In the Garden of Evil

[Dr. Pamela Isley]

The nighttime is not the friend of most plants. There is no sunlight for growth and the darkness hides those creatures most willing to destroy her precious family. But it was only at night that she could reign her terror on the world, for Dr. Isley walked in the daylight and must remain safe. Grinning under her brown fedora hat, the nighttime had come to mean a greater freedom for the environment and herself. As the sunset, the green eyes stared out in anticipation of becoming her true self; yes, Pamela was just a façade. The clinking of heels down the sidewalk attracted attention of those still awake, mostly low-level thieves and the homeless, to each she grinned and to some she blew kisses. Her hand slipped into the pocket of her brown coat as she turned a corner into three men who, after seeing her come, were not about to let her go just so quickly.

“Hey cutie,” one boldly began, all three grinning in the power of numbers. There was a low and quiet laugh at their audacity, but never disbelief. Ivy had long let go of the good qualities in humans. Her thumb pushed the rim of the hat up to reveal her eyes at first, then entirely so the hat fell behind her back and onto the ground.

“Hello boys,” she responded quietly as she eyed their reactions, inwardly disgusted at their open gawking. Reaching into her pocket, she shifted four small ball shaped bombs between her fingers as she took a step forward towards the center man. Her nostrils flared as she smelled alcohol on at least one of them. Typical. Reaching out to grab the man’s stained and dirty tie, she pulled the man closer into a kiss. There were noises out of the other two though she didn’t pay too close attention. As she pulled out of it, she grinned at the man’s surprised expression and glanced to the other two.

“There’s more in it for you pair if –“ she paused, pulling out the small bombs and separated them into two’s. Dropping the pair into their hands, she turned and pointed down the street. “Throw those into the lobby of the Wayne building. I’ll be here.”

It wasn’t entirely a shock when the two agreed without hesitation. Not only were men easily manipulated, but these weren’t the high class sort to ask questions. As the two disappeared down the road, she turned to the man who was grinning and stepping towards her. She put her hand out on his chest, a red eyebrow raising high on her forehead. “You may want to check yourself into a hospital. You’re going to die.”

Laughing, she pushed her hard (which, unfortunately, didn’t do much but gave her enough time to run) and took off in the other direction. She wasn’t entirely ready for an attack on Wayne Enterprises, but a healthy warning and distraction couldn’t hurt much. As she ran, she pulled off the brown coat to reveal what she had only made recently; a dress of green. Meant to be tight and revealing for cases she had just experienced, it also was light and loose for quick movements. Recent costumed villains in Gotham had given her the idea, so she thought she’d join the fun. Smashing through the glass door of an herbal medicine store, she slipped in the small hole and started rummaging through the organic materials.

[Charlie Holden]

His first date for the evening had gone rather well. The girl was a cute shop assistant at one of the higher-end stores in town; a petite blonde with a great smile and event better legs. She wasn’t particularly bright which was fine by him, as he didn’t really need her to be thinking overmuch when they had dinner, shot pool or canoodled in some theatre down town. When the movie had ended he had driven her to her building and kissed her goodnight (he was still attempting to work his way upstairs) and then jumped in Bambi before purring off towards his second date. The streets were largely deserted, with only a few no-good-nicks still hanging about. As he drove on rails down Hampton Avenue he spotted the sultry sway of a woman as she owned the footpath like a catwalk. Charlie took his foot of the gas and cornered onto Turner Street when he saw her bumping into three shady looking guys in his rear-view mirror.

On the one hand, he was going to be late for his second date of the evening. Catalina was a Spanish librarian whose smouldering intelligence always caught him surprisingly off guard, and her bedroom antics were well above par. On the other hand, this redhead looked pretty damn fine from his angle, and it was always good to add another name to his list. And of course then there was the whole ‘Protect and Serve’ vibe. He swooped in to the curb a block down, cutting the engine and killing the lights. He snatched his leather bomber from the passenger seat and shrugged into it once he was street-side, hiding the shoulder holster and glock that he usually wore, even when he was off-duty. He began to hastily walk back towards Hampton and Turner when the sound of breaking glass across the street diverted his attention. Dammit! he thought. Trust it to be tonight when every damn perp makes an effort. He flipped out his cellphone and dialled through to the call centre.

“Despatch. What is your name and location?”

“Lieutenant Charlie Holden. Turner Street. Closest intersection is Hampton Ave.” He was quickly skulking across the street, avoiding the light of the street lamps where possible and talking in a low and practiced tone.

“Turner and Hampton. What is the nature of the incident?”

“There are two. One is a routine safety check of a red-headed woman on the corner being accosted by three men. The other is a 211 in progress at...” he squinted at the unlit store sign. “Turner Organics.”

“We’re sending a car. Proceed with caution.”

He snapped his phone shut and pocketed it. Proceed with caution? Duh. He just got his highlights done.

There was no glass on the sidewalk as he approached the store from the side, which was just as he had anticipated but one had to be ready for almost any eventuality these days. He drew his weapon, cradling the piece in one hand whilst the other wrapped protectively around it for extra stability and tension. Holding it low and to his right as he peered around the edge of the brick wall and into the darkened store through the remains of the glass door, Charlie could see a svelte silhouette outlined within by a dull (and useless) security light. Adjusting his grip on his hand gun and raising it to take aim, Charlie wondered if he would have to spring for flowers for the lovely (but spirited!) Catalina.

“Gotham PD!” He shouted, planting his feet. “Throw down your weapons, put your hands on your head and advance to the front of the store slowly!”

[Dr. Pamela Isley]

Whispering under her breath, Ivy was making a list in her head of all the things that were present at the store. Sadly, she only had so much room in the bag she nabbed at the front so only the important and most risky toxins would be able to come home with her. She glared at a sign that mentioned certain plants were illegal in mass dosages, as anything natural could never be illegal. Throwing a few casual ingredients into the bag before reaching the large, heavily bolted door.

Quirking an eyebrow, she grabbed one of the more potent acids from behind the counter and poured it on the top lock and let it drift down to the others. It was only typical that a store like this would have it own solution to their security. Determining she suddenly liked that particular form of acid, she grabbed another and tossed it into the bag. Just as she kicked at the edge of the door and it swung open, the booming voice of some police officer on top of it tonight (which she deemed rare) halted her. Grinning, she put her hands up in a surrender mode as she took a step further into the security light.

“Weapons? Why, officer, it’s just little ol’ me,” she called out softly and put her right hand in front of her face; the finger curled upwards in a beckoning manner.

[Charlie Holden]

The softly feminine voice that reached Charlie didn’t cause him to hesitate in the slightest. He kept his weapon trained on the darkened figure even as it melted out of the shadows and into better sight. Vicious curves and a sinful dress were the least of his troubles as he was taken in by the woman’s sultry grin. It was men such as he who made her work so very simple, but he wasn’t quite ready to brush off the obvious fact that someone here had committed a crime. He recognised her as the woman from the corner. Had the men brought her here? She looked like she was in pretty good shape unharmed, and Charlie quirked his head slightly to one side as she lifted her hand, tempting him into the building.

“I said hands on your head,” he repeated, though he sounded minimally less sure of himself. He knew better than to stand in the doorway. The light from the street would make him a sitting duck to anyone hiding inside, and he had absolutely no desire to get shot and miss a date all in one night. “And come out of the building, please Miss. Backup is on its way. Are you hurt?”

[Dr. Pamela Isley]

An eyebrow quirked as the man all at once admitted he didn’t think she was the culprit, but refused to altogether drop his protocol. It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary – previous officers had done the same, but all fell into the same trap as well. She quirked her head to the side visibly as her eyes managed to land on the planted bombs upon the shop’s counter. Two of the three were datura bombs, which only caused hallucinations and fits of coughing upon inhaling. The third was daffodil; Ivy briefly wondered if parents would be so willing to let their children slaughter the tiny yellow weeds if they knew how deadly they were. Keeping her hands in place, she moved her hand to point to the desk which was more on the darker side of the shop.

“You don’t understand,” she continued in her soft, very calm voice. “There are bombs planted in here, and if they go off, they will –“ the hand that was pointing managed to tip over the first datura bomb, which upon impact with the ground exploded into a large sum of green gas. She briefly moved in the new shroud, grabbing the second bomb and throwing it a few feet further in front of her, closer to the officer and the door. She began to audibly cough, a fake symptom she had picked up in New York; a gallant young officer tried to “save” her and nature took its course. Doubting this one was brave enough to test the nature of these bombs, she turned around to grab her bag and ran back into the more secured room. She continued to fake cough as she glared at the ingredients. Her eyes widened twice their size when she spotted the name clearly written on a large container:

Fluorosulfuric acid.

“Come to me, baby,” she whispered to the jar as she pulled it off the shelf. The grin on her face meant she had hit the right shop: this was no mere organic shop but an underground source of deadly chemicals. Her only regret now was that the store would be discovered by her break-in and be shut down – until they found another outlet she could then rob. Chuckling under her breath, she moved out of the small storage room back into the gassy room, which was now clearing. She grabbing the daffodil bomb and squinted into the room. She smacked her lips together as she moved further into the smoke, attempting to find that pesky officer (assuming he hadn’t run from the hallucinogenic monsters chasing him).

[Charlie Holden]

Unfortunately for this woman, whoever she was, she had severely underestimated Charlie Holden. He might have been an arrogant, chauvinistic bigot but he was also one hell of a cop who was not only capable of doing things by the book but also relied heavily on his intuition; a sixth sense which had served him well in his 12 years on the force. As soon as the word ‘bombs’ entered his conscience he saw the pages in the procedure manual that reflected how one should deal with such a situation. He wasn’t given time to react appropriately, however, as the room was suddenly filled with a lurid green gas. Taking a deep breath of clean air before the noxious substance could reach him, Charlie stepped back into his cover and zipped up his bomber all the way up. The collar flipped up and over his nose and mouth to provide a temporary barrier against the gas; he entered the building.

Where the hell is that car? he wondered, his good Italian leather shoes crunching on the freshly broken glass as he attempted to see through the gas in order to clear the room of targets. He crouched and swept along with one side pressed to the wall so that he could move towards the back of the room and not lose his way. The air was a little clearer towards the floor as the clouds rose closer and closer to the ceiling, but there was no sign of the woman, bar a cough that echoed annoyingly throughout the store. If she had been innocent, she would have come running out when the bomb had detonated. If she had’ve been a hostage, she would have sounded a lot more shrill and less cunning. Deciding that she was definitely the perpetrator, Charlie paused in order to better see movement through the emerald haze.

When the coughing stopped Charlie let his weapon fall to his side once more, ready to be called upon like a faithful ally if it were needed again anytime soon. It was then that movement near the counter of the store caught his practiced eye. A woman, tall and slender in a slinky dress and heels – the woman from the corner – was standing there and looking alert, a small ball she took from the counter in her hand. He watched her move into the room further towards the front, obviously looking for him. He was behind her now; she had passed him in his corner as she left the store room and not even noticed due to the gas that was shifting towards the walls. He knew it was now or never. If he detained her and she was innocent, he would have a lot of explaining to do. If he detained her and she wasn’t innocent – or, more importantly, turned out to be who he thought she might be – then he might very well be in for a promotion.

He pushed off of the wall, moving quickly and cat-like on soft feet. He was behind her in a few moments, pushing the muzzle of his 9mm into the small of her back gently but threateningly before he reached for the hand holding the ball, twisting it behind her back in a smooth routine motion. “You should have come out to play when I asked nicely,” he said in a casual, conversational tone. “The guys at the MIU are gonna love you...”

[Dr. Pamela Isley]

A near second before the gun’s barrel pressed into her neck, she heard a footstep from behind. Even if that second had been longer, such as five or ten, she would’ve only continued to walk and invite the man closer to her. Instead she allowed a grin to further on her lips as she relaxed the arm that was pulled behind her. His little comments and calm nature only served to amuse her further, as this was someone much more fun to play with than past officers. Her hand that held the bomb clamped shut tightly, not letting go of her weapon until the moment was right. Ivy’s heart began to pump faster as she planned exactly where this was going and these small moments were what turned her more villain than Nature’s solider. She was purposefully becoming careless, begging officers to catch her just to see if she could get out of it. She wanted them to feel and know the wrath she had created in Nature’s name rather than silently pay them back for their horrendous deeds. And the worst of her preservation now was that this specific man had nothing directly to do with her qualms. For all she knew he was a vegan and lived just as she did, but she no longer cared for specific retribution. Her vengeance was now upon all human kind, with no exception. Yes, the adrenaline rush she felt at this very moment was addicting and she was freshly hooked.

“Do you know the effects of daffodil poisoning, Officer?” she asked calmly, staring out before as if he were standing directly in front of her. She purposefully ignored his last statement, though made mental note that he was just as weak to his testosterone and her figure as any man before him. Her fingers started to cave in on the bomb, pushing tighter and tighter together. “Normally, it’s quite routine. Nausea, diarrhea, loss of appetite, discomfort and vomiting. It might seem like the flu to the average person, which the doctors usually misdiagnose--” and just as that last word left her lips, her hands slammed shut entirely and the bomb fizzled out a white fog. Her shoulders shrugged carefully, as if to say oops and her hand let go of the now crushed outer shell while the poison seeped itself into the room. “But in concentrated dosages, it causes non stop vomiting until the victim is dehydrated, weak, unable to help itself … and eventually dies.”

Taking in a deep breath, she recognized the scent of the daffodil and calmly took advantage of her immunity. Slowly turning her head to the side, she tried her best to look at him at the angle she was given, her grin having never moved once from its sly and evil mark.

“Now you can either drop the gun so I can give you the antidote, or we can wait here until you drop to the floor in pain.”

[Charlie Holden]

The way she relaxed against his ready grip had him on edge. He knew now that she was definitely not the innocent party he had at first assumed her to be, and he was glad that he had managed to capture her. He pressed the gun deeper into her back and pushed on her wrist, attempting to urge her forwards towards the door. She had her feet planted in such a way that arched her back, her tumbling saffron colored locks spilling onto him and her upper back pressed against his chest. Charlie immediately took a step back, decidedly uncomfortable. He was working now, dammit! Or – wait, wasn’t he off duty? No, he thought, as he got a whiff of her hair. Definitely working. The way she continued to talk as though he was giving her alternative choices here really irked him. He lifted a sardonic brow.

He was about to tell her that it was ‘Lieutenant’, not ‘Officer’ when a stinging chill of gas once again hit him. The blast collected his face and he coughed from the sudden intake of it; a wet and cold thicker-than-air substance that invaded his lungs on a mission. He coughed again several times, his grip slackening off her wrist but his gun still implacably in place. The grin on her face was chilling and oddly alluring at all the once, and the listed symptoms and other information about the toxin now settling into his body began to sink into his (previously preoccupied) brain. He was going to let her go and die. Or he was going to hold on to her and die and she would leave him there.

WHERE THE HELL WAS THAT CAR!?

He already felt the dizzy-sick feeling he associated with bad Mexican takeout. He knew, really, that she was speaking the truth. If he didn’t let her go, he would die. If he did, he would probably die anyway. He went over what she had said to him. Nausea? Check. Discomfort? Check. The loss of appetite, vomiting and diarrhea would (hopefully!) come later on and he knewthat it would take over 24 hours at least for someone to die from dehydration, at which point he would be in hospital – how dangerous could a dandelion or whatever actually be? Grinning to match her own wide smile and ignoring the woozy feeling in his head, Charlie leaned forward so that she could see his face over her shoulder. His gun was still firmly in place, in the hopes that back-up would be arriving soon. “Looks like we have time to get to know each other, then,” he paused. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

[Dr. Pamela Isley]

“Hmmm,” she hummed out loud to him in immediate reply, one of her thin red eyebrows raising high up on her forehead. This was definitely new. Most feared death almost obsessively and thus willingly let her go for the promise of life, even if that certainly was a fake one (of course she didn’t have the antidote on her). So she didn’t reply with words yet as she was juggling between laughing at his absurd dedication and getting truly angry that he wouldn’t simply leave her alone.

She soon opted for the higher road and let out a small laugh to his comment, though slightly bothered she wasn’t directly turning to angry. She moved her fingers around, reminding herself she still had two weapons on her physical body should things soon become desperate and – though the least desirable option – the acid in the bag would destroy his pretty face and seep into the brain. At least then his worries of the daffodil poisoning would be over.

Turning her head closer to him, she took in a small gasp of air when she realized how close their faces were. Ah, the lips would be so easy. Betraying herself and what little time she had (she had to keep reminding herself more were coming), she did not leap into a deadly kiss to end her suffering and his life, she simply inched forward closer to his own and gave him the opportunity to do so himself.

“Late night shopping,” she replied much quieter than she had ever spoken before, not wanting to ruin this lovely little moment between the pair. “Are you cramping yet? That would be the poison in your bloodstream. In case you … wanted to know,” she whispered with a slight laugh at the end. She had regrettably never had the time to watch the effects of her weapons. As she inspected the facial features of the police officer so near to her, she wondered just how fascinating watching him die would be.

[Charlie Holden]

When she moved her fingers Charlie tightened his grip on her wrist before reaching around to grab her other hand and bring it in line with the first which he then gripped just as tightly. She was beginning to annoy him with her calmly coy attitude; he was a man after all and there weren’t a lot of men out there who liked to really believe that a woman could know more about their job than they did. He didn’t move a hair when she turned her face closer to his and, for a moment that he would look back on and berate himself for later, he felt his lips part ever so slightly as he took in the sight of hers, glossy and full in the refracted light from outside on the street. He leaned forward, her softer breath sweet and inviting him in until she asked him if he was cramping and the dangerous, momentary spell was broken.

“Not yet,” he replied cheerfully, even though the vengeful twinges in his upper intestine disagreed. He couldn’t afford to let her know that he would be – already was affected. He needed more time. And a pair of damn handcuffs wouldn’t have gone astray either. His knuckles were white from the effort of holding her wrists and aiming his weapon all at the once and he mentally noted that if he managed to not die a slow and agonising death he would definitely carry them 24/7 in future. “But I’ll be sure and let you know,” he added with mock consideration, his eyes leaving hers to her inspection of his face as he focused on the street. He should get her outside. “Anyway, let’s go, Poison Ivy,” he said deliberately; evidence that he at least read the newspaper.

He pushed the gun further into her back and started walking, forcing her to walk in front of him through the darkened store. They were perhaps 5 yards from the door when he heard the siren of his backup wailing through the city and he refrained from breathing a deep sigh of relief, knowing that he would only ingest more of the poison already shutting down his body. “Looks like your jig is up,” he said. “Too bad. I’m sure we would have gotten along famously.” The squad car squealed to a halt outside the store and the sound of opening doors and approaching officers reassured him that, despite the vicious pain in his abdomen, he would surely be okay. That was until, at least, an excessively violent pang caused him to double over, his grip loosening on her wrists and his gun falling from his hands altogether.

Shit.

[Dr. Pamela Isley]

Ivy shifted her shoulders in a strange cooperation, keeping her body relaxed as possible. It kept in sync with her mental state as she trusted holy heartedly in her organic creations. Even as the gun's barrel pressed further into her back and her feet began their march towards the door, she left that eerie smile on her face and simply waited for the effects to take over. The endless amount of possibilities presented themselves to her, such as fighting back or using those stolen goods against him. She had the ivy-laced fingernails and the deadly lips ready to touch his own eager ones. Though she had reflected on these briefly, they seemed a waste of energy and resources. The poisoning was going to work. No human body could withstand that amount of poisoning without proper training, as she had proved. She hummed what seemed like a semi-laugh when he announced her name and she turned her head again as they stepped forward together. "Charmed," she replied simply, as she felt utterly complimented.

Ivy's eyes squinted as the lights of the police car momentarily blinded her and the unnatural, screeching sounds of their sirens bothered her ears. It caused a lapse in her grin, giving her features a moment of discomfort with the situation. This would be the normal time when a thief terrorist such as herself would panic. She felt the heart race and she could almost taste the danger that presented itself so clearly. But the fear had simply still not set in. It was unapparent just how close she had to be to failure before she would be afraid (if that was possible now). Eyeing up the men that pulled themselves out of their cars, she noticed no one was on high alert. No guns were pulled and no one was on radio asking for back-up. She was almost insulted, if it hadn’t been good for her next few moves.

The final step seemed to be the plunge into the end of her trip here, when her faith was finally rewarded. His voice had just rung in her ears with that annoying self-confidence when the gun's presence disappeared. She blinked, feeling her arms relax as there was nothing there to hold her any further. Ivy’s grinning lips were barely seen by the officers outside when she spun around to see her work. Her green eyes scanned the area as quick as possible, noting the gun to the right. Sweeping her arm over the ground, she moved to Holden's right to grab the gun and point it down at him while the heel of her shoe slammed into his arm closest to her. She paused, staring at him blankly before shaking her head.

"I've always hated guns," she admitted to him before turning the gun out and firing a warning at the oncoming officers who were in the process of calling man down on the radio. They ducked, naturally, and were forced to retreat behind the car doors for protection. As their guns were pulled, she stepped backwards into further darkness of the shop to shield herself and as she disappeared into it, the gun pointed to Holden was the last thing seen by the cops. They were forced to remain in place due to the silent threat on the officer’s life and announced she must come out with the weapon dropped and hands on her head. "Too loud. Nature has given us all the resources we need. Like... this, for instance," she spoke as if telling a children's story while she stepped back into the shield of comfortable darkness. Reaching her free arm out for the jar of liquid on the table, she tipped it over and let the liquid spill on the floor.

“Pyroligneous Acid. It’s very flammable. Now, let’s see your friends struggle between saving you and capturing me,” she suggested with a hint of annoyance at the end of the words, finally showing her eagerness to get out of the situation. Stepping further back into the shop, she pointed the gun to the liquid and fire a shot. The heat of the bullet hitting the ground at such speed caused, as predicting, a spark directly in the flammable liquid. The spark set off a roaring fire that hovering over the spot of the acid. Ivy turned, firing another round at the window that shattered upon impact. Clutching the bag, she ditched the gun inside it (just in case) and hoisted herself threw the window. Briefly glancing back, she blew him a kiss as she lingered between the shop and the street before disappearing from the empty frame’s view.

(( Let me know if you want me to change anything -- srsly. I realize it's a few bit god-mody .. ))

[Charlie Holden]

((No problemo. ) We will just need to work out how he is going to survive the poison and everything’s gravy. I was thinking perhaps either an incorrect dosage on her part (she is still in her criminal infancy afterall) or maybe some kind of medical condition on his part that makes him less susceptible. I will do a bit of research. XD))

Charlie grunted as his writhing motion on the floor was stilled by a surprisingly heavy-booted foot pinning his arm to the ground. The pain was dull and listless compared to the searing agony now radiating throughout his abdomen but he looked up at the woman with eyes that refused to acknowledge her work. He didn’t even blink as she fired her warning round, but was glad that she had done so. It had stunned his colleagues into action; they had now realised the threat and drew their weapons in anticipation of an exit, a hostage situation or possible worse. He watched her calmly, sweat beading on his forehead and his teeth clenched underneath his closed lips. He watched her knock the jar of liquid over and voiced a protest – as loudly as he was able to. The noise was lost amongst the smashing glass and the woman’s somewhat hypnotic voice however and the outburst of flames from the acid caused him to visibly recoil.

Before he knew it, she was gone. The pain in his lower abdomen felt like a week’s worth of bad Indian food curdling his insides and he grunted again, wondering if his backup had seen her exit. Bracing himself for the pain it would undoubtedly incite, Charlie pushed himself up to a sitting position and took an unwanted deep breath. “Perp heading west from store frontage!” he bellowed before the acrid smoke invaded his lungs and caused him to cough violently. Once the officers outside realised that the danger had passed (for the moment) a pair of them took off in a car in search of the perpetrator while another pair entered the building. Upon seeing Charlie indisposed on the floor an ambulance was promptly radioed for. Not long thereafter Charlie gave in to his natural instinct and fell asleep just as he was being lifted onto a stretcher.

The ambulance ride to Gotham General was surreal, and Charlie drifted in and out of consciousness as an oxygen mask was strapped on, his shirt was opened and a preliminary exam began. He could hear the medics questioning his accompanying officer what had happened, but of course the officer had no idea. Feeling his blood pressure being taken and then a blood sample, Charlie winced and the pinch of the needle roused him enough that he could tell the medic that the woman had mentioned Daffodils. A concerned look flooded the woman’s face, but it was shortly followed with confusion. Lieutenant Charlie Holden then resumed unconsciousness until the next morning after his admission to the Hospital.