Poison Ivy recieves a new visitor.

In a greenhouse on the far north side of Gotham…

It was one of the few green places left in the city, a truth that disgusted the woman while she dabbled and worked at the desk in front of her, testing and measuring ingredients she plucked from her ‘babies’ growing in rows behind her. Poison Ivy had plans, a never-ending goal to seek; to spread the green to all the corners of this dead city and beyond. Granted her efforts were never appreciated, her last attempt nearly threatened the lives of thousands of people before the Batman stopped her. The spores she released would have catalyzed every plant to grow rapidly until the streets would have become a lush jungle… It would have also killed anyone who inhaled them, a gruesome **** that would have seen each corpse turn green with branches jutting out of their flesh. But then again, if you wanted anything to grow in this city you’d had to prune back hard to give room for new growth. It was a shame no one saw her perspective on that.

A loud tapping sound from the glass door on the far side of the green house caught Pamela Isley’s attention, a comical ‘shave and a haircut’ knock made the stunning red head roll her eyes, knowing exactly who was asking to be allowed to enter her abode. “Sigh… Coming.” Gracefully sitting up from her stool, the green skinned, red haired woman was the epitome of natural beauty. A modern-day forest nymph, her green tinted skin was smooth, without any sign of blemish or scar, possessing long graceful legs and a slim waist yet also blessed with smooth ample curves to her hips, bust and rear. Her long, flowing red hair draped down to her lower back, where vines and flowers bloom from her scalp like a garden or bouquet. Emerald green eyes, ruby red lips and a face that would have melted the heart of any man’s cold heart and even some women completed the practically nude woman’s image, sashaying towards the door like a runway model while tossing her red hair out of her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m coming.” Anywhere else, Pamela Isley would have been a model, an idol, a goddess. Men would have flocked to her, on their knees begging her to marry them. But a single kiss would have revealed to them her true nature.

Men HAD flocked to her, on their knees, begging. Each and every one of them now sharing a spot in the Gotham graveyard, or kept barely alive with IV tubes flushing out the many toxins rotting their insides. Poison Ivy cared little for any of them except their bank accounts which she emptied out before they died. That’s all they were to her, tools to be used so that she could spread the green. She wasn’t the embodiment of natural life, she was the transition of ****, poison incarnate!

Opening the door and pouting her lips into a frown, Pamela stared back at the smiling albino woman holding a blanket around herself like a crude slip dress, waving child-like back at the woman. “Hiya Pammy! Mind if I come in?”

“Harley…” Husked Poison Ivy, her voice an ever-seductive purr. “What are you doing here? And what’s with the get up?” Receiving an uncomfortable bearhug from the woman. Pamela stepped aside after Harley barged in, looking over each plant she passed by like a child rummaging through a candy store. “You would NOT believe the morning I had today Red, first I blacked out last night… I think, then…” Closing the door and blowing a strand of red hair out of her eyes, Ivy followed her on again, off again accomplice prattle away, biting her lip and barely containing her anger when Harley plucked a rose off its branch and stuck it in her black and red frosted hair. “And you would NOT believe how good he was! Ha, the tabloids don’t do’em justice girl… Say, do you still have any of my old duds laying around?”

“Harley, I’m busy, unless you can make up for interrupting my work then…”

Instantly, the albino woman reached into her make-shift dress, her tongue sticking out before she unveiled a gold statue and waved it in front of her friend with a smile. “Its solid gold, I checked, you like shinnies, I like shinnies, I talk like this…” Harley answered in a sing song voice, eliciting a coy smirk from the green skinned woman when she accepted the gold award labelled ‘Thomas Wayne; for 25 years of service’ on it’s plaque.

“You’ll find your old stuff in a box, under the sink over there, by my samples cooler.” Caught off guard by another bearhug, Ivy grudgingly tolerated the exaggerated affection before she watched the woman skip towards the walled-up room containing her spare cloths.

“Damn Harley, have you been working out to cope with the Joker’s ****?” She wondered out loud, rubbing a sore spot on her arm from the hug.