ORACLE DD Ch 2

“Prioritize Spacner,” Barbara says without hesitation. “Send Leslie to Bruce.”

Steph looks disappointed. “She doesn’t like asking him for money.”

“Nobody likes asking for money. Leslie will do what she has to. Just like us. We have to show them, Steph. If people are going to believe that this can be a… nice city, whatever that is, we have to show them.”

“Show them what?”

Barbara sighs. “I don’t know. But it has to be something they can see. Not a promise about the distant future. Look, I already made school lunches free, OK? Don’t look at me like I’m the Grinch.”

ORACLE

“Ms. Gleeson,” Barbara says with a smile as she rolls up the ramp, her bodyguards covering her with an umbrella. The rain isn’t heavy, but it doesn’t let up.

“Ms. Mayor, what brings you to Wayne Tower today?” Summer shouts over the rain, expertly wielding her mic and umbrella.

Barbara wants to know how Summer knew to be waiting. Another news van is coming. This visit wasn’t in her itinerary. Steph isn’t leaking things. It’s someone on Barbara’s security team or her driver.

“Spacner Park,” Barbara replies. She makes no attempt to look glossy or to be polite. “It didn’t get a lot of headlines, but it’s moving forward. You know that promise to just fix it up? Turns out, when there’s major chemical contamination, that’s actually difficult. Good thing we happen to know some people who can help.”

“You don’t think it looks strange for the mayor of Gotham City to so clearly favor one corporation this way?” Summer asks, moving along to keep pace as Barbara stubbornly wheels toward the entrance.

“Strange? In Gotham? I’m here to ask for help. My connections to this company aren’t a secret, or that Dr. Pamela Isley is a close, personal friend. I could take bids for the privilege of doing chemical analysis in Spacner and proposals for cleanup, or Wayne Enterprises can just take care of it, which wouldn’t cost the Gotham taxpayer a dime.”

“A favor, you mean.”

Barbara laughed. “You can call it that.”

“What does Wayne Enterprises get in return?”

“All I’m offering them is good PR. Same as I’d offer anyone who wants to help me try to clean up this city’s parks.”

“And you had to come here in person for that?”

ORACLE

Umbrellas can only do so much. Barbara isn’t soaked as she wheels off the elevator on Ivy’s floor, but water drips on the tiles.

The place has been completely transformed. The air is thick and humid, and it’s one step away from being a jungle. Vines hang, huge leaves gleam wetly, and huge flowers bloom. Barbara doesn’t want to think about how many bags of soil must have been brought up here for this. Lucius is sufficiently confident in his ability to detect Ivy’s influence with a blood test and even retinal scans that he’s willing to let her have access to people, and he’s developed such robust pesticide-based security systems that he’s no longer afraid of her having plants.

“Honey! I’m home,” Barbara says. The last time she was here, Ivy had a modest collection of plants still in pots—and even that had been probationary.

Little robotic hoses begin spraying mist, creating a warm fog.

A slim figure materializes.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel wears mom jeans and a little rain jacket over a tee that reads WDEP. Her hair’s in a ponytail, not pigtails. Without makeup, a costume, or a bat, she doesn’t look like much. She’s just a blonde, hardly an inch taller than Barbara—if Barbara were standing.

“Um, I mean—Dr. Isley, I’m here on very professional business,” Barbara amends.

Harley laughs. “How ya doin’?”

“Pretty rough, honestly. How are you?”

Seeing Ivy playing ball with Wayne Enterprises and thriving has helped Harley make progress. Arkham says they’re letting her have these occasional brief furloughs to reward good behavior and support her therapeutic goals, but it isn’t true. Waller has put another bomb in her neck, hoping to take advantage of a more stable and controllable Harley Quinn. Harley’s allowed to visit Ivy because of that bomb, but she’s not around much. She’s visited Belle Reeve a dozen times in the past two months.

But no one can know that Barbara knows that. The judgment she would catch from Alfred, Dick, Steph, Bruce, and everyone else if they knew just how much spying she’s doing while also serving as mayor—it’s not worth it.

She just likes to be informed.

“It’s like being in recovery,” Harley chirps. “You take it one day at a time.”

“You heading out?”

“I gotta get back.”

“It’s good to see you.”

Harley hesitates, and it’s obvious that she’s trying to control her emotions. “Everybody started being nice to me. Well, almost everybody. And then I started doing better. Who’da thunk?”

“I’m sorry about the way that people have treated you, Harley.”

Harley’s eyes linger on Barbara’s face. “How’s Jim Gordon’s kid get to be so nice?”

“In fairness to my dad, he’s not bad for a cop. But I’m not nice to bad guys, Harley. You were just never the bad guy, even if you thought you were.”

Harley’s smile seems fragile. “You sound just like Batgirl. Oh boy. I have a type.” She leans down and kisses Barbara’s cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. Mayor.”

“You can call me Babs,” Barbara calls after her as she heads for the elevator. “And I’m not married!”

Barbara’s relieved when the elevator closes. She’s only spoken to Harley a few times as Barbara Gordon, and that’s never a relaxing experience. Harley isn’t exactly jealous or possessive about Ivy, but that doesn’t make this simple.

“Oh, gosh,” Barbara says as she notices the vines creeping up around her chair. As soon as she sees them, they snake around her arms and legs, lifting her. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?” she calls out as she’s brought toward Ivy’s laboratory area.

Ivy waits. Her wild hair is full of leaves, and instead of clothes, greenery leaves that might be sprouting from her skin offer a little modesty, like the a fancy one-piece swimsuit that one might see on the runway, but not actually at the pool.

“What’s that look?” Ivy asks.

“I was just thinking that if I still had a dick, this would be a big problem for me.”

“But now that you don’t, you aren’t impressed?”

“I’m impressed,” Barbara replies.

“We saw you and Summer. I haven’t seen someone get paddled that hard since—well, since that time that Harley blew up the botanical garden.”

“Something about a woman scorned, I guess. Why did she blow up a botanical garden?”

“It was an accident. She’s very smart, but using explosives actually requires a lot of specialized knowledge that she does not have,” Ivy says as she walks over to where Barbara hangs suspended. Barbara has the curves, but no amount of training will let her strut the way that Ivy does. It’s some kind of natural talent. Dick or no dick, Barbara can’t help but feel something.

“But forget all that,” Ivy says. “You use me to get elected, then leave me here to rot while you’re off having nonstop fun all the time.”

“Yes. That is exactly what happened. The life of a mayor is just one big party. You don’t seem to be rotting.”

“It’s been two months since you came here.”

“And you know why.”

“And you know why you can’t beat poverty. But it still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Fair enough. Did you look at the soil thing I sent over?”

“For Spacner Park? Yes.”

“And?”

“There’s bacteria that can clean it up.”

“How long would it take?”

“A few years. With my help, a few weeks.”

“Will you do it?”

Ivy kisses her, bringing her into a tight embrace. Barbara laughs, blushing and breathless when Ivy finally lets her up for air. Ivy’s a good enough kisser that she doesn’t need plant pheromones. Or maybe Barbara’s so stressed and pent-up that anything can light her fire. Or maybe after the isolation and pressure of her office, she’s even more starved for human touch than she realizes. With Ivy’s tongue in her mouth, she barely even noticed the vines undressing her.

Glasses steamed, and feeling a little self-conscious in her underwear, Barbara tries to stay cool. “Harley wasn’t here for a conjugal visit, huh?”

“She’s working some stuff out.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“You talk too much.” Ivy gestures, and the vines bend Barbara over the desk and release her.

“Oh.” Barbara looks over her shoulder. “Like you said, I already got spanked by Summer, Pam.”

“Next time,” Ivy growls. She plants her hand firmly on Barbara’s back and pushes, slipping the other into her panties. “Did you get this wet from me kissing you? Or do you like a good scolding from your ex?”

There’s no more talk as Barbara bites her hand and takes two of Ivy’s fingers. Good turns to great when Ivy pulls Barbara’s hair, and great becomes transcendental when Ivy picks up the pace and finger-fucks her hard enough that when it’s over, Barbara is lightheaded and seeing stars. Her juices have dripped down her legs to get her socks wet.

She comes to her senses to see Ivy climbing onto the desk. The leaves are gone; there’s only smooth, perfect flesh. Ivy spreads her legs in front of Barbara’s face.

“Now,” she says, touching Barbara’s cheek and stroking her hair, “Let’s see what City Hall can do for me.”

ORACLE

“What was Harley really here about?” Barbara asks as Ivy helps her get dressed.

Ivy sighs, handing Barbara her shirt. “Now that she has it together a little more, she’s paying more attention to what’s going on at Arkham. They’re going to try to give big raises and better benefits to the aides and guards. You probably know how it is. The people working in these places aren’t the nicest, and that has to do with how bad their lives are. The idea is that if they can attract a higher caliber of applicant, or if they can just make the guards value the job more, they’ll treat people better, and treating people better means better outcomes.”

“Makes sense.”

“But Arkham also always has a cohort of visiting researchers and PhD students, and that has funding too, and I guess it all comes through the Department of Education. And it came out that they were going to pay the guards with this money.” Ivy shrugs, and the leaves reappear on her body, although this arguably makes it more erotic and distracting. “You could argue it either way, but they’re worried that there’ll be a big controversy if people find out that the guards are getting paid with money for education—even though I think it would make for a decent study. But Gotham Public Schools aren’t exactly drowning in funds. So, you better believe somebody’s going to say that they’re stealing from Gotham’s kids to waste the money on…” Ivy smiles ironically. “Freaks and psychos.”

“Oh, jeez. So, Arkham’s cutting the program to get ahead of it?”

“That’s what Harley’s afraid is going to happen. But you can see why she’s invested in seeing Arkham become a better place.”

Barbara sighs. “That’s rough.”

“But she’ll get through it. She’s nothing if not tough, right?”

“Right.”

ORACLE

As she’s helped into the back of the car, Barbara considers Ivy’s words. It’s a situation where the Mayor’s Office could easily tip the scales one way or the other. There’s an argument for either side. Making sure that money gets back to Gotham Public Schools is the more obvious and sexy choice, but Harley and Ivy are evidence that trying to reform dangerous people can pay big dividends.

Should Barbara see to it that the money stays at Arkham? Or goes to Gotham Public Schools?