"Promise me we can still be friends after you've left me tonight," Pamela Isley asked Fredericks softly as she cradled his mutilated torso, the man whimpering in agony every time she forcibly ran her finger across the letters she had written into his flesh: POISON IVY. "Promise me…that you and I… will always be connected, our hearts as one. Not unlike Persephone with her inevitable Hades…"
Fredericks strained against her touch, but every time he flailed, she only pulled him closer, her eyes closed in sweetest embrace. "Forget pain," she whispered in his ear. "Forget longing. Forget fear. You need it not, angel. You need it not…"
"Kill me."
She opened her eyes, which widened considerably at his words. Pamela looked at him incredulously, snorting loudly at his joke. "You kid, honey. You big kidder." She held up her hand and shaped it like a mouth (not unlike a Brontosaurus), and mimicked, in a loud, whimsical voice, "Such a kidder. Gone ask me to keel heem. No, no, no, said Missus Butterwiggles-"
"KILL ME!" Fredericks screamed, actual blood pouring out through his tears. "KILL ME!"
Pamela stopped, looking upset with him now. "I was only trying to make you laugh."
"Kill me," Fredericks cried hysterically, rocking left and right against the vines that held him. "Kill me, kill me, please kill me…"
"How? How do you want me to do it?" She asked him seriously, her eyes becoming blank as they stared. "How do you want me to do it?" she whispered into his ear. "A kiss?" she asked, brushing her lips with a finger. "Kiss and kill are almost the same word, aren't they? Or do you want me to stab you…again…" She poked him in the stomach, hard. "…and again…" Another poke. "…and again…"
"K-kiss," he whispered, turning his head to face her. "Do it…quick…I can't…take it…"
"Your will wasn't supposed to break so early, baby," she whispered back to him, stroking his face lovingly. "We still had so much fun awaiting us…"
"Kiss…me…please…" She honestly could not tell if he truly was saying kiss or kill. Kiss or kill, kill or kiss… Killss? Ah, killss… in the end, it spelled out 'killss…'
"I think, given the circumstances, you need to hear more of my tale, Fredericks. You need to understand why I am Poison Ivy. Have you understood yet?"
"Y-yes…yes…"
"Tell me."
"They…did…awful things to…you…and…no one…helped…"
"No one helped?" Pamela repeated quietly, staring at the far wall now. She smirked. "No one helped me…at all?"
"You…deserved better…you did…just kill me…please…"
"No one helped me at all, eh?" She shook her head, looking disappointed. "Enough is enough. Your ignorance still shows, Fredericks. I'm going to have to continue your lesson."
"No…God no…"
"Do not speak His name in my garden," Pamela hissed, and she punched him in the gut extremely hard. It was agony to him, and he screamed accordingly. "There is no God here, Fredericks. Only the Devil. But don't worry… the Devil has her imps. Always does. Because you see, I was never alone, not once. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever!" She stood up and walked about her giant plant, stroking the hanging flowers and bundles of ivy, all which responded to her touch, entwining her arms and sighing passionately with voices of their own. Many of them sprinkled pollen down upon them both, and the green light that emitted from many of the plants became more pronounced. "After those fine boys did what they did to me," she told Fredericks, holding out her arms, "everything changed." Gigantic vines descended down upon her and entwined her limbs, pulling her into the air, where she rolled about in their hold, entangling herself within their mass, until she hung on her back as if in a canopy bed. Flowers bloomed at her touch almost instantaneously, vibrant pinks and greens of unnatural appearance, until a chain reaction began to decorate the vines in colorful divinity. "But I was never alone, and this is something you must understand, Fredericks. Mother Earth would never allow me to be alone. Are you ready for your next lesson, Fredericks?"
"No…no…no…"
"Shut up," Pamela snapped violently, shaking with rage. "You become more human, more mammal, by the passing of each precious second. "You just cannot see, can you? Then what purpose are your eyes? What purpose do your eyes have? I want one."
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" He had found his scream. Found his energy, as had she. Stroking the vines before her, the thing suddenly twisted and turned, and the terrified man saw that one of them had a very sharp end to it. He continued to scream, continued to plead, but at her mental command, the vine struck like a snake, so quickly it almost did not move at all. His left eye was ripped from its socket, and delivered back to the dark master of the garden in an effort to present its triumph…
"Victory at last, eh?" Officer Patterson clanged his nightstick against the window of his SUV as he opened it to let her out. Alissa was standing on the campus police porch, her arms crossed and face red. "Get out of my car, Isley, and don't share anymore of your profane secrets with anyone on this campus again. Here's your fine." He handled Pamela a red colored slip of paper, who by now had awoken from her trance and took the paper with trembling hands. "And the Dean of Students called. He wants to meet with you, sometime this week. Give his office a call and they'll set an appointment. Make sure you get that paid within the next two weeks," he added, tapping the fine in her hand.
She left the SUV without a word, her hands trembling as she staggered forward. Alissa took her hand and led her away, but only after giving the officer a look of deepest venom. Patterson ignored her and hopped into his vehicle, all the while fingering his wallet, now filled to the brim with Otto Rock's most recent bribery. When a man was made of money, he was God. As he pulled out of the driveway, he stopped only briefly to roll down the window and call out, "Your video was a good one, Pamela. Keep it up."
Pamela froze in place, her heart stinging instantaneously, and Alissa looked around at him in horror, but he was already speeding away. Pamela's knees went out, and she hit the concrete hard, scraping herself…but she did not care about that. Not at all.
"What…did…he say?" she breathed.
Alissa bit her lip, her head hanging low, her eyes closed in pain. "Pamela…you don't need to see."
Pamela looked intently around at Alissa. "Yes…I fucking do…"
"Please, Pamela, I don't want you to. It's…it's sick. Otto…he emailed it to me while you were in there., waiting for you… Pamela, it's sick. It's so sick…" Her eyes were glistening with fierce tears, her voice trembling. Pamela grabbed her by the arms and stared pleadingly.
"Please…" she breathed. Alissa shook her head.
"No! No, Pamela, you can't!"
"Show me!" Pamela shrieked into her face. "Now!"
Alissa silently plead with her, shaking her head desperately, but Pamela shoved her against the wall of the nearby Wesley Center, and suddenly her hands were around Alissa's throat. She did not squeeze, but nevertheless her hold were fierce, and Alissa could only look into her face in terror.
"Show-me-right-now," Pamela hissed dangerously, her eyes glinting madly, feeling hatred, revulsion and a desire to destroy pulsing through her blood. "Or I'll hurt you…badly…"
"Okay…" Alissa breathed in terror. "I'll… I'll show you, just…just let me go."
Pamela obliged and yanked her hands away. Alissa, trembling all over at the suddenness of Pamela's attack. She made quick gestures for her to follow, and the two women ducked into the abandoned Wesley, situating on the couches set up in the dark corner of the main living room, always a welcome sanctuary to students on campus. Alissa took out her phone, and, with shaking hands, fumbled around through her emails. Pamela rocked back and forth in agitation, thinking every second spent searching was another thing taken from her… another damn thing taken from her…
Pamela, baby, we're going to send you to get help. We just can't let this behavior continue-
Pamela, we're going to be taking you into our custody. Coreman's Ridge is the only place left for you at this point-
Pamela, your parents… I'm so sorry-
Pamela, you're being issued a fine for public indecency and we've put you on the probation awareness list for-
Pamela, they emailed it! EMAILED IT, PAMELA! TO ME! TOOOO MEEEEEE! WHEEEEEEEEEEEE! EMAILED IT, EMAILED IT, SO ALL THE WORLD CAN SEEEEEEEEEEE!
Pamela!?
Pamela?
Pam?
P-
"H-here," Alissa sobbed, thrusting the phone into her hands.
Pornhub, read the title of the streamer. The title of the video: "College bitch gets fucked by three guys and then does a plant…" When the video began, Pamela's entire body froze. She watched, as, second after second, a naked, drugged her lay on a bed that she now remembered belonging to Otto Rock. She watched as, one by one, each of the three men who had promised her fun climbed atop her delirious body and raped her…watched as she simple lay, almost fully unconscious, encouraging nothing of their acts… and as the video progressed, an obvious voiceover to the trained ear sounded off: A woman gasping and moaning in pleasure, hissing for "more…"; romantic sounds, passionate grunts… None of those voices belonged to anyone in the video… none of them…
She watched as they encouraged her to delve deeper into paraphilia with a house plant, watched aspulled at the green stems and violated herself…
Bile. Vomit. All of it came to her, and released upon the Wesley floor. Alissa's phone dropped from her hand. The username of the video simply said, "RockOfAHardPlace."
Rock…
Otto Rock…you did it. You truly did…it…I'll kill you…I'LL KILL YOU…
"I'll kill him…" she hissed, pulling hard at strands of hair. She flung herself from the couch, and Alissa watched her go in terror and uncertainty, shaking madly as Pamela threw open the doors and savagely marched away, shouting again, "I'LL KILL HIM!"
"She killed him, just like that," the Joker giggled, blowing a loud raspberry as he scribbled upon a sheet of paper with green crayons. His scene depicted a very cartoonish looking redhead, doing a waltz on three corpses. "I told him, I said, 'Johnny, you won't survive it. Just keep your distance, man, I'm telling you'… Oh, the poor bastard, he just couldn't take a hint… Even when I grabbed Isley's head and forced her darling lips against Johnny, he still didn't fight off the advance, Bats. Not that she was too thrilled about being used like that, but Johnny had stolen my muffin that morning and-"
"Knock knock."
The Joker stopped and went wild eyed. His grin was so marvelous. "Who's there, Bats?"
"Talk!"
"Talk who?"
"Talk you…"
The Joker frowned. "Now see Bats, that wasn't really a good joke because-" FAM! The Joker's jaw disjointed at once and the clown went spinning across the couch. Bruce had broken the chain restraints for this exact purpose. The Joker hit the floor and began laughing wildly. "Oh, Bats, will you marry m-me?" He could not stop giggling… he could never stop giggling…
"According to logs found in the remains of Woodrue's Gotham home," Bruce said, standing over him, "Isley and Woodrue were both supplying enhanced poisons to your gang for at least one year before the transactions end. Woodrue vanishes off the face of the Earth… But according to those logs, he was indebted to you. Indebted by means of supply. You supplied the essential elements, ordered an enhanced strain of Nyrox Omega, a powerful neurotoxin. The last shipment cost you $50,000, under Woodrue's specifications… he never delivered. You never received the payment."
"You're boring me," the Joker sang, wagging a disappointed finger. His vivid green eyes stared right in Bruce's soul, even as he sported his busted lip. "Boring me…"
"I know you don't like being stiffed. Did you ever go after him?"
"Did I?" The Joker puckered his lips and held a finger against them. "May-ay-ay-ay-beeeeeeee…"
"You had to. You know why?" Bruce reached into his diverse utility belt, pulling out a folded sheet of paper from one of the pouches. "Because of this…" Written across the top of the paper in fine black penmanship were the words Joker Situation. Beneath this, a bulleted list of incidents:
Thursday, May 30: Sent collector to the door with a shotgun. Managed to talk the goon into giving me a late notice with a ten percent interest by the end of the week.
Friday, May 31: Received package at the door, painted purple with a green ribbon. Inside, the severed head of the collector sent to my door yesterday. In his mouth, a note from the Joker: "Don't try to joke around with the Joker. Tonight. All of it.
Saturday, June 1: A male child's scalp found hanging above my doorstep. Police called in. Brunette child. Attached, a new note from the Joker: "This one brown…next one red. TONIGHT." I have no relation to whatever child donated his scalp for the Joker's second message, but I have no doubt that he means Pamela. It would seem that Gotham is no longer safe for me. I'll have to head out soon… I'll take out a loan today and deliver it to the Joker's collectors. I need to maintain our business until I've disposed of Pamela and built up enough stock to move forward with my next phase. After all loose ends taken care of, I'll send Joker my regards. The GCPD will thank me for decades to come, whispering the name of their invisible hero…
"A few months after writing this, Woodrue vanished," said Bruce darkly. "But your base of operations was destroyed. A bomb, left in the street by an unknown assailant. It was chalked up to turf issues. Now isn't that funny…"
"He…sent…that bomb?" The Joker sat frozen and shivering. Then, he threw his head back and guffawed loudly, clapping his feet together. "Now that is funny! I see, I see… and I only sent my assassins after the bastard because he insulted my shoes during our last transaction! Turns out he blew us all to smithereeeeeeeeeens! Hee hee heh heh heh ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
Bruce bent forward and hoisted the Joker up by the neck, growling menacingly into his face. "Where did you send those assassins!?"
"Oh, Bats, don't be silly! To his Gotham resident, of course, but by then it was all smashed up!" He growled menacingly. "Then we went next door…asked the family of four if they were hiding Woodrue beneath their beds. They said no, of course, but I wanted to check to make sure. So we gunned them down and all, but guess what… he wasn't under the bed!" His face went wide with surprise. "Well, if he wasn't hiding under the bed, then he sure as hell wasn't in Gotham, that's what I concluded. But don't worry, Bats…" Bruce was suddenly looking murderous, and his hand gripped the Joker by the throat. "That family of four made me feel all better…"
"Why!?"
"Because it was fun," the Joker replied, boredly, looking angry that his adversary did not understand. "However, I did find out one interesting thing…" He lowered his voice. "Woodrue sure had a lot of maps in his home, Bats. Maps of the Sotton Cove…"
Bruce frowned. What? "I never saw maps of the Sotton Cove…"
"That's because you're a fish, and I'm a big pelican that snatches up all your little friends. Namely, maps, because let's face it, Bats… what living friends do you have besides me?"
Bruce threw the Joker down hard, and exhaled deeply. The Sotton Cove? That's in-
"Master Bruce?" Right on cue. Alfred's voice sounded inside of Bruce's cowl, and he promptly tapped the button on the side of it, saying, "I'm with the Joker. Go ahead."
"Oh, ghastly…"
The Joker began to sniff at the air like a dog, wagging his tongue. "Who's there, Batman!?" he whispered urgently.
"I've finished my analysis of the federal database linked to no-fly zones within a one-hundred mile radius, as you requested… There were none linked to Woodrue or any private-"
"BATS!" The Joker screamed, jumping up and getting right in Bruce's ear. "WHO IS ON THE LINE!? HELLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!?"
Bruce's fist struck backwards, and the Joker fell back, letting out a little umph as he hit the couch, dazed and nearly unconscious now, and blood squirted from his nostrils.
"Continue."
"Yes, Master Bruce. Thank you for taking care of that bampot. Now, I ran the name Woodrue and a few other variations, and found something rather interesting, namely, the identification of an 80-acre property settled within the Sotton Cove Highlands, near the Pacific coast, straight shot west of Portland, Oregon. The property is the home to Zodiac Shire Manor, which is owned by the Woodrue family. Now, I ran records on Mr. Woodrue to make sure we didn't have a case of mistaken surname, since Woodrue is fairly common. Robert Jason Woodrue was indeed educated at Sotton Academia, one of the most prestigious institutions in the country. His family is based there, running seventeen different vineyards across western California as well as an oil distribution network near Vancouver."
"This confirms it, then," said Bruce, feeling relief wash over him and pass away the anxious thoughts that had consumed him for a moment. "The Joker himself just confirmed that Woodrue had had maps pertaining to the lands around Sotton Cove in his home when he had come calling. That's where Woodrue escaped to. His family, influential as they are, secured a no-fly zone, and being in the Sotton, it's very desolate in regards to exterior interference. It would be the perfect place for him to escape."
"And he's been there, then, keeping a low profile… very well, shall we look into buying you a plane ticket to Oregon, then?"
"Yes. I need a flight that leaves tomorrow, then."
"I'll see it done. Are you heading home, then?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
He disconnected from the transceiver, and nodded at the Joker. "Thank you," he offered. "You did well. Let's meet again sometime, within this hospital…" He stepped forward and stood over the half-conscious, giggling maniac. "Because if you escape again…" He bent down threateningly. "…you won't have the chance to kill another family."
"I love you too, babe," the Joker whispered crazily, erupting into a hysterical bout of laughter. That terrible laughter continued all the way throughout Bruce's journey back up to the sane levels that were outside of Arkham Asylum. Back into the cold, smooth air, and into the great unknown…