Title: Poison Inque
Character: Poison Ivy/Disappearing Inque
Summary: Poison Ivy falls asleep in the past and wakes in the future, the daughter of herself.
The police were chasing her. All female officers–they’d learned–and she could hear them running through the brush, closing in. She ran as fast as she could, cursing the fact that she’d let them get close so she could taunt Montoya about what she’d done to Detective Bullock.
She hadn’t been able to resist. He was a disgusting pig of a man. A face full of Lung Spores was just what he deserved. Coughing up his insides in a hospital room would give him an opportunity to think about his language toward a woman.
The delicate flower of the species. Pamela half-turned with a wicked laugh and flung a handful of small yellow seeds over her shoulder. A surprise for her pursuers.
Dashing across Gotham Park she headed toward the copse of trees she’d been using as a base. She had all kinds of goodies stored and waiting to be used against the interfering GPD.
She nearly made it. She could see the bag she needed right there.
She was taken down in a flying tackle, her knees and hands scraping against the dirt painfully. She twisted around as fast as she could, bringing her knee up into the gut of the wide-eyed young policewoman. She felt a bit bad when she followed it up with an elbow jab to the throat, but from the sputtering sounds the woman made she didn’t think she’d done permanent damage.
Pamela kicked the police officer away. “My apologies,” she said, stepping gracefully past. She could hear her other pursuers closing in. There wasn’t time for dilly-dallying.
The seeds she cast were doing their thing behind her. She could hear the shouts of the officers and the sounds of struggle. She didn’t pause or look back. There were some cops that hadn’t been caught up, the pounding of their feet letting her know they were closing in fast.
Pamela reached the cloth bag and tore it open with frantic strength. She had expected there to be more pomp and ceremony, but once again Gotham’s finest had ruined her plans.
The size of a football, the cream colored seedpod looked like a giant pistachio. It was a solid weight in her hands, one that she didn’t hesitate to draw back and fling at the ground near her feet.
There was a rushing-whir as the seedpod burrowed its way beneath the earth and disappeared.
“Good luck… dear me,” Pamela whispered. Then turned to face the approaching police.
She raised her hands over her head with an insouciant grin. “Looks like you caught me,” she said, jutting out one hip.
Detective Renee Montoya was there, panting and a little red faced. “You definitely made us work for our donuts.”
Pamela let herself be cuffed and dragged away. A secret smile lurked around her lips even when she found herself in Arkham once again. Home sweet hellhole.
And behind her, deep beneath the ground of Gotham Park, the seedpod burst open and tiny green tendrils flowed out in search of water and eventually sunlight.
A tree grew in Gotham Park, a lacy sprawling thing that grew white and yellow flowers in spring and strange black nuts in fall. Bees hummed in the branches and the tree grew taller with each passing year, its spindly branches looking like arms reaching toward the sky.
Gotham changed around Gotham Park, crime battles were won and lost, technology took over most everything. And the tree grew in the protection of the park, one of the few untroubled bits of nature left in the city.
Then one night when the moon was heavy and full in the sky, the trunk of the tree heaved and bulged. There was the sound of splitting wood and the rich scent of green filled the air.
Light poured out from the heart of the tree first, greenish-white bioluminescence pulsing out in a spreading wave. Then a green-tinged leg, bare and well-formed, the green tracery of veins clear beneath the pale skin.
The woman had a mane of bright red hair and her eyes were large and vibrant green.
“Hello world. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She threw back her head and laughed, and it was only a little tinged with hysteria.
It felt as though she’d gone to sleep as Pamela Isley only to wake up as someone else, someone new. She still felt like Pamela, but biologically speaking she was more Pamela’s clone or daughter.
Because Pamela was dead. It was the only reason she would have woken. The last failsafe of a brilliant woman.
Ah, there’s that lovely ego again, she thought, and chuckled. Because the only other option was to cry, and she’d promised never to mourn her own death.
“Because from death flows life.”
She looked around her at this strange and changed world. She’d felt the turning of the seasons while in her haven deep beneath the surface, had tasted the toxins flowing through the ground water and silently raged in her helplessness
But she wasn’t helpless anymore.
Ivy looked at the world around her–the tiny mote of the park in the eye of the city–and knew that she had a lot of work to do. She would save the planet from the humans and bring back the ideal of the rich green earth.
For Pamela. For herself. For the innocent plants that had died in the name of humanity.
* * *
Murderous rage had given way to despair. She was losing hope that she would ever be herself again.
Dinah had ceased to fling herself around the confines of her tub-bed. It was as ineffectual as anything else she’d done since being trapped in her Inque form. Being able to flow through pinhole cracks and ooze into the most secret of hidey holes meant nothing if all she could do was ooze once she got there.
After months of painful treatments, she was able to take on her human shape for short periods of time. But it was unstable and attempting to lift anything usually resulted in her splashing as a puddle on the floor.
Her genetic structure was too damaged. All of her very expensive doctors agreed that she would never again be able to walk around as a human being. She would need to be carried in a bucket.
Being human had never meant that much to her. Because after all, what had it ever gotten her? Pregnant at seventeen and homeless. Desperate for money and help with no one to turn to. And after years of back room deals and corporate espionage, her daughter–her precious baby–that she’d tried so hard to protect from the crueler parts of reality had betrayed her.
Dinah had never had much in the way of illusions, but somehow she’d managed to fool herself into believing that her own daughter would love her. Even after years apart, there would be something left of that brightly smiling girl that had been the center of her world.
A wordless shriek erupted from her and she flung herself from one side of the tub to the other, splashing loudly.
Being human meant nothing, except that she missed having hands. Missed being able to hold things and feel the flex of muscle beneath her skin.
She missed seeing her own face in the mirror. But she couldn’t hold onto it, her body melting into formless liquid no matter how she tried.
Rage bubbled across her surface, escaping in hisses and pops. She was forgetting herself and she hated it.
Soon Dinah would cease to exist and all that would be left was Inque. Murderous Inque.
* * *
The world had grown strange while Ivy slept. The murmurs of the Earth had spoken of toxic water and disappearing plant life, but that meant nothing to the travesty humans had committed.
She wanted to weep.
Nearly all of the green had disappeared from the world, heartlessly wiped out by uncaring humans. It disgusted her to know how far they had gone.
It made her wonder how her progenitor could have let the world get like this. How could she have stood back and watched as forests were bulldozed and concrete had taken over for jungles.The mind of Pamela had been dead for years. The result of an unfortunate run-in with Bane. Her brain had been physically damaged when her head was split open like an overripe fruit. She was in a coma for eighteen years before she died.
Ivy didn’t know how to feel. She’d known her progenitor had to be dead, otherwise she wouldn’t have woken. But to know that she’d rotted away in a long-term care facility until her body completely failed?
It made her angry. And it scared her. But most of all it motivated her.
There was so much she needed to do. So much that Pamela hadn’t been able to finish. And now Ivy needed to pick up the slack.
Right after she made a little money to fund her aggressive eco-conservationism.