"I'm sorry," Alissa whispered, her voice shaking hard. Pamela's eyes narrowed.
"Are you now?"
"Good to hear it." Woodrue was smirking, staring ahead. "Winston, my son, take Bledford Avenue, will you? Go the long way."
"Sir," acknowledged a gruff voice from the driver's seat, though Alissa could hardly see the man in the dark. The vehicle turned down the road that Woodrue had commanded, and they were driving past the docks.
"Are you going to kill me?" Alissa breathed, her heart dancing and dancing painfully in her chest. Pamela nodded.
"Someday. Not tonight, though. We need you tonight. You'll be punished another time, mark my words. I'll see to it."
"I believe that," Woodrue chuckled, drumming his fingers against the glass of the window. Sirens were still going off in the distance. "Winston, another left here at the sign and pull into Mayhew Station. Toxica, look sharp."
Alissa jerked forward at once, her breathing soft and shuddery. Someday. Not tonight, though. We need you tonight. You'll be punished another time, mark my words. I'll see to it. Those words burned into her heart and left a deep wound. Pamela probably meant it. She had turned away from Alissa and was staring ahead now, arms crossed, body still. They were coming up on a gas station to the right, dimly lit with a single street lamp casting an orange glow.
"Where are we going?" Alissa dared to ask in a soft voice.
Neither Woodrue nor Pamela answered. Winston, however, looked up into the rearview mirror and said, "I'd be careful asking questions. You're not in their good books."
"Thank you, Winston," Woodrue said firmly, and Winston got the point. He shut up.
The limousine pulled into the parking lot of the dumpy little station, and from the side of the building, out of the darkness, there pulled in a second limousine, this one maroon colored and slightly smaller. Winston put the limo into park and reached over to open his door.
"No need, Winston," Woodrue told the man softly. "Your job's done."
"You sure?" Winston sounded confused.
"We're sure," said Pamela, leaning in. Suddenly her long hair blocked Alissa's view of the driver. Pamela lingered there for a moment, and Alissa heard Winston groan loudly. The large man in the dark shook violently for a second, and then the ruckus ended. When Pamela pulled herself back, Winston was very, very still. Pamela held out a thumbs up with her green gloved hand. Woodrue nodded approvingly.
"Thanks, Winston," he muttered respectfully, opening his own door. "Come on, now, hurry, into the other car. Alissa, shotgun. Pamela, with me in the back." They all moved fast, stepping out into the night and shutting their doors behind them, running across the lot to the other vehicle. Alissa glanced over her shoulder as she entered the other car. Winston's corpse stared back at her accusingly.
Sorry, she thought. Why she said it, she had no idea. But she felt…bad for him.
She climbed shakily into the passenger seat, greeted by a silent nod from a dark-skinned man in shades. Shades…in the middle of the night… He, like Winston, was very muscular and hefty.
"Problem?" Pamela asked quietly in Alissa's ear as she settled herself onto the fine leather. Alissa shook her head quickly.
"N-no."
Pamela squeezed her shoulder tightly as the vehicle began to move fast. "Oh, that's good… I would hate to think you were losing your perfections, Toxica."
"Never, Ivy," Alissa attempted back… but what was she attempting? Respect, or condescension? She felt she was failing at both.
"To the mill, Chetch," Woodrue muttered. Chetch, the driver, nodded, not speaking a word as he sped off silently down the road. "That should throw any pursuers off of our trail for some time. Winston's corpse will add to the list of convenient dealings. And the Batman will be thrown off the scent for a while."
"For a while?" Pamela shot back, fists clenched. "It seems that 'a while' doesn't suit him? He's too good at his job."
"You sound like you admire him."
Pamela smiled. "I do admire him." She turned away from him. "Are we ready for this?"
"Yes we are. Everything is in order. But I should like to not have to handle anymore crazies this evening than absolutely necessary. His men will be waiting on the docks."
"Where are we going!?" Alissa piped up for the second time, aggravated now that the both of them could act as if she were invisible.
"You sound upset," Pamela noted, her arms tightening in cross. "Wanna elaborate?"
"I didn't do anything that you haven't done!" Alissa was angry, and she was aware of her insubordination to the woman that she was bound to serve. The awareness, however, was not enough to pacify the dragon inside. "I got rid of parasites in the garden. Isn't that how you'd word it?"
"You," Woodrue said pointedly, "are a very decorated killer, Alissa." He was smirking again. Alissa wanted to poison him. She would have, too, if she had her lipstick prepared, to hell with the consequences. She would turn around right here in the seat and suck the life out of his body. That was what the savage dragon desired. But the rational Alissa still fought hard. She let him continue. "You should have heard Officer Kant on the radio. He was very disturbed by the grisliness of your lack of control."
"And all those bodies in the park, tut tut." Pamela shook her head. "Control, Toxica."
"I have control!" Alissa cried, spinning around in her seat quickly. In one swift move, Chetch's arm struck out and his fist slammed into Alissa's cheek. Alissa screamed as the driver pinned her against the window, still maintaining smooth control over the drive. Woodrue and Pamela made no move to aid her.
"Hurt her," Woodrue commanded. Chetch nodded, and suddenly his thick fingers closed hard on her cheek. Alissa bit her lip hard to stop herself from screaming. His nails were sharp! "Well done, you may release her." When Chetch did, blood was dribbling from Alissa's mouth and cheek. She leaned as far away from the driver as possible as the car sped on and on. "Know that penalties of idiocy, Toxica."
"Never let your guard down in this twisted world," Pamela cooed.
"You'll find heart in learning from this night, the both of you," Woodrue finished. He watched the docks outside of his window. "One who lacks control, the other discipline. They are, in a sense, brother and sister. I'll show you how to go about things."
"Where are we headed?" Alissa mumbled for the third time.
Woodrue smiled. "The plant on the other side of the docks. Timberdane Boat Manufacturing. It's been out of business for years… which is why it was chosen as a fine spot indeed."
"A spot for what!?"
Vrriinng. A light suddenly emitted from Woodrue's pocket, and he reached with a swift hand for his cellular. "Woodrue," he answered briskly.
Naturally he kept speaker off, so no one but him heard over was on the other end. However, Woodrue got a satisfied smile upon his lips after a minute, and nodded to no one in particular. "That's the best damn news I've heard all day. Where will she be stored?" About twenty seconds passed, and then his smile spread into a wide grin. "This is why I asked you to look into the matter. You're phenomenal. I'll give you a nice little bonus. I will be calling you at dawn to finalize things. Keep your phone close. Thank you very much for this, W." He disconnected, looking triumphant about something. "Well, this night just got better. Our work will soon be paying off."
"Are we allowed to know a thing?" Pamela dared not sound too demanding.
"Not in the slightest, for now," he replied firmly. "But in time. Just up here, Chetch."
No one said a word more until the limo had reached the entrance to the old, massive, dockside steel plant that loomed beyond the barbed wire fence. Wreckage of half-built sailboats and barges littered a wide wasteland of metal debris, with a few buildings and shattered windows decking out the concrete kingdom. Beyond this, the plant and its many tall, cylindrical chimneys looked old and creepy in the dark, as far as Pamela was concerned. Alissa, however, hardly noticed the place. Still she felt a cold sense of apprehension for the current state, and she desired nothing less than to escape from these people and take a hiatus, to get her mind under control…
They stepped out into the dark, cold night, and Chetch leaned against the door, smoking a cigar. He waved them off as Pamela and Alissa followed Woodrue to the fence. It was chained up good with reinforced steel, but Woodrue stepped to the right. There, covered by a fat mess of ivy, was a small door, a separate way to get through the fence. He pulled a flash light from his coat pocket and directed the beam at the door handle. In the middle of the knob was a blue gem. He pressed his thumb against it.
Suddenly, a light sprang to life from one of the nearby shacks, and someone in the dark can running out of the door. In fact, there was many someones. At least twenty someones. Nineteen of those someones settled themselves in the middle of the courtyard, while the twentieth approached the fence. As the someone came into the light, they saw that it was a woman. The woman was very youthful, blonde and beautiful, though her attire… was less than many would consider to be "orthodox": Pamela noted the full body, black and red spandex that ended with two curved horns on the head, at the ends of which dangled bells. She also noted the pale white face, the black lips and heavy dark eyeliner. This woman was a jester of sorts, her attire said. The youthful clown let out a high-pitched Wheeeee and began to cartwheel her way towards the fence… and as she did, Alissa body went numb.
For a brief moment, Alissa saw… Alissa Jagner, cartwheeling and cartwheeling, as Alissa Jagner had always loved to do… but Toxica remembered what she must be and what she must do. Toxica… not Alissa… Oh God, not Alissa…
The clown bounced up and down excitedly as she threw herself against the fence and beamed at them. "Welcome to Mr. J's Playhouse!" she cried, throwing her arms out. Suddenly, a sharp voice rang across the courtyard. One of the figures in the distance was calling out, "Shut up, Harley!"
Harley, as this woman seemed to be called, suddenly clapped her hands to her mouth, muttering an "Oops." She laughed nervously. "I forgot I'm not supposed to scream that out loud. Heh. Heh." Looking embarrassed, she tried to put on a more professional, stern expression… which did not mix well with her clown-like appearance. "Mr. J's been waitin for ya's!" She winked at Woodrue, who returned a kind smile.
"Well that's wonderful," he said politely. "I have very much been looking forward to meeting with him as well. May we come in?"
"Um hmmmm," Harley cooed, giving him a thumbs up. "But first, you gotta give me the password!" She grinned widely and giggled like a child. Woodrue still smiled, nodding politely again.
"Alright, then, the password. Is it a joke?"
Harley's eyes narrowed. Pamela and Alissa actually exchanged looks, both thinking the same thing: What a waste of time.
"Maaayybbbeeee," Harley said, putting her hands upon her hips. Woodrue nodded.
"Alright, then: Knock, knock." He popped his neck, letting his hands slide to and fro at his side. Harley beamed.
"A knock knock joke?"
"A big knock knock," Woodrue said calmly, his eyes twinkling, "but… not exactly a joke."
Harley looked confused… but all too soon the true became clear. There was a low rumbling beneath their feet, and Harley looked around wildly.
"What the-" But that was all she managed to get out before something exploded in the distance. She spun around to the screams of the nineteen men who had assembled in the courtyard. Chunks of rock were flying everywhere, as were Harley's men. From the center of where they had stood, one massive, dark, fat vine was flailing about from a crater in the ground, whipping about and tossing men aside. Harley fell back against the fence… and Woodrue took advantage to step forward, a knife suddenly flashing in his hand. One hand gripped the back of Harley's suit firmly, the other situated the end of the knife against her back. Harley gasped.
"Open the fence, please, and no more games," Woodrue asked, more politely than ever before. He was still smiling, and he was so calm and confident. "Open up before I open you."
Suddenly, a voice exploded out of… Harley's body?... and a bout of giggles suddenly erupted in the air around them. "Ooooo, hoo hoo! Ooooooo! Better do what he says, m'dear, or you might be unfitted for the kind of work we do here!"
"O-okay! Y-yes, Mr. J…" Harley gulped, laughing nervously, and held up her right arm. Using her left, she pressed down on the top part of her right wrist. Silently, the little side entrance swung open at once, and Woodrue happily released her.
"Thank you, Miss Harley," he offered her pleasurably. "Your cooperation is appreciated." He raised a hand, and brought it down. At once, the giant plant that had grown out of the ground and attacked Harley's soldiers sunk down into the earth, and all became still in the junkyard save for the scattering clowns. He promptly took Pamela's hand in his own and led her through the fence, Alissa shakily following behind. Harley closed the fence behind them, and quickly ran ahead, fuming.
"The actual password wasn't a knock knock joke!" she cried as she sprinted for the distant plant. "Hey morons! Show these bozos in… the hard way!" She jerked her arm in the direction of the oncoming visitors, and suddenly, her clowns, as Pamela now saw they were, were rallying together once more. Knives were flashing. "Bring 'em to the Mister J in stripes!"
Woodrue and his company stopped. "Oh me, oh my, how can this be?" he whispered, shaking his head sadly. The clowns were sprinting across the courtyard at them, knives in hand, expressions full of fury for Woodrue's earlier attack. "Alissa, deal with them."
Alissa nodded, pushing aside her interior war in light of the current circumstances. She ran forward, breathing hard as she pushed herself into the air and slammed down a fierce kick into the first clown's temple, cracking his skull and slapping him against the concrete. As she landed, she unsheathed a switchblade from her boot, the knife glinting dangerously in the night, and she slashed the throat of a second clown who was bearing down upon her.
From the distance, Pamela and Woodrue waited patiently, observing Alissa's uncontrollable power and rage. It was a bloodbath. She moved so quickly and gracefully, a deadly ballerina, kicking, slicing and punching. She dodged and rolled, twisted in the air and snapped necks between her thighs. Within a matter of minutes, every clown that Harley had sent their way lay dead in puddles of blood at Alissa's feet. She herself had already been bathed in the blood of the Alvarez family, and now the clowns' blood made her look like a human tomato. She looked around at them with her scarlet face, dripping and dripping and dripping as she placed sheathed the switchblade once more.
Woodrue nodded contently, taking Pamela's hand and leading her towards Alissa. Pamela stared around at the carnage before her, grinning from ear to ear in sadistic delight. She made sure to trod upon the corpses as she walked with Woodrue, stamping down hard upon them, spitting at them and cursing them for daring their attack. Woodrue kept a firm pull on her, however, and her disrespect was short-lived. Alissa followed them silently towards the main doors of the factory.
Those doors suddenly exploded open, and the man himself beamed at their approach, giggling and giggling, holding his stomach hard as he dissolved into utter glee.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" the Clown Prince of Crime cried, punching the doors in adrenaline-like frenzy. "You've done very well! Very well! I commend you! HARLEY!" He suddenly roared her name into the darkness behind him, and Harley ran to his side at once. Following her was a much larger group of clowns. Many of them were shaking, terrified as Alissa approached, who gave them all a deadly glare.
"Mistah J?"
"Show our guests to the meeting room, dearest," the Joker purred. "I'll bring up some tea in a moment, J-Man!" The Joker sprung forward and threw a tight hug around a startled Woodrue, before pulling away and coming to stand before Pamela herself. His purple gloved hands slapped down hard upon Pamela's shoulders, and she stared at him with wide eyes. Alissa moved forward in a threatening manner… but more than ten pistols suddenly rose from the darkness behind the Joker, all of them concentrating on Alissa. Woodrue held Alissa's arm firmly, keeping her in place. "And who are you, dear?" the Joker breathed into Pamela's face.
Forcing herself to keep her nerve at its best, Pamela gave him her rosiest smile, batting her eyelashes, and she whispered, "Poison Ivy."
"Poison…Ivy…?" The Joker seemed fascinated with the name. "Stupid name, glorious name, but a name is a name is a name… You'll work out fine, I'm sure. And if not…" He leaned forward and placed his lips near her left ear. "…we'll throw your pieces in the ocean and be done it." He licked her ear after that, and pulled away, his concentration suddenly upon Alissa. Pamela stood rooted to the spot, not knowing how to react.
Alissa and the Joker stared each other down. "Blonde. Beautiful. Total psycho. This blood doesn't belong to my bitches alone. Tell me girlfriend, what's the 4-1-1?" The stupid little man giggled. "Isn't that what kids are saying these days? Well, not the ones I steal tongues from, of course… and that was one talkative fourth grader! But seriously… you've been having all sorts of fun tonight, haven't you?"
"I butchered an entire family tonight," Alissa whispered into his face, emulating Pamela's cool reserve. "I bathed in their blood. I've left corpses littering a park, too. And your clowns have been slaughtered. Ask me who I haven't butchered tonight, Joker?"
The Joker let out a terrible, shrilling laugh, and reached down to his side. A silver pistol suddenly was kissing the right side of Alissa's head.
"God you're beautiful. But you need to be restrained, dear, for all of our sakes. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I don't kn-" Alissa began to talk, but suddenly, her sentence was lost in a terrible scream. She grabbed her head in agony, falling to her knees. Woodrue jumped away, Pamela spinning about, and the Joker was handing his pistol back to Harley, the little needle hidden inside the barrel still poking out slightly. Alissa was on her back, screaming and screaming in the most terrible kind of pain, fire burning her on the inside. Woodrue looked at the Joker incredulously.
"What's happening!?" he demanded. The Joker batted his eyelashes.
"The same thing that will happen to all of you," he cried over Alissa's screams, "if you don't cut off your ears this second and hand them to me!" His grin could not be clearer. Harley was looking radiant and was chortling with her goons.
"I beg your pardon!?" Pamela demanded.
"Too late!" The Joker cried, and he reached down to his chest. Situated on the upper part of his purple clad torso was a small, bright green sunflower. He squeezed it gently… and a noxious, foul-smelling lime gas suddenly spewed out of the flower's center. Pamela felt her throat shake violently, felt her skin itch and her eyes water. She began to cough, unable to control herself as she struggled to breath. The world went dark, and she fell onto the ground. The gas hit Alissa in very much the same way, and her screams were suddenly silence as she too sunk down into the darkness of sleep.
Woodrue, meanwhile, only stood and glared at the clown, his arms crossed. The Joker and his thugs were now looking a little off put by this.
"That's unexpected," the Joker whispered, taking his hand away from the flower and tapping his chin. "You're a tough little sausage!"
"Don't try your tricks on me," Woodrue warned him quietly, prodding the Joker hard in his little green flower. "It will only embarrass you." He turned to face Harley and her goons, who concentrated their guns on him. Woodrue shook his head. "You will escort me to the meeting room, and you will revive Ivy and Toxica. You will bring me tea, unlaced, unpoisoned, and we will discuss the terms of our partnership, which, I will remind you, is currently under threat of nonexistence because of the rude welcoming I and my business partners have received this evening." He turned to the Joker, his eyes ablaze with fury. "And mark me, Joker, if you try to double-cross or harm us anymore in any way, I swear by the Maker above that I will kill every last fucker in this stinkhole." He stepped forward, so close to the startled clown. "Starting with your woman and ending with you."
The room was deadly silent. The air…so cold and uninviting. The Joker stood angry and shocked, as did his crew. Harley ran up to Woodrue, snarling, taking out a knife.
"You bastard!" she snapped, raising the knife. "You can't talk to my baby like that!"
Woodrue turned around quickly, spinning so fast to face her that she dropped the knife in shock, and let out a little shriek. His hand reached out, gripping her neck tightly. His mad eyes bore into her piercing blue ones.
"One…more…word…"
Harley was trembling. "S-sorry…"
The Joker grinned.