[Flashback] Home Sweet Toxic Waste [Harley]

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

Poison Ivy still isn't sure why she's doing this. Actually bringing someone to her hideout? What is she thinking? This could so easily lead to a vigilante discovering where she's living now - even if Harley doesn't accidentally lead one here directly, she can easily imagine the clown girl doing something that would leak the location to someone else and that would be all that Batman would need to find her. And she's not yet certain how long she could fend him or possibly the police off. Even though, having already experienced the pain of losing the garden at her estate, she's taken the security of her new place extremely seriously to prevent a recurrence. Then again, that's why bringing someone to her hideout that she doesn't intend to kill is such a bad idea.

Then again, though she's not exactly sure why, hearing Harley's tale of woe about the Joker kicking her out and not having anywhere else to go made Poison Ivy want to help the poor clown girl. And it's not in her nature to over-examine why she'd want to do such a thing. It's more that she's somewhat surprised at herself for having such a feeling at all when she knows of the potential risks she's taking. Then again, it's always been in her nature to want to care for things - the more helpless and needy, the better. It's just that her nurturing instinct is usually confined to plants is all.

Letting those thoughts stew in the back of her mind, most of her attention is on the road ahead. And it has to be - she's always been an excessively fast driver. Mostly because she's never driven anything but a sportscar, sportscars love a driver with a lead foot, and she's been able to talk herself out of every speeding ticket she might have gotten since she was eighteen. Fortunately, she's also a really good driver, even though it's night and she's insisting on driving with the lights off to minimize the chances of being followed. The very expensive red convertible speeds down the road with all the grace of a ballet dancer as they head through the warehouse district and to a place not far from the dockyards.

And as she drives, she feels the need to warn Harley about where they're going. "It isn't the most pleasant place, but if I got used to the smell, then you can. And the amenities are minimal, but it works. The real selling point of the place is that it's, like I told you, very safe. We'll be the only ones who know that we're there," she explains. And she knows that safety is a very important point - it's the reason that she made the offer in the first place. Otherwise Harley would have to run the risk of running into someone who isn't worried about harming the Joker's girlfriend while she's out of his good graces as she looks for a place to stay. Or, worse, a vigilante could find her and offer her a cell to stay in.

"And I need to emphasize that point: the place is safe because nobody else knows about it. I don't want you to so much as admit to anyone you're staying with me, let alone that you know where it is. And no guests, unless you have my permission and are planning on killing them. Ever. This place is a secret. Got that?" she asks, not looking away from the road the entire time she's talking.

She makes a turn to a road heading south once they're past the warehouses. This is the most southeastern point of the city, and there's not much here. The dump, a few private docks, a few factories. And a particularly nasty bit of land that has been used as an illegal toxic waste dump off and on for the past several years by some of those factories. She chose the spot for her hideout since the place is now so toxic that nobody visits it, yet she and her plants can manage there just fine. She'll have to figure out something to keep the clown girl from coming to harm if she's going to stay for awhile, but it shouldn't take her that long to mix up an anti-toxin. One can't be as good with toxins as she is without also knowing how to defeat them, even though her own immune system means that information is useless to her personally.

[Deleted]

Pools of red spread across the floors of Arkham as the scattered bodies of the guards slowly bled out after the Joker’s attacks. He had just awakened from his psychotic trance and was already walking the halls looking for the last member of his old gang, Harley Quinn. His only friend was a foldable razor that he clutched in his right hand, flicking open the blade then closing it out of anticipation. His grin rumbled up from his throat and flowed from his mouth, turning into a loud shriek of laughter as he approached the beautiful and faithful jester who’s mind he had warped and molded into an uncertain mess that would obey only him. "Do you know what happens at midnight, Harley?" Joker asked, his voice filled with a gleeful poison as his plans are nearly complete.

“Don’tcha love me no more?” Harley asked and backed away as the Joker walked toward her while curling his pointer finger toward him, repeating this action for her to draw closer. There was something about the way he was approaching that made her blood run chill. A new look in his eyes that resembled that of the grim reaper’s told her that she was in danger and that he was not thinking straight… or maybe he was.

Harley watched as the Joker had taken the black death rose from her and pinned it to his lapel. He then gripped her wrist and twist her arm up behind her back as he leaned in close, her eyes were wide and bright. She winced in pain and asked, “Batman dead at midnight on the steps of Arkham Asylum, right?” Being so close to her love, she was able to smell the lovely and rancid chemicals on his breath, see the beads dotting his brow as the fevered heat only added to his insanity. Her arm felt pangs of pain like hot electricity shooting through her veins as she could feel her bones bending while under pressure of the Joker’s grip.

Her love had repeated the Batman’s name back to her and grinned while drawing back a sharp blade, pausing only to savor the moment as the clock ticked down to midnight, for Harley was the last of his old gang, and he was ready to place the rest of his past behind him, dead and buried in the cold lonely ground. Only Harley’s warm blood would bring some warmth to the floor after he would stab her upon the chiming of the clock. Joker jumped in surprise as the Batman’s voice sliced through the silence as he went over the list of those whom the Joker had killed, and explained that Harley was next on the Joker’s list of henchmen to die, the final piece of his living, breathing and moving red and black checkerboard of a game he had once constructed that now must come to an end. Any ties to his past must perish in order for him to shed his last life and start anew.

“That’s not true!” Harley protested for she did not want to believe that what the tied up Batman was saying. She was in some heavy denial and when her brows knit together under her black domino mask. She shook her head all the more when the man in the bat suit explained that he was there to watch her death, for that is what the Joker wanted. “He wouldn’t! It’s not like that, Puddin! BATMAN dies at midnight, remember?” She turned to face her lover.

The corners of the Joker’s mouth peeled back into a grin, as he slowly shook his head from left to right. His wide set grin reminded Harley of a pendulum blade, swinging from side to side, threatening to cut it’s victim in half for having guessed wrong.

“Don’t make me hurt you…” She sobbed and caught sight of the blade’s reflective surface shining under what little light there was in the room. Her tears slid down her cheek and collected onto her white jester’s collar. She could feel her heart shatter into two distinct halves as the foldable razor teased her sight. “You still love me, don’t you?” She asked, but he had responded with a simple and silent grin. “I still love you. I always will.” She stammered and gasped as the Joker’s hand brought the blade up to her throat and threatens to spill her devotion onto the floor, but Harley was going to have none of that. Now cornered, Harley Quinn moved so fast that the Joker didn’t even see what had happened. She took him by surprise when her knee punched upward, bending the menacing clown’s forearm and sends the razor flying and spilling across the floor. She had smashed his arm and wriggled free, leaving him with splintered bone shards projecting at a fifty-degree angle from his skinny wrist. Even though her life had just been threatened, she could not stop telling him she was sorry for having to hurt him. Her eyes were wide and frantic as the Joker’s face contorted with pain. Harley turned to the Batman in not knowing what to do next, then looked back at the Joker.

“I’ll let you live, but it would be better if you looked more like me.” The Joker had told her and used his finger to imitate the razor’s blade, pressing against his lower lip and moved his finger upward to the cheek and repeated this action on the other side. He was indicating that she slice through her flesh to make her grin as wide as his own by doing a little surgery.

“Harley, no…” Batman whispered but even he knew it was useless. Her heart belonged to the Clown Prince of Crime and no amount of pleading would turn her thoughts away from what she thought was her only love and reason for living. His heart sank as she picked up the blood-stained steel and looked it over thoughtfully. Her head was bowed in shame from having to harm her white duke of death. She approached on tiptoe and held the blade out to him.

The Joker took the blade from her and trailed a bloodied razor’s edge down her soft peach cheek. Harley closed her eyes and bit her trembling lip. “Do it.” She whispered, “If that’s what you want…” She slowly opened her eyes and saw that the Joker was holding the shaving blade up high rather than at an angle. Once again he had manipulated her into trusting him. His eyes were wide and furious with her for having harmed him, for breaking his arm and going against his wishes. He brought his good hand down with the blade at the ready, forcing Harley to bring her own arms up for protection and cried out as her skin felt the slice bite into her wrist. She knees him in the stomach, sending him stumbling back and follows through with a kick. The idea of him betraying her trust was far more agonizing than what little damage the blade could do. “Puddin’ stop!” She cried out and backed away as he slashed at the air in front of him in a 45 degree angle.

Harley tripped over her bag of tricks and frantically pulled out her gun. She cocked back the hammer and took aim, her arm trembling from fear of having to make a choice of ending the love of her life and leading a life in sorrowful solitude, or possible freedom. She did not want to die, even if it meant never loving again. Her former life as a clinical psychoanalyst reminded her of the sanity she once had, how things were before she had met the Joker, and how life was never this complex. She pulled the trigger as he lunged with an animalistic growl. Blood dripping down from his compound fracture and now from his shoulder. He drops the blade and clutched at the wound, now sinking to his knees sputtering and then laughing that she had actually attempted to kill him. So the girl had guts after all.

“You gotta stop ignoring me, Mistah Jay." Harley said inwardly knowing that he was only using her for his own self satisfaction and twisted way of thinking. She knew of her own worth and wanted to prove it to him; she always has. She used the back of her arm to wipe at the tears that blinded her vision and took aim at the Joker for a second time. It was at this moment that Batman had found his way out of his bindings and kicked the gut out of Harley’s hands. It scattered across the floor while Batman turned his attentions back to the Joker. He puts down the mad clown with one single punch and said, “It’s over Quinn.” He said in his harsh tone tainted with care. “Even you can see what kind of man the Joker is. Break free of him while you still can.” His voice bounced off the walls of the halls of Arkham, leaving a lonely and eternal existence for Harley’s future.

With all these events still fresh in her mind, Harley sniffed back a tear and barely heard what Ivy had said. She turns her baby blues toward the red haired vixen while her body remained in a fetal position. She was facing away from Ivy, staring out at the passing environment as every building and tree blurred past due to Ivy’s speeding while mixing with Harley’s forming tears. She reached up and rubbed at her eyes while listening to Ivy’s smooth voice. It was almost like listening to mother after having a perfectly rotten day and feeling some what comforted by the tone. Harley nodded. Her clear and salted tears dispersing from the corners of her eyes then suddenly flying back toward her ears since the wind coming into the convertible had blown them back. Harley couldn’t feel the tears past her cheek for her jester hat covered her ears, but nothing really mattered at that point, not while she was feeling so betrayed and having betrayed her love at the same time. There was no way that the Joker would ever forgive her now. The look in his black pupils was one of anger and disbelief. Nothing she could say would ever let him forgive her. Nothing.

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

Catching Harley's nod out of the corner of her eye, Poison Ivy's lips purse slightly. The girl seems so lost in her pointless misery that she doesn't really trust that her words are actually getting all the attention that they deserve, and this stuff is important. She has half a mind to launch into a lecture on why a messy breakup is nothing to cry over, but she recognizes that now is probably not the best time for that. First she'll help get the clown girl settled. Then she'll start the lecture.

She wasn't lying at all about the smell - the scent of chemicals reaches them even before they arrive. But if you're around them long enough, they start to go unnoticed so she doesn't pay them any mind. The place is surrounded by an old, rusted chain link fence with signs posted warning that the place is a serious health hazard. She ignores them and drives to the gap in the fence that serves as an entrance. But before driving in, she hesitates for a moment. Harley would probably not notice the unassuming set of bushes, one on each side of the entrance area, but what they can tell Poison Ivy makes her smile - nobody has been by while she was away.

"We're here," she comments as she turns into the short dirt road that leads right into the heart of the site. She stops by a rather large shack-looking structure, quickly commenting, "It's a little nicer on the inside than the outside - can't make it look too lived-in." But only a little bit. Of course, given the ramshackle nature of the places the Joker usually stays, Harley will probably find the place quite nice. To Poison Ivy, however, who grew up as a multi-millionaire heiress, this place is in absolute squalor to her eyes and something that needs to be apologized for.

When she turns off the headlights, it suddenly gets very dark. This spot is out of range of the city's streetlights and far away from any other buildings. Before getting out she tells the car to put the top back up and closes the windows. And, once Harley steps out, she puts a cover over the flashy vehicle - the inside layer is a proper cover that won't scratch the paint of her beloved vehicle, while the outside layer is a ratty old tarp that doesn't look like it would be put on anything important. This place needs to be able to pass a casual inspection during the day.

Once she's satisfied that her car is secure, she says, "This way, Harl." Heading inside the shack, it proves to be quite cozy. The front room has a tiny kitchen area and a couch with an old TV. Other doors lead to a bathroom and a small one-person bedroom. But she moves immediately past all that, commenting, "I'll give you a proper tour later. First we need to get you to my lab - the air here will make you sick if I don't fix you up quickly." She heads for a door leading to the very back of the shack and ushers Harley through it.

The lab area takes up the entire back half of the shack, and has a rather thrown-together appearance. Some of the equipment is old and half worn out, some of it's new and looks very cutting edge, and some of it is labeled in foreign languages - it all depends on where she got it from. The only important thing to Ivy is that it all works. And there are plants all over the place - small ones are interspersed among the lab equipment, while larger ones grow in a tangled mess all along the southern wall of the shack - which has been replaced by white plastic to allow natural light in without revealing to the outside that there's anything growing inside.

"I'm going to need to work in here for a few minutes - you can look around but don't touch anything. Most of the chemicals I work with are toxic, sometimes to the touch or even the vapor. And some of the plants are toxic to the touch as well. Don't go near the big ones, though - a few of them eat people and don't know that you're a friend yet," she says, dispensing those warnings even as she begins grabbing bottles and vials of various substances seemingly at random and gathering them together on the counter. A bit paranoid about the idea of anyone copying her work and smart enough to remember her own concoctions, she doesn't label anything and that makes anyone else trying to do anything in her lab a very risky business indeed. Especially since she's an expert in toxins and uses them extensively in her work.

[Deleted]

Harley’s misery was soon interrupted as a terrible stench reached her nostrils and overwhelmed her senses. It reminded her of the time she had entered a factory that produced neon green chemicals that bubbled and swirled within the heated vats that prepared them. The noxious vapors being produced by the chemicals could easily burn one’s lungs when exposed to them for too long, burning into the throat and lungs and eat away at the windpipe. But who cares? She deserved to die after having attacked The Joker. She had seen his arm snap after using extreme force on him when he was already in a weakened state of fighting Batman. Her eyes spot a 50 gallon metal drum with the hazard symbol posted on the side as the car drove by, slowing down as they approach their destination. Still moping, she lifts her head up from her arm and looked when Ivy had announced where they were then followed through with her left shoulder pulling the rest of her to sit up. “Yippee.” She uttered looked at the house. It didn’t look like the nice home she had grown up in with her loser brother or her mother except for the plants. To Harley, this home looked more a neighborhood that ditched town before a Russian nuclear strike could happen. It was eerily silent for there were no human voices, no peeping from birds, no dogs barking, nothing. Yep. Nuclear strike from the 50’s.

It was okay for Harley had been in worse situations. She had lived in a cement block-walled prison with an iron wrought bed, one mattress and a pillow with a sink and toilet, to the abandoned APEX Novelty Factory stripped of it’s conveyer belts metal ramps that slide down onto the belts, and all other metal ramps that would send toys from one end of the factory over to the other. Or the run down warehouse with blue tiled walls dripping with rust while the inside was filled with carnival figures consisting of a giant dragon, a clown head placed upon a metal tower and a second clown head who’s mouth is hidden by red drapes. Behind the drapes were a collection of black and white TV monitors that showed hidden cameras within the Gotham City Police Station, Mayor Hill’s office, Commissioner Gordon’s office, and a few other important areas in Gotham. This was Harley’s favorite, for it was her own private little love nest where even the goons weren’t allowed to enter. Memories of her time spent with the Joker in all those areas made her frown even more. Her mother used to say, “Pick up her lower lip before ya trip over it” in an attempt to cheer her up, but right now, no amount of joking around could cheer Harley up. The sounds of the Joker’s bone snapping in half continued to play through her mind, followed by the angry and astonished look in his eyes. A sane man would have fallen to his knees screaming in agony, but not her Joker. He must have been used to the pain, just like her in their abusive relationship. Oh what she would give to see him now, to feel his back-handed slap across her cheek just to hear him say that he forgave her.

As the car lights turn off, Harley suddenly felt herself become alone again, even though Ivy was seated right beside her. Good, darkness is what she wanted at that moment. To writhe in the emptiness that echoed the lonely cries of her heart. By being blanketed by the darkness meant no one could see your tears. She grabbed her purse, a black and white leather bag with multiple chains draped down starting from small to large that hung over a metal skull. She pulled the metal studded straps over her shoulder and hung her head in misery as she followed Ivy out of the car. She creates an audible shuddering sigh as her emotions were still set on sadness. Her body was fragile at this point, for tears could flow, the knotting in the back of her throat could swell, her legs could give out as her mind followed through with her heart’s plan, to just…give…up. It felt like her smile would never work again, and why should it? Her one true love was captured by Batman and fuming over what she had done to him. They had both been captured by the bat and it was all her fault What a stupid move Harley. If it wasn’t for you, The Joker would have gotten away. She thought and felt the weight of the blame pull her down even more. She didn’t deserve to live, not after what she did to her lover. And yet she didn’t want to die either, she knew nothing about death. Did you just stop existing or is there a heaven and hell? It wouldn’t matter if she did end up in either, for she was already in hell from what she had done to her boss, and heaven was not heaven without her Puddin’.

She walked into the home and looked around with little interest. She had to admit, Ivy was right about it looking better on the inside. She assumed she would have to sleep on the couch. The couch was better than the cold nights on a park bench in Gotham or in the back of the Joker’s car with only a blanket to keep her warm. And at least the inside of the home did not smell nearly as bad as the outside, although it-wait. Did Ivy just say lab? What did she mean by “fix you up?” She didn’t think she needed fixing other than her heart, but when she entered this lab, she blinked a few times and really looked around. “Wow Red, it’s like the Garden of Eden in here.” She let her curiosity become her more dominant emotion at the time and trailed her finger along an old chemistry beaker. For Christmas, she could get Ivy a whole new set to replace the old ones. She stopped dead in her tracks when Ivy mentioned not touching anything, quickly returned her hands behind her back and spun around so that Ivy couldn’t see what she had done. A little dust came up from the beaker and onto her black gloved hand but that was all. Instinctively she smiled an apology for it was harder to strike her if she looked cute an innocent.

Harley’s shoulders drooped when Ivy mentioned needing to work alone for she knew this rule well. The Joker had always sent her away while he was working on something dangerous and always became upset when she would bump into something or spill his acid by accident. She didn’t want Ivy to strangle her with on one of the vines trailing down from the plants in the lab so she decided it best to distance herself from her for a little bit. She moved her right foot away from her body and followed through with the left in order to side-step back to the entrance. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all? At least that’s what she was beginning to think until Ivy mentioned the people-consuming plants. She began to question Ivy’s words but all suspicion was tossed out the window when she said the word ‘friend.’ It has been a while since she has had a friend. “Ya really mean it Red?” Harley walked over to her with her head stretched forward and body leaning to the left to see Ivy’s face. “When ya called me a friend?” Her heart burped up a little bit of hope when hearing that word. The jester’s face made an expression of child-like hope to where every part of her was hanging on Ivy’s words. She was so fragile in this current state that if Ivy were to say no, it would spiral Harley into an even deeper state of despair if that were possible.

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

The question the clown girl asks actually causes Poison Ivy to pause and think over what she just said. She just said that Harley's a friend? ...Well, she supposes that she did. Unlike Harley, she's not someone who has had only a few friends - she's had no friends. Of course, she's pretended to be a friend to a rather large number of people, but that was hardly sincere on her end. So for that word to come out so naturally seems odd to her - similar to how inviting her over here in the first place felt odd.

Nevertheless, she doesn't see the harm in the idea. In fact, it's probably an accurate thing to say given that she feels far less inclined to harm the woman than she normally feels about anyone. So she shrugs and says, "As long as I'm a friend of yours, then you're a friend of mine." That's only fair, after all. She's not nearly trusting enough to not put a condition on even something as supposedly solid as a friendship - she generally expects that everyone will betray her eventually, and when that happens she'll treat Harley just like everyone else. But until then, why not call her a friend?

And having now said that, her attention turns back to the chemicals in front of her, now starting to quickly but carefully mix them together. Similar to how she doesn't need to label the bottles, she also doesn't need to use any notes to remember how to make something. And actually, while she's made similar things before, she hasn't actually ever made the exact thing that she's making now. Fortunately for Harley, she's an absolute genius at her craft and not prone to making errors.

As she works, she also puts the chemicals she's done with away, but she also pulls out a pair of syringes from a drawer as she returns one of the bottles to it's place. It won't be too much longer until she needs them.

[Deleted]

Harley’s baby blue eyes began to widen in surprise and joy when Ivy agreed to being her friend. It was a nice change of events and she was willing to shift from misery to hope, although it would take another day or two in order to exchange sheer misery to having fun again. “I could use another friend! Harley and Poison Oaky, two best gal pals that’ll some day over take Gotham City!” She wrapped her needy arm around Ivy and drew her in close to her side. Already she could see the headlines within her mind, the Gotham City’s New Queens, Harley and Ivy. “I always liked red and green together.” She grinned and tilt her head against Ivy’s hair, allowing her pompom to drop down in front of Ivy’s eyes.

As Ivy pulled away to look back at her chemicals, Harley knew it was her time to step away and give her space. But she never liked being alone, especially in a new home with nothing to do. This little jester became bored rather easily unless there was television or nail polish or … “Hey Ivy, can I bring my two pets with me? They’ll keep me busy while you do your thing. They’re little angels I swear it. Bud and Lou won’t be much of a hassle.” She looked over Ivy’s shoulders to see what she’s doing and went silent for a minute. Chemistry was never her favorite subject in school but Ivy seemed to do okay with it. The moment she saw the syringes, Harley began to back away slowly and left the lab quickly. She shuddered and decided it best not to get Ivy angry when she had sharp needles to throw at her. It was true that her costume was black and red like a checkerboard with card playing diamonds on it, but she was not one who would be mistaken as a dart board. Hopefully Ivy didn’t get as mad as The Joker when he flew into his outrage.

Harley sighed and slumped down on the couch and placed her elbow on the arm of the couch, then balled her fist and pressed her cheek against it. She was beginning to wonder if The Joker was going to be okay after she had shot him and bit her lower lip out of concern for him. She tried to distract her mind by picking up the television remote and pressed the power button. When nothing happened, she tried it again. She flipped the controller over and lift up the back flap to see if there were batteries inside. When she saw that there were, she pulled down the flap and tossed the remote before stretching out on the couch. Who knows if the batteries were dead or if there was no television due to the area having no power ever since the city shut it down. But what better place to get power than through toxic waste? Harley wasn’t sure how that was possible but all she knew was energy caused toxins and toxins were radioactive and therefore that must mean that they have some sort of power.

She stretched out her legs and tried to touch the ceiling with her foot. It of course was an impossible feat but that did not stop her from trying. She laid her hands down on the couch cushions and lift her back off of the couch to give her more length in an attempt to achiever her goal. She was still a few feet short and would have to stand on the couch in order to touch the ceiling. She brought her body down and crawled over to the arm of the couch, now attempting a hand stand on it with her feet in the air and looked up to see if she could reach.

“When you’re the best of friends, having so much fun together. You’re not even aware, you’re such a funny pair, you’re the best of friends. Life’s a happy game. You could clown around forever. Neither one of you sees, your natural boundaries, life’s one happy game…” Harley began to sing and lift one hand out from under the other, centering her balance down the middle as she feels her body tilting to the left and right in little shakes but she manages to keep herself upright and does the splits in the air. She can see her right foot hanging over her head and then switched legs. Her mind began to wonder when considering how long Ivy was going to take and then see what they were going to do after her time in the lab. She sure hoped that Ivy wasn’t like her main squeeze, going into the lab just to get away from Harley and spending up to days in there, ignoring her. She would have to make Ivy a present or find her one in order to seal the deal on their friendship, but what could she give her? The woman obviously likes the color green and plants. Maybe she could find a gift shop that has a fern placed within glass or hard plastic and give that to her as décor? Or maybe she’s the type who likes expensive gifts? How about an emerald? Yeah an emerald! Harley grinned as she became more excited over the idea. But how was she going to slip out unnoticed by Ivy? She did want this to be a surprise after all. First she would have to find Ivy’s car keys, take the car while she was asleep and then find the nearest jewelry store.

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

When she's suddenly grabbed by the clown girl, Poison Ivy's tenses slightly. She's not as opposed to being touched as some people in this city are, but being unexpectedly grabbed is a bit much even for her. "It's Poison Ivy," she mutters, irritated but shrugging it off quickly. She's already determined that Harley is an acceptable type of person, after all, and she accepts that it may take the woman some time to learn where her boundaries are - especially since there are so many of them.

Fortunately, it isn't very difficult to pull away again so that she can continue working. It takes some concentration with all the figures floating around in her head, but she has enough experience in doing it that it isn't difficult for her to work and carry on a bit of a conversation at the same time. Even if the conversation is someone asking her an annoying question. "No, absolutely not! This is hardly a good environment for whatever kind of animal they may be," she says immediately, dismissing the idea right out of hand. She'd need a lot of convincing to go along with that idea, especially if she knew what species they were talking about.

The particular kind of chemistry she's doing right now would probably be pretty boring for anyone to watch, unless they happened to be a scientist in a related field - and such a person would instead find it frustrating since she wouldn't answer any of their questions, and without that they'd still not understand what she's doing exactly. There aren't any small explosions or other especially interesting chemical reactions to see, except for some mild but unexpected color changes.

Then again, if Harley had watched a bit longer, she might have seen that one of the primary ingredients for this is mixture is Poison Ivy's own blood and that would probably be disturbing to anyone. And rightly so, if you know just how toxic the stuff is, though in her hands almost any substance can cure just as easily as it can kill. It's just that she doesn't often see the point of curing people. And there are very few things on this planet that are more potent than her blood. She uses one of the syringes to retrieve some, while the other is saved until the very end and filled with the finished product.

Pausing just long enough to make sure that she doesn't have any pesky air bubbles (no point in making Harley immune to anything if she accidentally kills her in the process) she heads into the living area to track down her new friend, syringe in hand, only about five minutes after she'd started. "Finished," she announces, holding up the needle as if offering proof.

[Deleted]

All thoughts of getting Ivy a gift went out the window the moment Harley saw Ivy with the plastic tube with a needle jutting through the rubber bulb. She brought her legs and feet in close to her body and crouched on the arm of the sofa like a gargoyle, never leaving her eyes off of her new roommate. “Ya know you have a funny name. You hardly look itchy to me.” Harley babbled when she saw the syringe in Ivy’s hand again. She started to wonder if maybe coming here was a bad idea, especially when she didn’t know what the shot would do. Hopefully Ivy would be using it for her victims… and not her. As Ivy inched forward Harley’s eyes darted around the room in looking for a way to escape, much in the sense that a cornered animal would and she knew the feeling of one all too well thanks to the company she was normally with.

“If you’re mad about the suggestion of me bringing pets into this place, I can change my mind… heh." Her voice wavered even more and she swallowed harshly. She turned to face Ivy in case she needed to spring away, jump and run or just kick the substance out of Ivy’s hand and then hole herself up in one of the few rooms Ivy’s house had to offer. Not only was the sight of the needle making her nauseous but the toxic chemicals in the air were also beginning to bring her dizziness and twist her stomach into feeling a little queasy. It’ has been a while since she had last been feeling ill, especially after eating way too much sugar for the body to process in one evening. “I’m uh… not feelin’ very well so I’m gonna just go lie down and see if I feel better. Ya gotta bed?" She ran for the bedroom, slammed the door shut and leaned against it to keep Ivy from getting in. Her breathing quickened and as she listened to see if Ivy would be following after her.

Harley dragged Ivy’s chest of drawers out in front of the door and backed away from it with her eyes watching to see if her barrier would keep Ivy out. “Great going Harley, first Puddin’ tries to kill ya and now this.” She glanced around the room to see if there was any kind of weapon that she could use, then mentally kicked herself for remembering that her gun was in her purse and that was in the other room with Ivy! How could she be so stupid to have forgotten about the gun!?

Ivy’s bed bumped into Harley as she was backing up. She looked behind her and climbed onto the mattress, still watching the door. She wasn’t very good at fighting with weapons, only dangerous props or firing the occasional bullet at an assailant, but even then she wasn’t that great a marksman. As this realization began to sink in, perspiration formed on her brow and the atmosphere began to feel more heated. The house itself was not actually getting warmer, and the intensity of the situation certainly was not getting any better, but Harley’s body was beginning to react to the toxic vapors that she was being exposed to. She knew better than to wipe her forehead since it would remove her white grease paint and yet the beads of sweat actually felt a little nice when a small current of air would touch them, giving her a short-lived relief from some of the internal heat.

Harley was expecting Ivy to get a hatchet and burst through the door, stick her face through the splintered opening and make a throaty growl which quoted an old game show host, much like her Puddin’ had before when she had disobeyed him and tried to hide from him. It wasn’t funny at the time but now she could look back at it and laugh. She had after all, learned not to disobey her boss’s orders. But Ivy was not her boss, and Harley didn’t know what the plant lady was up to. She had heard of Dr. Crane carrying toxins and syringes on his person when doing his experiments and Harley didn’t want to be anyone’s guinea pig. Most of all, she just hated needles.

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

The way that Poison Ivy views needles is vastly different from the way that Harley sees them. To her they are a tool, and a very useful one at that. Sure they cause a slight amount of pain, but she injects herself with this or that on a regular basis so it's gotten to the point that she hardly spares it a thought. In fact, at first she's somewhat baffled by Harley's reaction to it. "What? Mad? Not really..." she starts, sounding somewhat puzzled by the sudden shift in the conversation.

But the confusion is almost instantly laid aside the second that Harley makes a run for the door to her bedroom. "Hey, don't go in there!" she says, suddenly angry. She already considers bringing Harley here as a bit of an invasion of privacy, and her bedroom is her most private of private rooms. Not that there's much to it beyond the bed and massive amounts of clothing - she does nothing but sleep and get dressed in there. But still, it's her space.

Unfortunately, Harley beats her to the door, and though she turns the knob and pushes the door, it seems that it's being held shut. "Let me in and get out of there!" she demands, though the sound of some bit of furniture being moved seems to indicate that the door is not about to be opened.

Giving up, she fumes for a little bit, grumbling within herself. She's trying to help for pity's sake! Here is yet more proof of why she never, ever tries to help anyone. But, after a moment, she manages to carefully wrangle her temper under better control. She supposes that being mad is making her appear more scary, and the girl definitely seemed to be scared.

Taking a deep breath, she leans against the wall by the door and starts to talk. Loudly enough to be sure that she's being heard through the door, but surprisingly calm in tone. She's always had strong acting skills - the ability to look and sound differently from how she actually feels. Deeply inside she's still fuming, but she makes an effort to at least seem like she's not about to rip Harley's head off. "I suppose you weren't listening very carefully to what I said as we were arriving here? The very air in this place is deadly toxic - it's slowly killing you. You now only have a few minutes left before it will start to cause permanent damage. What I have in this syringe can save you, though. Of course, I can't give it to you with you barricaded in there. Though if you want to die, that's your business. If you don't, I suggest making up your mind before you're too weak to unblock the door as I certainly won't be able to get this to you in time otherwise," she states, idly fiddling with the syringe in her hands and listening for what she hopes is a panicked attempt to unblock the door.

If not... well, maybe that's for the best. Working with anyone else in the past has only led her to misery, to the point that the genuine desire to actually be nice to anyone rarely comes to the surface anymore. And it's been her experience that it's a feeling best ignored, so she wonders why this sudden change of opinion on the subject. Perhaps the status quo is better. And her plants could always use more fertilizer. Then again, it would be a very big pain to get into her room and it's never an entirely pleasant task dealing with a corpse.

[Deleted]

The plant lady’s voice sounded muffled behind the door and yet Harley listened to what she had to say. Harley really was beginning to feel ill and was worried that the woman might be right. But Harley was very stubborn and thought that maybe feeling sick was all in her head. That is what Ivy wanted her to think, right?

She looked over at the closet and found many clothes hanging lifelessly from hangers. Many expensive and brand name clothes. “Ooh….” Harley wandered over to them, hearing Ivy’s stern tone but ignoring her. She checked the designer labels and smiled at the expensive wear and felt the fine fabrics between her fingers. This Ivy lady seemed to have real good, if not expensive taste. Her eyes looked down at the collection of shoes and giggled when she compared her size feet with Ivy’s. She would love to have a gal pal to go shopping with and wondered if Ivy would give her advice on dressing like a well-bred woman from the Northern parts of Gotham City. Ivy certainly sounded like she came from there, speaking quietly with a seductive tone and held herself up very well. Sure Harley could pull that off but she’d rather be silly and make others laugh with her. She then wondered if Ivy had any jewelry that was worth stealing….

Before she could look, blood was rising to the surface making Harley’s cheeks red while her stomach churned slowly. Maybe it’s just the flu. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and could see that she looked miserable. Her heart was beating faster and her breathing was becoming more and more labored. Ivy’s breath broke her thoughts as she turned her eyes away from the mirror and back to the door, now giving Ivy her full attention. The words flowed into Harley’s mind and found their way into the logical part of her brain. Harley contemplated on what she really wanted now. The Joker tried to kill her but she refused to die willingly. Dying could possibly be the end of everything. No more sugar raiding, no more love, no more fun. She didn’t really want to die, not now. Besides, her Puddin’ was far scarier than any needle, right?

With a heavy sigh, Harley pushed the drawers out of the way although it was harder to do so this time. She slowly opened the door and hung her head while raising just her eyes to look at Ivy. Those baby blues were wide and filled with a child’s shame for behaving badly when clearly the other person was a mature adult turning their nose down upon someone who handled life with less grace. “You win.” She said quietly. “But I had better get a lolli pop outta of this.” She stumbled into the kitchen and sat down on a wooden chair. She rolled up her costume sleeve and reluctantly offered her arm to Ivy. The moment she saw the needle she felt anxiety rise up within her, flooding her heart with the idea of metal poking through her skin and resting some where in her veins. It was unnatural and sometimes, as a child, the doctors would not be able to find a vein and would cause bruising followed by a week of pain until her body healed. She thought twice about Ivy’s offer to let her die and began to whine. “I hate shots! I hate shots!” She turned her head from side to side at the thought of the sharp prick followed by the flow of liquid. She avoided any type of shots like the plague really. For what good were they when all they ever did was make her sick in order to prevent from getting sick? The whole process made her shudder. She squirmed in her seat the closer the needle came to her. She tried turning her head away but it was one of those things where you had to look because it would be less frightening in not knowing when the metal would enter the skin, while at the same time just in seeing the pointed end of the needle getting close made Harley’s heart race. She had to admit that Ivy’s voice was soothing to some degree, sounding like a mother would while cooing to her baby but without the actual caring part. Harley would take what she could get and if she wanted to believe that Ivy cared than so be it. Besides, she wasn’t stabbing her with the needle, and if anything Ivy seemed rather patient when Harley had gone into hiding. Or so she thought. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all?

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

It takes much longer than Poison Ivy would like before she starts hearing Harley move the furniture from the door - what was the clown girl even doing in there? But no matter, the important thing is that she emerges in time to get the injection before she comes to harm. She has enough class to not say anything while Harley admits defeat and stumbles toward the kitchen to take a seat.

Instead she simply follows and double checks the syringe before helping Harley pull her sleeve up high enough. "Regrettably, I don't keep sweets on hand," she comments, never having cared for the stuff herself. In fact there's probably not a single unhealthy food in the entire house - no dairy or eggs, even, since she's vegan. "Don't be such a baby, it's saving your life," she adds when the clown girl protests again. She gives herself shots all the time - they're really no big deal.

Then she uses one hand to firmly hold the clown girl's arm steady while the other injects the drug. Which is probably necessary because this isn't the kind of drug you inject into a vein. Instead it goes into the muscle of the upper arm - which is probably quite a bit more painful, but on the other hand it's quicker and it's harder to make a mistake with the needle. Though fortunately for Harley, Poison Ivy has enough experience with needles that she's in an out in a matter of seconds and the tight grip she has with her other arm would make it extremely difficult for Harley to move her arm while the needle is in. And the moment that the needle is out, she applies pressure to the injection site with her thumb as she sets the needle on the table. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asks, regardless of how the clown girl is reacting.

"It should only take you a minute or two to start feeling better," she adds as some consolation, though keeping the toxic air from killing her will ultimately be the least of the effects the injection will have. And she really wished that she could have explained that to Harley beforehand, but thanks to the attempts to avoid the shot she hadn't had enough time. Then again, it's unlikely that anyone would disapprove of the effects of that particular shot - all of them are nothing but beneficial by pretty much anyone's standard. And now that they're no longer on a time limit, perhaps she can do so now.

[Deleted]

“What? Why not? Everybody keeps at least a couple a suckers around, especially after Halloween.” She kept her eyes on the needle, finding that talking helped distract her from what was really going on. “And I’m not a baby, I’ve always hated needles. The look of them, the alcohol wipes that they rub on ya skin, then feeling of…” When the needle went in Harley winced and kicked her heel against the floor. “Yeah that feel! Oooooh…!” She exhaled once Ivy removed the needle and wanted to place her hand over the small puncture wound but Ivy has done it for her. “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing gloves or something? I don’t wanna infection.” What she really meant was that she was glad Ivy was being more like a mother to her than a doctor. The soft touch of her thumb against Harley’s arm, the gentle and soothing voice, and the dominant personality kind of made Harley feel like she was back home again. Their eyes met and Harley’s blues were looking less weary and more full of hope. “I guess it wasn’t as bad as what happened earlier. You’d think after livin’ with Mistah J I’d be used to a little pain.”

Harley curled her arm up to continue applying pressure so that Ivy didn’t have to. Ivy was right about feeling better. She could feel her fever easing and her stomach became less nauseous. In fact, she started to feel a little hungry. “Thanks.” Harley said at last and rubbed her arm once the bleeding stopped. She wondered if it would leave a bruise but even then she was used to bruises. “That’s going to be the last shot right? Or am I going to have to have one every week?” She made a face over the idea and started considering living else where if that was the case. At least that’s what she told herself, for Harley wasn’t always set on her plans unless she was comfortable with them or under drastic circumstances where she knew she had to leave if her life depended on it. As for now, it felt good just to have someone care about her for a change.

“Ya live alone Red? This place seems empty except for us.”

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

"Then I'm not 'everybody'," Poison Ivy simply replies. She doesn't keep candy around for several reasons, actually. It's only one of many ways in which she and Harley are total opposites - she's never cared for the stuff, it upsets her stomach, the industries that make it are rarely environmentally friendly, and even if it weren't for all of that she'd still not consume them to avoid damaging her figure.

She doesn't say anything more until she's finished giving the clown girl her shot, and at first it's only to respond to Harley's question by saying, "It won't get infected..." Mostly because this particular injection is so full of immune boosting effects that the drug will easily kill any bacteria in that part of Harley's arm long enough for it to heal before it becomes more evenly distributed in her body. But once it's finished doing so, while it'll be possible for Harley to get an infection, the girl would have to be pretty much asking for it and it would have to be an extra nasty strain for it to become a bad enough infection to really worry about.

When their eyes meet, Poison Ivy finds her feelings reacting in a way that she's not used to again and her lips shift into a firm frown. "What do you even see in that man? Everyone knows he treats you horribly, and you don't deserve that," she responds, "You don't need him!" The Clown Prince of Crime is a truly disgusting individual to her - rather high on her 'people I don't like' list, even though she hasn't even met him properly yet. Someone that she could kill without a second thought. Well, assuming that it wouldn't upset Harley too terribly - that remains to be seen. It shouldn't be too hard for her to convince the girl that she's better off without him, right?

Letting go of Harley's arm when she starts holding it herself, Poison Ivy steps back a little but watches the signs of improvement carefully, able to actually see the girl's ill-feeling expressions fading. Not that she had any doubts that her drug would do what it was supposed to. Oddly enough, the injection site will probably bruise, but it'll take a day to show up. And it'll be somewhat green. But that was no ordinary drug she gave Harley. "That's the only one you'll need, unless I get my hands on something new... and it does more than keep this place from killing you," she says, pausing a moment to decide how to explain further.

She should probably avoid getting too technical - this is the sort of thing that she's quite able to rant about on a level so advanced that only a handful of people on the planet would be able to follow, but the simplified version is easy enough. "What I just gave you makes your body better at both clearing up toxins and fighting off disease. Almost anything that makes most people sick won't affect you - you'll never get a cold again. Any poison or disease that kills most people will usually only make you unwell - though if it's really lethal you'll still have to worry about dying, so don't try to push your luck. And there's a few extras: I've made you completely immune to the Joker's laughing toxin, the Scarecrow's fear toxin, my pheromones, and my blood. It will also change your scent slightly - you'll not be able to notice it, but my plants will - they'll know not to attack you when that part of it takes effect in about three days," she explains, "I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't protect you from things that could harm you when it's so easily prevented."

Because, as she prepared the bit of it to make Harley immune to the toxic waste, she realized that there are many other hazards for the girl to worry about. Both in living here and in the world outside of this haven. Might as well cover all of the bases when it's not really all that difficult for her to do. And in providing protection from both Joker's and Scarecrow's toxins she's thumbing her nose at both men - they're not allowed to harm her friend. The protections from herself are simply necessary for anyone who wants to stay in close quarters to her without getting accidentally drugged or poisoned; she sees no reason why she'd need to manipulate Harley's mind anyway, and what Poison Ivy does is hazardous enough that there's always the possibility that her blood will get on Harley - which would be lethal on contact.

Having said that, she's somewhat surprised by Harley's last question, but she shrugs and simply says, "My plants are the only company I've ever needed." The clown girl may not know it, but that one statement sums up about 99% of what anyone needs to know to understand the woman she's talking to.

[Deleted]

“Sweets always make me feel better.” She admitted, although she did not mention to Ivy that she not only enjoyed the taste of sugar but she used it like a band aid to cover up the truth of how she really felt. Usually when she is depressed or feeling blue, the taste of candy distracted Harley’s thoughts and calmed her quite a bit. Without the sweet or sour sensations spreading across her tongue that change her thoughts and mood from bad to momentarily satisfied, Harley might actually have to sit down and face her problems for a change. And who wants to do that when there’s always a quick fix?

Speaking of fixes, Ivy asked what she saw in the Joker, bringing the image of a pale-faced, sharp-featured man to mind. “Don’t get me wrong, my Pudding’s a little rough sometimes but he loves me, really.” Harley replied in a soft tone. She smiled and turned her upper torso in the chair as her hands clasped together with the elbows extended. “He made me laugh when I was taking life too seriously and turned the world into one big play area! He’s also gorgeous when he smiles, charming while holding a tommy gun with that glimmer of excitement in his eyes while pullin‘ the trigger, he’s got a funny sense of humor that few understand, and he's a real romantic."

The Joker made her heart sigh and the sound easily traveled out through her lips and gathered into Ivy’s ears. Harley was in a true state of delirium between love and fear over the man for she was constantly switching back between the two emotions as if her heart ran only on the two. One was the ever devoted, playful state full of loyalty and hilarity when feeling happy and carefree, while the other half feared for her safety during the Joker’s rages and was soon consumed in sorrow when her needs were not met. Two minds, Harleen Qunzel and Harley Quinn with two halves of the same heart. “Besides, his hair is green. From the looks of it you like the color green.” She said in hopes of finding a common interest for Ivy and her lover. Of course Ivy didn’t like him, she didn’t know him the way Harley did. Ivy only saw what he did to her now and not all the other times he made her laugh and feel like she was worth something more than just a career-oriented woman whom hardly anyone took serious.

Her eyes drift down to the little puncture wound on her arm and placed her hand over it, listening as Ivy explained why she won’t get sick from little viruses and some poisons. How amusing, now she is more like The Joker and can stand his laughing gas without fear of having it send her into a hysterical frenzy as her diaphragm bursts, running out of air or drowning in any fluids that builds up in her lungs, giving her more time to spend with him! Ivy had done her a huge favor without Harley needing to say anything. “Oh thank you Red!” She throws her arms around the woman, resting her head against Ivy’s. “You’re the best gal pal I ever had! Wait, what about your plants attacking?” She loosened her hug on Ivy and glanced over at the potted plants surrounding them. That was a joke, right? Plants don’t attack people. She gave Ivy a dead pan expression then stepped back and shook her head. “Oh no, you’re not gonna fool me with that. I wasn’t born yesterday!” She walked over to a plant in the corner and flicked it’s leaf with her finger.

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

As Harley explains what she likes about the clown Poison Ivy's expression settles in a deep frown, but she decides now is not the time to argue that point. After all, the poor girl has been through a lot and probably needs a chance to rest her mind. Tomorrow she can start lecturing her about how she doesn't need that or any other man to be happy, and in fact would probably be much better off being an independent woman like herself. It might take a little time, but she's sure that she can get Harley to see reason.

But one this is for certain, the explanation does absolutely nothing to convince her that Harley's relationship is in any way a good thing. In fact, the clown girl's attempt to appeal to her favorite color as a reason to like the Joker merely prompts a blank stare. If anything, the fact that the Joker has green hair makes her rethink her choice of favorite color - in fact if her plants weren't that color she might do so for that reason alone.

For anyone else the intensity with which she dislikes the Joker even though she's never properly met him would seem a bit odd, but for her that's nothing unusual - she tends to have an instant dislike for any man. One that seems to enjoy harassing everyone without regard to who they are is even worse, and the way in which his voice grates upon her nerves even in clips of him in the news makes her dread ever having to talk to him in person. And now he can add being the abusive boyfriend of her best friend to his list of crimes - no, she definitely does not like the guy and probably never will. In fact giving Harley an immunity to his venom was hardly to help the girl spend more time with him, but because she wouldn't put it past the clown to try and use it on her. If she could come up with a drug that would make the man unable to lift a finger against Harley again she would have given that, but there are some things she just can't fix that way.

But she can't dwell on that thought for long, because she's suddenly being attacked! ...No, wait, Harley is just giving her a hug... It isn't that she doesn't like being touched, it's that she's not as used to it since she had to abandon her public identity and is especially not used to it happening without warning. "You're welcome Harl..." she replies, not really returning the hug but letting herself be limp in the other woman's arms.

Just as suddenly she's released and sees Harley stepping over to one of her potted plants. "Don't-!" she starts, but it's too late. The small plant reacts to the touch with speed normally only seen in the animal kingdom - what probably looks like a flowerbud instead turns out to be more of a mouth, somewhat similar to a venus fly trap but with some very small but solid teeth, and it immediately chomps down on the offending finger. Fortunately for Harley, this plant is just a baby and a far cry from what it will be after it's had some time to grow, and it just doesn't have the strength to cause much damage - it's probably much more surprising than painful.

But, having seen this coming from the moment that Harley started for the plant, Poison Ivy is very quick to screech, "DON'T MOVE!" And, not trusting Harley to comply with that, she hurries over and grabs Harley's hand to hold it still. But while she does have some minor concern that her friend could do herself some additional harm trying to extract her finger, what she's really concerned about is that the fact that the plant is practically guaranteed to be damaged whether Harley hurts herself worse or not. And, though she wasn't lying when she called Harley a friend, for Poison Ivy her plants are and always will be first. In a hurry to fix this situation, she turns most of her attention to the plant and gently murmurs, "It's okay, baby, you can let go now. It's all right - just let go..." And, after a moment, the plant complies.