Ivy hummed to herself as she walked down the sidewalk, past the fountains towards The Hall of Justice, smiling at the warmth of the early morning sun on her face.
"Poison Ivy!" a reporter called from behind the press line. "Poison Ivy, is an attack imminent?"
Well that sounds serious, Ivy thought, stopping at the bottom of the grand steps that lead up to the front entrance to approach press corps.
Which seemed to…surprise…everyone. Even the reporter who'd asked the question.
"What seems to be the problem?" Ivy asked, her tone…chipper.
"Uhh—ga—thh—," the reporter struggled to get her words out, her microphone shaking in her outstretched hand as Ivy leaned into it.
"Imminent," Ivy repeated. "Meaning 'overhanging' or 'about to happen'. Seems you need to get that question out while I can still be of service."
The reporter seemed to be recovering from her initial shock now, and finally blurted out: "White Martians! They're—satellites picked up a ship."
"Oh," Ivy said, frowning with concern. "Well that is upsetting."
"Does the Justice League have a contingency plan in place to combat this?"
"I certainly hope so," Ivy chuckled. "Either way, I'd suggest you all get in doors. Seeing a White Martian in its natural form can really ruin your day, believe you me." Then she smiled at the reporter in front of her. "What a gorgeous necklace."
"Oh, umm—thank you," the reporter blushed as Ivy reached a hand out to closer examine the pendant.
Without thinking, Pam said: "I bought the exact same one for my w—allet," Goddamn it. "With my wallet." She corrected. "I bought it with my wallet because that's where I keep my money, of course. Well…great. We'll take care of the White Martians, you get off our sidewalk…everything is fine." Ivy tried to bring the conversation to a definitive end and nodded before spinning on her heels, heading quickly up the front steps.
"Oh, here, let me get that for you," Ivy told Wally West, who was scaling the steps in front of her. A tree root leapt up from the ground and wrapped around the door's handle, pulling it open.
Wally looked a bewildered as he said: "thank you?"
"No problem," Ivy grinned, stepping inside behind him, her clapping heels on the marble floor sounding almost melodic to her. "Good morning, Clark! Jon, J'onn," she nodded at each of them as she laughed. "That's funny. Did no one ever think that was funny? Or have you just never stood next to each other?"
"Good morning, Dr. Isley," J'onn greeted in return, although he too seemed puzzled. Clark looked almost concerned and Jon seemed scared.
"Kendra," Ivy nodded as she stepped into the elevator next to Hawkgirl. "Or—no! it's Shiera now, isn't it? Sincerest apologies. I love your hair!"
"Uh—thanks," Shiera offered, looking perturbed as she pressed the button for the 3rd floor.
Ivy tapped her foot in tune with her humming as the elevator took them up to the Hall's recreational quarters, where she zeroed in on Jo and Damian as soon as the doors slid open.
"Hello, My Daughter who seems to think it's appropriate to treat this communal space like it's her living room," she acknowledged with the same lighthearted tone and sing-songy cadence she'd been using all morning.
Jo frowned, lifting her head from where it was laying on Damian's lap, the two of them lounging on the couch—well, Jo lounging and Damian allowing it. "What's that?"
"What's what?" Ivy questioned.
"On your face. There's something on your face."
Ivy panicked slightly as she wiped around her mouth. She'd just given a television interview, something on her face was the worst case scenario. "Where?"
"Right there!" Jo pointed.
Damian rolled his eyes. "Your smile, Pamela. She's referring to the smile on your face."
"Ah, yes," Ivy closed her lips over her teeth, tamping down her happiness just slightly. "And my Son-in-law who continues to insists on treating me like a peer despite my seniority and the fact he's now married to my daughter; how could I forget you? Good morning. I hope it's treating you well."
Jo narrowed her eyes, setting the tennis ball she'd been tossing in the air to the side and sitting up. "What's going on with you?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," Ivy told her. "But I am wondering what you're doing here. Shouldn't you be in San Francisco?"
"White Martian threat, they wanted us all under one roof so we could mount a united defense," Jo answered quickly.
Damian was eyeing her with the same critical regard Jo had employed. "I think she got laid," he decided after a moment.
"Who?" Jo was confused.
"Your Mom." Damian told her. "She either just had sex, or she's pregnant."
"Ugh, that reminds me—we're never having kids," Jo informed him nonchalantly before taking another look at Ivy. "Holy shit," she realized. "Please tell me it was Ma."
"Jo, that's—," Pam began, but was cut off by Damian saying: "What the hell does that mean?"
Jo turned to him, asking: "What do you mean what does it mean? I don't want kids, thought my statement was fairly self-explanatory."
"You can't just declare that!" Damian shot back. "It's a joint decision!"
"—disgusting you'd assume or even suspect I'd be unfaithful to your Mother in any capacity," Ivy mumbled, leaving them to their conversation. "But yes, I did get laid. Not that it's any of your business…"
"Who are you talking to?" Donna Troy asked as Ivy passed her in the doorway.
Ivy stopped, turned to her, and with a sigh, reached into her pocket, pulling out a $20 bill. "You should be able to buy at least two chickens with this. Go do that."
/
"Can you just fucking not?" Damian ducked to avoid Jo's quick flurry of batarangs which stuck in the alien behind him.
"I'm trying to have an adult conversation," he growled, pulling out his grappling gun and firing from the ground. The hook ripped through a Martian's stomach, securing itself there so that Damian could reel it in. He reached for his belt…but nothing came to his hand. "Goddamn it, Jo. Where are my swords?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Jo asked, taking care of the Martian he had hooked by pulling the pin on one of her grenades and waiting until just before it detonated to throw it. "Did you leave them at home?"
Having cleared their immediate surroundings, Damian took a moment to rip his hook out of the alien spasming at their feet. "I took them to get them sharpened…did I leave them in the car?"
Jo opened her mask. "Were you even looking in the right compartment?"
"Of course! I'm not an idiot, Jolene. Believe it or not, I'm more than capable of—,"
"Did you check on your back?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"What did I just say?" he demanded. "I said I'm not a fucking idiot." He reached behind his back anyway to prove a point…and the swords sprung to his hands.
"See, this is why we…" Jo trailed off as the light changed, and they both looked up to see it was because a White Martian was blocking their sun.
But it wasn't long for this world, as—at the moment it raised its fist—a tree root stabbed through its head, coming out the front through its eye before quickly retracting. The alien dropped to its knees before falling forward onto its face…revealing an irritated Poison Ivy.
"We don't have time for your heterosexual nonsense," she told them. "Damian, of course Jolene wants children. She loves children. She made a reactionary statement stating an opinion that she's comfortable with for right now. You just got married." She reminded them, and as she did, they watched a thick vine shoot up from the ground behind her and wrap around a Martian that was quickly approaching. "Allow a little time for that to sink in and for Jo to actually adjust to adulthood before beginning those conversations. You're young, there's plenty of time. However, Damian, with your family history and personality, it honestly isn't unreasonable for Jo to assume you might not want children. So, although the inevitable conclusion is that you will have children, it's not ridiculous for the alternative to be considered. Now do your job. I shouldn't have to be parenting right now just like you shouldn't be quarreling."
"Fine," Jo and Damian mumbled in unison, Jo's mask closing back over her reddened face.
/
"Uhhh…I don't know, you guys…"
"Kara, Honey, just come out here, please," Lena was growing impatient. "I'm sure you look fine."
"I know I look fine," the blonde guaranteed from the bathroom. "It's just…it's weird not being able to feel a breeze."
"I think you'll eventually come to appreciate the lack of breeze," Karen chuckled from her place on the couch next to Anthony, and in another moment, Kara did (somewhat reluctantly, it seemed) emerge from the bathroom.
She seemed nervous as her hands tentatively came to rest on her hips in an attempt to assume her 'hero pose'…but quickly deflated, her shoulders slumping as she dropped her hands. "I don't know, I just—it doesn't really feel like me, I don't think."
Anthony was confused—if not a bit disappointed. They'd made sure to keep the essence of her old suit. Pay homage and improve, that was always their motto when approaching the aesthetics of a design.
They'd recreated the material with only slight structure modifications to improve durability, so it should feel the same on her skin. As far as color, they didn't change that either, just added a few sky blue highlights on her sides and shoulders to accentuate her v-taper. And yes, they'd added a collar…and a yellow highlight around the edge of her cape…changed the belt design to something a bit thinner…added some red to her pants, broadened the symbol on her chest and anchored the cape there, so the red of the 'S' began the red of her cape…alright, so maybe they changed more things than Anthony realized. Plus, you know, pants. But still, Anthony and Karen had been pretty pleased with themselves. And getting to work on a Super had been such an honor…they understood how loved the Kryptonians were on this planet. How much their image meant, how pictures of Kara in this suit would be plastered onto the walls of millions of young girls (and probably a few teenaged boys).
Unlike the Bat-family, who operated under the cloak of darkness, everything the Supers did was on worldwide display. Needless to say, Anthony and Karen hadn't taken this assignment lightly.
"Is there anything that you don't like about it specifically?" Anthony asked, taking out a notepad. "Because we can always go back and make adjustments. We want you to feel comfortable and confident. Going into battle with a suit you don't like is—in my humble, non-super opinion—akin to arriving at school in only your underwear. Stressful for you, weird for everyone else."
Kara didn't answer, just stood in front of the mirror nervously wringing her hands, so Lena sighed and turned to explain that: "Kara doesn't like change. Processing it can be difficult for her. But the suit is gorgeous, honestly. And looks absolutely lovely on you, Kara," she raised her voice slightly to make sure she was getting through whatever mental blockade her wife was putting up. "Once she's grown more accustomed to it, we'll contact you should we come up with any specific gripes. But in the meantime, well done. Really and sincerely. I think it's a fantastic next step in her evolution as a hero."
/
"You look like your Mom, ya know," Jo said into the silence of their darkened bedroom.
"That's impossible," Damian murmured beside her.
Jo rolled her eyes. "OK, even if I was talking about Selina—which you know I wasn't—my statement would still be true as your Dad's type is so specific it extends not only to the children he collects but the woman he married as well. Seriously, if Selina were a boy, she'd look exactly like you…or Dick…or Tim…or Bruce, for that matter." She scoffed, "and they say my Mom's a narcissist."
"And Jason," Damian pointed out. "Seems like you've got a type too."
"Jason's dead."
Damian rolled away from her. "And Talia al Ghul is dead to me."
"Well, since we're being dramatic," Jo sat up and turned the bedside lamp on. "What happened to our adult conversation?"
"It got interrupted by platoon of shapeshifting aliens," he reminded her, still facing away.
Jo put her hand on his shoulder and pulled gently until she could see his face. "Why—after what you went through with Talia—would you want to have kids? Aren't you afraid of making the same mistakes?"
"Am I afraid of attempting to trap a man in a relationship he didn't want by manufacturing his child, only to realize that was a ridiculous fucking idea and drop the kid off on his Father's doorstep?" Damian prompted before holding up his left hand to show her his wedding ring. "Think I might be exempt from that particular scenario."
"Alright, fine," Jo laid back in a huff. "Well what if I do a shittier job then my parents and my Mom just drags on me 24/7?"
"Do they critique Anthony's parenting?" Damian asked.
Jo snorted. "Anthony is Anthony. They don't critique anything Anthony does."
"Just like Dick," Damian grumbled.
Thinking over the comparison a moment, Jo decided: "Yeah, fuck those guys. With their approachableness and generally pleasant nature. Who needs em?"
Damian chuckled, murmuring: "they're the worst," as he leaned forward to kiss her slowly, wrapping his arm around her as he did. "As much as I hate to admit it—Ivy is right. We don't have to talk about this right now. I don't have any interest in having kids at the moment either. In fact, the only reason I want them at all is to pass on the Batman mantle."
"Well, you better work on that wack-ass motivation," Jo informed, running a hand absently though his hair. "How about this: in two years, we reassess. I'll be 25, you'll be…31? That's—uh—respectable, right?"
"If we're not divorced by then," Damian acknowledged, pulling Jo's shirt up enough to expose her abdomen and leaning over her to kiss her neck.
"OK, first off—," Jo began. "That prenup you had me sign was weak as shit, so you're gonna want to have some contingency plans in place before you divorce me otherwise imma be blasting Bitch Better Have My Money every time I see your sorry-ass face because Bitch, better have my money. Secondly—," she sat up a little further so that he could slip the shirt over her head. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Well…" he tossed her shirt off the bed and hovered over her, bracketing her body with his elbows. "We had a fight, we made up, now we get to have make-up sex."
Jo laughed. "Is that the typical order of events?"
He shrugged. "I don't make the rules; I just follow them."
"Since when?"
"Since I found a set of rules that I liked."
Author's Note: I don't know how familiar you guys are with Supergirl's costume history, but I was going for something of a compromise on her Smallville Season 11 and Supergirl: Last Daughter of Krypton looks.