The morning after at the Wayne Mansion...

Day break crept in through the Wayne manor, cutting through the windows and reaching over across Bruce Wayne’s bedroom. Squinting his eyes when sunlight began to make its way over his face, Bruce raised his arm to block it and groaned. All last night was a blur, he could remember the incident at the green house, and what transpired at the dock works, but when it came to how he returned to the mansion… He couldn’t say. Dropping his arm heavily to the side and turning his head away from the morning sunlight, the sound of his arm hitting the mattress made a mass that had been draped over him the entire time stir. Raising his head to look down, Bruce’s eyes went wide, a mix of surprise and horror etched on his face. Draped over naked on top of the man was the olive skinned, red haired beauty Poison Ivy. Moaning softly and nuzzling into Bruce’s chest, Pamela Isley repositioned herself on top of him, using his chest as a pillow while her arms and legs clung tightly to the rest of him. So many questions ran through his mind; how long was she here? What happened that led her here? But the most important question, how was he still alive?

Even in the span of time it took for him to realize that she was asleep on top of him, he should have already been dead. He read every report of every man and woman who made physical contact with her, shared the same space as her. They’re either all dead or hospitalized in a way that their lives are all ruined. A simple brush of her fingers, a soft kiss across the cheek or lips left people dead in the Gotham hospital with blistered flesh and fevers that made their blood literally boil. Her pheromones had been known to break wills and damage minds, a FIFTH of the non-threatening patients in Arkham Asylum were once the guards and doctors that had dared to get too close to her. Some had been reduced to broken minded admirers, the memories of their loved ones a pale shadow to her perfectly sculped figure or angelic face. Others were so broken, they can’t even remember their own names or where they are, chaperoned always, to make sure they remember to eat, sleep or go to the washroom.

And right now, the most stunningly beautiful… And most horrifyingly toxic THING was sleeping naked on top of him and nothing was wrong with him. How?!

Panicked breathing and the morning sun ended up having the same effect on the woman as it did Bruce, in slow motion, Poison Ivy stirred from her sleep and began to sit up, her long hair draping over her shoulders and framing around her heart shaped face as she moved closer to see Bruce eye to eye. Her bright emerald green eyes blinked sleepily, sighing before she leaned down and kissed him, her hands reaching up to comb through his hair while she took her time tasting his lips. “Good morning Love… Want another round?”

*

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ME BOYS ER ALL DEAD?!” Bellowed the Penguin, his two secretaries holding their clip boards tightly to themselves like shields as they gave their employer the bad news. Last night, several of Cobblepot’s crew were scheduled to unload a shipment at the docks; half a dozen crates of firearms, Alcohol and contraband that would have served him a significant boost to his pocket book, that is it would have if the coroner hadn’t found a dozen emaciated corpses at the docks along with a few destroyed crates of his stock.

Candi; the mocha skinned, purple business suit wearing secretary tried to speak up when the Penguin continued his rant.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH CHEDDAH THAT WOULD HAVE PUT ON ME TABLE?!” Sneered the short, stout man, tapping his cigarette over an overflowing ashtray before taking a breath to continue. “I had bookings for five new bars in this stinkin town with my NAME on’em, a FRANCHISE! Now the only one’s getting drunk are the DAMN FISHES!”

“I know boss, but we’s got some good news bout what happened at the docks.” Mentioned Tracy, the blonde cockney accented secretary that handed a bundle of photos to her employer. “Seems we got’er selves a new player in town.”

Rummaging through the photographs, the penguin had to dab his cigarette again, blinking his one good eye at the pictures of a lone woman in a black cocktail dress lunging at his men the same way a tiger would into a deer… Teeth and all. “Real tight bird she is… Cept for’er eatin habits.” Going over each photo, even Oswald slowly lost his appetite when the last photo showed the woman tear his dead men apart. “Where you get dem photos Tracy? Thought everyone was dead at the docks.”

With a smirk and a hand at her hip, Tracy looked to her partner Candi. “Baby, we swiped the security footage before the cops got to it first., thought you’d like to know who was screwing you over before the feds got her first, honey.”

“Yeah… Cept this bird looks like she missing a few marble to be eatin people!”

Putting out his cigarette and getting up from his chair, Oswald reached for his umbrella and used it like a cane to hobble towards the fireplace of his office. “No one makes a fool of ol Cobblepot girls, no matter’ ow crazy they be.” Stabbing the smoldering coals in his fireplace with the tip of his umbrella, the Penguin turned to glare with his good eye towards his two secretaries. “Round up the boys, let’em know we’s got a pretty bird to hunt.”

*

“Yes Alfred, I’ll call you again when she’s left the mansion.” Feeling a pair of arms gently wrap around him from behind, Bruce looked over his shoulder to find Pamela pressed up behind him, nuzzling into his back and humming quietly to herself doing so. “Let me know if you’ve gathered all my supplies for tonight. Yes, good, I’ll call you later.” Putting the phone down, Bruce peered over his shoulder to look back at the serine green skinned woman, her fingers roaming over his chest the entire time he was on the phone.

“Planning groceries love? Never thought you for a vegetarian… I like that.”

Turning to face her, Bruce put his hands at her shoulders to move her back, finding himself slightly annoyed when she gently reached for one of his hands and began kissing his fingers and rubbing her nose and lips over his palm. Whatever had happened, whatever reason her toxins were not working on him, it… Broke her, or healed her, it was still unclear. Right now, Batman found that the woman was now capitalizing on the fact that she was now in the presence of someone who can’t die being near her. He had become a life line for her, something he found rather disturbing. She’s unstable as it is, if she ever found out that he was Batman…

“I’m just having my butler pick up a few things for tonight, and… Maybe for the remainder of the week or more.” Pamela continued to keep eye contact with him, smiling to herself while still planting kisses over his fingers. “Don’t take this the wrong way… But I’d rather you not be here when he gets back, I can barely tie my shoes without Alfred here, I’d prefer it that I didn’t find him dead in the living room because he smelled a hint of your perfume.”

Giving him and unreadable smile, Pamela Isley slowly turned away and went back to the bed, her steps slow and methodical as she did so, like a runway model giving a crowd a show, posing and pulling free her one-piece moss covered bathing suit from the tangled bedsheets. Once dressed, she moved with the same speed, the same grace towards the man and traced a finger under his chin to bring his attention to her eyes.

“I’ll be back… Butler or no butler.”

Following her out the door, Bruce noticed that she didn’t take the gravel path to the gated entrance, instead she strolled down the grass towards the tree line that surrounded the mansion. Once she passed the first line of trees, she disappeared, out of sight.