I woke up to the sound of echoing water. Thick, fat drops were pouring down my mask. I felt a cold, wet sensation around my knees. I didn't even have to open my eyes to know that I was standing in a deep pool of water. By the moonlight, I could tell that I was in an old, stone well about twelve feet deep. My arms were suspended by large vines which were wrapping themselves tightly around my forearms and wrists. The drug that the blue eyed woman hit me with was beginning to wear off a bit, allowing me to feel the pain in my right leg. That stiletto heel gave me a nasty gash. I looked up, seeing Poison Ivy standing above.
"So it looks like I'll be the one to claim your demise," she said, her red lips spreading madly, "With the way this rain's coming down, you'll be under soon. This is the best way to kill you while preserving your body. It'll give me quite a bit of respect here, as well as in Gotham, so I'll need to verify it as much as possible."
"You're not one to care about associating with mobsters, Ivy," I began without really reacting to her, "Rumor has it that you've been talking to Damien and Ava Lord, trying to get into their good graces. Let me guess, getting in good with them would give you the financial backing and legal protection to carry out your eco-terrorism?"
"If you want to call liberation eco-terrorism, then yes. Sometimes, it involves shaking hands with the devil," she seemed a bit annoyed, "Of course, some fool named Dwight McCarthy ruined my plans by killing both Damien and Ava. Still and all, when I parade your body around, I'm sure it'll get the attention of all the major players in the city. Maybe even a Roarke or two. You definetely know how to piss people off, don't you?," she leaned in closer, "And don't think that I am only thinking about my profession here. I'm killing you with as much animosity as you'd expect from me. Ciao."
She blew me a kiss and left, allowing the rain to come down and eventually drown me. The vines were thick. My head was still spinning slightly due to the drug and the gash in my leg wasn't making things any easier. Still, I came to this city prepared to meet up with Ivy just as much as the others. She was one of my last targets so I made sure that I wasn't empty handed. Hidden under my gloves were twin containers of a highly potent herbicide, complete with a nozzle and trigger system. I pressed my fingers onto my palms and snapped my wrists back, releasing two squirts of the substances onto the vines that held me. The rain worked to my advantage since it began to run the chemicals down the lengths of the vines. They began to wither and die almost immediately. I continued to pour it on, eventually empting both containers. The herbicide finally ate its way through them, releasing their grip. I jerked my arms free the rest of the way and began to climb up the stone well. The rain made it slippery so I used some razor-batarangs to pull myself up. My leg was throbbing from the cut, though, so every step was difficult. The gash was deeper than I realized. I found out when I put a little too much weight on my foot and felt the pain shoot up through my thigh. My reaction combined with the wet wall, I slipped and almost fell in the water. I held on to a single batarang and pulled myself up, fighting through the pain.
Gradually, I brought myself topside, falling onto wet grass and mud. The rain suddenly let up a few moments later. I took it as a good sign. Ivy's 1970 Ferrari 365 GT was nearby and I could see her inside the greenhouse, tending to her plants. I hot wired the car, reving the engine and feeling the vibrations of a souped up V8. I hit the gas and sent the car smashing through the glass wall, sending shards and pots flying. She wheeled around with gritted teeth and a handful of darts, filled with some unknown toxins. She put a few holes through the windshield when she threw them, putting more muscle behind the throw than I was expecting. I flung the door open and rolled out, feeling pain in my leg once again. It made me a bit clumsy and I soon found myself with a thorny vine around my one good leg. I fell onto my back, the sudden movements making it tighten while inch long thorns found their way deeper into my thigh. I no longer had the herbicide but I did have a small flame thrower in my belt. I blasted the thing, watching it shrivel into ash. Just to make sure, I turned the flames onto the rows of plants on either side. Both of my legs were bledding by this point so I knew I would be slower. I stood up as much as possible, unleashing a wall of butain a second before the entire place went up.
"NO!," Ivy snarled angrily as she lunged toward me. As mentioned, the wounds in my legs made me a lot slower than normal. She slammed into me, forcing me back. I used her momentum, carrying both of us inside the Ferarri; then I threw the car into reverse as I shoved her into the passenger's seat. We sped out backwards, bringing down more glass as flames roared around us. I spun the car around through wet grass, eventually finding a gravel road. Meanwhile, the greenhouse was coming down in the rear view mirror.
Ivy was able to shove past my free hand, attempting to slash me with her nails, which were more than likely covered in toxin but I didn't give her the pleasure. I grabbed her by the back of her hair as I drove down the road, smashing her face into the steering wheel. I slammed the driver's door shut and pulled over. I handcuffed Ivy to the steering column, wrapped a rag around her mouth (more toxin prevention) and then called the federal agents.
I bandaged my legs the next morning. It would take a good part of a day to heal, which was annoying. I decided to get some excercise and go for a walk, putting on my Bruce Wayne disguise. Sin City during the day is just as bleak as it is at night. You can clearly see the dirt and filth on every street. The large puddles of water from the rain mixed with trash and created a sick stench in the air. I ignored it the best I could and eventually, I came across a newspaper stand where I picked up a copy. Dwight McCarthy was indeed somehow involved in the murders of both Damien and Ava Lord and was a wanted man. Another article was about Marv, who had killed Cardinal Roarke, among others. He was now on deathrow. Those that were killed by these men were apparently criminals but was this the only way this city could deal with them? Through death and the perversion of law? After that, I noticed another article, "Has the Batman Finally Flipped?". I decided to read, expecting a simple smear campaign paid for by corrupt politicians and mobsters who didn't want me around for obvius reasons. I wish that were the case. Apparently, there was a mugger that, according to one witness, was stopped by Batman. I didn't remember stopping any muggings but that wasn't what concered me most. I had apparently nearly beaten the man to death before dumping gasoline on him and lighting a match. The police were conducting a manhunt for me with extreme prejudice.
Obviously, something wasn't right.