Chapter 6: Enter the Green and Red
Her name was once Poison, but now it's only Ivy. For the past five years she has enjoyed the confinement of Dr. Arkham's asylum, and its garden in particular. Designed, grown, and nurtured by her, she now spends most of her time pruning it. Sadly, few of the other inmates bother to walk through and enjoy the vivid colours and euphoric aroma it provides, leaving her alone to tend to a broken stem as she reminisces about the creature that made it all possible.
She was originally confined to the darkest corner of the asylum, forbidden to grow anything less it be poison, until HE entered the cell, as if from nowhere. The air around him stank of rot and decay, yet was also permeated with the pungent odour of sap and chlorophyll. Buds burst forth from his main and very human form, with vines and stems tangling about in short growths. His eyes were orbs of bright red fire that gave away the creature's true nature with their sullen and mournful appearance.
With a single gesture from his bizarrely beautiful arm a jungle was brought forth within the cell, sending Ivy into ecstasy as the grass tickled her toes and vines wrapped themselves around. Seemingly an eternity since she'd seen such voluptuous growth she provided a joyous dance as the creature spoke with a gravel like voice, offering her the selfsame ability. Her answer was resolute, "You mean be able to talk with the plants? Listen to their thoughts? It's what I've always wanted!"
A single touch upon her brow sent her senses reeling as she heard them all, plant and animal alike, claw through her mind! She managed a single scream before weakly falling to her knees. "You lied to me!" she scowled, like a little schoolgirl cheated of her favourite toy, "You said I could talk to plants, not those…those beasts! You…"
The creature then spoke, his tone unchanged, "Flesh and blood, sap and bark, all life is of the earth and reside within its folds as different branches of the same tree. Everything is connected. Your life is connected to ALL others, it is nature's way." With that he and the lush garden were gone, save for a small sprout in-between the cracked floor. The guards were made to sleep through this brief visit and awoke upon his departure. None suspected she had a late night visitor then, or each subsequent evening when he returned to hone her new skills. Over time the strength and conviction of his words made Ivy renounce her hatred as misplaced and unnecessary. 'If everything is connected, then by striking at any living creature I was ultimately hurting myself as well,' she reasoned. To make amends for her past she chose to stay in the asylum.
Her dream ends with a look at her garden, '5 years…in Eden…'
Ivy smiles and continues to tend the plants as the sun begins to set. Nearby she hears the thoughts of some inmates become darker, almost in sync with the dimming light. Her red hair seems especially fiery now as the changing light appears to ignite the colours around her into extremes. This is always her favourite time of day and she pauses to enjoy it completely. Suddenly a voice calls out, "Red!" and a figure leaps, summersaults in the air over Ivy's head and lands in-between her and the setting sun. Ending the gymnastic feat with a perfect Y formation that would be the envy of any Olympian this blonde, pig-tailed girl then turns and faces Ivy in her asylum issued blue pants and shirt, wearing a very proud grin, "Tada!"
"Harley!" Ivy exclaims, overjoyed at her friend's surprise visit. For some reason Ivy's mental talents are useless when it comes to Harley. "You seem back to your old self, and spry as ever. Glad Arkham's cooking hasn't gotten to you." Ivy's atrocious joke prompts Harley to roll her eyes and shake her head, as if to say better luck next time.
"Oh, it's not so bad," Harleen Quinzel answers in her typical squeaky and shaky fun-filled voice, "with friends like you around to provide comic relief. Besides, it let me be close to Mr. J…" Harley's shoulders then slouch and she looks sadly into the ground.
"Hey now, will you quit with the grieving? He was a psychotic madman who always treated you horribly and came close to killing you several times!"
"Yeah, I know," Harley responds, sadly, "that's what made him so special."
Ivy sighs. Harley's always been infatuated with the Joker, and hearing of his possible demise had made her inconsolable these past weeks. Ivy even tried reading Joker's thoughts to see if he was still alive, just to cheer Harley up, but her hatred of the clown made it impossible.
"Say, uhm," Harley begins, slightly perkier with her hands behind her back like when a small child is about to ask a parent for a favour, "could you," she continues, nervously twitching her left leg into the ground, "well, could you maybe bust me out of here so I could go see him?"
"What?!"
Harley steps back from an enraged Ivy, putting her hands up she starts very shakily, "C'mon Red, it ain't crazy! It's over for me and Mr. J, what with him buried under tons of rock and me happily hooked up in Arkham there's no way I'd go back to him! All I want is to visit his final resting place and get a few things off my chest, you know? Just bury the hatchet and get some closure (as the psychiatrist in me would say). You know…yipe!...and when I'm through I'll come right back and continue my therapy like a good girl…stop looking at me like that…and we'll be best buds until we're toothless old grannies…okay?" At this point Harley is trying to smile with a very angry looking Ivy right in her face. Ivy then turns her back. "Red?"
"Fine Harley, I'll let you out. After all, he is buried under tons of rock, and you did promise to come right back, didn't you?"
"Uh huh," Harley says meekly.
"The sun's just set, so out you go!" Ivy has a big grin on her face as she raises her arm, causing a tree root to quickly sprout up from underneath Harley with enough force as to launch her over the asylum wall, causing her to land flat on her behind!
"Ow! Give a girl some warning next time why-don't-ya!" Harley yells from over the wall as she rubs her sore posterior. She could hear Ivy laughing on the other side. "Alright Red, you had your fun, but I've got to go now! Byeeeee!" With a leap Harley begins tumbling down the darkened street towards Gotham City.
"Good-bye Harl! See you soon…I hope…"
…
'It's bad enough driving with one-arm,' thinks Gordon, 'but having to drive with one arm to this place is by far the worst.' He winces as he jars his injured arm while turning into the police guarded rubble of what once was the Joker's dockside warehouse. Pulling up to several parked squad cars he eases himself out and slowly makes his way to the edge of the police barricade. Waiting for him is Merkel, a veteran of the force and one of Gordon's most trusted officers. Bullock assigned him the job of cleaning up the mess, and Merkel was only too happy to oblige, until he found out how difficult it was.
"Merk," the Commissioner opens with a smile.
"Jim! It's good to see you up and about!" Merkel replies with an even bigger grin that makes Gordon shudder, if only for a moment. The two men exchange the customary greetings and then continue on with business.
"I saw your new car," Merkel starts, "it's in much nicer shape than your old one. We found it underwater under the pier. Here, some divers found this and I thought you'd like it back." Merkel removes a small wallet from his pocket and hands it to the Commissioner. The Commissioner opens it and looks inside, surveying the damage. The photos are still there, intact. Smiling he puts the wallet in a pocket of his trench coat.
"Thanks," he says as he tries to hide the lump in his throat. Searching for a change of subject the Commissioner gestures to the pile of rubble beyond the police barricade and asks "So why's this garbage still here?"
"Why? The Joker was involved and is probably still buried under there, that's why. The few men who did try to clear the mess out were turned back by fumes that penetrated their masks, and then there's still the danger of unspent explosives on the premises. To top it all off, some yahoos are spreading stories of laughter and strange noises coming from the pile late at night! No one wants to touch this clean up job so we're asking the military to come in! At least they have some success with war zones…"
"Do you think the Joker could have gotten away?" the Commissioner asks.
"It's possible. We actually tried echo location, heat detection and some other techniques with Gotham U, and nothing's come up."
Gordon frowns, "So he's dead, escaped or alive and buried? In other words, we've got no clue."
"Bingo. Oh yeah, we found something else you might be interested in," Merkel removes a small plastic bag from another pocket. Within it is a handgun that appears to be right out of World War II, along with six casings.
"We found that the second night here, over by that alley in the trash," Merkel says, pointing. "It's too old to really be owned by a street thug. Maybe a veteran was walking home and lost it, or maybe it was stolen. I don't know, really. We checked the serial number and it's unregistered. No fingerprints either. We don't have any reports of shooting victims with that type of bullet, or of any dealers missing such a gun. The Joker used a vintage Tommy gun, so maybe this is his antique?"
Gordon ignores Merkel's suggestions. He knows exactly where this gun came from. He saw it before, on that night of hell he can never forget, when the warehouse was more than rubble. It was on Batman's utility belt as he was leaving to face the Joker.
"Thanks, I'll take it in," Gordon responds sombrely.
"No problem. Bullock said you'd be interested in it anyway. It's why I didn't take it in earlier," Merkel smiles, "It's getting late Jim, how about a drink?"
Gordon tries to muster a smile, "Another time, I've still got to visit a sick friend..."
TO BE CONTINUED…
Her name was once Poison, but now it's only Ivy. For the past five years she has enjoyed the confinement of Dr. Arkham's asylum, and its garden in particular. Designed, grown, and nurtured by her, she now spends most of her time pruning it. Sadly, few of the other inmates bother to walk through and enjoy the vivid colours and euphoric aroma it provides, leaving her alone to tend to a broken stem as she reminisces about the creature that made it all possible.
She was originally confined to the darkest corner of the asylum, forbidden to grow anything less it be poison, until HE entered the cell, as if from nowhere. The air around him stank of rot and decay, yet was also permeated with the pungent odour of sap and chlorophyll. Buds burst forth from his main and very human form, with vines and stems tangling about in short growths. His eyes were orbs of bright red fire that gave away the creature's true nature with their sullen and mournful appearance.
With a single gesture from his bizarrely beautiful arm a jungle was brought forth within the cell, sending Ivy into ecstasy as the grass tickled her toes and vines wrapped themselves around. Seemingly an eternity since she'd seen such voluptuous growth she provided a joyous dance as the creature spoke with a gravel like voice, offering her the selfsame ability. Her answer was resolute, "You mean be able to talk with the plants? Listen to their thoughts? It's what I've always wanted!"
A single touch upon her brow sent her senses reeling as she heard them all, plant and animal alike, claw through her mind! She managed a single scream before weakly falling to her knees. "You lied to me!" she scowled, like a little schoolgirl cheated of her favourite toy, "You said I could talk to plants, not those…those beasts! You…"
The creature then spoke, his tone unchanged, "Flesh and blood, sap and bark, all life is of the earth and reside within its folds as different branches of the same tree. Everything is connected. Your life is connected to ALL others, it is nature's way." With that he and the lush garden were gone, save for a small sprout in-between the cracked floor. The guards were made to sleep through this brief visit and awoke upon his departure. None suspected she had a late night visitor then, or each subsequent evening when he returned to hone her new skills. Over time the strength and conviction of his words made Ivy renounce her hatred as misplaced and unnecessary. 'If everything is connected, then by striking at any living creature I was ultimately hurting myself as well,' she reasoned. To make amends for her past she chose to stay in the asylum.
Her dream ends with a look at her garden, '5 years…in Eden…'
Ivy smiles and continues to tend the plants as the sun begins to set. Nearby she hears the thoughts of some inmates become darker, almost in sync with the dimming light. Her red hair seems especially fiery now as the changing light appears to ignite the colours around her into extremes. This is always her favourite time of day and she pauses to enjoy it completely. Suddenly a voice calls out, "Red!" and a figure leaps, summersaults in the air over Ivy's head and lands in-between her and the setting sun. Ending the gymnastic feat with a perfect Y formation that would be the envy of any Olympian this blonde, pig-tailed girl then turns and faces Ivy in her asylum issued blue pants and shirt, wearing a very proud grin, "Tada!"
"Harley!" Ivy exclaims, overjoyed at her friend's surprise visit. For some reason Ivy's mental talents are useless when it comes to Harley. "You seem back to your old self, and spry as ever. Glad Arkham's cooking hasn't gotten to you." Ivy's atrocious joke prompts Harley to roll her eyes and shake her head, as if to say better luck next time.
"Oh, it's not so bad," Harleen Quinzel answers in her typical squeaky and shaky fun-filled voice, "with friends like you around to provide comic relief. Besides, it let me be close to Mr. J…" Harley's shoulders then slouch and she looks sadly into the ground.
"Hey now, will you quit with the grieving? He was a psychotic madman who always treated you horribly and came close to killing you several times!"
"Yeah, I know," Harley responds, sadly, "that's what made him so special."
Ivy sighs. Harley's always been infatuated with the Joker, and hearing of his possible demise had made her inconsolable these past weeks. Ivy even tried reading Joker's thoughts to see if he was still alive, just to cheer Harley up, but her hatred of the clown made it impossible.
"Say, uhm," Harley begins, slightly perkier with her hands behind her back like when a small child is about to ask a parent for a favour, "could you," she continues, nervously twitching her left leg into the ground, "well, could you maybe bust me out of here so I could go see him?"
"What?!"
Harley steps back from an enraged Ivy, putting her hands up she starts very shakily, "C'mon Red, it ain't crazy! It's over for me and Mr. J, what with him buried under tons of rock and me happily hooked up in Arkham there's no way I'd go back to him! All I want is to visit his final resting place and get a few things off my chest, you know? Just bury the hatchet and get some closure (as the psychiatrist in me would say). You know…yipe!...and when I'm through I'll come right back and continue my therapy like a good girl…stop looking at me like that…and we'll be best buds until we're toothless old grannies…okay?" At this point Harley is trying to smile with a very angry looking Ivy right in her face. Ivy then turns her back. "Red?"
"Fine Harley, I'll let you out. After all, he is buried under tons of rock, and you did promise to come right back, didn't you?"
"Uh huh," Harley says meekly.
"The sun's just set, so out you go!" Ivy has a big grin on her face as she raises her arm, causing a tree root to quickly sprout up from underneath Harley with enough force as to launch her over the asylum wall, causing her to land flat on her behind!
"Ow! Give a girl some warning next time why-don't-ya!" Harley yells from over the wall as she rubs her sore posterior. She could hear Ivy laughing on the other side. "Alright Red, you had your fun, but I've got to go now! Byeeeee!" With a leap Harley begins tumbling down the darkened street towards Gotham City.
"Good-bye Harl! See you soon…I hope…"
…
'It's bad enough driving with one-arm,' thinks Gordon, 'but having to drive with one arm to this place is by far the worst.' He winces as he jars his injured arm while turning into the police guarded rubble of what once was the Joker's dockside warehouse. Pulling up to several parked squad cars he eases himself out and slowly makes his way to the edge of the police barricade. Waiting for him is Merkel, a veteran of the force and one of Gordon's most trusted officers. Bullock assigned him the job of cleaning up the mess, and Merkel was only too happy to oblige, until he found out how difficult it was.
"Merk," the Commissioner opens with a smile.
"Jim! It's good to see you up and about!" Merkel replies with an even bigger grin that makes Gordon shudder, if only for a moment. The two men exchange the customary greetings and then continue on with business.
"I saw your new car," Merkel starts, "it's in much nicer shape than your old one. We found it underwater under the pier. Here, some divers found this and I thought you'd like it back." Merkel removes a small wallet from his pocket and hands it to the Commissioner. The Commissioner opens it and looks inside, surveying the damage. The photos are still there, intact. Smiling he puts the wallet in a pocket of his trench coat.
"Thanks," he says as he tries to hide the lump in his throat. Searching for a change of subject the Commissioner gestures to the pile of rubble beyond the police barricade and asks "So why's this garbage still here?"
"Why? The Joker was involved and is probably still buried under there, that's why. The few men who did try to clear the mess out were turned back by fumes that penetrated their masks, and then there's still the danger of unspent explosives on the premises. To top it all off, some yahoos are spreading stories of laughter and strange noises coming from the pile late at night! No one wants to touch this clean up job so we're asking the military to come in! At least they have some success with war zones…"
"Do you think the Joker could have gotten away?" the Commissioner asks.
"It's possible. We actually tried echo location, heat detection and some other techniques with Gotham U, and nothing's come up."
Gordon frowns, "So he's dead, escaped or alive and buried? In other words, we've got no clue."
"Bingo. Oh yeah, we found something else you might be interested in," Merkel removes a small plastic bag from another pocket. Within it is a handgun that appears to be right out of World War II, along with six casings.
"We found that the second night here, over by that alley in the trash," Merkel says, pointing. "It's too old to really be owned by a street thug. Maybe a veteran was walking home and lost it, or maybe it was stolen. I don't know, really. We checked the serial number and it's unregistered. No fingerprints either. We don't have any reports of shooting victims with that type of bullet, or of any dealers missing such a gun. The Joker used a vintage Tommy gun, so maybe this is his antique?"
Gordon ignores Merkel's suggestions. He knows exactly where this gun came from. He saw it before, on that night of hell he can never forget, when the warehouse was more than rubble. It was on Batman's utility belt as he was leaving to face the Joker.
"Thanks, I'll take it in," Gordon responds sombrely.
"No problem. Bullock said you'd be interested in it anyway. It's why I didn't take it in earlier," Merkel smiles, "It's getting late Jim, how about a drink?"
Gordon tries to muster a smile, "Another time, I've still got to visit a sick friend..."
TO BE CONTINUED…