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Pamela is made of (hemlockandhoney) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-10-06 22:17:00

Who: Ivy & Riddler.
What: Ivy takes Dr. Crane for all he has.
Where: Arkham Asylum, hacked into flawlessly.
When: After Ivy & Riddler met on the Gotham PD Roof. Lets say NOW recent because you can bet this is making the news right about now.
Warnings: None really.

Taking out the external security system seemed to be a piece of cake for her boy in green, and when the screens fizzled up with replicas of nonmoving scenery, Ivy and Riddler made an easy pass through the grounds. The motion detection lights had been decoded, and when they crossed a patrolling guard with his firearm raised, all it took was a whimpering exhale of high dosage pheromones for the man to hesitate. The man forgot the difference between his fingers and his toes, all he felt was his dick and his heart throbbing to the tune of a lovesong before Ivy gave him a quick kiss that laid the man out on his back for the night. She didn't take the guard's gun, although if Riddler wanted to, that was up to him. Her priority with Arkham tonight was singular - get inside, get to Crane, and find out everything that was still in his old lab. Lucky for her, she'd been to Crane's apartment once before, and if anything was hiding there, it would soon be her's as well.

Outside the main doors, Ivy turned to her green clad hero. She sidled up to him, smelling like spun sugar and messy, exaggerated sex. "What I want you to do.." Were the man's pupils dilated? Was his glazed gaze going off into space? The dark made it difficult to tell, so she patted him on the cheek. A gentle double-tap slap to regain her genius' attention. "Put the place on lockdown. No doors open unless we say so." Most of the guards would be in their security offices, and if the doors were locked, they wouldn't be much good. If any were patrolling the halls, Ivy would deal with them if they crossed paths. She wasn't hungry for a bullet, but maybe a lovespelled captive would be willing to take one for her. Team spirit, and all that.

Riddler walked shoulders down and relaxed, gait confidently purposeful like a man who could rob a bank with just the push of a button or destroy anything that didn’t treat him like the superhuman genius that he was. It was a Gotham confidence, something that could only be obtained after years of being tumbled over and over like a piece of emerald driftglass. Maybe he used to be something used and shattered, but the Riddler stalking across the Arkham grounds with the woman in green boots like he had done it a thousand times before. He thought he was in control, sure of it, but he was a willful pet on Ivy’s invisible leash. Following orders and signals with grace and speed that was usually reserved for his own fights.

While she took care of the guard, he slipped on a pair of purple glasses, a practical replacement for the mask he used to wear. It gave him a layout of the asylum’s new security system and allowed him to control everything remotely from his tablet. It was a mistake to let Riddler into any kind of computer, especially one that could allow him to control an entire building so sentimental as Arkham. He had no desire to control it like Crane did, but if he wanted to loot the place with a pretty girl, nothing was going to get in the way of that. He was lost in numbers and access codes when she tapped his cheek, eyes lifting up above the purple glass to stare at her as the echo of doors slamming shut and locks snapping up sounded through the old castle. Computer screens turned bright green, security cameras were littered with question marks and any kind of alarm that even considered turning on were silenced.

His code was needlessly complicated with loose ends and strings that were purposefully designed to let the technologically advanced to tug at them. “Someone has tried to override my system, that’s cute.” Riddler said, eyes moving back down to look at his tablet. The override was efficient and advanced. He didn’t recognize the style completely, but it still pointed to one winged foe. “The Dark Knight?” His expression lit up, impressed but mostly pleased that someone from the Bat family thought they could best him in a digital war. “I wonder what happened to our crow?”

Ivy's hemlock attention was for their surroundings, the roots underfoot of the building giving a twitch that she could feel, announcing any pressure of steps coming from the left or the right. Not that it mattered once the Riddler got his tablet out... except there seemed to be an issue for a moment. Ivy glanced at her boy in green with a quirked brow at mention of the Bat. "He was here?" While Ivy might have been out of the loop for some time, she thought that she would have heard of Batman taking control of Arkham. Unless it wasn't supposed to be known. The Dark Knight was linked to shadows for a reason, and Ivy sniffed with something akin to aggravated exhaustion when she considered the fact that she'd missed out on so much. "Can you locate Crane?" Shifting back to her genius' side, Ivy tilted her head against his shoulder to glimpse his tablet. Scarlet waves breached his shoulder, along with a little sigh of relief. Because being close to him was so nice. Nice like the intoxicating secretion of her skin cells, feminine musk, want, apple blossom.

“The only time Batman leaves something unfinished is if he failed. Or this is a trap.” Riddler rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Maybe the Batman he knew would have the patience and prowess to pull something like that off, but he wasn’t convinced this version had what it took to trick a trickster. “Doesn’t matter now, the security system is under my control again. He’s good, but never good enough.” Riddler tilted his head to the side, taking a lungful of her autumn scented hair and closed his eyes. She was a strange mix of distraction and motivation. He was becoming accustomed to being lost in her company, but he knew failing to do his job would make her turn on him swiftly.

“Crane isn’t in any of the cells.” Riddler whispered, enjoying the game Batman had set up for him even if it was just child’s play. There weren’t just new cameras and codes set up, he also infiltrated some of his men as orderlies who told him the crow had all but vanished. He focused down at the tablet as he chatted with his different contacts for a couple seconds, trying to make sense of the magically disappearing bird. The question nagged at him, but Ivy’s presence was more powerful. This was the danger of doing things in person. He’d have to be dead or Freeze to not give in.

“No point in making a lady wait.” Riddler finally said to Ivy. “I know where the goods are. Crane can handle his own vermin problems.”

Having been a resident of this asylum in the past, it was always interesting to walk the halls as a free woman. Men banged desperately on the doors of their cells while she could hear security guards scrambling for a way out of their offices they'd been locked into. With Ivy, any windowless room could quickly become a gas chamber. "Not to worry, boys, we're just here to do a little shopping.. " she called out as the pair strode deeper into the Asylum, the Riddler fiddling with his electronics while Ivy strutted her boots. When Riddler mentioned the wall, Ivy swept closer, digging the front of her body into the hatchet sharp edge of his side. Not giving him an inch as she rounded a degree behind him, just so that she could rest her chin on his shoulder. Her hair, bloodsoaked cherry blossoms, pooled over his shoulder. Alive in its own way, as a bit of night blooming jasmine twirled and climbed its way through a single, skinny braid. "Good, forget Crane. We do not need him." All they needed was the lab, and with the genius on her leash, no locked door was beyond her invasion.

That night they ransacked the lab of every vial, every beaker, every ounce of fear toxin, and every unlabeled experiment. She had the Riddler carry the most of it - carefully, of course. Why would he deny playing her assistant when she ground his back into the edges of desks and shelves for kiss after luring, fishook kiss. Wasn't it sad that there were some people who did not believe in love? The tips of her feverish, chemical tinted fingers walked poetry and romance up the column of his neck, savoring the possession, allowing even him to possess while the Asylum was theirs. Although that is not how she whispered it in his ear, for his listening pleasure, she called it his, never hers.

Their exit was as swift and sweet as their invasion. The next stop Ivy would make alone, to Crane's shitty little hovel to see what other trinkets and chemical songs she could find. The bad doctor's notes, and his life's work.. they were all her's. Because everything was. Nothing was more romantic, more befitting, than to bow down and give your neck to the hangwoman. Everyone knew that.