Post by The Joker on Jun 20, 2015 20:20:50 GMT -5
The Poison Ivy: Arkham was cold. The police wagon turned up onto the bumpy road and up the hill toward the intake for what was the most massive Asylum she’d ever seen. Her hands clutched the bars over the back window and green, forlorn eyes stared at the darkness between the Asylum and the lit landscape of Gotham in the distance. She’d given in. She’d taken a knee to the Batman, the dark vigilante that “protected” the city of Gotham. A man dressed in leather and a mask….or whatever his terribly-difficult-to-penetrate attire was. He had produced a good argument, his seasonings had meant something to her. He had seen her genius, her intellect that ranked so far above most in her field. He saw her for a brilliant woman with power all on her own. That had touched something in Ivy, it had touched Pamela. It had made her understand and want to try for that direction he’d spoken of. The way that she had strove for before, with her mind and science backed by research to show the world the change it needed. (c)
However, as the wagon had pulled away with a captive Ivy sitting on the cold seat, the gift she’d handed Batman, the one of a kind flower that she’d given him as a symbol of peace and understanding between them...had been crushed shortly after she was out of sight. She couldn't see him doing it, wouldn't have had any idea that he had, but she was Poison Ivy, the very life of the Earth was connected to her and that flower’s short pain before death had burned through her. She clenched her jaw and saw the doors of Arkham close behind them as they entered the booking bay. After quite a violating series of questions and checking that she wasn't carrying anything in with her- Ivy was led to her own stall in Solitary. The door clicked close and she stared at the oh so small confinement that now housed her. Cold. Dark. Cut off from all life and sunlight. There was no window for light, no feel to the plants too far away to bring toward her. Her heart wrenched and she slid her warm fingertips to the cold stones. This wasn't what he’d promised her.
The Joker: Lately, The Joker had been spending quite a lot of his time in the Asylum. However, unlike the vast majority of times in which he had been captured and send right into Arkham, he wasn't being locked in a maximum security cell, forced to wear an extremely uncomfortable straight jacket, being fed despicable cold food and never being allowed to see the light of day. In fact, The Clown Prince of Crime found himself in quite a comfortable position, all thanks to the lovely psychiatrist that he held in a very special place, deep in his heart. His solitary was equipped with a rather soft bed, it's walls, ceiling and floor were always clean, he could have lunch with the rest of the inmates in the cafeteria, and if he asked nicely The Joker was allowed to leave his cell and catch some fresh at night, if he was going through anxiety, or depression, or stress, or any other symptom that was in his diagnosis. (c)
A guard armed with a baton and a handgun would accompany him, though, and he was required to wear handcuffs during the whole process. Sadly, Arkham's Security didn't saw Joker in the same light his dear Harleen did. But he wasn't called The Clown Prince of Crime for nothing, and so knocking the guard unconscious, breaking free of the cuffs, stealing the cell's key from his pocket, and laughing as loudly as possible (Not necessarily in that order, mind you) was as easy as stealing a strawberry lollipop from a little toddler's lips and replacing it with a .45 Magnum. Afterwards, he roomed freely through the Asylum's cold, empty corridors, smiling widely and humming innocently as he spun all the keys in his right index finger. Eventually, one sight caught all of The Clown's attention. A seemingly normal cell's door, numbered #0181, which had been out of use for months on end but now was suddenly labeled with a name on it: Pamela Isley. (c)
The Joker's smile slowly began to widen as he thought of a variety of ways to have fun with the new girl on the Asylum. After searching for the right key, he unlocked the cell's door and burst right in. "GREETINGS, MY DEAR GIRL, and welcome to the vile and disgusting place in which you shall spend the rest of your prolonged miserable life of suffering in: Arkham Asylum! Due to the extremely poor quality of this facility, and the fact that every single one of it's staff members are well aware of that, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham himself has dialed up 1-806-555-1966 and requested a Clown for Delivery towards your room, so that your mood of suicidal depression can be lightened up!" The Joker began in a loud, exaggerated, theatrical tone of voice, completely careless to whatever Ms.Pamela's reaction might be.
The Poison Ivy Ivy had been busy inspecting the cracks in the stones, graceful fingertips tracing them and imagining that if she could just get a feel for her plants...one could come through, could warm her and welcome her, show her love and affection. But her daydreaming was interrupted abruptly, the jangling of keys came to her ears before the sound of uneven footsteps. The sound of someone on a happy stroll, not patrolling in a prison for the criminally insane. Ivy turned and backed to the far wall, pressing her palm to the cold stone and watching as the door frame’s light was interrupted with the shadow of feet. The keys slid home and the door swung open to introduce the strangest looking clown she’d ever seen. Green eyes narrowed as she listened carefully and could swear she smelled complete psycho on this man. Strange didn't cover it, he was downright screwed up. How did he have keys? He certainly didn't work here and there was no way he should be allowed to be the welcoming committee.Although, with it being an asylum, perhaps the welcoming committee WOULD hire him. (c)
Ivy tipped her head to the side and took in the sight and sound of him, red hair cascading over her shoulder. The staff had tried to strip her of her leaves and found that enough of an idea to get them threatened of beheading by a thorn spike. However, they had demanded she put on the orange jumpsuit. In the time she’d already spent here brooding, she’d adjusted the suit into a one piece that barely registered as a bathing suit let alone a piece of street-worthy clothing. It was cut and torn and retied in an artful way that made it cling to her form perfectly and had her looking like an amazon trapped with little else to wear. Her leaves still clung to her in areas and shown through the attire and her hair, still vibrant as ever, hung down her back. She arched a thin, red brow high and slipped to place her hand on her hip as she sauntered toward the man. He was, after all, a man, she had nothing to fear from him, and she’d be damned if he thought he could barge into her cell and show himself off as some kind of special thing to be beguiled. (c)
The green woman trailed a fingertip along his collar and down his front to flip the collar off the tag before she read his name allowed. “Mr. J.” His name tag was ‘Unknown’ but over that, written in what looked like Sharpie marker, was what he must like to be called. Her sultry tone spoke past ruby lips littered with gold at the inner line of her mouth as sage-green eyes looked up at him and narrowed. “I don’t think you’re part of the staff….J.” She’d be damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of calling him “Mister.” Ivy narrowed angrier eyes as the green emeralds seemed to glow with warning. “Now get out,” she pushed at his chest until he’d reach the door frame. “I don’t feel up to having visitors.” Poison Ivy turned on her heel, red hair whipping out behind her before she crossed the cell and crossed her arms, staring at the stones with further vigor.
The Joker: After finishing his loud and abrupt entrance into Pamela Isley's solitary, The Joker finally focused his thoughts for a little bit. He shifted his gaze towards her, his bright green eyes almost sparkling in the dark as they stared deeply into the woman's figure. Her long, flowing red hair, her tall, curvy figure and the inappropriate way in which she customized her orange outfit was more than enough to make her stand out among all of Arkham's inmates, but her light green-tinted skin and all the little leaves that seemed to grow from it made it clear that this Pamela was special. The Clown Prince began to chuckle softly as he slowly walked towards her, his red tongue slowly slithering from his mouth and moistening his lips for a bit. "Well, call me crazy, but I've seen insane and I've seen beautiful, but you definitely give a new definition to the term Insanely-Beauti-" (c)
The Joker was about to start throwing a bunch of silly comments towards Pamela, but the woman quickly interrupted him, placing her hands against his chest and pushing away from the cell, all the while demanding him to leave her alone in a tone that was both sultry and cold. Her attitude greatly amused The Joker, causing him to start laughing extremely loudly, to the point that his head would tilt upwards as he did so. Once he finished, he took a deep breath as he slowly shifted his gaze back at Pamela. "Ooooooh, gorgeous, you sure are making my night so much more entertaining..." He said in a cold, rough tone of voice as he slowly stepped back in. "SO!... I do have to wonder what caused you to be thrown in here, I can easily tell that you are not your average day mad woman who just murdered her husband in a fit of rage cause he cheated on her, dear Pam. (c)
May I call you Pam, by the way? Or would you prefer to be formally referred to as Ms. Isley?" He chuckled afterwards, his gaze fixated in her emerald eyes as he slowly walked towards her. "You know what? Don't say it, let me guess! You... You were punished by cruel, hypocritical souls who enforce their deranged senses of justice into the innocent, and you were punished not because what you did was morally wrong, but rather because YOU, of all people, could see the truth of our reality, and knew how to set this wretched, chaotic world right..." He paused for a few seconds. "... Or am I wrong, my dear?" He then smiled widely at her.
The Poison Ivy: His voice and, moreover, his laughter, chaotic and queer in pitch- sent shivers down her spine. She turned her head to the side so that her emerald gaze could peer at him as he tipped back his head and had his great laugh. What an extremely creepy way to laugh, never had she heard such a laugh that made her skin crawl. His compliments about her beauty she collected internally, yes, she was, a rare and beautiful flower, something to be awed at, something to be marveled. She was above every other woman and certainly far above every man in every aspect. However, coming from such a deranged man, she wasn't going to fully allow them to sweep her. Men belonged on their knees, worshiping her and begging to aid her in any way they could before getting the hell out of her way. (c)
The way he spoke, it was like he’d already known exactly what had happened to bring her here. That simple man dressed strangely running about and conflicting her plans. She had been right, her morals weren't astray, she’d wanted the best for the very place they all lived and yet she’d been locked up for acting on it. But just as she’d perked up and listened more carefully, the fool had to go and attempt to use her name. That wasn't her name any longer, she couldn't be that woman, that researcher, like the Batman had told her she could. Could she? It didn't matter, what mattered right now was that this man had no right to speak it. In one, graceful turn and flash of violent red hair, Ivy’s bare foot had turned on her heel, bounded off the wall to her right. Her other bare foot caught the edge of her bed where she perched and wrapped a leg around him, grape vine to hold him against her as her arm enveloped him and her hand drew nails along his under jaw. (c)
The Poison Ivy: Poison Ivy tipped her head and eyed her prey as the nail drawing against his skin began to sharpen and lengthen so that the tip was a long barb of thorn found on trees that used them to protect their fruit. The thorn would threaten to break skin and draw blood as she looked down at him with a silent fury. “You will not address me that way, do you understand?” She clenched her leg around him and drove her heel into his spine as her red lips sneered at him. “I am so much more than you could ever imagine and so much beyond your comprehension. I am Ivy. Don’t be fooled by the name on the door,” and what would have been on her uniform is she hadn't torn it to pieces. “They cannot possibly understand just what I am capable of, nor should you make the mistake to assume anything with me...especially what you will be allowed to call me.” she tipped her head the other way. “Understand?”
The Joker: As soon as his frame was tightly wrapped in Pamela's leg, alongside the vines that grew from her light green skin, The Joker burst out in loud, chaotic laughter. As the redhead held his jaw, her fingernails sinking into his skin, and start demanding that he'd never refer to her real name, his laughter would only grow. As it all happened, The Joker never broke eye contact with the woman, not even for a second, his bright emerald eyes staring deep into her's, as if he was daring Pamela to go on and outright murder him right there. It was only when she drove her heel against his spine that the clown was finally silenced, a soft grunt leaving his lips in result of the pain. He did not stay silent for long, however, for as soon as Pamela had finished talking, The Joker would began to lightly chuckle.(c)
"You'd rather have me calling you Ivy? He'd ask in a slow, soft tone. Then, his lips shifted into a wide, warm grin. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier!?" His tone returned to being loud and theatrical as ever. "We can't simply descend to violent behavior, after all, that's what we're treating here..." After a few seconds of silence, The Joker's warm smile vanished, a dull, serious expression replacing it. "But seriously, stop pressing your leg against me. I'd appreciate the action, but another woman already lies in my heart."
The Poison Ivy: Ivy sneered down at the disgusting 'man', if he could be called one, in her grasp. She rolled her fern-green eyes and released him at once, balancing herself on her bed by the ball of her foot and using the other to push him a few feet from her and toward the opposite wall. Lowering her shapely leg but staying on her perch, she raised a hand with poised nails to clean under them. His very presence in her cell depreciated the space, and she'd be damned if a single skin cell of his lay under her precious nails. "If you had a heart, I wouldn't want anything to do with it, nor the shell you carry around as your body." her eyes lanced him. "You repulse me." She brought her attention to her nails again and continue to clean them idly. "What is it that you want? As, I assume, you feel you have 'business' with me otherwise you're merely bored and need to be taught a lesson." Her green gaze rose again at him, "Of which, I'll assure you, I may be one of the few females in this place, but I am not here for anyone's amusement or pleasure. Mistaking me for such will land you with the parts you claim to use for anything sexual to be removed in a hasty manor and destroyed. I'll enjoy watching you bleed out from the action as well."
The Joker: After having his body shoved against the wall by Ivy's long, shapely leg, The Joker simply stood in place, gazing deeply at her facial features as she spoke in her ever aggressive, impatient tone. The calm, nonchalant expression in his emerald eyes showed how completely unfazed he was by the woman's threat. When she was finished, he began to chuckle softly, his lips taking the form of a warm smile. "Hmhmhmhm... You have the guts to say whatever's on your mind, and you try your darnest to be in charge... Hmhmhmhm... I LIKE that in people." His voice was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring each word that came from his mouth. He then began to scratch his chin. "As for the line delivery itself... It was a bit overly harsh and dramatic, came of as if you were trying too hard, and the threat itself wasn't very original... But it wasn't that bad..." The Joker frowned and shrugged, and after a couple of seconds he began laughing. "A lesser man would have had a heart attack right there!" (c)
The Clown Prince continued laughing for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath. "Ahhhh, but enough about you. Let's be polite, answer your question and talk about me! Oooh, where to start..." The Joker grinned, eyes staring into Ivy's. "First of all, I take it you're not from Gotham. If you were you would have already recognized me as the criminal psychopath known to all as The Joker!" He exclaimed, and took a large bow afterwards. "... But really, even you must be wise enough not to trust the Mass Media, it is all a bunch of hypocritical trite." He then softly spoke a tangent. "I myself only buy newspapers for the comic strips, you know?" He chuckled. (c)
"No. I view myself more as a performer, an artist if you will... The world we live in today is a vile, disgusting one. Mankind has forever lost whatever once kept it burning with liveliness. Nowadays, people bows beneath society expectations, and chain their spirits with their cruel laws, their meaningless morals, their unsatisfying jobs and their vapid entertaining... And that's where I come in... It is through my works of art that I paint humanity's inner self on the outside..."
The Poison Ivy: The green skinned vixen rolled her eyes once more and curled her toes around the steel bar of her bed, calf muscles growing tense as his droning agitated her further. Her red brows furrowed and lowered towards her emerald eyes that warned him to make it quick. "You best find the short hand version of what you're here for, jester, because waning on my thin patience won't do well for you." The warning was full of promise, she found monologues from men to be even more annoying than she did having to wear clothes. Not only had this disgusting excuse for a man barged into her already tight cell, but he'd continued to waste her time and taunt her for seemingly no reason at all. But surely he had a reason for coming in, he seemed to in some way, carry himself with something that spoke of some sort of purpose and plan under his foolish layers of self entertainment. He smelled of paint and the residual scent of worn toxins, perhaps a use of chemicals somewhere in his time here. His green hair and crazed face had her quite distrusting of him already on top of his being of the male variety, and having her babies stripped from her nad put into a cold cell had Ivy cross. But she didn't need her plants to command to have some sort of power, no, she was the power. It seemed these foolish captors of hers didn't understand her true potential, and neither had Batman.(c)
Ivy lifted her wrist near her lips and from the crease of it, out slide the tip of a thorn, several centimeters in diameter as it grew and extended out like a dagger from a non-existant sleeve. Once it had extended out a good foot, her colored lips curled up in a smile and her eyes looked dreamy and yet dangerous as she pointed it at Joker but kept it out of reach. "Don't think that because I'm a woman I'm incapable of making a prison shank, boy. Now get to the point or I'm going to show you how fast my thorns shoot at their target, understand?" She rested the other hand on her hip and waited, willing to give him ten seconds to catch her attention and keep it before she decided to bet on which color his blood would be splattered on her cell wall.
The Joker: Right now, the curves of the Joker's lips formed a beautiful smile. Warm, gentle, cozy and inviting, that smile would soften the heart of those who gazed at it and make them feel at ease with life... If they were on any other man's face. On the Jester of Genocide's, though, that sweet smile was like nails being driven into a child's skin. They spoke of a complete disregard for life, and of the incomparable joy that he felt upon spreading suffering through the innocent. Even as Ivy's deep green eyes pierced his pale flesh like sabers with their hateful gaze, and she spoke such harsh words in a tone made of pure authoritarianism, that hellish smile remained. Accompanying it were his eyes, two twin stars of a green color that spoke both of emeralds and deadly toxins. Eyes whose tiny black pupils dilated in pleasure as Poison Ivy's flesh would divide and spread itself at the crease of her wrist, allowing a thin but long thorn crawl it's way from the unnatural opening that had formed.(c)
As he heard her demand, as small but loud cackle escaped the Joker's throat, sounding like the mix of the coughs of an old man with lung cancer and the gasps of a young woman who had inhaled toxic gases. "POINT? Pfff... Hmhmhmhmh - Hihihihihih... Heheheheh." He exclaimed, before descending into incoherent chuckles. "Oh, my dear little victim of reason and logic, we don't have those around here. Points are dull, small, methodical and inconvenient. They will fool you into believing that there is a purpose, that there is a natural progression, and that you can achieve anything. No, child. Don't let yourself be fooled... If there is one lesson you absolutely require for comprehending the incomprehensibleness of existence, it is this: Don't look for a point!" As he declaimed his thesis with such enthusiasm, the Joker would take small leaps with the tip of this toes, slowly moving backwards until he had gone past her cell's door.(c)
When he was done, his smile shifted into a child-like grin. "Huh? What say you? Isn't that quite a good life philosophy? Utterly destroys all the nonsense those Aristotles and Rousseaus and Marxs and Nietzsches said. I'm even thinking of writing a book about it while I stay here. I personally view it as a timeless masterp-" Suddenly, his speech was interrupted by a loud masculine voice. "THERE YOU ARE!" Said the leader of a group of armed Arkham guards rushing his way. Joker chuckles and glanced at Ivy one last time. "But a little something tells me the critics would hate i-" He was punched in the face before he could finish the sentence, being thrown to the floor due to the force of the impact "QUICK, CLOSE THE DOOR!" The guard said, before starting to repeatedly slam his large fists into the clown' s white - but soon to become scarlet red - face. Obeying his orders, two others closed the cell's door as fast as they could, locking it right afterwards.
The Poison Ivy: Ivy watched the Jester tiptoe dance back into the hall and she eased herself to stand on the floor. Every movement was slow and graceful, even down to how she placed her feet upon the cold stone, toes that flattened then the ball of her foot and easing gracefully down onto her heel. One shapely leg crossed over the other, stepping toward the open door as her green orbs watched him unblinking. She heard the footfalls of boots far down the corridor out there just before she heard the guard shout at him. As they gathered him, her thin brow rose and looked unamused as they dragged him back. The door slammed nearly in her face and the sound of the lock sliding home echoed in her cell. The tall, beastly guard stood in the small window portal at face-level and she watched his curious eyes drift down to her shapely breasts protruding from her outfit. A smile took her lips and she upturned her chin and raised her palm to her mouth. Inhaling, she formed minuscule slits in her skin at her palm where the tiniest traces were released and as she blew, they slipped from her hand and into a green dust-like substance that floated through the small porthole to the guard staring at her. The green ‘dust’ blossomed around his face in a silent impact and inhaled before coughing slightly. His eyes rimmed with red splotches and dilated profusely a moment.
“Be a good boy…get me out of here?” her voice was like heated silk and he immediately began fishing for his keys and pushed it into the lock just before another guard noticed something was amiss. He called out and plowed into the affected man leaving Ivy in her cell to laugh and watch. One had to test the cage before deciding the way out.
However, as the wagon had pulled away with a captive Ivy sitting on the cold seat, the gift she’d handed Batman, the one of a kind flower that she’d given him as a symbol of peace and understanding between them...had been crushed shortly after she was out of sight. She couldn't see him doing it, wouldn't have had any idea that he had, but she was Poison Ivy, the very life of the Earth was connected to her and that flower’s short pain before death had burned through her. She clenched her jaw and saw the doors of Arkham close behind them as they entered the booking bay. After quite a violating series of questions and checking that she wasn't carrying anything in with her- Ivy was led to her own stall in Solitary. The door clicked close and she stared at the oh so small confinement that now housed her. Cold. Dark. Cut off from all life and sunlight. There was no window for light, no feel to the plants too far away to bring toward her. Her heart wrenched and she slid her warm fingertips to the cold stones. This wasn't what he’d promised her.
The Joker: Lately, The Joker had been spending quite a lot of his time in the Asylum. However, unlike the vast majority of times in which he had been captured and send right into Arkham, he wasn't being locked in a maximum security cell, forced to wear an extremely uncomfortable straight jacket, being fed despicable cold food and never being allowed to see the light of day. In fact, The Clown Prince of Crime found himself in quite a comfortable position, all thanks to the lovely psychiatrist that he held in a very special place, deep in his heart. His solitary was equipped with a rather soft bed, it's walls, ceiling and floor were always clean, he could have lunch with the rest of the inmates in the cafeteria, and if he asked nicely The Joker was allowed to leave his cell and catch some fresh at night, if he was going through anxiety, or depression, or stress, or any other symptom that was in his diagnosis. (c)
A guard armed with a baton and a handgun would accompany him, though, and he was required to wear handcuffs during the whole process. Sadly, Arkham's Security didn't saw Joker in the same light his dear Harleen did. But he wasn't called The Clown Prince of Crime for nothing, and so knocking the guard unconscious, breaking free of the cuffs, stealing the cell's key from his pocket, and laughing as loudly as possible (Not necessarily in that order, mind you) was as easy as stealing a strawberry lollipop from a little toddler's lips and replacing it with a .45 Magnum. Afterwards, he roomed freely through the Asylum's cold, empty corridors, smiling widely and humming innocently as he spun all the keys in his right index finger. Eventually, one sight caught all of The Clown's attention. A seemingly normal cell's door, numbered #0181, which had been out of use for months on end but now was suddenly labeled with a name on it: Pamela Isley. (c)
The Joker's smile slowly began to widen as he thought of a variety of ways to have fun with the new girl on the Asylum. After searching for the right key, he unlocked the cell's door and burst right in. "GREETINGS, MY DEAR GIRL, and welcome to the vile and disgusting place in which you shall spend the rest of your prolonged miserable life of suffering in: Arkham Asylum! Due to the extremely poor quality of this facility, and the fact that every single one of it's staff members are well aware of that, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham himself has dialed up 1-806-555-1966 and requested a Clown for Delivery towards your room, so that your mood of suicidal depression can be lightened up!" The Joker began in a loud, exaggerated, theatrical tone of voice, completely careless to whatever Ms.Pamela's reaction might be.
The Poison Ivy Ivy had been busy inspecting the cracks in the stones, graceful fingertips tracing them and imagining that if she could just get a feel for her plants...one could come through, could warm her and welcome her, show her love and affection. But her daydreaming was interrupted abruptly, the jangling of keys came to her ears before the sound of uneven footsteps. The sound of someone on a happy stroll, not patrolling in a prison for the criminally insane. Ivy turned and backed to the far wall, pressing her palm to the cold stone and watching as the door frame’s light was interrupted with the shadow of feet. The keys slid home and the door swung open to introduce the strangest looking clown she’d ever seen. Green eyes narrowed as she listened carefully and could swear she smelled complete psycho on this man. Strange didn't cover it, he was downright screwed up. How did he have keys? He certainly didn't work here and there was no way he should be allowed to be the welcoming committee.Although, with it being an asylum, perhaps the welcoming committee WOULD hire him. (c)
Ivy tipped her head to the side and took in the sight and sound of him, red hair cascading over her shoulder. The staff had tried to strip her of her leaves and found that enough of an idea to get them threatened of beheading by a thorn spike. However, they had demanded she put on the orange jumpsuit. In the time she’d already spent here brooding, she’d adjusted the suit into a one piece that barely registered as a bathing suit let alone a piece of street-worthy clothing. It was cut and torn and retied in an artful way that made it cling to her form perfectly and had her looking like an amazon trapped with little else to wear. Her leaves still clung to her in areas and shown through the attire and her hair, still vibrant as ever, hung down her back. She arched a thin, red brow high and slipped to place her hand on her hip as she sauntered toward the man. He was, after all, a man, she had nothing to fear from him, and she’d be damned if he thought he could barge into her cell and show himself off as some kind of special thing to be beguiled. (c)
The green woman trailed a fingertip along his collar and down his front to flip the collar off the tag before she read his name allowed. “Mr. J.” His name tag was ‘Unknown’ but over that, written in what looked like Sharpie marker, was what he must like to be called. Her sultry tone spoke past ruby lips littered with gold at the inner line of her mouth as sage-green eyes looked up at him and narrowed. “I don’t think you’re part of the staff….J.” She’d be damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of calling him “Mister.” Ivy narrowed angrier eyes as the green emeralds seemed to glow with warning. “Now get out,” she pushed at his chest until he’d reach the door frame. “I don’t feel up to having visitors.” Poison Ivy turned on her heel, red hair whipping out behind her before she crossed the cell and crossed her arms, staring at the stones with further vigor.
The Joker: After finishing his loud and abrupt entrance into Pamela Isley's solitary, The Joker finally focused his thoughts for a little bit. He shifted his gaze towards her, his bright green eyes almost sparkling in the dark as they stared deeply into the woman's figure. Her long, flowing red hair, her tall, curvy figure and the inappropriate way in which she customized her orange outfit was more than enough to make her stand out among all of Arkham's inmates, but her light green-tinted skin and all the little leaves that seemed to grow from it made it clear that this Pamela was special. The Clown Prince began to chuckle softly as he slowly walked towards her, his red tongue slowly slithering from his mouth and moistening his lips for a bit. "Well, call me crazy, but I've seen insane and I've seen beautiful, but you definitely give a new definition to the term Insanely-Beauti-" (c)
The Joker was about to start throwing a bunch of silly comments towards Pamela, but the woman quickly interrupted him, placing her hands against his chest and pushing away from the cell, all the while demanding him to leave her alone in a tone that was both sultry and cold. Her attitude greatly amused The Joker, causing him to start laughing extremely loudly, to the point that his head would tilt upwards as he did so. Once he finished, he took a deep breath as he slowly shifted his gaze back at Pamela. "Ooooooh, gorgeous, you sure are making my night so much more entertaining..." He said in a cold, rough tone of voice as he slowly stepped back in. "SO!... I do have to wonder what caused you to be thrown in here, I can easily tell that you are not your average day mad woman who just murdered her husband in a fit of rage cause he cheated on her, dear Pam. (c)
May I call you Pam, by the way? Or would you prefer to be formally referred to as Ms. Isley?" He chuckled afterwards, his gaze fixated in her emerald eyes as he slowly walked towards her. "You know what? Don't say it, let me guess! You... You were punished by cruel, hypocritical souls who enforce their deranged senses of justice into the innocent, and you were punished not because what you did was morally wrong, but rather because YOU, of all people, could see the truth of our reality, and knew how to set this wretched, chaotic world right..." He paused for a few seconds. "... Or am I wrong, my dear?" He then smiled widely at her.
The Poison Ivy: His voice and, moreover, his laughter, chaotic and queer in pitch- sent shivers down her spine. She turned her head to the side so that her emerald gaze could peer at him as he tipped back his head and had his great laugh. What an extremely creepy way to laugh, never had she heard such a laugh that made her skin crawl. His compliments about her beauty she collected internally, yes, she was, a rare and beautiful flower, something to be awed at, something to be marveled. She was above every other woman and certainly far above every man in every aspect. However, coming from such a deranged man, she wasn't going to fully allow them to sweep her. Men belonged on their knees, worshiping her and begging to aid her in any way they could before getting the hell out of her way. (c)
The way he spoke, it was like he’d already known exactly what had happened to bring her here. That simple man dressed strangely running about and conflicting her plans. She had been right, her morals weren't astray, she’d wanted the best for the very place they all lived and yet she’d been locked up for acting on it. But just as she’d perked up and listened more carefully, the fool had to go and attempt to use her name. That wasn't her name any longer, she couldn't be that woman, that researcher, like the Batman had told her she could. Could she? It didn't matter, what mattered right now was that this man had no right to speak it. In one, graceful turn and flash of violent red hair, Ivy’s bare foot had turned on her heel, bounded off the wall to her right. Her other bare foot caught the edge of her bed where she perched and wrapped a leg around him, grape vine to hold him against her as her arm enveloped him and her hand drew nails along his under jaw. (c)
The Poison Ivy: Poison Ivy tipped her head and eyed her prey as the nail drawing against his skin began to sharpen and lengthen so that the tip was a long barb of thorn found on trees that used them to protect their fruit. The thorn would threaten to break skin and draw blood as she looked down at him with a silent fury. “You will not address me that way, do you understand?” She clenched her leg around him and drove her heel into his spine as her red lips sneered at him. “I am so much more than you could ever imagine and so much beyond your comprehension. I am Ivy. Don’t be fooled by the name on the door,” and what would have been on her uniform is she hadn't torn it to pieces. “They cannot possibly understand just what I am capable of, nor should you make the mistake to assume anything with me...especially what you will be allowed to call me.” she tipped her head the other way. “Understand?”
The Joker: As soon as his frame was tightly wrapped in Pamela's leg, alongside the vines that grew from her light green skin, The Joker burst out in loud, chaotic laughter. As the redhead held his jaw, her fingernails sinking into his skin, and start demanding that he'd never refer to her real name, his laughter would only grow. As it all happened, The Joker never broke eye contact with the woman, not even for a second, his bright emerald eyes staring deep into her's, as if he was daring Pamela to go on and outright murder him right there. It was only when she drove her heel against his spine that the clown was finally silenced, a soft grunt leaving his lips in result of the pain. He did not stay silent for long, however, for as soon as Pamela had finished talking, The Joker would began to lightly chuckle.(c)
"You'd rather have me calling you Ivy? He'd ask in a slow, soft tone. Then, his lips shifted into a wide, warm grin. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier!?" His tone returned to being loud and theatrical as ever. "We can't simply descend to violent behavior, after all, that's what we're treating here..." After a few seconds of silence, The Joker's warm smile vanished, a dull, serious expression replacing it. "But seriously, stop pressing your leg against me. I'd appreciate the action, but another woman already lies in my heart."
The Poison Ivy: Ivy sneered down at the disgusting 'man', if he could be called one, in her grasp. She rolled her fern-green eyes and released him at once, balancing herself on her bed by the ball of her foot and using the other to push him a few feet from her and toward the opposite wall. Lowering her shapely leg but staying on her perch, she raised a hand with poised nails to clean under them. His very presence in her cell depreciated the space, and she'd be damned if a single skin cell of his lay under her precious nails. "If you had a heart, I wouldn't want anything to do with it, nor the shell you carry around as your body." her eyes lanced him. "You repulse me." She brought her attention to her nails again and continue to clean them idly. "What is it that you want? As, I assume, you feel you have 'business' with me otherwise you're merely bored and need to be taught a lesson." Her green gaze rose again at him, "Of which, I'll assure you, I may be one of the few females in this place, but I am not here for anyone's amusement or pleasure. Mistaking me for such will land you with the parts you claim to use for anything sexual to be removed in a hasty manor and destroyed. I'll enjoy watching you bleed out from the action as well."
The Joker: After having his body shoved against the wall by Ivy's long, shapely leg, The Joker simply stood in place, gazing deeply at her facial features as she spoke in her ever aggressive, impatient tone. The calm, nonchalant expression in his emerald eyes showed how completely unfazed he was by the woman's threat. When she was finished, he began to chuckle softly, his lips taking the form of a warm smile. "Hmhmhmhm... You have the guts to say whatever's on your mind, and you try your darnest to be in charge... Hmhmhmhm... I LIKE that in people." His voice was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring each word that came from his mouth. He then began to scratch his chin. "As for the line delivery itself... It was a bit overly harsh and dramatic, came of as if you were trying too hard, and the threat itself wasn't very original... But it wasn't that bad..." The Joker frowned and shrugged, and after a couple of seconds he began laughing. "A lesser man would have had a heart attack right there!" (c)
The Clown Prince continued laughing for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath. "Ahhhh, but enough about you. Let's be polite, answer your question and talk about me! Oooh, where to start..." The Joker grinned, eyes staring into Ivy's. "First of all, I take it you're not from Gotham. If you were you would have already recognized me as the criminal psychopath known to all as The Joker!" He exclaimed, and took a large bow afterwards. "... But really, even you must be wise enough not to trust the Mass Media, it is all a bunch of hypocritical trite." He then softly spoke a tangent. "I myself only buy newspapers for the comic strips, you know?" He chuckled. (c)
"No. I view myself more as a performer, an artist if you will... The world we live in today is a vile, disgusting one. Mankind has forever lost whatever once kept it burning with liveliness. Nowadays, people bows beneath society expectations, and chain their spirits with their cruel laws, their meaningless morals, their unsatisfying jobs and their vapid entertaining... And that's where I come in... It is through my works of art that I paint humanity's inner self on the outside..."
The Poison Ivy: The green skinned vixen rolled her eyes once more and curled her toes around the steel bar of her bed, calf muscles growing tense as his droning agitated her further. Her red brows furrowed and lowered towards her emerald eyes that warned him to make it quick. "You best find the short hand version of what you're here for, jester, because waning on my thin patience won't do well for you." The warning was full of promise, she found monologues from men to be even more annoying than she did having to wear clothes. Not only had this disgusting excuse for a man barged into her already tight cell, but he'd continued to waste her time and taunt her for seemingly no reason at all. But surely he had a reason for coming in, he seemed to in some way, carry himself with something that spoke of some sort of purpose and plan under his foolish layers of self entertainment. He smelled of paint and the residual scent of worn toxins, perhaps a use of chemicals somewhere in his time here. His green hair and crazed face had her quite distrusting of him already on top of his being of the male variety, and having her babies stripped from her nad put into a cold cell had Ivy cross. But she didn't need her plants to command to have some sort of power, no, she was the power. It seemed these foolish captors of hers didn't understand her true potential, and neither had Batman.(c)
Ivy lifted her wrist near her lips and from the crease of it, out slide the tip of a thorn, several centimeters in diameter as it grew and extended out like a dagger from a non-existant sleeve. Once it had extended out a good foot, her colored lips curled up in a smile and her eyes looked dreamy and yet dangerous as she pointed it at Joker but kept it out of reach. "Don't think that because I'm a woman I'm incapable of making a prison shank, boy. Now get to the point or I'm going to show you how fast my thorns shoot at their target, understand?" She rested the other hand on her hip and waited, willing to give him ten seconds to catch her attention and keep it before she decided to bet on which color his blood would be splattered on her cell wall.
The Joker: Right now, the curves of the Joker's lips formed a beautiful smile. Warm, gentle, cozy and inviting, that smile would soften the heart of those who gazed at it and make them feel at ease with life... If they were on any other man's face. On the Jester of Genocide's, though, that sweet smile was like nails being driven into a child's skin. They spoke of a complete disregard for life, and of the incomparable joy that he felt upon spreading suffering through the innocent. Even as Ivy's deep green eyes pierced his pale flesh like sabers with their hateful gaze, and she spoke such harsh words in a tone made of pure authoritarianism, that hellish smile remained. Accompanying it were his eyes, two twin stars of a green color that spoke both of emeralds and deadly toxins. Eyes whose tiny black pupils dilated in pleasure as Poison Ivy's flesh would divide and spread itself at the crease of her wrist, allowing a thin but long thorn crawl it's way from the unnatural opening that had formed.(c)
As he heard her demand, as small but loud cackle escaped the Joker's throat, sounding like the mix of the coughs of an old man with lung cancer and the gasps of a young woman who had inhaled toxic gases. "POINT? Pfff... Hmhmhmhmh - Hihihihihih... Heheheheh." He exclaimed, before descending into incoherent chuckles. "Oh, my dear little victim of reason and logic, we don't have those around here. Points are dull, small, methodical and inconvenient. They will fool you into believing that there is a purpose, that there is a natural progression, and that you can achieve anything. No, child. Don't let yourself be fooled... If there is one lesson you absolutely require for comprehending the incomprehensibleness of existence, it is this: Don't look for a point!" As he declaimed his thesis with such enthusiasm, the Joker would take small leaps with the tip of this toes, slowly moving backwards until he had gone past her cell's door.(c)
When he was done, his smile shifted into a child-like grin. "Huh? What say you? Isn't that quite a good life philosophy? Utterly destroys all the nonsense those Aristotles and Rousseaus and Marxs and Nietzsches said. I'm even thinking of writing a book about it while I stay here. I personally view it as a timeless masterp-" Suddenly, his speech was interrupted by a loud masculine voice. "THERE YOU ARE!" Said the leader of a group of armed Arkham guards rushing his way. Joker chuckles and glanced at Ivy one last time. "But a little something tells me the critics would hate i-" He was punched in the face before he could finish the sentence, being thrown to the floor due to the force of the impact "QUICK, CLOSE THE DOOR!" The guard said, before starting to repeatedly slam his large fists into the clown' s white - but soon to become scarlet red - face. Obeying his orders, two others closed the cell's door as fast as they could, locking it right afterwards.
The Poison Ivy: Ivy watched the Jester tiptoe dance back into the hall and she eased herself to stand on the floor. Every movement was slow and graceful, even down to how she placed her feet upon the cold stone, toes that flattened then the ball of her foot and easing gracefully down onto her heel. One shapely leg crossed over the other, stepping toward the open door as her green orbs watched him unblinking. She heard the footfalls of boots far down the corridor out there just before she heard the guard shout at him. As they gathered him, her thin brow rose and looked unamused as they dragged him back. The door slammed nearly in her face and the sound of the lock sliding home echoed in her cell. The tall, beastly guard stood in the small window portal at face-level and she watched his curious eyes drift down to her shapely breasts protruding from her outfit. A smile took her lips and she upturned her chin and raised her palm to her mouth. Inhaling, she formed minuscule slits in her skin at her palm where the tiniest traces were released and as she blew, they slipped from her hand and into a green dust-like substance that floated through the small porthole to the guard staring at her. The green ‘dust’ blossomed around his face in a silent impact and inhaled before coughing slightly. His eyes rimmed with red splotches and dilated profusely a moment.
“Be a good boy…get me out of here?” her voice was like heated silk and he immediately began fishing for his keys and pushed it into the lock just before another guard noticed something was amiss. He called out and plowed into the affected man leaving Ivy in her cell to laugh and watch. One had to test the cage before deciding the way out.