Cute little vines wrapped securely around her wrists - working not only as an insurance that she would behave and follow along like a good little... love slave/pet, or whatever she was - but also as a sign that she was the property of Poison Ivy. What a scary, world shakingly terrifying thought.

Florence-

Well, no, it wasn't Florence anymore, was it?

Now she was Nova.

Something about it just... called to her. She liked it. Oh, god. She really did. It worked. It felt right. Why did it feel right? An eco-terrorist had given her this name. The very same eco-terrorist was dragging her along with vine shackles like a glorified pet. A version of Florence looking at this situation from the outside would have wondered why Florence was still walking and functioning and acting like this was all just a routine part of her day. If asked about this very situation, Florence would have predicted she would faint. But she didn't. Just like everything else that had happened to her that same day; she was perfectly, worringly fine. Shit... did this mean she was insane already? No sane person would be so okay with all of this, would they?

Shock. It was just shock. It would hit her later like the most twisted pile of bricks in existence.

It was all so surreal. Maybe her body and her mind just had no idea or plan on how to deal with this.

... Yeah. Florence was sure it was just that.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out.

It didn't help that The Joker was giving his own very distorted and chilling rendition of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. Harley was stopping every now and again to press such loud kisses to his person that Florence could hear her lips smacking as she gave them. Not that she would comment, but, damn...

Get a cell.

Florence was tempted to chuckle at her own inside joke, but once again, no sound came out. Another sign of shock. Okay. Phew. Okay. This would be okay. She'd escape them somehow. They'd get distracted by the cops, or Batman, or just... something. Their focus surely wasn't the best, considering that they were all psychotic, anti-social freaks. Okay, that was mean - her unwanted inner monologue chided her. Florence felt the urge to slap at her head. The very moment she thought that, The Joker whacked at his own head - again and again and again until Harley managed to wrestle his arm away from himself, with little cries of "Puddin', no! Focus! Focus!". It was all extremely disturbing to witness - to be in the vicinity of.

'Puddin' seemed to pull himself together, escaping the trappings of his own mind. If Florence had been a psychology major, she was sure it would have been fascinating to watch. Harley had been a psychology major, and she'd fallen in love with the loon. Florence shuddered, quickly averting her eyes when The Joker's slightly-too-wide, soul bearing eyes drifted her way. The man was barely lucid. Harley Quinn was glaring at Florence now, positioned slightly in front of The Joker as if to shield him, block him out from view,

"Don't you dare judge him you little doe-eyed burden!" She shrieked, her lithe frame trembling with the fury on behalf of her lover. Florence blinked, once again stunned into paralysis.

"I... no, no... I wasn't- I just- I was thinking about psychology..." she tried to explain, trying to calm the volatile blonde down before she bashed Florence's head in. They'd find nothing of use even if they did, anyway. At least that would be an escape-

What the f-

She shouldn't be having thoughts like that.

No. Snap out of it. Positive outlook.

Harley cocked her head at Florence, eyebrows furrowed in shrewd consideration. She was still bristling, stationed protectively in front of her psychotic lover as if to shield him from any and all harm - petty or otherwise. Eventually, she seemed to accept Florence's answer, a prim little 'hmm!' leaving her. It was upbeat and spunky and bubbly. Florence let herself relax, her shoulders sliding back down into their normal position after being raised along with the breath she'd been holding.

"I ain't too sure you're sane, honey," Harley complimented in her heavy New Yorker accent. Florence sighed and ducked her head by way of acknowledgement, agreement. Florence had been starting to think that herself.

"So she has a few screws loose! Who cares! All the best ones are insane, Harley-girl!" The Joker exclaimed out of nowhere, back in his main persona - which seemed to be that of a circus master, or something.

"You're absolutely right, Mistah J! Just look at us!"

"Oh, I'm looking..." Joker purred at his little harlequin, and Florence turned away, feeling this overwhelming wrongness about watching them. It was like she was intruding. It was their own little twisted, whacked up world and she was intruding.

"You're a sweet kid," Harley bounced past her with a little pat to her head.

Ivy gave this great, all encompassing, melodramatic sigh from up ahead and waved her hand about in the space beside her, not bothering to turn to see what the clown couple were up to.

"I'd like to actually break out of this hellhole at some point today, if that's quite alright with the two of you?"

Ivy didn't ask Florence. Of course she didn't. So Florence just stood there, hands extended out in front of her and kept in place by vines. They were in one of the corridors not housing any inmates, so there was enough peace and lack of distraction for The Joker to focus properly and direct them all towards the exit.

Said peace didn't last too long, though, and soon they emerged into a corridor lined with cells upon cells. Men and women leered and wolf whistled and hollered and cheered, cackling and whooping and howling in celebration. All the attention burned at her - itched at her skin. Florence hated it. It was like she was being paraded around naked in front of a crowd of judges. It was difficult to make out any distinct phrases or well wishes or sentiments, but there was the regular, recognisable shouts of:

"You go, Joker! Show 'em who's boss!"

"All bow for the King and Queen of Gotham!"

"Set us free, boss! Set me free!"

There were seldom to no shouts for Ivy. She didn't take on any goons often, and she didn't really mingle or socialise with the outer criminal world. She mainly kept to herself and thrived off the fact that people feared her.

A man in a cell to the right of her was calling out to Florence, calling her... things and making kissy noises.

Shockingly enough, Ivy actually stopped to address this. She drifted over to the inmate like a cool summer breeze, and extended her hand. A little flower curled into the cell through the little holes penetrating the glass (for oxygen purposes, obviously) and a pinkey-orange puff of something sprayed into the cell, right next to the man's face. Ivy smiled oh, so sweetly and waved to the man as he slumped and fell with a thud to the floor of his cell; lifeless. Florence was stunned - horrified. Had Poison Ivy just killed a man for leering at her?

Ivy turned to her then, index and middle fingers propping up her chin from the under side, tilting Florence's face towards her,

"It's you and me now, Nova," she cooed.

And she was right. Joker and Harley had danced on ahead, revelling in all the attention and the cheering. Those two really were the perfect double act.

Florence let her teeth graze down on her lower lip, eyes flitting between Ivy's own. The unnervingly green eyes that stared back at her did not move or try to look back into both of her eyes. They simply locked on her face with a cool, serene fixation that was both incredibly soothing and undeniably disturbing. Florence nodded, not really having much choice in the matter. And so they carried on, Ivy sauntering ahead while Florence was left to trail behind in her wake, vines wrapped around her wrists and eyes wide, lip intercepted by her pearly whites.

A guard darted towards them from around the next corner and in the next second he was flung to the side, to the wall by a large, unwieldly vine that appeared from Ivy's person. Florence licked at her lips again. Her mouth was so dry. Her mind was so foggy. Her hair flew about her as she whipped her head to the side, towards the entire squad of guards that tried to come at them from the corner on the parallel side to the other one. Great big trunk like stalks sprouted from the ground and split all the men into pieces. It really was the most gruesome thing Florence had ever seen - but it was also just so slightly thrilling - and the thought of that alone sent Florence right into a spiral of worry. She was far too concerned with this to spare any worry for the rest of the opposition they faced on their way out of the asylum, too.

Florence was numb. She was not Florence.

She wasn't even 'Nova'.

She just was.

And that was all.

With a great billowing of intricate red curls, Ivy rounded on her once more and cupped Florence's cheek,

"How are you feeling, my little chrysanthemum? Are you sad? Yes? Well, I'll grant you one more chance to feel it before you're not allowed it anymore. After all, blossom, it's your birthday today! Your very first birthday!"

"It is?"

"Yes, my little raindrop."

There was something entirely too disingenious about the way Ivy was speaking to her that had Florence wondering if perhaps it was all meant somewhat viciously.

Poison Ivy didn't care about people, she knew that. She knew it because of long nights where she'd stayed up scouring the web for information on Gotham's most deadly. Poison Ivy only cared about plants.

Florence licked her lips as was habit by now, and hoped that maybe she could use this piece of trivia to keep herself alive. She cleared her throat and straightened herself up a little.

"I planted a Schlumbergera Bridgesii cactus today."

Ivy took a clear interest in this, her forced, patronising smile slipping into a more genuine one.

"You did?"

"I did. So now I share my birthday with a cactus."

Ivy cocked her head, eyes narrowed in a way that was almost beyond notice as she carefully examined Florence's expression. Now this was dangerous. If Ivy decided Florence was mocking her or being disingenious about her love for plants, then it would surely be a death sentence. Poison Ivy didn't fuck around with those who disrespected her. She was a creature who teetered on the line between being emotionless and emotional. It would be hard to keep up with, but if Florence wanted to live (and the more dominant part of her mind was saying 'yes, yes, yes, yes you do!') then she would need to appease this plant... Goddess.

It was even harder to resist being completely smitten with the woman. It was her natural aroma, her scent and her pheromones trick that attracted people to her - convinced them that they were in love with her the moment they set eyes on her. From what Florence had found online, apparently it lessened over time until you became completely resilient to it, but that it was incredibly powerful and one of Ivy's strongest weapons in her arsenal. Florence let in and out the quietest of bracing breaths. She could do this. She knew plants. She knew a little about Poison Ivy. She knew about plants.

Arriving at Poison Ivy's... abode... was a different matter. The first thing surely anyone noticed had to be the gigantic, overbearing greenhouse that towered above anything else in the area. And really, what else was there in the area? Not much. Nothing seemed to be occupied. So they were isolated. So Florence couldn't go to the neighbours for help if she escaped.

Fantastic. Of course.

Florence ground her teeth together as they pulled up, craning her neck to try and spy the actual house. As was predictable, it was about the size the damn greenhouse should have been - tucked back over there amongst the hybrid trees.

"Out of the car, meat-bag. We've got things to do."

This version of Ivy's voice was a lot different to the one she'd been using on Florence while they'd been fleeing the asylum. It was hard and no-nonsense. It was tough and uncaring and... cold. Florence shivered, and there was an abrupt, sharp pain in her arms when Ivy yanked harshly on the vines, dragging Florence forcefully right out of the car and onto the ground. So her mood was matching her tone of voice, then? If she was always like that with her moods...

They could be fairly easy to anticipate. Florence recognised she might just be able to get by on this hope. It was the only thing keeping her all glued together. That and the fact that she was still in shock. Without her shock and her extremely, extremely delayed reactions, Florence knew she would crumble. The glue would lose it's cohesion, and the entire structure of her very being would just fall apart before Poison Ivy, and Poison Ivy would laugh.

She'd call her a useless meat-bag.

Barely two hours with the villainess and Florence already knew that.

Ivy tugged her along after her into the house, her hands drifting over various plants and potted plants in caresses and pats and soothing gestures. Each and every plant reacted - nuzzling and responding to her. It was the most fascinating thing - even more so than The Joker slapping himself again and again and again up the side of the head. But that was because the plants were alive. Florence had already known that The Joker was insane. She had not known that Ivy's plants were physically, visibly, noticeably alive. With another one of her silent bracing breaths, Florence held her hand out experimentally towards one of the plants. For a moment or two, it curled around her index finger, leaves rustling and vines slithering like the body of a snake - but then it realised she was a stranger. She was foreign. She didn't not belong and she was not Ivy, and so she was rejected. The plant recoiled like she'd tried to burn it, and Ivy's hand came out of nowhere and slapped Florence's hand away from her baby.

"You're very bold to attempt something like that, but know that boldness does not get you anywhere. Plants have spent many millennia trampled and massacred by mankind - so they will not trust you and I will not trust you until you are not you anymore. We will trust you when you are Nova, and nobody and nothing else," she hissed, all venom and brutality.

Florence didn't know what to say. She felt the little seeds of guilt unfurling and sprouting inside of her, whining away at her for the truths in Ivy's words. So she hung her head in a nod and she behaved herself. No more bothering the plants, she decided.

But... Ivy had said...

How did she become Nova?

What - she wanted Florence to legally change her name?

It was such a cryptic thing to say to somebody. It could be interpreted so many ways.

"Come, pet, we need to start fixing you. You're scaring my babies." Poison Ivy beckoned to her as if she was a disobedient, unruly dog, and snatched her closer when she ventured close enough. With a melodical hum, Ivy took a hold of her face, angling it about as she murmured,

"I grew up a wealthy woman, you know... my name was Pamela Lillian Isley, and I was the most sought out, the most desirable, the most beautiful bachelorette in all of Seattle. Of course none of this was ever good enough for Mummy and Daddy, dear. Oh, no... that would have meant that I had everything, and we all know nobody is allowed that. They told me my looks were all I was good for... made it clear to me there was nothing of worth inside of my head. So sweet little Pamela, she packs up her bags and her wounded pride and her stubborn determination to please them, and she took off to study advanced botanical biochemistry at the most prestigious university she could find. Pammy had always had an affinity with plants, you see. So she studies and studies and as is the disturbingly common practice in university - she fell for her Professor. Doctor... Jason... Woodrue... he'd so much as wave at the girl and she'd be ready to faint. It was pathetic. Doctor Jason Woodrue knew it was pathetic, little cherry blossom, you see. He understood that, and he did what man always does and he exploited her and he wrecked her like he wrecked the poor little helpless, innocent plants he experimented on. But you see, Nova, plants were simply not enough for Doctor Jason Woodrue. He needed a test subject - and there was timid, shy, smitten little Pamela. She would have followed him to the ends of the earth and she would have died for him, and she almost did! Doctor Jason Woodrue arranged for their study sessions to become a more physical experience, where he would inject her with various poisons and toxins as an experiment. Pamela almost died twice for him, and it drove her right off the edge. He drove her insane and then he left her to rot in a hospital bed for six whole months. Imagine the extent of damaged little Pamela's heartbreak... the betrayal was too much for her and she suffered the most violent mood swings. Eventually, she got out and after accidentally murdering her next boyfriend, Pamela Isley moved to Gotham and focused on the only thing that would never hurt, ruin or betray her - her plants. But it's not enough, little dew-drop. It. Is. Not. Enough. She snaps and threatens to poison everyone in Gotham unless they left. This was where Batman came into the story, of course. She was thwarted and ruined once again, and she was sent to Arkham Asylum. Pammy couldn't control Batman the way she controls others, and this made her furious and vengeful and so she developed her powers and honed them until she was lethal. You're probably wondering now, my pretty little thing, why Pamela didn't just leave Gotham and find some... barren, deserted island somewhere. The thing was that she'd tried that. She'd even been happy. The plants had been thriving and for once they weren't screaming, Nova. But then there was the firebomb-"

Ivy cut off at this point, her riveting and heartbreaking story interrupted by sobs and, of all things... actual tears. They were ever so slightly tinged green. It was... it was strangely beautiful. Everything about Poison Ivy was.

Stop it.

Stop. It.

She's controlling the way you feel about her.

"And so you see, my little protégé... I respect your morals. I respect your drive and your passion and I desire to have you around to look at. But more importantly... the plants need a Champion. I can't keep them safe all by myself! You love them, don't you? They need you..."

Ivy was drawing dangerously closer now, venomous green eyes wide and imploring - and something was tugging at Florence's heart.

"You'll be my Champion, won't you, Nova?"

"...Yes." Nova breathed, entranced body and soul by this woman and her cause and the tragedy of her story. The plants needed her. They needed her. They were crying out-

Nova had to help them. It was her duty, and Poison Ivy had chosen her...

There couldn't be a greater honour.

A beauteous, charming, deadly smile took up precedence on Ivy's face, and she grinned - revealing teeth.

"Wonderful," she snarled and plunged a needle right into Florence's arm, she pushed down the pulley until the toxic contents of the vial the needle had been connected to had completely emptied into her.

It burned.

IT BURNED.

Florence screamed but Ivy didn't care. She tossed the used up vial over her shoulder while Florence writhed and roared in agony and tried to escape, but the plants kept her there. Ivy was screwing on another vial now and this time the contents was a nasty, toxic dark purple. It looked like the poison that it was.

ITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNEDITBURNED-

Poison Ivy injected her again and again until Florence seized up and passed out.

Something was dripping.

Something was dripping and someone was humming and Florence couldn't move.

A small groan escaped her cracked, aching lips and she tried to shift about - to sit up. She couldn't. She was strapped down and attached to a... was that an IV? Was Florence in the hospital?

Everything had been a dream-

No hospital room looked like this, did it? Vines and flowers and branches completely covered and even coccooned the room - and unless this was some kind of a sick prank, Florence had a horrifying, dooming idea of exactly where she could be. The woman that was humming in the corner stood up and came into view and then Florence knew she'd been right. She began to sob, trying to thrash about, but she was still strapped down and restricted. Her insides were eating her up. There was this vague, numbing pain coming from... from somewhere.

She ached.

Poison Ivy gazed down at her like she was a vaguely interesting butterfly she'd rescued from a net.

"Oh, you're alive..." Ivy commented casually, petting at the budding cactus in the pot in her palm. Florence wanted to cry but she was barren and dehydrated. She couldn't. SHE COULDN'T.

SHE COULDN'T.

Something was ringing incessantly at her inside her own mind. There were just...

There were too many things going on at once.

Florence felt sick.

"P-Please, just... just take me home," she cried, unable to see Ivy properly now due to the massive build up of impossible tears her body had somehow dredged up into her eyes, "my name is Florence Caldwell and I live-"

"Wrong!" Ivy called out, chidingly. She leaned down to cup Florence's cheeks and cooed, "Your name is Nova, dear."

Florence wanted to murder her. If her hands weren't strapped down the way they were she swore she would have risen up and wrung the venomous bitch's neck.

Florence shuddered, her eye twitching. She'd just shrieked inside her own mind. The concept of murder had been so, so appealing.

This was not good.

"What have you done to me?" She asked in a shrill, trembling little husk of a whisper.

"I made you like me, only... weaker. Can't have you more powerful than I am, can we? It would just ruin the hierarchy."

"Why-"

"Call out to the flowers," Ivy demanded, bringing a small mirror over to her with the help of a vine to showcase Nova's new appearance to herself.

Nova screamed.

No.

Her eyes had been cerulean blue but were now a vicious, aggressive, toxic green that were vaguely luminescent in the dull lighting. Her lower lip trembled. Her skin was... it was green. She whimpered. The vines and leaves that were a part of her skin were nowhere near as impressive as Ivy's and didn't even cover much of her, but they were there. Florence began to cry. Great, world shaking sobs wracked at her chest.

No.

Florence was gone now.

Florence died and nobody knows. Nobody will mourn because nobody knows.

Florence died and Nova was born and she'd had no choice in any of it.