Chapter #7Poison Ivy by: Sly F   You were walking to work in the morning. As you approached your favorite coffee shop to grab a quick pick-me-up to-go, you could hear the boisterous chanting of protestors and counter-protestors nearby.
If you wanted to be on time for work you should have probably thought up an alternative route that took you around the protest, but instead you felt compelled to take a closer look. You sipped your coffee as you walked closer and closer to the cacophony.
A rare patch of undeveloped land had been chosen as the sight for a new prison, larger and more modern than Blackgate. Blackgate was running out of cells and the new prison was meant to handle Gotham's ever escalating crime rate.
Of course, like everything else, it was highly politicized. Some of those opposed to the prison protested on the grounds of the inherent cruelty that already existed in Gotham's criminal justice and prison systems, while others protested on environmental grounds, pointing to the rare and endangered plants that grew in this small slice of nature in this bustling city. Those in favor of the prison of course argued that everyone opposed to it must want dangerous criminals out on the street, terrorizing their loved ones.
Personally, you thought it was a shame to lose such natural beauty in favor of a man-made eyesore. And if this new prison was anything like Blackgate or Arkham Asylum, it would not only be ugly but also be so cheap and "budget conscious" that those dangerous criminals would be constantly escaping like the walls were made of tissue paper.
You finished your coffee and were depositing the empty cup in a bin marked for recycling when the most beautiful woman you had ever seen in your life looked right at you.
She was wearing a long overcoat around her slim figure. Her voluminous red hair, falling just past her shoulders, was the color of autumn leaves. Her thick red lips blossomed like rose petals. Her narrow eyes were like soft fields of green clover.
There was something about the arrangement of her hair, her make-up and the shape of her face, even the way she walked, that suggested the long lost glamour of the silver screen legends of yesteryear.
As you deposited your cup for recycling, she looked right at you, smiled warmly, and winked.
You couldn't take your eyes off her as she walked through both sets of protestors and took her place among the construction workers preparing to break ground.
Then she threw off her overcoat, revealing an incredible figure in a bold costume. Her tight green leotard appeared to be made of leaves, as did her long gloves, stretching from her fingertips to her elbows, and boots, which came almost up to her knees. The leotard hugged her hourglass curves and offered a tiny, tantalizing peek at the cleavage of her beautifully endowed breasts, and tights in a lighter shade of green showed off every muscle in her shapely stems.
You'd heard about Poison Ivy in the news, of course, though seeing her in the flesh was a wildly different experience. She'd always been easier to sympathize with than the other lawbreakers that terrorized your city, motivated not by greed or bloodlust but by a love of nature.
Waving her hands like she was conducting a symphony, Ivy summoned vines from the dirt to wrap around the bulldozers and other machinery and squeeze until they were undrivable. Trees bent low and caught construction workers and policemen in their branches, pulling them off their feet and dangling them over the ground.
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