|Cerise drinks (hemlockandhoney) wrote in doorslogs,|
@ 2012-06-22 00:24:00
|Entry tags:||poison ivy|
Who: Ivy narrative.
What: Drug warehouse overhaul.
Where: Gotham's gang district.
Warnings: Violence, assault, etc.
She wasn't an animal of night time or frightful things that went bump with their masks and their capes, she wasn't some nocturnal animal.. or an animal at all really. But Gotham's moon played witness to the slow stalk of her boots on bitter gravel, the crunch of broken glass and spent needles as she made her way through one of the gang districts. The moon worshipped Ivy, perhaps even more than the sun, because the moon saw her so rarely that even a glimpse sent the clouds casting away so that full, white orb could really appreciate her. The dark cling of her leggings that fed into the clench of industrial boots. Her bustier was green, but it was her favorite color so who could blame her? Ivy tried not to think about Harley's message.. the Joker was shot, hopefully dead but one could never tell these days. If the Hood was still running around all masked out and make believing, then the Joker probably had something up his sleeve as well. It didn't matter she reminded herself, and emotion had no place in this moment, or in her at all. She shook it away like she shook those blood red bangs out of her eyes as she approached the warehouse.
Climbing onto a dumpster across the street, she reclined against the closed plastic lids in wait. A lounge of expansive limbs, a comfortable settling of gut-clenching curves while she cast her head to the side and watched. This particular warehouse specialized in drug manufacturing, but whatever.. to each their own. Even criminals had mouths to feed, and Ivy might not have normally minded, but there was an itch in her that meant she had something to prove tonight. Maybe to the Cat, or herself.. maybe the -- no, not him. This had nothing to do with him, and she sighed contently with eyes closed in a form of meditation while the minutes rolled closer to an hour.
A car pulled up across the street and she opened one emerald eye to witness the men as they piled out to enter the warehouse. She counted six, and the plants within the warehouse told her that three more were inside, harvesting opium pods into the slow reduction of high grade heroin. It was a little sad, and there was room for emotion in this because Ivy shared so much of her DNA with the Earth that she felt the injustice. It wasn't the decimation of flowers like so many ill-advised masks assumed, the doctor knew and understood that plants had beneficial purposes for humanity. Things that could help sustain the environment and save lives, but for these pods to be reduced to items of easy greed, hacked apart with all the care and precision of the headless horseman's axe.. it twisted her stomach. This ended tonight.
As for what went down inside, it wasn't as easy as she would have preferred. Maybe she'd gotten soft or out of practice, but there were enough close calls with flying bullets and slashing knives that her temper got the best of her and Ivy put an end to it with a snap of her fingers. The nearest trees crash landed into the roof of the warehouse, caving in steel beams and faulty woodwork. Those that weren't trapped in the rubble or unconscious got a swift kiss, nothing deadly, but enough to paralyze them for the next twenty minutes. With the deal done, she advanced further into the warehouse, crawling over the fallen beams and broken stonework to examine what turned out to be a rather shitty attempt at a greenhouse. Despite the ignorance of men, the flowers had flourished, and it made her smile. "It's time to go home.."
A bullet whizzed by her shoulder and it was so reminiscent of the Hood's style that she actually laughed before ducking for a roll beneath one of the metal tables. But she watched the approach of boots, and they were combat laced beneath the hem of green fatigues. Definitely not the Hood. Surly, Ivy crawled slowly backward beneath the table as the man drew closer. "I won't miss again, little red.. but if you come out nice and slow, I'll take you to the boss rather than shooting you in that pretty face of yours." Using the plants to her advantage would have been wiser, but maybe it was the company of the Cat that brought on the incentive for taking risks. Because Ivy did slowly crawl out from beneath the table. The toxins kept her young and with those big green eyes it was hard to believe she was capable of doing anything at all. She exhaled slowly with raised hands in a show of innocence. The shooter smiled at her like she was a good girl, and he holstered his gun while reaching for her wrist. It wasn't a gesture of friendship or hello as it turned out, but only a means of spinning her with a hard shove so that she ended up half bent over the metal table, that field of poppies peeping sadly into her eyes. She smiled at the flowers like a mother would, consoling. It's going to be okay, babies.
The man's hands were rough, and he took his time in exploring the flare of her hips, the tight constraint of her bustier.. and still, she did not move, she did not speak, she watched the flowers and she waited for the inevitable. The calloused run of a hand up her laced back, finding the thin nape of her bare neck in order to pin her head there against the table as he fumbled with the hip band of her leggings, trying to rip them down while simultaneously unfastening his cargo pants. But silly boy, all it took was a touch of her skin.. be it lips, or wrist, or the back of a neck. Her skin might as well have been acid, the way he fell away with a shriek of agony, the way he crumbled to the floor and howled like a dog begging to be put down. Ivy turned, straightening her clothes and took one step forward with that spiked boot, directly onto his crotch. When she knelt over his abdomen, there was nothing sweet or young in those green eyes now. "You better hope they have an antidote for Aconitum at Gotham General Hospital, honey.. that's wolfsbane, in case your doctor's an idiot. And that's what's currently disabling your nervous system.. Oh, honey.." Noting the flash of panic and pain and sickness in his face, Ivy pinched his cheeks. "You feel like vomiting? Funny, that's how I felt just a moment ago with your hands on me.." Her smile was sweet vindication before it collapsed in sudden shock and agony. Rolling off of him and back beneath the table, Ivy seethed a sharp exhale with a glance down at her abdomen. Green blood was leaking from a deep slash, and the sonofbitch puking his guts out on the linoleum nearby let the hunter's knife fall from his fingers as convulsions took over his body.
Fucking humans. Crawling from beneath the table, she covered the wound at her side, but it still left a dripping trail of blackish green with every step. Using her phone, she called the rental truck up and in quick work, pheromone-controlled men loaded each and every plant into the cargo area. In the meantime, Ivy lined the mobsters up outside the partially destroyed warehouse, vines binding their hands behind their back and gagging their mouths. Even the poisoned man was left at their side, his slacks still half down, cock exposed, green blood in a hard spill across his abdomen and coating his right hand. He didn't need to be bound, he could barely move or breathe.. and depending on the generosity of her next forum message, he might not even make it to the hospital at all.
"To the Greenhouse," she sighed tiredly in the passenger seat of the truck, closing her eyes against the pain in her side. No vital organs were hit, she knew this, she'd be fine, but it still hurt like a bitch. And even so, she pulled the electronic device out of her bag and hit up the forum.