a halt at the end doors, one of the ambushers working to break the lock.
The doors were eventually yanked open, the Joker and Harley Quinn grinning at Ivy.
"You do realize I left you behind as a joke, right Ivy?"
"No way I was actually gonna let Mr J hang you out to dry, Red."
Ivy chewed her lip, growing tense again. That tension was eased briefly when Harley was the one to hop into the van and begin cutting through the binding belts. Her sheer proximity while doing so put her back on edge.
"We drove back around, but you were already gone or somethin'. Didn't know where to find ya. Nice bra by the way."
As soon as her arm was free, Ivy lashed it back up across the top of her chest. "Nowhere I plan on going back to." She glanced at the Joker out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to make contact. "I suppose I now owe a big favour for being rescued."
"Oh, for shame, so cynical!" The Joker waved it off with a flair of his gloved hand. "What are friends for, if not shooting pigs and breaking each other out of prison? You're one of us now! The killer crew! The murder mass! The evisceration elite!"
He cackled while taking a step back, letting the two women exit the van. "Harley, do be a dear and bring the car around. We've got quite the surprise waiting for ol' Weed Queen back at the hideout, and we can't have the cops ruining the party!"
"You got it puddin'!"
Ivy shifted about uncomfortably while watching Harley skip off back around the van, now left in the company of the Joker on her own. Both arms went up around her chest after that. It was a hard debate whether she was better off going with the villainous pair, or staying behind to surrender back into custody.
"Unlike her, I know how you really work. Why do this for me, Joker?"
The Joker tapped his chin with a thoughtful hum, putting on an exaggerated sway on the spot. "Well, Isley, it occurs to me that a man of my prominence simply doesn't have as much time to devote towards keeping poor little Harley entertained as she might need! You've seen how hyperactive she can be after all! Who better to be a special playmate of hers while I'm off doing a man's labour than her little pet rosebud, hm?"
It was a phoney reason, which only made clear to Ivy that he wasn't going to divulge the true reason. Not yet anyway. Biding her time in their company was starting to sound like the better option after all.
"And what about Batman? The three of us together? We're just becoming a bigger target for him."
"Oh, don't worry about the big bad Batman. I'll deal with him when the time comes, I always do." The Joker turned on the spot, right as Harley began honking the horn of his approaching car. Before moving to get in, he stopped, then turned again, putting himself between Ivy and Harley.
"One more thing. You know a lot about me, and I know a lot about you. So, let me be perfectly clear…"
His jovial demeanour vanished, replaced with a threatening tone as he grabbed her bruised wrist, pinching it hard enough to ensure she felt the pain.
"I also know about you and Olivia Harper, remember? The full story, not whatever you've been telling poor little Harley. If you try and start a new wave of gal pal action behind my back, well…" The smile returned in a truly menacing way. "I have heard blood and bone makes for the best fertilizer. But, you're the expert, Poison Ivy."
The exchange ended with another cackle from the Joker, culminating as he slid across the car bonnet to reach his seat.
Ivy stood in silence a little longer, carefully rubbing at the aggravated bruises, then closed her eyes for a breath.
"Fine. The moment I'm able to leave, I will. No funny business from me."
She walked over to the passenger seat behind Harley, taking one last look at her surroundings. One man murdered by her own hand, several more by the pair she was falling in league with. Fugitives from a failing law enforcement, and a vigilante turning more aggressive with each encounter.
The life of a criminal, a villain. It wasn't how she perceived her new turn at fighting for the environment, but it was nonetheless what had been laid out before her.
For the time being, it would have to do.