BAE Chapter 61

Barbara’s teeth grind.

“Your body your choice,” she says quietly.

Ivy snorts.

“And watch where you’re touching,” Barbara adds.

“Right.” Ivy removes her hand from Barbara’s chest and faces Katana. “Get on with it.”

The sword flashes so quickly that Barbara couldn’t hope to even follow it, let alone done anything. The slightest red line opens on Ivy’s pale forearm. With absolute grace, Katana produces a vial and catches the single drop of blood on her sword. She tucks it away and wipes the blade with a cloth.

“Going to just walk out past security?” Barbara asks her.

“Depends on how many funerals you want to pay for.”

“Let her go,” Lucius calls to the guards. “Downstairs too.”

“Intelligent man,” Katana says mildly. She bumps past Barbara with a disdainful snort.

Barbara grabs her arm.

“Hey,” she says.

Katana stiffens, looking truly taken aback at Barbara’s audacity.

The guards step aside and the elevator opens.

“Don’t forget,” Barbara says. “Ask your doctor if Wayne Pharmaceuticals are right for you.”

Annoyance flashes across Katana’s face and she pulls free, striding to the elevator. There, she turns around and locks eyes with Barbara, who doesn’t blink until the doors are closed.

“Let’s look at this,” she says, immediately turning to Ivy, who pulls her arm away.

“It’s just a scratch,” she says. “How do you know Waller?”

“I know she bankrolls these people sometimes,” Barbara replies, remembering to stay in character. “You’re sure you’re OK?”

“I’ve had worse,” Ivy says. “You don’t rattle easy for a little wannabe executive.”

Barbara steps up to Ivy. She places her hand on her head, then moves it to Ivy’s.

“You are not even one inch taller than me,” Barbara tells her. “We’re both under the height restriction for GCPD.”

“You tried to become a cop?”

“Did you not hear who my father is? Lucius, make sure they don’t try to stop her from leaving. Get Karen on the phone to talk about media.”

“We’ll want to keep this under our hats if we can,” Lucius replies. He’s already on his phone.

“I know. But she’s been seen by security. She’s on camera.” Barbara sighs. “It’ll get out. Let’s get ready to handle it.”

“How do you want to spin it?”

“Dr. Isley is such a catch that she’s barely gotten here and people are trying to poach her,” Barbara replies with a shrug. “Wayne Enterprises is humbled by the experience and determined to get our security up to scratch.”

“That’s God’s truth,” Lucius mutters, stepping away and dialing.

“I’m sorry,” Barbara says to Ivy, who shrugs.

“Forget it, kid. It’s Gotham,” Ivy says with a little smile. “How do you go from wanting to be a cop to this?”

“Awkwardly. Let’s say that was your welcome party. Were you surprised? Did you have fun?”

“It was great,” Ivy replied.

The elevator doors opened to reveal Alfred with a large, silver, covered tray.

“There’s breakfast,” Barbara says.

“What are we having?” Ivy asks as Alfred approaches.

“Crepes with brie, apples, and fig, Dr. Isley.” Alfred sets the tray down. “Ms. Gordon, you’ll never believe who I passed in the lobby.”

“Was it Yamashiro Tatsu, known to some as Katana, dressed like a painter?” Barbara asks, sitting down across from Ivy at the table as Alfred uncovers the food.

“It was,” Alfred replied, uncovering it. “I will say that the sword somewhat takes away from the efficacy of the disguise. I trust you’re well and not in need of medical attention?”

“Dr. Isley stopped me from kicking her ass.”

“I don’t think that’s how that would’ve played out,” Ivy says. “But you have spirit, Gordon.”

“Call me Babs. Thank you, Alfred.”

“You’re most welcome. It’s a pleasure to cook for someone who actually eats the food, I can assure you.” Alfred bows politely. “And Ms. Gordon?”

“Yes?”

“That other meeting. Were you wanting me to schedule it?”

He means Stephanie. Barbara groans; she has enough to worry about. “Yeah. Something casual. Close by.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“Six.”

“Very good. Now, I’ve silver to polish.”

“Naturally.”

Barbara puts her napkin in her lap as Alfred walks away. Lucius is approaching.

“You’re handling this well,” he says, stopping beside the table.

Barbara and Ivy look up at him.

“I guess I could have a hysterical meltdown. Would that make you more comfortable?” Barbara asks.

“Probably not. Dr. Isley, is there anything we can get you?”

Ivy stares up at him for a moment. She looks down at the food.

“This looks fine,” she says finally, visibly uncomfortable. “And you can call me Pam.”

“Then call me Lucius.”

“We don’t need guards,” Barbara tells him as he starts toward the elevator. He pauses, then takes a deep breath. “All right.”

The guards follow him into the elevator. Barbara and Ivy have the place to themselves.

“She wouldn’t have killed me,” Barbara says, pouring coffee.

“No. But she’d have given you a TBI.”

“I have a hard head.”

“I’m picking up on that.”

“Amanda Waller must be afraid that someone’s going to poison her. But your DNA and your blood are both out there,” Barbara says, shaking her fork at Ivy. “Why come to the trouble to get it here?”

“I’m evolving.”

“Anything to do with those fungal spores?”

“When do I start?”

“Ideally as soon as you’re set up. Your journals are here now. They’ll be sent up soon, and that lab over there will be usable by the afternoon. I want to rush you on this vaccine. Once we have that, the sense of urgency goes down,” Barbara says frankly.

“Until your shareholders start jittering for that Poison Ivy innovation bump,” Ivy predicts.

“You let me worry about them. First, we make the Seed situation right. Then we can talk about an agenda.”

“Agenda?”

“An environmental agenda,” Barbara clarifies. “I assumed that was what you wanted.”

“It is.”

“My agenda is affordable healthcare and affordable housing,” Barbara says, pointing her fork at herself. “You can help me with those things. I can help you with limiting environmental impact.”

“That sounds good. But it’s not enough,” Ivy says. “There are things going on that shouldn’t be ignored. Daggett was just an example. We can build parks and make the city more walkable, but I can’t look the other way on these creeps.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m only asking you to let me help you take them on instead of doing stuff that’s going to get Batman and the police after you.”

“Batman’s gone,” Ivy says, taking a bite of her crepe. “And I can handle the police. No offense.” She smiles. “I don’t mind Batgirl. But I’m not afraid of her.”

“There’s two Bat ladies on the loose now,” Barbara reminds her.

“Right. Double the fun.”

Barbara groans internally. “What if there were three? Would you be scared then?”

“You’re just getting more and more into my fantasy.”

Barbara has a vision of herself, Kate, and Stephanie all tangled up in Ivy’s vines. She shakes her head.

“If you’re not afraid of being stopped, think about the opportunity that this is. You have all the resources of Wayne Enterprises behind you.”

“If it was money I wanted, I could get that from the Legion of Doom.”

“Pam, you’re trying to make a difference in this world. That only comes from changing people. Changing their behavior. You have a better shot at that with a respectable persona. You want people to associate your agenda with things that they like. Not things that they’re afraid of,” Barbara says desperately.

Ivy rolls her eyes.

“Maybe,” she grumbles. “Less fun that way.”

“You sound like Harley.”

“There’s a reason we like each other.”

“You miss her already?”

“God no. She’s best in small doses.”

Barbara snorts. “I know what you mean.”

As she takes a croissant from the tray and pulls off a piece, her mind is already on her evening plans. Not Stephanie, but after that. The way Barbara sees it, she has two options.

She can try to meet with Summer Gleeson to get ahead of this Katana story.

Or she can go and get Ivy’s blood back. Waller won’t be difficult to find; Barbara put a tracker on Katana when she grabbed her.

Should she reach out to Summer? Or go after the blood?