"I'm not yours, Kitten!"
"Say that again! Say it!"
Catwoman chased Poison Ivy through Wayne Manor like a furious predator hunting particularly annoying prey. Claws raked across furniture. Plants exploded from floorboards as defensive barriers. Ivy had completely forgotten about her parasitic vines being removed elsewhere—survival took priority when Selina Kyle was out for blood.
When Jude convinced the third vine to relocate—
"Stop chasing me! Aren't you tired yet?"
"I'm just getting started! You're not leaving this manor alive!"
When Jude convinced the sixth vine—
"Catwoman, if you don't stop, I'll fight back!"
"Let's see you try!"
When Jude pulled out the flowerpots to bribe the remaining vines—
"Selina, enough! Look what you've done to my outfit!"
"I'm going to scratch your face until you're too embarrassed to show it in public!"
By the time Jude arrived home and went to sleep—
Poison Ivy stood before Catwoman, plant-fiber clothing torn to ribbons, skin scratched and bleeding in several places. But she'd won. Eventually.
She reached out with one finger, gently traced a line down Selina's cheek, and giggled.
Catwoman couldn't move. Thick green vines had wrapped around her body from shoulders to ankles, binding her against the wall like an insect in a spider's web. Only her mouth remained free—which meant she could glare with murderous intent while Ivy leaned close enough that her breath smelled like fresh grass and spring flowers.
"You'll hang here for three hours," Ivy whispered, voice playful and cruel in equal measure. "After that, the plants will release you automatically."
Selina turned her head away, jaw clenched. "I don't want to see your face. Stay out of my sight for three months. Minimum."
Ivy didn't argue. She just pressed a quick, soft kiss to the corner of Selina's mouth—laughing at the strangled sound of rage it produced—and dissolved into a whirlwind of green leaves that scattered on the wind.
"Don't miss me too much, Kitten."
The leaves vanished through the open window.
Selina hung there, fuming, and began counting down three hours.
Jude was still asleep when something felt wrong.
His dreams had turned uncomfortable. Cold. Constrictive. Like the blanket had wrapped too tight, cutting off circulation.
Is the quilt twisted?
He opened his eyes.
The ceiling was wrong. His bed was at the wrong angle. And he was—
—hanging in mid-air, wrapped in soft plant branches like a cocoon, suspended above his own mattress.
A woman sat in a chair made of living vegetation, watching him with amused green eyes. She wore almost nothing—just plant-fiber underwear that left most of her skin exposed. Her posture radiated casual confidence, like someone completely comfortable in their own body.
"Oh my God," Jude croaked, still half-asleep. "My succulent became sentient!"
"No, your little one is fine." Poison Ivy reached over and lifted the small potted plant from Jude's bedside table, showing it to him. "See? She likes me very much."
The succulent did, in fact, look healthier than usual.
"Okay. Great. Since my plant is fine, that means you're..."
"Someone looking for answers." Ivy set the pot down gently. "About the ten children you just picked up. Remember them?"
"'Children' is a weird way to describe parasitic vines—"
"But you're not normal, are you?"
Ivy leaned forward, cutting him off. "My children never disobey my commands. Never. But tonight, all ten of them followed you without resistance. So tell me—what tactics did you use?"
Jude's mind raced. He'd already transferred all ten vines into Dave's Portable Garden on the way home. Batman would have cleaned the crime scenes thoroughly. But he hadn't expected Poison Ivy to track him down so accurately. That garden was supposed to be in another dimension—how could she even sense it? Did interdimensional copyright enforcement not apply to plant magic?
He shook his head as much as the vines allowed. "Your interrogation technique needs work. Also, I'm currently hanging upside down in my underwear, and my ass is freezing. Put me down first. We can trade questions like civilized people. Fair?"
Ivy hesitated. She controlled the situation completely. Did she need to negotiate?
"I treated those ten children with respect," Jude added. "Just for that reason alone, you should at least respect my opinion. Right?"
The logic was sound. Ivy directed the branches to gently lower him back onto the bed.
"Thank you." Jude grabbed his shirt from under the covers, pulling it on with as much dignity as a man in boxer shorts could manage. "Also, could you maybe put on some clothes? I'm not used to having conversations with people in their underwear. Cultural thing."
"No." Ivy's answer was immediate. "This form is most comfortable for me. It facilitates photosynthesis."
"It's nighttime."
"Doesn't matter."
"Fine. That counts as you answering one of my questions." Jude settled cross-legged on the bed. "I'll answer one of yours. You want to know how I got your children to leave—I personally convinced the first six through negotiation."
"Impossible." Ivy's response was automatic. "Humans can't communicate with plants."
Her voice trailed off as the implication hit her.
"Can't they?" Jude smiled slightly. "My name is Jude, by the way. You can call me... well, just Jude."
"Ivy. Poison Ivy." She was staring at him now with genuine fascination. "I already told you that."
"So, Ivy. How did you track me down? Their current location should be pretty well hidden."
"It is. I can't sense where they are now—not directly. But the pollen trail my children left behind led me straight to you."
Jude blinked. "...Why didn't they mention they were leaving a trail?"
"Do you make a point of telling your friends every time you breathe?"
Fair point. Jude sighed, shoulders relaxing. "Alright. The last four children—I convinced them too, but I used bribery instead of pure negotiation."
He reached behind his back and pulled out a flowerpot. Ivy's eyes tracked the movement but couldn't follow the source—the pot had materialized from nowhere visible.
But she felt the vine inside.
"Wait. This soil. This fertilizer. These nutrients—"
Ivy snatched the pot from his hands before Jude could react. He didn't try to stop her. Just watched as she buried her face in the soil, breathing deep, expression shifting into something sacred. Reverent. Like a wine connoisseur discovering a vintage that shouldn't exist.
"As you can see," Jude said quietly, "those ten children really like the environment I provide. But they're your plants. I don't mind returning them to their rightful owner."
"Where did you get this soil?" Ivy's voice was muffled by the pot. "Where's the fertilizer from? How are you hiding it?"
"Tick-tock." Jude tapped the alarm clock beside his bed. Five minutes had passed since he'd woken up. "Time's up. Question exchange ends here."
He shifted position slightly. "I know you're waiting for me to ask about recent events—Gotham Bank, the Wayne Group, the Falcone money laundering scheme. But with your interrogation experience, you can figure out those answers yourself."
Ivy looked up from the flowerpot, confused. About to ask another question.
Then footsteps echoed from the darkness near the window.
"You knew I was coming."
Batman's silhouette separated from the shadows like smoke taking form.
Jude shrugged. "I guessed. Happened to be right."
"When did you arrive?"
"From the beginning."