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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Keeping a grip on reality and the nightmare was chipping away at his mind. Pain had become permanent like breathing, it infected every second when Jason was conscious. Time had lost its meaning and the morale within him had disappeared along with his strength. Jason’s head hung forward, a bag was hung over his head, blood dripped from his broken face. He could hear the whirl of the video camera. The Clown kept it on at all times, for his own sick pleasures. Cuts gnarled into Jason’s flesh and his eyes were dry from crying. He couldn’t do it when The Clown was around, it just made him more malicious. And that laugher doubled in volume when he saw the tiniest ounce of a tear roll down his cheek.

His wrists and ankles were bound to the arms and legs of the wheelchair. The smell coming from his skin was putrid, flakes of dry vomit stained his torn Robin suit. Through the pain in his eyes, the dull light of the clinical room bled into focus, then he heard those sharp footsteps.

“Batman?” Jason asked, his heart jumping in his chest.

“Is that you?”

“Batman’s not coming to save you, Jason,” replied The Clown.

“He’ll come.”

“But it’s been six months now, Jason. I think it’s time to face facts.”

Jason glared underneath the hood, his fists tightened and he tried for the hundredth time to break from his restraints. But it was to no avail.“Screw you.”

“That’s the spirit!” exclaimed The Clown, whipping off the bag. “You’re a real chip of the old Bat block, not that it will do you any good.”

“When will you just kill me?” Jason asked, he could hear the desperation in his voice.

The Clown’s painted face twisted with insult. “What? Oh no no no no. I’m not going to kill you. Not yet anyway. You’re my sidekick now.” Jason shivered when his gloved hand touched his shoulder. “Imagine it. You and me. Out on the streets, starting fights, picking on the weak! A regular dynamic duo, just like Bats and that new kid of his.”

Pain ached in Jason’s chest. “No,” he whispered. “He wouldn’t.”

“You think? So… this isn’t Batman then?” The Clown leaned over him, a photo was clutched between his fingers. “Hmmm….weird. The pointy ears are usually a dead giveaway.”

Jason squinted and the worst worry curdled within him. He saw Bruce’s eyes and a brand new washed face beside him. It was a shorter, younger man. The word R blazoned across his chest, the same letter was on his now, marked, scarred suit. “No.”

“I didn’t want to show you that photo, really I didn’t. But it was the only way for you to get closure.” The Clown moved around him, posing for the camera and Jason saw the crowbar in his hand, it was still sharp after all of this time. He got into position, raising it above his head as if he was playing a leisurely game of golf. “Now I know it hurts but sometimes, you gotta be cruel to be kind.”

Chapter Text

Returning to Arkham island was an eerie experience. It felt strange, almost laughable that there was not a single guard, nurse, or medical expert in sight. Nature had already began her take over. She loved the sight of the weeds sprouting through the cement, webbing up the walls, undeterred by the industrial influence. She could never be stopped and when mankind choked, she’d live on, and rewild.

Ivy headed into the old asylum, quietly rolling her eyes when she heard the distant cackle of Oswald Cobblepot, and Harley Quinn’s mournful high pitched squeal of a voice. Ivy ran her gaze over the walls as the voices got louder. She remembered the chaos in this old place, back when the Joker took over, lacing her with that toxic Titan formula. A lot of pain and misery lived here, she was thankful not to be imprisoned by it. Although, it still lingered when she gave it air.

She hid in the darkness as several dark souls gathered in the disused canteen area. She saw a stream of dotted infamous faces from Gotham’s dark heart. Some she hadn’t seen for years and others, who probably still wanted her dead. If only they could try. Two people held the floor in the meeting as insults and questions streaked the walls.

Dr Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow prodded the air with needles instead of human fleshy fingers. Time and darkness had not been his best companions. Last time she’d sen him, he looked relatively normal in a tweed suit with his body laced into an Arkham straitjacket. Now, barely a man. His face had rotten away and that mask he paraded around with had become... his skin. He barely had lips anymore and he breathed like a panting lion. Rumours had flown around that his injuries were self inflicted from acid, curdled by his own fear obsession. The other likelihood, he was thrown to the sewers by the Bat and accosted by the green eyed Waylon Jones and the monster took chunks out of his body for snacks.

The other heartbeat belonged to the Stranger who stood beside Scarecrow, his arms were crossed over his armoured chest, acting like a stone-like bodyguard. He was introduced simply as… the Arkham Knight. Ivy scruntised him, it was a theatrical title but it didn’t hold any tangible association for her. She’d never heard of him. This was a first. Who was this man?

The talks continued about unimportant things, egos mostly and everyone’s mutual hatred of The Bat. The Arkham Knight would throw in quips, mostly that he’d crush the person’s skull if they whittled on for too long. She believed him too, he seemed to be the type that would snap a neck to create order in a crowd. This was aimed especially at Harley who was clearly not receptive to the threats and Ivy was intrigued why.

It was then when Scarecrow took over the conversation and the silence dipped. She listened to his funeral dirge tones, his rotten teeth jutting out from his hood. He’d been thinking of a plan, to erase the Bat from existence so Gotham would fall into their hands. The answer… his fear toxin. Whilst an inmate at the asylum, he was experimenting with his own alchemy. When the Joker had taken over, his toxin in air form had infiltrated and supposedly, Batman had succumbed to it. He expected to discover a disciplined mind but a tortured, orphaned crazed man hid under the cowl. Scarecrow knew the Bat’s secrets, what frightened him and his true identity. There were gasps of shock from everyone, but not Ivy. She didn’t care who he was.

With the help of a third party and the Arkham Knight, Scarecrow was devising a strategy to create his toxin into a liquid form, that could be injected into the blood. A guaranteed faster effect, the recipient would be plagued by their worst fears, acting them out in real time. Trials had already begun behind closed doors and the results were positive. Gotham would suffocate in a matter of minutes. If they agreed to help with his scheme, he would offer sections of Gotham for the tribute, and an active part of Batman’s death.

Penguin was the first one to stand as long as he owned the club areas of Gotham. He had enough men and fridges to sneak weapons in and out if there was a war. There would be as long as the Bat was around. Harley also agreed, her one clause was that she would get dibs on the people who had been infected by the Joker’s blood. Before his death, he’d sent his blood to several hospitals in Gotham. She had news that the Bat and his team had managed to apprehend them. Ivy thought she was foolish for the notion, but she was a lovesick puppy. Riddler agreed without a thought so he could test the Baytown with more of his puzzles and Two Face was happy as long as his mittens were on the banks.

“Why are you hiding in the dark?” the computerised voice whispered.

It distracted Ivy from her thoughts. She turned to find the Arkham Knight standing behind her and she wondered how he’d sneaked around without her detection. “You told me to attend,” she uttered. “You never said anything about being in the same room.”

The Arkham Knight chuckled quietly, his eyes glowing in the darkness. “That’s true. I must say, Pamela. You’re surprising me. You’ve turned into quite the hermit since this old place was evacuated.”

Her blood boiled at the sound of her human name. “My name… is Ivy.”

“Keep telling yourself that. We can never run from who we used to be. I know, I learned the hard way.”

“Then you’re not trying hard enough to forget.” The Arkham Knight didn’t respond, he just stared at her. “Who are you?” Ivy demanded. “You owe me that.”

“Would you give me a kiss if I showed you?”

She smiled gently. “You can have as many as you want.”

“Don’t tease. Stick around after. You might be in for a shock.”

“Right on time Miss Isley,” Scarecrow sneered. “Glad to see you showed up. I have a feeling my associate did a good job… persuading you.”

The Arkham Knight pushed Ivy into the dank light that lingered in the old canteen. Silence wrapped around her and she heard the drip-drop of the rain from outside. She closed her eyes, counting silently, anger pulsing. The crunch of his boots echoed behind.

“Aahhh Miss Ivy!” Penguin said. “Nice to see ya, again and wearing clothes I see hehehe.”

Ivy stared at Penguin, a smirk waiting. “Oswald… still a small, stubby mouse of a worthless man?”

The short gangster glared at her behind his one spectacle. He still hated her for what she did. He shouldn’t have set fire to one of her green houses. She sought him out, dousing him in her pheromones. He was crying for her desire and she made him crawl around unclothed as her vines whipped him. Then she made him watch as her plants devoured his men. They were just as distraught as she. Their siblings had burned.

“I want no part in this or any of your pathetic human games Crane,” said Ivy.

“Is that your final answer, Dr Isley?” quizzed Scarecrow. “I thought you despised this city?”

“I despise the flesh bags within. Including you. You’re all in way over your thick heads. Without nature, you’re all done for. Learn to appreciate it once in a while.”

The silence from Scarecrow and the others was enough to make her exit. She walked across the canteen, disappearing into the other opposing corridor. Ivy headed deeper into the abandoned ruin of the asylum. Her thoughts splitting off, remembering the events from before. When the dead dressed every corridor and the insane ran amok. She was pleased to see that mother nature was healing this place. Any corpses left had been consumed, bound to the earth and the green veins and moss spread up the walls, healing this once horrifying place.

She crossed the grounds to the Penitentiary. She was thankful that her plants had managed to revive themselves, even after the battle with the Bat. Ivy spoke to them, awaking some from a distant sleep. She didn’t want to revisit her cell on The Green Mile, she vowed never to be encased again. That cockroach Quincy Sharp shoved her in there after the disappearance of Dr Kellerman. He would’ve followed her anywhere, even being buried alive. Ivy took her time in the grounds, waking the plants that had survived, her heart falling when she saw the skeletons of the ones who hadn’t made it. She headed into the labs, relieved to find her children had already made this place their own. Vines covered the tables and chairs, sliding down the walls. She didn’t want to see an ounce of that clinical white marble.

“This place looks better with your influence.”

Ivy turned to find at no surprise, the Arkham Knight standing behind her, admiring her work.

“Nature always wins,” she utters. “Have they gone?”

“They are, Scarecrow didn’t appreciate what you said. You might come to regret it one day.”

“I won’t. I was imprisoned here for a long time and I never once heard of the Arkham Knight. I sense you’ve been here before.”

“I was a prisoner, just like you. Hidden from sight.” He closed the space between them. “Stand down Ivy, I’m not here to kill you. You can frisk me if you want, I can tell you’re sceptical.”

“You’re exciting me,” said Ivy, a small burst of laughter escaping her throat. She ran her hands up his chest, her fingers dawdling with the crevices of his armoured suit. No guns. Then she tried the pockets, no knives either. “Interesting. I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

She noticed that his fingers had quietly played with her red blouse and he’d managed to unpluck one of the buttons. Ivy stared back at his mask, she heard the slight sigh under his breath. His other hand stroked up to her head, gently pulling out the flowers keeping her hair up. He sighed again as her red hair fell past her shoulders and he unclipped the last button on her blouse. With a breath, it fell to the ground and she stood before him, only her underwear covering her modest part.

“Wow. You really are beautiful.”

“Your turn,” smiled Ivy. “Don’t leave a girl waiting.”

The Arkham Knight pushed her up against the vined walls, taking the time to caress her arm, running his fingers along her hips. Ivy gasped as his armoured knee knocked her legs apart, his roaming gloved hand had slid between her legs, past her underwear, pushing against her sex. Another sigh escaped him and he pushed a button on his helmet mask. Ivy heard the whirrs of its machinery.

The metal rotated up revealing pale scarred skin, kissable lips then she saw it and her heart jumped. An emblem of pain. It had been brandished into his skin with metal and heat, the letter J. He had to wear like a badge of honour. She saw the anger in his face, his jaw tightening. He was too quick for her, and the hand that had been in her underwear, was now around her throat.

Chapter Text

Jason’s body hung from the chains. Days and months had dissolved. His wrists were bound in rope. He was too exhausted to try and flip upside down and fiddle with the knots. There was no point. Batman wasn’t coming. He’d moved on, he already had a replacement working for him.

One of his shoulders was dislocated, he could tell because the joint burned when he breathed in and out. He couldn’t keep track of how long he’d been kept in Arkham asylum. He knew he was there because he heard the distant cries of the crazies off in the background. The pungent smell of the bleach cleaner of the white walls, his blood was everywhere. He couldn’t believe he still had life left in him. Jason was done with all of this. He’d resigned on the dotted line. If there was a God up there, he wanted out and he prayed for death.

Then, those all too familiar footsteps erupted and the lights were switched on. The camera was still recording, its red eye blinking.

“What do we have here then?”

Jason whimpered when he saw the Clown dip into his eyesight, he was concealing something behind his back. He tried to move away from him but his restraints held him tight.

“Wakey, wakey. What’s wrong? You think I’m going to hurt you? Why? I’m not the bad one here. Oh no no no. It’s Batman. He’s abandoned you. Thrown you away like an unwanted puppy. Can I have him Daddy? Oh please please please please. I’ll take real good care of him. Anything to make you happy princess. Just make people know he’s yours.”

The Clown clicked his fingers and Jason fell to the ground in a heap. That was when he saw the clown waving a long metal prod thing, at the end of it was a burning melded letter, J. Farmers used it to mark sheep in the fields.

“We don’t want him to end up back here, do we? No we don’t, Daddy. I want to keep him forever!”

Jason scurried on his hands and knees away from him. The Clown skipped merrily after him. No, he wasn’t having that. The crazy jester had taken everything Jason had, he wasn’t taking that too. It was the only thing he had left.

“No, please!” Jason begged. “Please, no!”

The hot metal was shoved into his face. Jason screamed raw pain, and the Clown laughed, mocking him. It had melted his skin, and pierced the bone.

~

Cold water had been splashed on him when he’d come to. Jason had been dragged to his cell, which was a box of a room with no bed. They threw him in there when the Clown and his stupid airhead of a wife were bored of playtime. Jason couldn’t hold back anymore, knowing he was alone and he let the tears fall. Streaming. He touched the ridges of his face, his fingers swirling in the deep aching groove. J marked the spot. He’d done it. The old clown had actually done it. The humiliation, the fucking humiliation.

The clown had tattooed him, to remind him and everyone else of who he belonged to. He heard the bars of his cell squeak and he thought he was hallucinating when he three vines curling their way into his room. They were carrying something, snaking their way along the walls. Jason backed up against the wall, thinking they were going to attack him, but surprisingly, they didn’t. Instead, they moved towards him. One vine pulled a leaf from a plant they were carrying which was dripping in cloudy liquid. The vine pressed it against Jason’s cheek and he sucked in a breath, frightened and confused. It was cold, soggy and relieving. The liquid had began to numb his face. His fractured mind must have been playing with him. Tears spilled, choking up in his throat. The other vines worked on the rest of his body, he had many injuries. He’d have so many scars. If he survived this.

“Ivy?” Jason muttered. The vines stopped for a moment and glanced at one another. A tear dripped down his face, his heart gave a tender, painful tug. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

The Arkham Knight’s palm pressed down on Ivy’s throat as the rest of his mask unveiled his identity. His light blue eyes hovered, sadness ached back. Scars webbed across his skin, he couldn’t wash them off, or how they came to be. The rain lashed down outside, getting heavier. Due to the age of the buildings and her plants moving in, rainwater trickled through the crevices. It stained her hair and his armoured suit. Dark hair was clasped to his neck, arching slightly over his eyes. The J burn mark would forever remain, even the best plastic surgeons It’d been a long time since she’d seen this once youthful face. Instead, a hardened man stood before her. Young Robin had grown up, and filled out.

“What?” Jason Todd asked sarcastically, his free hand tossing the computerised helmet to the ground. “Too shocked to speak?”

Ivy’s vines hissed behind him, hovering to strike. With one command, they would’ve laced themselves around his limbs and pulled. She stared at them, struggling, her hands wrenching at his one wrist holding her against the wall. She remembered a time when she could make the Young Robin fly through the air with one arm throw. Time and something else had changed him.

“Tell your kids to stand down, or I’ll pop your head like a grape.”

Ivy believed him too. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, sending a signal. The vines reacted immediately, pulling away but still on high alert.

Jason watched her, his eyes darkening with every thought dancing around his mangled mind. “Why did you help me, Pamela?”

She stared at him, pain deepening along her neck. No answer escaped her throat, words were not enough. She didn’t know. It was just a feeling, chasing an instinct.

Jason pushed his weight into Ivy. His clenched hand around her throat, loosened, replaced with a loaded gun. He pushed it under her chin, and she coughed from the lack of oxygen. “You knew I was in the abandoned wing of this rotten place, with Joker and you didn’t tell anyone about me. Not even the fucking staff.” She heard the click of him readying the gun. “You were in frequent contact with Batman too and you never informed him.” He jabbed it under her chin. “Guilt getting to you, huh? Answer me!”

Ivy breathed in and out before she spoke. “Is killing me going to help, Robin?”

“It’ll feel good.” He glared in her face, his teeth clenching together. “Don’t call me that. It’s not who I am.”

“Then do it,” she said and something in Jason’s eyes changed, she wasn’t sure if it was resistance or contempt. “Pull that trigger and see what happens to you. We both know you won’t be leaving here alive if you do.”

His jaw tightened and he pressed his forehead against hers. Ivy panted from how close his face was. Jason threw the gun to the ground. Ivy’s vines scooped it up, removing it from the battlefield. His other hand became entangled in her voluminous hair, and he pulled, so her head arched. Jason grabbed her, spreading her up against the wall, his mouth finding hers. Ivy’s eyes snapped, shocked from the contact. He sighed against her mouth, opening her lips, and rolled his tongue so they touched. A groan enveloped from herself startling her and his kiss deepened. Her body was lifted off the floor against the wall, her breath was caught in her throat.

Jason broke the kiss, staring into her face. “I think you enjoyed that.”

“You’re a fool,” Ivy whispered, “and now you’re going to die.”

Seconds passed and the usual ailments were not affecting him. He wasn’t gasping for air like the others did. Every man and woman who had found her lips met the same miserable end. They just couldn’t help themselves.

Jason laughed under his breath. “Looks like your petal tricks don’t work on me.”

Fear filled her. “But I don’t understand how-“

Her words were squashed when he pulled her into another kiss. This time it was it was painful. His hands framed her head and he carried her, laying her on one of the lab tables which was now covered in grass and moss. A pulse ached between Ivy’s legs which sent her heart rate into overdrive. Her thought pattern broke off into puzzle pieces. She was engulfed by passion, trembling under Jason’s touch. As his lips worked on her mouth, one hand pressed her fingers into the grass, the other squeezed her breast, roaming between her legs. Ivy’s neck arched, noises escaping her she’d never heard before. Jason slipped off her underwear, slipping his fingers inside her sex.

He gave her air as she panted beneath him. Jason watched her as his fingers moved in and out of her. Confidence was dwindling, she was scared of the way he was examining her. Ivy gasped out loud, pleasure shuddering between her legs. Accusations bit out. But it was overlapping from the erotic sensations she was feeling. She remembered never having these moments in her human life. She daydreamed about it but it never came to fruition. Nobody would look at her twice in the street, except Woodrue.

Darkness slapped her back into reality when she heard the metal clicking of Jason’s utility belt. It snapped off, and he brushed it to the side. His frame completely blocked any light. He snaked up her body, parting her legs, pressing his weight between then. Ivy cried out when she felt him push into her. A low guttural sound also exploded from Jason. Ivy’s hands grabbed at the corner of the table, her fingers digging into the grass. He moved in and out of her, his gaze burning into hers. A part of her felt helpless, this wasn’t the fight she was expecting. But she couldn’t lie to herself, this type of fighting, felt way better.

His movements heightened, his hands were on her hips and he rocked against her. His suit skidding against the grass, his sounds from his throat getting louder and louder. An orb of warmth was erupting within her. Jason’s body arched, bucking against her hips. Ivy was the first one to loose herself, pleasure ribboning out from her throat. Her noises seemed to encourage him and his eyes closed in concentration. Jason bucked his hips again and then it was his turn to lose it. He fell onto her, his cheek rubbing against her face. The final shocks jolting through the both of them.

Jason rolled off her, laying on his back, regathering his stamina. Fear and shame flooded Ivy’s emotions and she covered her breasts. What had just happened?

Ivy slid off the table, reaching for her blouse. Her plants were no longer talking to her and she stared up at them, they had turned away. Were they ashamed? Repulsed?

Her brain raced with complications and it was erupting beneath her skin, pulling at the space behind her eyes.

“Ivy?” Jason asked gently. “What’s the matter with you?”

Chapter Text

“Pamela?” pressed Jason, confused from the way she was reacting.

Her back was turned to him. The lash of the rain smacked off the rooftop of the decrepit building, trickling through the cracks. The glow of lightning shuddered overhead, cascading the detail on her green supple skin. She’d grown far more beautiful over time. Her blood red hair seemed fuller, her cheekbones more defined, those lips more delectable than ever. Yet something was shooting out at him about the mood in her eyes. It didn’t align.

Jason remembered when he first saw the red headed queen of nature. He was a teenager, still in training with Batman. She wore a crown of ivy on her head back then, used it like a whip. She’d bewitched a bunch of security guards at a bank. A favour for Two Face. When they arrived, the guards were so intoxicated by her pheromones, they were putting the money into bags, carrying them out for her like diligent servants. That was also Jason’s first experience with her… special love chemicals. She almost strangled him and Jason would have happily died that night under her hand, but Batman gave a right hook to her jaw and she fled. Teenage Jason was in love, from the second she looked at him. He was sure of it and he was advised to sleep off his symptoms. Back at the manor, he stayed up most of the night, consumed by lust and love. Once the pheromones had subsided, Jason felt disgusted with himself, and his aching wrist. He wasn’t able to control himself and he was glad the people he was living with hadn’t heard the pleasures of his nightly antics. He wouldn’t have been able to wash off the embarrassment.

Since being reborn, Jason knew he wasn’t the same. He was far from normal. He was better, actually. He didn’t feel fear like he used to, instead it excited him. He still had reservations of course, especially he entered Ivy’s home at the Botanical Gardens. One memory of his torture and he’d shatter. His training post death had done him well and he smirked beneath his Arkham Knight mask when she released her pheromones and they’d had zero effect on him. Her quiet shock was incredible to watch. Learning to take a little pain had paid off. He could now admire and observe her for who she was, rather than his mind melting from her special powder.

“Pamela. Look at me.”

Ivy quietly buttoned her blouse, her breathing was laboured, the orgasm was still running through her veins. “What’s wrong with me?” She suddenly faced him, her green eyes sharp. “Why is the problem suddenly my issue? You shouldn’t be here. I heard the rumours at the asylum. The daft nurses forgot about the confidentiality clause in their contracts. Robin died. Batman couldn’t find him. There was a city in mourning. The criminals had a banquet. You should be a ghost. A name… etched on a gravestone.“

Jason zipped himself up, grabbing his utility belt, there was a twitch in his hand when she mentioned the B word. “I don’t know why I’m not dead. I’m just as clueless as you. I tried to die. I prayed for it, I kept talking, thought it would give me time.” He buckled it around his waist, standing to his full height. “The Grim Reaper wouldn’t let me rest, to fucking taunt me. Maybe I’m a superhero.”

“There’s no such thing as heroes. You should know more than anyone.”

He smirked at her words. “You’re right.”

“What do you really want, Robin?”

Anger bolted within him and he rushed her, slamming her against the wall again. “What did I fucking tell you, huh? Don’t call me… that.”

“Stop calling me Pamela.”

“Fine,” Jason said bitterly, letting her go. “I’ll stop. Look, I’m interested in you because you’re the only one that wasn’t fooled by Scarecrow’s plan. Once I kill… Batman, this city is mine.”

She stared at him, processing his information. “You want to kill him? Why?”

Jason studied her. “Scarecrow doesn’t know everything. He can believe what he wants, run with whatever plan he has, then I’m stepping in.”

Ivy began to laugh, this pissed off Jason. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Wouldn’t you be amused?” Ivy smirked.

He glared at her, curling his arms over his chest, creating a barrier.

“One of Batman’s loyal little birds now wants him dead. It’s… ironic.” Her smile disappeared, replaced with a mask of stone. “Kill the Batman. Fool Scarecrow. Save Gotham. I don’t care.”

“I think you do, actually. I want you in this because Scarecrow is going to hurt you, and your children, no matter what decision you make. We’re tin men. Do you honestly think he cares?”

She didn’t respond. She was listening. He’d got her.

“Scarecrow doesn’t have a heart deep down. He’s a creature. You on the the other hand have always acted like the world could tumble into flames, but there’s more to you, Ivy. I’ve seen it. What you did right in this building to help me when nobody else did changed that. It shouldn’t have been you. My friend… the one I thought could count on never showed up, they didn’t even send a scout party. Instead, they replaced me. How come you never killed me when you had the chance? You had plenty of opportunities…”

There was a beat of silence.

“You knew you were stronger,” Jason said, “but you did nothing.”

“Stop dancing with me.”

“Answer my question, and I’ll stop.”

Ivy was wrestling with what to say. He’d never seen her struggle inwardly, until recently. Then she couldn’t look at him, that was interesting.

“Batman will die, one way or another,” Jason said. “I won’t let anyone else do it.”

“I don’t want to be a part of your personal vendetta,” Ivy replied.

“I’m not asking you to be involved with killing Batman. That’s my job. I want you, to help him. Scarecrow will use his fear toxin to keep him on his toes and plunge Gotham into chaos. You’re already on his ‘take out’ list for rejecting his offer. I’m already breaking protocol by telling you. Batman at some point will enlist your help in getting rid of the toxin. By doing this, you’re helping me, get to the Bat. I can protect you, and your children from Scarecrow. I will do whatever I can.”

“I tried to trust Batman. He said he’d be merciful to my babies, then he lied. He let them die and I was encased in a suffocating cell, in this awful place.”

“I’m not Batman,” said Jason. “The last thing I want to do is keep a beauty like you in a cage. You deserve to be free. I meant what I said earlier. I will do what I can to help your family, we can support one another, and end Crane’s miserable existence.”

Ivy reached down to the grass and she picked up one of the flowers Jason had taken out of her hair. Her mane moved on its own, pinning up as it was before. Ivy turned her head as the final flower he’d taken was laced back into her hair. It moved into position like a spider. “I will help Batman if he comes looking for me. Break your promise, and I will feed you to my Venus fly traps. You’re the right size.”

Jason’s heart did a double beat with relief. “Deal. I may have to hurt you in the process, to be convincing.”

“Pain doesn’t frighten me.”

“Something we have in common.” Jason clocked one of Ivy’s vines, holding something precious of his. “That’s mine.”

“Give it back,” Ivy said.

The vine dropped the gun to the grassy ground and Jason scooped it up. Ivy was already making her exit, swaying past him, her hips wiggling, she must have done it on purpose.

Jason picked up the final piece of her clothing. “Forgetting something?”

Ivy looked at him, noticing her underwear hanging from his gloved fingers. Her stare was serious, she was thinking too much and not talking. He hated silence. Then she retreated, gliding up the walls with the help of her plants.

She’ll be back, Jason thought. We could… fuck, FUCK. I… I could always count on her.

Chapter Text

Jason managed to get a punch to Frank Boles face when he opened the door to his tiny box room. Ivy’s vines had fixed his dislocated shoulder and he was relieved to have his function back. Boles yelled when Jason jabbed him in the ribs, probably breaking one or a couple of them. He pinned Boles to the ground, hooking him around the neck, hissing that if he screamed, he’d break his neck. Boles struggled, inspiring Jason to tighten his grip. “Let him go, Cupcake!” Harley Quinn’s annoying whine echoed from the door.

“Fuck you!” Jason hissed.

“If you don’t, I’ll get Mister J down here and you don’t want that!”

Jason saw a flush of blonde hair rush into the room. A glimpse of painted wood, then something smashed into his face. It knocked his head back, and he crashed against the wall. Boles was released and he began to kick Jason in the gut. Harley reined the bat down on him over and over again. Pain like a thousand knives rippled underneath his skin. Darkness blanketed his vision. He was dragged from his room, warmth oozing from his face. Pockets of light danced and then that pungent clinical smell returned. No, not again. Why didn’t they just kill him? He’d talked enough. He didn’t have anymore to give them.

“Why does our guest look like this? Harley?” The Clown asked.

“It was his fault, Mister J. Thought he could take Frankie and escape.”

“Well at least he’s got some life left in him! I’ll see about that! Put him in the chair.”

Jason was heaved into the chair, that fucking chair. Barbed wire was drawn around his chest, sinking into his skin and the remains of his shredded suit. A soggy flannel was dragged across his face, wiping away the blood. Jason squinted, staring at the pasty white face of The Clown. He was cleaning him, as if was some loving gesture for plummeting him into hell. The Clown inspected his face, frowning. “Somebody’s been helping you.”

“I think it’s Ivy. Got her mittens all over it,” Harley quipped.

“Leave her out of this,” Jason uttered.

The Clown laughed. “Still the admirable protector! It looks like my discipline hasn’t sunk in. We’ll have to do more. Harley, have a word with Ivy. Be… polite.”

Chapter Text

Jason surveyed the rooftops of Gotham. The rain had not stopped. He saw the Bat signal shining off in the distance as bright as the moon. He’d liked being dead, to everyone else, floating and sleeping in the cold darkness. Nobody bothered him, or hurt him. There were no orders to take from the horned devil. No civilians to save or police to bark at. Just utter peaceful silence. It was needed after being plunged into Hell. 

Resurrection was worse. People walked past him in the streets unaware of the burden he carried. Not even in the hobos slumped up against the street doors. Jason had spent hours training, suffering through injuries and he never got a single thank you for all the courageous work he did. But that was the price he had to pay for being Robin, the right hand man of Batman. He had to work twice as hard to be half as good. But that was the thing about civilians, they only cared about the main hero, never the sidekick. 

Well, things were changing…

It was time to meet an old friend. 

He saw the silver hair of Commissioner Gordon waiting stoically by the Bat signal. He stood under the shelter from the rain, pensively waiting like an obedient dog. The star of the show appeared (not like Superman) out from the darkness. 

Jason peered through his viewer of sniper rifle. A tightness gripping in his chest. Just one bullet to the head and the Bat would be history. But, he couldn’t just kill him like that. His death needed to have a build up. A purpose, most importantly, an audience. He couldn’t assassinate him like a ghost. It needed to be special. You couldn’t rush a good party and he had the radar on where he could find one. 

Below him, walking along the streets was Poison Ivy. Her mind had been plagued by their recent passionate liaison back at the derelict asylum. She couldn’t fathom why her skin and its poisonous qualities hadn’t killed him. She had to investigate, for her own sanity. She didn’t like doing this but with a new revelation, it was needed. Hidden deep in her garden was a trunk, inside was some human clothes. She had them just in case. Her blouse wouldn’t be enough. She was too noticeable.

Ivy yanked on a purple netted gothic dress and a plain black hoodie. She changed the pigment of her skin from a healthy leafy green to a pale pink. She left some of the leaves on there, for aesthetic reasons. She’d styled her red hair in a high ponytail and clipped on some hooped earrings. She remembered feeling uncomfortable, as if she was wearing a costume. This. Human dressing. It wasn’t her, it never was. 

She walked along the streets, noticing how people clocked her, but it wasn’t because they knew who she was. It was attraction. A primitive instinct pulled in by the shape of her face, the shade of her eyes, even her scent. Everybody wanted her, that was the bore. Still, she had to see why her powers had failed. 

Ivy turned into a punk bar. She felt her clothes suited the atmosphere. Heads turned when she entered. Ivy picked out a target. A woman sitting at the bar alone. Reasonable enough. Ivy perched on the stool next to her, the barman was already drooling. The woman noticed her immediately, her facial expressions stretched from intrigue and fascination. She began to chat Ivy up. They talked, the woman flattered her on her tattoos and beauty. 

After a while, Ivy propositioned the woman to keep her company, she agreed immediately. Ivy took the woman by the hand. She couldn’t remember her name, it wasn’t important. She walked hastily, ignoring the woman’s directions to her apartment. Ivy dragged her to a secluded spot at the back of some alleyway. She pushed the woman against the wall, mashing her mouth against hers. The woman let out a cry of shock mixed with a little pleasure. She was more surprised by the action but she responded, working her mouth. Her hands moved to frame Ivy’s head, she smacked them away. Her arms jolted, Ivy kept the pressure on. The woman began to pant, but it wasn’t from pleasure. She couldn’t breathe. Ivy pulled away, watching the woman grasp at her throat as her oxygen depleted. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her knees buckled, green lines spreading across her mouth. Ivy watched her final moments. There was always a mixture of confusion and fear along with the sensuality they felt around her. The woman had died from Ivy’s kiss, and she didn’t even have to do any tongue action. So why didn’t Ghost Robin’s heart stop beating?

Ivy stomped off back into the streets in a huff, leaving the body by a dumpster. Her kiss was still deadly, maybe she had to try again. This time, on a man. She changed tactics, heading to a more mainstream place. She saw plenty of men in suits heading in. She'd snuggle someone. It didn't matter what he looked like.

Predictably, heads turned as she entered and walked straight to the bar. A man wearing a plain gold weddint band sipping a beer with a tired expression noticed her immediately. Ivy smiled, sitting next to him. Then she contemplated on his outfit, pointing out that he seemed exhausted. The man started to prattle on about his career. Ivy switched off as he moved on to his crumbling, she was itching to get him outside. Her mind was numbing when he pulled out a photo of his children. She didn't care. Ivy stopped, asking him if he wanted to go back to her place. He finished his drink, coughing from the shock and agreed.

Ivy took him by the hand, and she led him to the parking area. The guy was groaning as she groped him. Her hands slipped into his trousers, he was erect and willing. She pressed him up against the wall, freeing him. Ivy pulled up her dress, anchoring her body and slid onto him. The man cried out and she began to bounce. Ivy wrapped her arms around his shoulders, running her body up and down. Something in his eyes changed and invigorated her to move faster.

Something whistled above her head. 

Ssshh-tink! 

A bullet ricocheted off the cement by her face. Ivy blinked, looking around, the man had stopped moving, his dead eyes stared back. She smiled, breathing a sigh of relief and the body dropped between her legs. The classic symptoms of her poisoning had erupted across his genitals. She pushed the hem of her dress down, her eyes were drawn to the shooter. It was a shape wearing a red mask. They hovered on the rooftop, peering through a sniper rifle. It waved at her, not in a friendly manner. It was a threat.  

Chapter Text

Icy cold water had been thrown over Jason. The cruel act woke him up. He gasped several times, shaking his head. He was still tied to the fucking chair. He wished he hadn't woken up. Surely death would have heard him by now. He'd prayed and screamed enough. The Clown laughed at Jason's stunned expression. His whore girlfriend skipped up to Jason, rubbing his clammy face with a towel. He coughed from the intensity, his throat and stomach dipped and his ribs contracted with pain. Jason shook his head, not wanting her fingers on him.

"What did you say when you spoke to Ivy, Harley?" demanded The Clown.

"She wasn't there. She's in her isolation cell, Puddin. Moved her during the night. Apparently she put up quite a fight. They're paranoid cause of what she did to Dr Kellerman."

The Clown made a noise of surprise. "I've always liked that red headed vixen. At least she won't get in the way of our fun. But she'll have to answer to me. She helped him."

"I'm sure she had reasons, Puddin."

There was silence in the room and that couldn't be for a good purpose. Jason didn't like it especially when the purple coated clown was involved.

"Puddin?"

"We'll talk about that later, Harley my sweetie. Now, our guest has held his own for most of the night and I think it's time we rewarded him, don't you think? This... is where you come in."

"I don't know what you mean." The Clown grabbed her arm, pulling her to the corner of the room. There was a series of hushed whispers and Jason squinted, trying to read what was going on. Harley seemed unnerved by whatever the mad clown was suggesting. Jason wasn't liking it at all.

"I can't do that, Mister J," said Harley timidly.

"Why can't you?"

"It's not appropriate."

"But you're hurting my feelings, Harley. I want to see my woman in action. You don't want to damage us, do you?"

"Of course not Mister J but-"

A sound as sharp as a whip cracking came first, followed by the clown's open palm. It smacked against her face and she flinched, holding her throbbing jaw.

The Clown growled, glaring down at her. "You do... as I say, Harley. And you don't step out of line. You listen to me. Always."

"Yes Mister J," Harley moped.

"Now, go and make me proud." The Clown clapped his hands like an excited child and positioned himself behind the camera.

Harley watched him for a moment, she was sheepish and frightened. He made a gesture with his hand and she turned to Jason. He pulled at the rope lashed around his wrists and ankles. The barbed wire was still hugging him, making camp in his chest. Harley's boots tapped against the floor and he noticed that she walked more seductively this time.

"I present your reward Jason," uttered The Clown. "Be grateful you have such caring hosts. Most of my guests never have this luxury."

She knelt in front of Jason, his body jolted when she opened his legs. He could see the crusty colourful make up was wearing off. There was a young woman underneath, a stupid, naive, idiot of a woman.

"You don't have to do this," Jason whispered.

"Ignore him, Harley," said The Clown.

She did exactly that even though her hands were shaking when she touched Jason's inner thigh, playing with the zipper of his pants.

Chapter Text

Several large men plastered in flaking clown make up carried crates in and out of the building. Jason Todd watched from the rooftops, peering through the lense on top of his sniper rifle. It was Harley’s guards. It had to be with their cheesy, cheap get-up. Instead of packing weapons, bombs stuffed into teddy bears, her men were carrying food. He wondered how she was treating her Joker puppets. The poor bastards that were infected with the clown’s rotten blood.

Jason’s heart palpitated when she made an appearance. She stomped around the men, barking orders, dressed just like The Clown’s whore. Except this time, a black veil hung over her pasty face. To hide the lack of moral light in her eyes.

“No fucking change there,” uttered Jason.

He tracked Harley carefully. Her forehead sitting perfectly within the viewer. He closed his eyes. One push of that trigger and it would be over. She’d be history, never to torture and harm ever again. Her brain matter sprayed across the walls. It would be front page news. But that’s where Jason had the issue. It wouldn’t last. There’d be no suffering, nothing like he had to endure. She wouldn’t remember any of it. It would be over in a second, a merciful death.

“Not if I can fucking help it.”

A call filtered through his helmet, and he pressed the button at the side of his head. “What?”

“Are you prepared for this evening’s assault?” said Scarecrow.

“I’ll sort it out. She’s gonna be in for a shock.”

~

Ivy was tending to her plants when she felt a vibration far off in the distance. She ignored it, probably Gotham City choking on itself so she went back to stroking the flowers as they curled against her palm, loving their mother’s touch. Then the vibration came again, only this time it was coming from the box she kept hidden, for emergencies. She dragged it out, opening it up to find a headset device. It was flashing, somebody was making a call.

She placed and hooked it over her ear, tapping the flashing light. She didn't respond when the call line opened up.

"Are you going to ignore what we did back at the asylum?” The Arkham Knight’s fizzy, metallic voice trickled into her ear.

Ivy smiled darkly and walked along into her green house, observing her hoards of children. “Why does it matter to you what I think?”

“Because it sounded like you hadn’t let go in a very long time.”

She stopped, her smile had faded and she wore a sneer of discontent. “How did you get into my garden without dying?”

“Why don’t you wear clothes when you’re at home?”

Something warm bled through her leg. Ivy glanced down to see a red laser gliding up her leg. She heard his breath, that sigh echoed through her ear piece.

“I’ll be seen when I wanna be seen, Ivy.”

He may as well have been standing right behind her. Ivy’s breathing became laboured when the laser landed on a certain area of her modesty.

“And you won’t know I’m there…unless I want you to.”

Ivy stood still and she tried to scan where the laser line was coming from. It disappeared behind the trees that were arched against the glass spilling out to the outside.

“What do you want, Jason?” She asked, glaring up at the location where the laser died.

Yes, she was naked, to the human flesh bags. She was at home. Her home. Her Eden. Clothes were a human thing. They had no place in her world.

“You need to hide, Ivy. Now.”

“Why should I listen to you?”

The Arkham Knight laughed for a breath. “I warned you. Scarecrow is out for your blood. He’ll make you pay for refusing his offer.”

She heard a loud bang from the entrance of the Botanical Gardens. Her children screamed. Some of them had woken and were already defending their home. Gun shots rang out. Glass shattered.

“There she is!” a voice bellowed.

She took off as fast as her legs could take her. Bullets fired across her. Pinging above her head. Her vines lashed around her arms swinging her to the ceiling and she crawled through the space. As much as she worried about her plants, her babies were making their mother proud. They were fighting, and they were doing it well.

Ivy dropped down to one of the high platforms separated by foliage and a glass wall. It was great place to spy if anyone was setting an ambush. Men in black wearing balaclavas were flying across her green house by her venomous vines. Some were being torn apart at the waist and scattered amongst their kin for dinner. There wouldn’t be enough of them to feed her lot.

She felt a heartbeat behind her and the crunch of army boots on stone. A pair of gloved hands grabbed her, pressing her back against a suited chest. With a single caress, she could tell who it belonged to. One hand covered her mouth, not to smother, but to quieten.

“Don’t make a sound,” uttered The Arkham Knight. “It might make save your life.”

Ivy gasped as he pulled her into the bushes, his free arm dawdled with her skin, roaming free along her navel. Her breath was caught in her throat and the memory of that evening in the asylum awoke a kind of carnal hunger. It was so ferocious, it scared her. Her mind was becoming scrambled by her surroundings and feelings. Her children were fighting, and dying right underneath her. Invisible pins skewered her skin with every life that was lost. The men below screamed but her main focus was on the man holding her.

The Arkham Knight’s hands danced, caressing between her legs and they penetrated her sex. Ivy whimpered from the sensations.

He pressed the side of his helmet against the shell of her ear. “Not…a sound.”

He began his ceremony, playing with her, clutching her body, rubbing one hand between her thighs as the other stopped any sounds from passing her lips.

“We’ve lost her Sir,” a henchman said.

“Keep looking,” the Arkham Knight ordered. “She’s here somewhere!”

Ivy’s temper flared dancing between passion and resilience. He must have betrayed and he thought he could get a final fondle before handing her over to Scarecrow. She bit down on his glove and she heard him gasp from the pain.

The Arkham Knight pushed her forwards, still keeping a tight grip on her. She heard his suit open, he knocked her feet apart and then his body drove into her in one great single stroke. Ivy’s hands hit the glass wall and she was certain the enemy below must have seen it. But just like a stupid human being, she didn’t seem to care. The taste was all that mattered.

“Don’t. Speak.”

He pressed her up against the glass as the intensity inside of her heightened. She heard the computerised sounds of his helmet fizzing and popping as he was sliding in and out of her. His voice growing more animalistic by the second. There was something deeply sexual about the sounds of his moans spitting from his helmet. She didn’t know why but sheer shrills caressed her deeply. The Arkham Knight rocked against her, his large gloved hands holding her hips in place, using her body. The pleasure was overwhelming her.

“We’re taking heavy losses!” another henchman bellowed.

“Don’t… stop now!” The Arkham Knight ordered. “She’s here. I know she is.”

Ivy’s body was tightened from the pressure and pleasure in her body. She was drooling over his gloves. Her forehead almost cracked against the glass. The more he pushed, the more she feared she’d fall over the edge.

Ivy arched her back, turning her head, watching The Arkham Knight. It seemed to intensify his actions and his movements were more out of control. They were burning into one another. She was going to fall, and she knew, eventually he would break too.

~

Meanwhile on the ground, a bunch of Scarecrow’s men were pissing themselves with fear. Some of them lay dead, half strangled from Ivy’s vines, half dismembered, some of them had been eaten by the gigantic monstrous plants that dwelled behind every corner.

They were shaking, firing off bullets when they heard the pitch loud cry of a woman. It scared them half to death as it rang out. Long, hard and raw. It was an odd scream. They weren’t sure if it was painful, but it was also bizarrely and remarkably pleasurable too. Poison Ivy was an odd creature. Even her scream sounded sexy. Did all of this violence and death excite her?

“Set the place ablaze,” Scarecrow growled.

“Stand down,” The Arkham Knight panted, he sounded really out of breath as if he’d been running. “She got away. Found her hiding with her hyacinths. I shot her in the arm.”

“You let her get away?”

“Don’t try that on me, Scarecrow. She’s wounded and she’s scared. I think she’s got the point. Men, stand down. Go home. We’ve done our job for tonight. You’re dismissed.”

“I’ll remember this, Arkham Knight. If I see her again, you will be sorry for the mistakes you’ve made.”

“Fuck you, Scarecrow.”

~

Ivy watched in silence as the men retreated from her home. Her body was still shaking from her passionate endeavour. She turned to find The Arkham Knight trembling, his helmet half open, catching his breath from their actions. The irises of his eyes were dark, blown out like deep pools and the shadows caressed the painful J burn mark on his face.

“What…what do you really want from me, Jason?” she whispered, so intimately. “Why are you making me feel this way?”

Jason Todd didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. Actions mattered far more than words. He stood over her, his suit still hanging half open. He pulled her to him, dragging her into a kiss she could not escape from. Her body relaxed against the mould of his armour and the tired kiss overwhelmed her senses. Jason stepped back, clipping his suit back together. His helmet swallowed his face, and he pulled out his batarang, disappearing from sight. For that moment, Ivy felt drunk, and pleasantly so, falling to her knees in the green house, tumbling into a deep, deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Jason wanted nothing more than death to take him, right then and there. Pressure pushed down in his crotch as tears spilled from his eyes. The Clown’s laugh was so loud it was making his ears bleed. Every shrill hyena-like expression was a knife to his mind, penetrating his strength, weakening him. The Clown wasn’t a jester anymore now was it, it was The Devil dressed in crushed purple, cheap velvet. Those wide eyes that never blinked, absence of something human that never existed.

Harley’s mouth circled around Jason. Her eyes clamped shut in concentration. Jason’s body trembled and he knew it wasn’t from what she was doing to him. It was sickness. Revulsion. Despair. This was actually happening to him. This fucked up shit only happened to other people, the scarred civilians that he saved. Not the caped heroes. They kept away from ugliness like this.

The Clown peered behind the video camera. The red eye blinked on. Recording everything. Jason raised his head, tears clouding his eyes. Oh God, he was going to send this to Bruce. He’d rather send The Clown his decapitated head than this footage.

“Faster Harley,” ordered The Clown.

She did as her owner commanded and Jason’s body was convulsing. Her mouth was moving up and down his length. Jason’s heartbeat cracked against his chest. He cried harder. The nausea swelled. Then a bang of violent anger hit him, taking physical form. He saw it, a ghost standing by Harley, handguns lashed to his thighs. A shape with a red hood. He crouched by her shoulder as she sucked him harder and harder.

Jason wasn’t scared of the ghost and he wasn’t horrified when he heard those words.

Bite…

…her.

Inspiration had found him and he blinked through the haze. Jason tightened his fists, ignoring the pain in his body. He lurched forwards, kicking up his knees, loosening Harley’s mouth. He shoved his face into hers, clenching a clasp of flesh between his flesh. Harley shouted from the pain. She pushed at his shoulder but her moaning only enticed Jason more, he clenched down even harder, tasting copper.

The Clown found the pain of his muse incredibly amusing. He almost knocked the camera over he was laughing so much. Harley socked Jason in the throat, grabbing the crowbar parked by The Clown’s hip. Her teeth was clenched, a gaping cut streamed from her face, she was in a seething rage and she hammered it down against Jason’s head.

He lost consciousness after that and Jason was relieved. He could breathe again, that’s if he was still alive. From his grogginess, the ghost with the red hood watched him.

“This is going to get worse,” he said.

Jason was too exhausted to laugh. He was in emotionally induced head fuck. He must have induced more pain than any other person on the planet had faced. He just wanted it over.

The Batman stepped out from the darkness. Jason watched him, a tear falling down his face. He couldn’t believe he still had more after how much he had spilled. He was so confused he didn’t know what was real anymore.

“Kill me,” whispered Jason, Harley’s blood moistened his lips. “Please.”

The Batman’s eyes glowed red from beneath his coal black mask. The ghost with the red hood plunged something sharp into Jason’s chest. Everything broke that hasn’t been shattered was destroyed. Jason looked up, the ghost was no longer. He stood above himself, holding his own heart in his hand. He’d killed the final kind shard of his soul that was left.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was his fractured mind. The last thing he remembered, he was in his drudge of an apartment, he’d knocked back some cheap beers and the next he knew, he was back in Hell.

Jason walked around the corridors of Arkham Asylum, unsure of how he got there. He heard the rhythm of the boilers in the walls and his mind flashed to when he was strapped into that disgusting wheelchair when The Bat gatecrashed The Clown’s party.

Jason tightened his fists, turning into the corridor of the administration offices. He expected to be attacked by a delinquent crazy on the run. There was a flash of lightning and a deep rumble of thunder from outside. The rain hammered down, hitting off the windows. This wasn’t right, other than the groaning of the machinery, the hospital was strangely quiet. There was no screaming, or jeering from the guards. No batons smashed against the walls or tasers puncturing damp skin.

But something was there, walking along with him. A feeling, an energy of some kind. It caressed the back of his neck, like an invisible hand stroking underneath his shirt, trickling towards his navel.

Blood, grime and dirt stained the walls. Papers had been strewn over the floor. Chairs had been toppled over and the television screens on the walls fizzed with static, but there was no noise coming from them. As if the inmates had stormed the place. There was another flash of lightning from outside and the blueish white light blinded him for a moment.

He continued to walk, noticing that his breathing hitched in his throat and his heartbeat picked up a notch. That sensual energy in the atmosphere had infiltrated his blood. Jason didn’t understand and he felt disgusted. He shouldn’t have been feeling such arousal in a place that tormented him and hollowed him out.

Jason stopped walking and closed his eyes, his body tingling. His chest quaked and his fingers trembled, he was drunk on this intimate feeling, this strange, erotic electricity in the air. He listened to the rhythm of the building, breathing tentatively, the lightning flashed across his sight. His fingers roamed across his chest, stroking the deep grooves of his muscles. He breathed in, his palm brushing down the road of his stomach, his fingers tingled again. The buckle of his belt burned as his thumb teased the metal. Jason listened in harder, his arousal spiked. White and blue light glided against the insides of his skull and his fingers brushed the bulge of his jeans. His own touch caused him to harden. He breathed out, those pleasant sensations caressed the back of his neck again and his heartbeat jumped when he heard it.

Panting. Breathing. And it didn’t belong to him. Somebody else was here, entranced by the same erotic energy.

Jason’s hands fell back down to his sides and he opened his eyes. He felt drunk on whatever had seeped and poisoned the air. Then he wondered if it was all a joke, maybe Scarecrow was behind all of this, and something truly insidious was lurking behind the next corner. This was just the calm before the slaughter.

He followed the trace of the breathing, longing to release himself of these feelings but, the asylum really wasn’t for those private moments. Not in this place where he’d lost hope in everything and who he was.

The panting was getting louder, further down the corridor. It doubled and grew more sexual with each breath. Jason found the double doors which opened into the bowel of the asylum where the majority of the evil crazies were housed. The panting was coming from a wide grating in the wall. Jason peered into it like a window.

Inside, two shadows wrestled with one another. They were in an office with dusty tables and an old set of computers. Jason noted there was a no door, the shadows had been sealed inside.

One of them slammed the other against the table. Lightning filled the room momentarily, and Jason’s heart palpitated when he saw her green breasts and her red hair. Ivy laid on her back, sprawled across the table, moaning, that vine crown on her head, the first time he’d encountered her. Her pelvis was being pounded by the hips of a skinny figure, young, nineteen years old or perhaps younger, Jason wasn’t sure. He didn’t realise how frail he’d looked in that suit. He was so glad he didn’t have to wear that cage anymore.

Young Robin held onto Ivy’s legs which were draped over his shoulders. He rocked his pelvis back and forth, the table was wobbling with each sharp thrust, his cloak was shaking. Jason’s skin tingled again as he watched, his hands splayed up the walls, an instinct wanting to break in, and take her.

Young Robin was losing himself, his eyes were clamped shut and he cried out, falling forwards. Ivy orgasmed soon and she pushed Young Robin off her, drunk on their actions. His younger self knelt on the ground, regathering his strength.

Ivy turned to Jason, noticing that he’d been watching. His confidence and shame bubbled and she walked towards him, her walk was sultry. Young Robin looked up, noticing what she was doing and he glared angrily. Jason stepped back as Young Robin slammed her up against the grating, groping her body, biting into her neck. Ivy braced herself, placing her hands against either side of the grating. Young Robin fumbled with his shorts, wiping the sweat from his already perspiring face and she laughed as began thrusting into her again. She stared at Jason as his younger self pleasured her. He could’ve gotten lost in just watching them.

“I think they want to be alone,” the voice said.

Jason turned, balling his fist, ready to fight. His mind almost melted when he saw the small figure of Pamela Isley standing by the main doors. A white lab coat covered her body and her eyes drowned under thick old fashioned spectacles.

“What is this, Ivy?” Jason asked, indicating to the two passionate bodies in the sealed room.

“They’ve got a lot to work out,” Pamela answered, opening the main doors.

Jason hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Ivy and Young Robin were panting together, staring at him. He walked past Pamela, noticing that she wouldn’t look at him, as if she was too afraid to. The main doors closed behind Jason and he turned again, noticing that Pamela Isley had vanished.

Silence filled the space except the churning of the machinery lingering behind the walls. That sensual atmosphere was still following him and it had electrified Jason’s blood. He stared at the wall. Intensive Treatment.

He continued, noticing that the cells in the long corridor were empty, devoid of other people. His mind was carried back to those days where he drifted in out and of consciousness, his body transported to different parts of the asylum, kept in the darkness.

Jason exited and walked out into the courtyard, crossing the grass. It was so weird without guards patrolling the place. It was desolate. He preferred it. Rain stained his clothes and skin, trickling into his clothes, causing his breathing to hitch in his chest. His arousal was still strong. He longed to touch himself, to be rid of this lingering, sexual energy coursing through his body.

He stared up at the gothic exterior of the Arkham Mansion. A strong wind bellowed around him. It smacked his face, stroking under his clothes, fondling his groin. He stood rigid as statue to protect himself. Glancing down at the ground, a dirty newspaper flapped underneath his foot. Jason leaned down as the wind and rain dashed at him. It was an article reporting the harrowing of Robin, Batman’s sidekick. Jason let it drift from his fingers, the wind whirled it away, high into the sky.

Jason watched it drift and disappear. Rain kissed down his face and chest. His hands tingled, snaking down his navel again, sliding over the leather of his belt. His palm rested over his crotch and he gave it the tiniest squeeze. A small bite of pleasure echoed from his throat. Everything felt like it was in slow motion as the rain and wind cocooned him. Squeezing his crotch even harder this time, his other hand tickled back up to his chest, stroking the ridges of his hardened muscles. He slid his groping hand back down to his belt, delicately unbuckling. The belt gave way and he slid his hand into his underwear, gripping his swelling cock. More pleasure bloomed from his throat. 

A burst of lightning struck across the skies and it frightened his movements. Jason’s hands fell away from his body. On the top step leading up to the mansion was a crowbar, waiting for him. He picked it up and held it in his hand, he wasn’t used to seeing one so clean. He pushed through the doors, glaring at the black beetle symbol on the glass.

Thunder and lightning crackled above the large house. Jason walked through each room, keeping his pulse close on that feeling in the atmosphere. He turned into another room where he heard the distinct echo of crying. Jason tightened his fingers around the crowbar and he moved into corridor where he was…

A figure stood by the wall, leading off to the place where the Young Robin had died. His dark hair was spiked with sweat and a big purple bruise bloomed across his face. Young Robin stared at the wall, one hand splayed, keeping him steady. The other roamed in the shorts. Tears spilled from his eyes. He was staring longingly at newspaper cutouts of old pictures of Poison Ivy, when she’d first been arrested by Batman. Posing seductively for the camera. Young Robin tugged at himself, rubbing one out by the wall, his thin body trembling. His wrist rotated with the action and he grunted, grimacing from it.

Jason walked towards his younger self, shocked that he hadn’t noticed he was there. He stared at the metallic bars of the door and his heart palpitated again. This was where it all started, his demise, and his monstrous rebirth.

“Don’t go in there,” said Young Robin, who was still miserably masturbating by the wall, staring at the pictures.

Jason ignored him and pushed at the bars. They swung open and he remembered how frightened he used to be whenever he heard it. Was it The Clown coming to torment him next? Officer Boles? The Harlequin Whore? A crazy inmate with a lust for blood?

He walked down the steps, tapping the crowbar against the metal. In the centre of the room, was a video camera. It whirred on. Recording. In front of it, was a chair. The chair. That fucking chair. Blood had stained the fabric. Rusty nails stuck out of the back.

Two small cells stood next to each other. In one of them, the walls were scrawled with black and red drawings. Recounting his torment cycle. There was a bed and loads of ripped, tatty books.

The door was kicked open and Jason hid under the bed in the cell, he used to do this before. Didn’t work the second time around. They always found him.

“Get in here,” said the computerised, mechanical voice.

Green legs were followed by heavy, army metallic boots. Ivy was pushed onto the bed. Jason flinched as the bed bulged with the weight of The Arkham Knight, moving on top of her.

“Open your legs, Ivy.” The Arkham Knight breathed with arousal. “Hmmm. That’s good.” He smiled beneath his helmet. “I think you like this mask a tad too much. Don’t look so concerned, I’m just getting you ready.”

Ivy gasped as he unzipped himself, pushing into her. Jason laid there, the mattress bounced and they both began to moan. With one hand on the crowbar, Jason released the other and rubbed his hand roughly across his crotch, squeezing it. Light flutters of pleasure shuddered through him. The wires of the bed screeched from the motions. His erection had been aching since the offices. With his belt already unbuckled, Jason quietly unzipped his jeans. He spat into his hand and slid it into his pants. His throat burned. Pleasure bloomed from his navel and he pumped his hand, trying to keep his voice down. 

The Knight’s lower legs hung off the bed, rotating during the sex. His harsh breathing crackled through his helmet. Ivy moaned louder, her red hair dripped off the side, a green hand dropped off the edge, grasping on to the edge of the bed.

Jason stroked in time with The Knight’s thrusts, his eyes fluttering. He was beginning to pant heavily as the wet sounds from his fist got louder. He licked his dry lips, hungry for the sexual charge in the air. Terrified they were going to hear him, Jason stuffed some of his t-shirt in his mouth to stop him shouting out. The warmth pleasure bloomed within him as he touched himself. His arousal curdled. The Knight’s thrusts became more violent and so did Jason’s desire. He bucked into his hand, under the bed, imagining the intoxicating state Ivy must have been in under The Knight. He was climbing the ladder with them, his hand was starting to burn from sensations. Ivy’s body convulsed first and her orgasm exploded. Jason couldn’t control it and the sound of her voice made his moan leak from his throat, muffling into the material. Then The Knight followed.

Panting and breathing filled the room. Jason’s chest heaved as the orgasm dissipated and he squeezed himself. They must have heard him. The Knight’s helmet whirred, opening up and Jason heard him ravenously kissing Ivy. They panted against each other and their bodies jolted when the door creaked open, before slamming angrily to a close.

The Knight cursed and jumped off the bed, his helmet closed back over his face. Another entity was in the room. Jason stuffed his erection back into his trousers and held onto the crowbar with both hands. The Knight heaved Ivy off the bed and pushed her out of the cell, where that chair and the video camera were stationed. Jason shimmied out from under the bed, hiding.

The figure stood in the middle of the room, blood and water soaked his arms and legs. His suit was ripped and sodden. His slashed chest heaved with adrenaline. The cloak trailing after him was shredded. The R emblem had been ripped off, revealing bruised skin. The barbed wire that had been lashed around his chest and spine were sewn to him now. He carried and wore them like tattoos. The J mark was scarring his face. Jason felt it burn his cheek. Hanging from his fingers was a dripping severed head, the white stage makeup and red lips - a dead giveaway. The Clown’s face was contorted in pain.

“Shocked to see me, Ivy?” Tortured Jason threw the severed head of The Clown into the other cell, the one with the circular markings on the wall. The one that belonged to Amadeus Arkham.

She jumped as the lightning and thunder ricocheted off the roof, filling the room momentarily with that blue and white light. The Knight stood behind Ivy as she bashed into him. His arms were crossed over his chest, intimidating her.

“You’re mad…” she uttered, watching Tortured Jason. “Why are you mad?”

“We were just messing around,” The Knight said.

Tortured Jason looked at him. “I don’t give a fuck what you two were doing.” His gaze focused on Ivy again. “Tell me, what happens when you kiss a man?”

“Stop dancing with me,” Ivy said.

The Knight pulled his handgun from his holster and placed the nozzle by her head. “Answer the question.”

Ivy glanced momentarily at The Knight, she was frightened. “He dies…normally.”

“What about when you fuck a man?”

“He-He dies.”

“Interesting,” Tortured Jason said. “You knew I was having my heart out ripped every fucking day in this Hell hole and you did nothing. You didn’t tell a soul I was here. Not even giving me the courtesy of a kiss, to send me to meet my maker. I wanted to die, and you wouldn’t grant me even that grace.”

“I told you,” she said. “They kept me away.”

“I don’t care, I needed someone when I was here. I needed a friend. A kiss, or a fuck, doesn’t matter to me. You could’ve saved me from all of this.”

Ivy watched him, wincing from the The Knight’s grip.

“Well, I know what you can do.” Tortured Jason walked to the chair, the one he’d been tormented in and sat down on it. “Is the camera working?”

The Knight slotted his gun back in the holster and marched to the camera. “Seems okay.”

“Come to me,” Tortured Jason said.

Ivy walked forwards.

“No.” He pointed to the ground. “On your knees.”

Jason watched on, his heart pumping, nerves pooling in his gut. Ivy crouched on the floor. Her voluptuous body arched. Her buttocks grounded and her green skin seemed delectable. She slowly crawled towards Tortured Jason, their gazes burned into one another. The Knight held the camera, keeping the focus on her. Tortured Jason opened his legs, smirking at her, his pupils dilating. Ivy knelt in front of him, caressing him, delving her hand into his crotch.

Tortured Jason breathed in as she took him in her mouth. The rain pattered on from outside. He lolled his head back, panting lightly. Ivy sucked him loudly. Tortured Jason gripped the back of her head. “That’s it. That’s it.” He rolled his hips, bucking them into her wet mouth. He hissed inwardly, blinking, groaning lightly.

The Knight walked around them, focusing on Tortured Jason. He opened his eyes, smiling, doing the ‘thumbs-up’ sign at the camera. The Knight moved around the chair, keeping his focus on Ivy’s mouth. Her body moved back and forth with the slow motion. The Knight walked around the back of Ivy, resting one hand on her hip. The Knight knelt down, swapping the camera to his other hand and fiddled with his zipper again. He thrusted into Ivy and she arched her back, raising her head, crying out loudly.

Tortured Jason grabbed her head and sunk her mouth back onto him. “Keep going.”

Jason wrenched the crowbar in his hands and stepped out of the cell. He kept his tread light. He knew the weak points of the The Arkham Knight’s suit and where it would hurt.

“Fancy joining us?” Tortured Jason gasped, noticing his presence.

The surprise made Jason drop his crowbar. It clattered loudly but the noise did not interrupt them.

“Three’s better than two.”

“I don’t share,” said Jason. “And I wouldn’t treat her like this.”

“That’s a lie,” replied Tortured Jason. He panted heavily, continuing to buck his hips into her mouth. “This is all you think about when it comes to her.” Pleasure moaned out from his throat and closed his eyes, trying to compose his mind back to the rhythm. Tortured Jason resumed his gaze on Jason, Ivy’s head bobbing between his legs. “This, and death. It’s what drives you.”

The Knight watched the conversation, thrusting slowly into Ivy from behind. He breathed from his helmet, his breath crackling. He panned the camera to Jason who watched on. Ivy groaned, sucking harder. Tortured Jason’s thrusts hastened and he gritted his teeth, twisting his fingers into her hair. He bucked one last final time and came, shifting forwards in the chair. Ivy spat him out, wiping her mouth, grounding herself against The Knight. She looked up at Jason, her eyes were delirious, reaching for him.

Jason was frozen to the spot, unable to move. A force was stopping him. The Knight passed the camera to Jason as he finished inside her. Ivy dropped to the ground, panting from the exertion. He held the camera, he didn’t want this thing in his hand. Tortured Jason rose from the horrible chair. He grabbed Ivy and picked her up, carrying her to the wall. Jason followed with the camera and so did The Knight. Jason swallowed, sweat heating his skin, his arousal had reawakened.

Tortured Jason pulled Ivy’s leg over his hip, pushing himself into her. Ivy squirmed against the wall, and she grabbed Jason. The lightning flashed across his sight and he was standing back in the admin offices, standing in front of that grating again. He peered inside. His nineteen year old self was now naked, sitting astride, Ivy’s crowned head rose and fell in his lap.

Young Jason’s eyelids were heavy, blissfully tired and his flawless body was glistening with sweat. He noticed Jason was watching him and he gave him ‘thumbs-up.’ Ivy looked up from sucking him and glanced over her shoulder. She smirked darkly and Young Jason grabbed her head with agitation, pushing her mouth back down on to his shaft. His black gloves knotted in her hair. Young Jason breathed out again, euphoria spreading across his face. Then he motioned with his other hand at Jason. ‘Bye bye.’

Jason walked away, his heart thundering in his chest, heading back to the main entrance of the asylum. His mind felt splintered, yet his body wanted more and more of this, to bask and drown in these feelings.

He opened the doors and there she stood, her body in the tall grass. Statuesque, green eyed, in that red blouse and green underwear. “Did you find what you needed?”

Chapter Text

The red eye of the camera blinked on in the darkness. The tap of The Clown’s shoes bounced off the walls. Jason had been unrestrained this time. He was told to sit and that’s what he did. He’d played the hand and lost and now he was giving up. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t endure, not anymore.

A blur of purple and white powder swam around him. ”Have you got something to tell the nice man, Jason?

”My name is Jason Todd,” he said, letting the words trickle from his lips. The voice didn’t even sound like him anymore.

“Who do you hate?” 

“Batman.” 

“Excellent,” said The Clown. “Of course you do.” He leered in front of the camera. “Did you get that, Bats? Kid’s not yours anymore. He’s mine. Mine mine mine. To with as I wish.” The Clown walked away from the camera, towards Jason. “Hey, I never asked. Who is the Big Bad Bat? His name. Tell me.” 

”Of course, sir, it’s-“ 

Pain exploded in his chest, the bang from the gun sent him flying out of the chair. He didn’t even know The Clown was carrying, he must have stolen one of his pistols.

Jason lay on the filthy ground, blood, his life oozing out of his chest. He smiled to himself, welcoming it. He could finally sleep. 

Chapter Text

Harley Quinn checked on her precious cargo. They paced around their cells, their hair turning into that beautiful green she worshipped and loved so much. Time and the sickness was curdling in their veins, changing them for the better. Their skin was now chalky white, red smeared across their mouths, green peaking from the crowns of their scalps. Four pretend Jokers would not be able to replace the real one. She knew they weren’t Mister J, but it didn’t matter, preserving parts of his soul was paramount. And this way, she had more Jokers than she could handle. The more volatile, the better. Maybe they’d love her the way he did, even if meant bruising her face or cutting her lips. Locking her in a room, starving her till she learned her lesson. It love all round. It didn’t have to be like the movies.

This evening was too quiet for her liking and her henchmen, even when they were on their break made plenty of noise. Drinking on the job, listening to loud music, or playing poker, getting into fist fights with the winner of the game. Harley locked up the room with her precious cargo and decided to go investigate. She took a rifle with her, her high heeled boots clipped and clipped on the hard floor, humming a jovial nursery rhyme under her breath. Something the baby would have liked if the wretched Bat hadn’t beaten her to a pulp.

She should have known someone was spying on her. Her henchmen were on the ground, blood oozing from their chests. White hot pain ripped through her abdomen and her body flew through the air.

Harley coughed, landing hard on the ground, retching from the pain. She heard the crunch of heavy army boots echoing behind her. She looked up, the glaze of the red mask reflected against the light in the room. The figure yanked off the mask and she stared at a scarred ghost. It couldn’t be, not after everything. 

“I, I had to do it.” Harley shuffled backwards, shaking like a leaf, staring at the J shaped burn on his face. “I-I had to. Mister J woulda got mad if I didn’t do what he said.”

“Do you not have a fucking backbone?!” He pulled the gun from his hip holster and pushed it against her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger.

“Please, Robin!”

“Save the prayers, whore. You brought this on yourself.”

~

The whirling sounds of the police sirens spiralled off in the distance. It was like white noise to Poison Ivy, someone in Gotham was always in pain. Since the assault from Scarecrow and his men, Ivy had ramped up the security. She was still in mourning. Her plants had doubled. If any of the flesh bag humans even tried to roam in her gardens, their legs and arms would be torn apart from the large thorns.

Ivy’s children whispered to her, rousing her from her sleep. The vines carried her to the ground, pointing out there was someone here. Ivy traced the trail of her intruder. The scent was familiar, heartbroken and angry.

Strips of clothing were strewn across the floor. The vines flicked at them. Ivy walked, keeping her treading light. Spots of blood trickled. She heard the splashing from afar and raced to her lagoon.

More clothes had been stripped and larger splatters of blood painted her floors. There he stood, half his body submerged in the clear blue pool of her lagoon. He cupped his hands and poured the water over his head, closing his eyes, as if he was anointing himself.

Sleeping by the lagoon, Ivy saw the red mask. Blood had dried on it. Her memory flashed and she remembered the figure standing on top of the roof, rifle in his hand, the same red mask threatening her.

“I think your children are starting to like me,” he said, continuing to bathe himself, polluting the once crystal clear water. He turned to face her, water dripping from his thick black hair, it trickled into the grooves of muscled and scarred skin.

She confronted her plants. “Is this true?” They shivered, backing up, frightened of her. “Did you let him in?”

He chuckled darkly. “They trust me more than you do.”

Ivy faced him again, scanning the clothing and debris around the lagoon. “Whose blood is this, Jason?”

~

Commissioner Gordon rushed out of the police station when he got the call. One of the officers had already used the Bat signal. He drove to the crime scene, his mind on autopilot, not remembering most of the journey - he’d done it so many times.

Hoards of the press were already there, clicking away with their cameras, the flashing lights blinding him. Several officers held back the public, the commissioner dipped underneath the tape.

The bride of the infamous Joker had been strung up, her arms were out like Christ on the cross. Her yellowed pig tails darkened with her own blood, bullet holes riddled her body. A sign had been hung around her neck.

Gordon got the message, loud and clear.

WHORE.

Chapter Text

Death was supposed to be pleasant. Painless, easy - just like falling asleep. Instead, it was hard, and uncomfortable. Air leaked into his lungs and he swallowed, drinking in the air. His arms were submerged in grass and water. Jason squinted, hearing the swing and churn of the helicopter wings above his head. 

His broken mind shattered, noticing the blue and orange suit, grabbing his chest, yanking him from grass. The handgun was staring at him in the eye. He’d already been shot. The Clown had ended his life. Who was this new stranger? 

The suited man rolled him into the cockpit, slapping his face, bellowing at him to wake up. Jason coughed, trying to gather his bearings. He didn’t understand how he got here.

He was bleeding out on a dirty floor, now he was in a helicopter, being hauled away. He watched the wretched asylum shrink in the distance. He could finally breathe again.  

Chapter Text

The loud crackling of the thunder shuddered above his head, momentarily lighting up the room in that beautiful blue glow. Thick heavy rain pattered and smashed against the window. Jason shuddered and squinted, his legs burning as he stopped running, realising where he was. Back at the asylum, again.

Jason listened to the sounds of nature hidden by the walls of the rotting hospital. He picked himself up, resting his back against the main doors of the asylum, looking out onto the many spiralling corridors. This didn’t make sense. None of it did.

Last thing he remembered was being in Ivy’s lair, cleaning the clown bitch’s blood off his body. Ivy asked that question and the sound of the storm had brought him back here. Why here? Why now?

There he saw the blood, and the words, scrawled in his own hand.

BURN THE TRASH.

He breathed in and out, trying to get his breath back. He closed his eyes, hearing the slow churn of the boiler room, and the lack of the screams from the patients. In a bizarre way, it was strangely comforting. He breathed out as his rhythm resumed its normal pace. The lightning thundered around him again like an orchestral symphony. His trembling hands traced the dips of his pectoral muscles. He sighed heavily, his lips quivering, a sensation shuddered in his groin. That sensual energy had returned, floating in the air, waiting around the corner to wake up.

Jason gulped litres of it, wanting this strange energy to consume him. His hands roamed across his chest, stroking his ribs, touching, caressing. His fingers trickled down to his navel and past his belly button, where a different kind of warmth brewed below. His fingers twisted on his belt and he rocked his hips. Jason pulled his lips back over his teeth as an animal-like hiss escaped him. He palmed the inside of his leg and cupped the area around his crotch. Then this strong animal instinct slowly bucked into the empty space, brushing the ridges of his erection.

The moonlight from outside drifted through some of the broken windows, the shadows of the rain rippled, reflecting off his skin. Jason’s breath hitched in his chest. Unbuckling the belt of his jeans, unzipping his fly, his right hand slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts, the left hand caressed the space around his groin, burning against the material. Tingles of pleasure shot through him. His eager fingers slipped underneath the material of his shorts, brushing his already hardened shaft. His lower lip quivered again and slowly, he jerked his wrist in light, soft motions.

Maybe this was death, maybe Ivy had ended his life and it was all over for him. The Clown Bitch and Ivy were old friends, at times. Maybe after Jason confessed what violence he’d bestowed, the green woman had ordered her plants to rip him apart and he’d been fed to one of the large Venus flytraps.

Wanting to move more, Jason shimmied out of his jeans and his underwear, kicking them to the side. He spat into his hands, gasping out loud as he touched himself again. He rocked his hips into his aching hands, playing in the only way he knew how. The small orb of delight trickled into his pelvis. He continued to stroke and rub, enjoying the wet sounds pouring from his mouth and the way they blew through the corridors.

This reminded him of his rough days on the streets. Masturbation kept his head from spinning and falling into bottomless spaces of violence. He had to find dark, dank, empty places in Gotham to be alone where he wouldn’t be disturbed from homeless bum, or crazy crack addict. On the roof of an old apartment building coated by the dark, his words dripped in lust, rubbing one out, engulfed by the skyline of the city.

Jason pushed against the wall, his mind dancing, dreaming about celestial creatures touching and kissing him. His hands burned from the hectic movements. A moan dribbled from his throat. The thunder and lightning exploded above him like weapon fire, and it startled him from his erotic antics.

He opened his eyes, ceasing his self pleasure, noticing the words on the wall opposite him had changed.

TELL HER.

He read them hastily, momentarily confused. What did that mean?

Lying on the floor below the writing was his red and grey suit - the identity he’d been hiding from public life. Jason stripped off the rest of his clothes, sighing restlessly, revelling in the coldness caressing his naked flesh. He squeezed into the suit, zipping it up to the neck, breathing out with delight and frustration. His lean muscles relaxed underneath the armour and he stretched his arms, opening his throat. He spun around and delivered a mad kick to the air, loving the sound of his body in motion. Then he delivered several punches to the empty air, adoring the tightness and strength of his suit.

Jason stepped back, performing a full yoga stretch of his body. He caressed his face, loving the feel of the sleek gloves. The sensation trickled over his chin, snaking down and around the ring of his neck. Jason sighed, his fingers travelled along the slope of his chest. His hands stroked over his nipples as they hardened under the fabric. This suit was like his real skin.

His breath hitched in his throat as his hands continued to travel over his ribcage, inspecting his abdomen, not ignoring the stirring from below. Jason’s throat opened up and his gloved hands soared over his crotch, he rocked his hips up, grinding into his hand. A loud moan oozed from his throat, if somebody else was in the asylum, they would’ve heard that. Unable to shake off the pleasure, he performed the act again, streaking his hands down his chest, grinding his body onto his manhood. Then he did it a third time, panting louder.

On the fourth, his palms rested on top of the strained bulge that was his crotch. Breathing loudly, his body clamming under the suit, he listened to the voices of the asylum, standing in that position, showered in the moonlight. He breathed in the energy, feeling his body shudder. Heat. That’s what Jason could feel. He squeezed and rubbed his shaft repeatedly, and very slowly through the suit, drawing out the sensation.

That was when he heard it.

Jason…

Her voice. The sexual panting and heavy breathing from before, and, it wasn’t coming from him. His head snapped up, still stroking himself, but he was lost in the rhythm. 

A small smile curved at the corner of his mouth, moving to the wall in front of him, he pushed up against it. Jason imagined her legs wrapped around his waist, burying himself inside her. He moaned against the wall, his neck arching from the pleasure. Power. This time, he pushed, squeezing even harder, rotating, rocking his hips, causing his eyes to scrunch up. Death. He pushed his crotch deep into his hand, feeling the pain, applying pressure with the other and a very loud groan whirled from his throat - it echoed around the empty building.

Jason…

More wild arousal spiked in his blood and he staggered from the wall, kicking over debris in the corridor racing to the administration offices, quietly cursing. He wasn’t satisfied. 

Jason found the grating from when he was before. And there they were, in the sealed room, locked in for eternity. Poison Ivy was lying naked on her back, her eyelids fluttered from the shadow devouring her stomach. Young Robin smothered the green skinned goddess with sloppy kisses, covering her body, their skin glistened. Ivy’s eyes opened, staring straight at Jason, his heartbeat performed a double jig. She grabbed Young Robin and rolled him onto his back, straddling him.

A clean cut smile glimmered across her face as she lowered herself, sliding onto Young Robin’s slick and hard length. Ivy rolled and contorted her body and began to rock back and forth, making love to his teenage self. Jealously formed in Jason’s gut. His younger self grabbed Ivy’s hips greedily, guiding her further down onto him. They both gasped in unionism and proceeded to gyrate and rut against one another.

Arousal transformed into anger and swelled within Jason. He wanted to smash the walls down and take her for himself. The blue flash of lightning jolted above his head, imprinting more scrawled letters on the wall.

SAY MY NAME.

Jason moved away from the grating, taking in the words. What did this all mean?

He pushed open the doors and his senses were engulfed with fruitful scent of flowers and freshly mown grass. He now stood in the exercise field or the lunch room. He wasn’t sure anymore. After a while, these sated, disgusting rooms all looked the same. The difference this time was the reemergence of the mousey Pamela Isley. She was busy working away at a long table smothered in different plants. Beside her were three tanks, each filled with a different red headed woman. Jason’s boots made a loud, distinct crunch on the floor and Pamela didn’t even flinch. She walked out from behind the table, clutching a clipboard.

“Is this what men and women want when they see me?” Pamela asked, gazing at the tanks, solemnly scribbling numbers. “Is this all they seek?”

Jason walked beside her, fascinated, the human Ivy was so much smaller than he was. In the first tank, the Ivy he knew as an adolescent, fiercely beautiful and confident. Her hourglass figure trapped in that green corset she used to wear and that crown of vines and thorns perched on top of her head. Deadly, and sexy, a concept Jason could never shake from his head. In the second tank, Ivy was riddled with the toxins of the Titan virus. Her eyes glowed a fiery red and her twisted form, she was in agony. And then there was the third, the one he’d been most familiar with of late, standing in her red blouse, that flower in her hair and those vine tattoos mottled across her arms and legs.

“You don’t have to be here,” said Jason, touching Pamela’s shoulder.

She turned, relaxing under his gloved hand. “Your journey’s not over.” She pointed to the writing on the wall.

SANITY OR INSANITY?

The doors next to them had been sealed. The only way was up - in the vents, the veins of the asylum.

“Come with me, Pamela,” Jason whispered.

She shook her head. “It’s not my time, not yet.”

He walked away from her and she returned to her plant filled desk, resuming her work. Jason stared at the vents, he didn’t have a choice. He pulled his weight up and climbed, pushing into the wide air vent. He didn’t know where to go, so he followed his instinct, wherever that was. He crawled on all fours, his breath shuddering, his skin tingling.

He followed the electric current in the air that was driving him mad. That erotic sensuality encapsulated him, like several hands reaching under his suit and fondling him. He crawled further, hearing the constant rain fall and the drumming of the thunder storm wreaking havoc outside. Pleasure bloomed inside his groin and he moaned, falling onto his back, panting from the exertion and arousal.

Jason unzipped his suit, right down past his belt. He fondled his pale chest. He couldn’t keep his hands off his body. His groin stirred, wanting to be relieved of this different kind of torment. Every touch he applied to his body sent small bolts of pleasure. Jason palmed his crotch, rotating his hips, longing for that release. He rubbed deeply and with determination, gyrating into his hand, applying pressure, biting his lip.

His body was clammy in the suit and he heard the way his own voice reverberated off the walls of the vent. He was so hard it was beginning to hurt. He had to release himself, even if it was in the humid vent. He could survive in here, he was planning on hiding in here anyway, when this place was harsher than Hell.

He gripped his shaft which was now slick with his own arousal, a hiss spilled from his lips. He stroked up and down, building up the friction, bucking his pelvis, whilst the other caressed his chest muscles - imagining it was someone else touching him. Longing for it to be the green woman. He rotated his hips, squeezing himself, wondering if Young Robin and Ivy back at the admin offices could hear his passion through the vents. Jason moaned loudly, the thought of them turned on by the sound of his own self pleasure. His blood electrified. He raced with the rhythm, applying pressure to his groin and the warmth pooled around his abdomen.

White light spilled across his vision, and suddenly he was no longer in the asylum. He was outside. The rain was lashing at him, his hands were gripped on the handle bars of a motorcycle. A pair of arms gripped his waist and cars and buses zoomed past him.

The light burst across his vision again and then he was back in the vent, moaning and convulsing. What on earth was that?

The hand had been groping his chest was now pressed against the side of the vent, keeping him steady as he upped the speed on his groin. His back twisted as he panted, his body filling with delight. He moaned again and again, pumping his hand harder and he swore he heard Ivy’s orgasm explode from the admin offices.

Jason…

He pulled his head up, breathing heavily, wishing her head was between his legs, continuing to masturbate, almost coming at the sound of her voice. He closed his eyes, concerntrating on the direction of where it had come from.

Come and find me…

His stomach muscles lurched. His animal instincts screamed and he ceased what he was doing, growling under his breath, wanting to smash his fist into the side of the vent. He listened in harder, panting from the exertion and that was when he heard her, and the others.

Three different ripples of pleasure echoed over his shoulder. Two masculine, one grittier than the other, then there was the feminine one. Then, he heard the tiniest echo of a cry, a whimper of pure despair.

Come, and find me, Jason…

He rolled over, squirming. He moved quickly on his hands and knees, desperate sighs leaking out of his throat. He mapped the asylum in his head, moving deeper, curling round spaces and bends. The whimpering got louder and louder, but off in the distance, he heard those three sounds, and they were highly sexual in their levels.

Jason arrived at a room, one he’d rather have forgotten about, it was small, narrow, uncomfortable. On the walls were messy black and red drawings, spelling out his torture. He looked down and saw himself, curled in a ball, whimpering in agony. He already had a name for him: Lonely Jason.

The door of the room unlocked. The light bounced off Lonely Jason, revealing the state of his face. Bruised, battered and broken. In she strolled, those gorgeous hips swinging. Lonely Jason uncoiled his body as she sat down next to him, terrified for just a moment, then something in his eyes changed, he felt comforted.

Jason watched from the vent, kneeling on all fours, slipping his hand back into the lower half of his suit, teasing his erection. Ivy leaned down and engulfed Lonely Jason in a deep kiss. Jason’s breath was hitched again as they drank each other and he shuddered as the kiss broke. Lonely Jason gazed at her longingly, wanting another. Instead, Ivy kissed around the hill of his neck and her mouth trickled down his chest.

The green goddess ripped at Lonely Jason’s shredded suit. She hovered over him, pushing her underwear to one side. Jason licked his lips, stroking sweat out of his face, clutching at his chest, flicking his own nipple. His belly ached from the amount of times he’d edged himself. Ivy sunk down onto Lonely Jason’s frail, shaking frame, curling her hips back and forth. He heard Lonely Jason’s throat open and the power of his anguish. It touched every corner of the asylum, awakening every good and bad memory he ever had.

The lightning momentarily filled the vent in that distinct blue light. That strange, erotic electricity filled him up again. Ivy began to ride his other self. She grounded her pelvis, meeting Lonely Jason’s timid thrusts.

Whimpering from the vents, Jason pumped his hips into his hands, stroking up and down his shaft, gyrating his bones against the warm metal floor. Pleasure bloomed, stirring in his loins. Ivy arched her back, exposing her beautiful breasts. Jason panted, swearing and stammering, wishing his tongue was swirling around her nipples. Trying to map his pleasure with the way she moved, Jason pumped his hand, rougher this time, he was losing himself, finally.

She arched her back, leaning back, her hands swirling into her hair. Lonely Jason’s voice rounded on her name. Green specks gleamed on Lonely Jason’s mouth as he panted and shuddered beneath Ivy. Ivy arched her back again, her mouth parting, staring down at Lonely Jason. He breathed in for the final time.

The light escaped Lonely Jason’s eyes. Jason watched as his body hardened. The pleasure exploded out of his body, trickling out of his suit, making a mess on the floor of the vent which was suddenly washed with the blue glow of the lightning.

What a beautiful, magnificent way to leave this earth. Ivy slid off Lonely Jason, who was no longer breathing. She’d given him the sweet gift of death. A shiver stroked down her spine and she looked up to the vent and stared straight at Jason, who was trying to regain his composure.

I told you to come and find me…

Her voice caressed the back of his neck and she smirked at him. His heartbeat jumped. He was swallowed by silence. She knew he’d been watching the whole time.

Ivy walked out of the room and the door closed behind her, eclipsing the space in the familiar darkness. Jason was left alone with his dead self. Emotion surged and he hated himself at that moment. He pulled up the zipper of his suit right back to his neck and continued to crawl through the vents. Why did his mind like to torment him with such a labyrinth of secrets? Why did it drag him to these depths and dangle fruit right in front of him?

He headed towards the courtyard. He grabbed the batarang from his hip and kicked at the vent. Jason’s hard army boots slammed against the grating and the nails came free. The rain hailed down outside. Jason saw the gothic exterior of the Arkham Mansion. He shot the batarang and glided across to the other building. Jason yanked at the other grating and slid into the vent. His boots made a loud banging sound when he landed. He heard the churning of the fans in the ceiling and the whoosh of the air conditioners. Off in the distance, he heard their voices. His mood deepened and darkened, and he followed the sounds like a bloodhound sniffing out his prey.

Just like before, he saw the three of them, in that fucking room, the place that broke him. Sliced him right down the middle, and hollowed him out.

Tortured Jason leant over Ivy, she was resting against the back of the chair, gripping the frame. That fucking chair. The Arkham Knight stood behind the video camera, recording them. Tortured Jason bucked against Ivy, thrusting inside of her, grabbing the back of her hair, staring into the camera.

Disgust stirred in Jason’s stomach. He hated this. They were using her. The Knight turned, sensing his heartbeat, and aimed his gun at the ceiling, where Jason was hiding. The bullet fired and the thick wire ejected from the weapon. The hooks smacked into the concrete. The Knight pulled on the wire and Jason cursed as the vent gave way. He felt his body falling, debris reigned in around him.

Tortured Jason released Ivy from the chair, panting from the sex. “You didn’t have to spy on us.”

“Fuck you,” Jason spat back, grimacing from the pain in his back.

The Knight stomped over to Jason, picking him up from the ground. Jason’s body swung. The Knight shoved him in the horrible chair. “And who are you?” The Knight pulled off Jason’s red mask. “Oh look, he’s got another disguise.”

Tortured Jason walked over to the cell, where the severed head of The Clown had been thrown into. “Why do you keep reinventing yourself?” He started to urinate, it spilled on the head which was now rotting. “You’re going to send us insane, then we’ll end up back here for real.” Tortured Jason shook his legs and zipped up, turning to face him. “Seriously… Robin. Jason Todd. The Arkham Knight, and now this get-up. What do you call it?”

“Red Hood,” Jason hissed, glaring at him.

The Knight chuckled. “Always trying to fucking hide. When you should be kicking the fucking front door down.”

“Not sure about the grey and red combination,” Tortured Jason said. “Black’s always been our shade, it goes way deeper than clothes.”

Jason looked over at Ivy who was standing by the video camera. “What the fuck is this?”

The Knight grabbed Jason, pinning him to the chair.

“Get the fuck off me!” bellowed Jason, kicking his foot and smacking it into The Knight’s helmet. He jumped out of his seat and they started to fight.

Tortured Jason walked over to Ivy. He whispered in her ear, caressing her shoulder, sweet talking her. Jason smashed his fist into The Knight’s mask, shattering it slightly. The Knight grabbed Jason by the throat, pulling his arm behind his back and hauled him to the chair. Jason thrashed and screamed.

Tortured Jason stood behind the camera. “Do you really have to yell like that?”

“Tell me what the fuck is going on?” Jason glared at him, feeling blood drip from his nose where he’d been hit.

“Ivy, it’s your turn.”

Jason struggled against The Knight, his gaze falling on the green skinned goddess. She walked towards him in that sultry way and knelt in front of him.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jason asked, his voice a whisper. “You wouldn’t let men use you!”

Ivy splayed her hand along his inner leg, parting his trembling knees.

“Please don’t do this,” he uttered, remembering what had happened last time a girl was on her knees in front of him. “You’re not like that.” He pushed his fingers under her chin, and their eyes met.

That white light from the vents flashed across his eyes. Ivy was on her back, bucking against his bones. She was lying against some sort of black metal, staring up at him, her eyes drunk with lust. Jason’s body was pinned to hers, his erection submerged inside her vagina. One of his hands was around her throat. He held her legs as they wrapped around him and they were moaning against one another.

The white light flashed again, and Jason shook his head staring at The Knight and Tortured Jason. “What the fuck is going on?! Did one of you drug me?!”

“What do you think this is, Jason?” said Ivy.

He looked at her. “I don’t know, but I don’t want you, not in this way, and not with these guys.”

“Liar,” Tortured Jason snapped.

Jason leaned down down and whispered to Ivy. “Stay low.”

She smirked, lowering her body to the ground. Jason shunted his elbow into the The Knights groin, breaking away from him. He leapt like a gazelle, slamming his fist into Tortured Jason’s face. Jason grabbed Ivy, pulling her up the stairs and into the next corridor.

Jason heard the roar of anger from Tortured Jason and that was when the chase began. The couple legged down the corridors of the Arkham Mansion. The booming shuddered and he heard the vibrations of The Knight running after them, those weighted boots could make a racket.

Jason kicked at the main doors of the mansion, yanking on Ivy’s hand. The rain hailed at them, they crossed the courtyard. Jason pulled Ivy into one of the alcoves that was small and tight. Their bodies were pushed against one other. Over in the distance, he could hear the explosive rage from Tortured Jason, bellowing at him, ordering for him to return Ivy to them. He looked at her, as if she was their own play thing.

That was when that energy stirred in his blood again. He stared at Ivy and she reciprocated with a breathless smile. Jason mashed his mouth against hers, he held her head as he ravaged her with his tongue. Ivy groaned from the kiss, her fingers gripping the soil and grass around them. Jason’s gloved hands roamed her hour glass figure, sliding between her legs. She bucked against him and he unzipped the lower half of his suit. He managed to nudge between her legs, anchoring her body and he pushed into her. They gasped at the same time and Jason started to thrust his hips as fast as he could. He closed his eyes, she was so tight and wet. He wanted to drown.

Rain-droplets slid off his suit, dampening Ivy’s hair. Jason heard the windows smashing from a far, Tortured Jason was breaking them out of anger. Ivy bucked against him, his shaft slipped in and out of her. Jason pushed his forehead against Ivy’s, and they shuddered against one another, over and over again. Every time he thrusted into her, he grabbed her hip, squeezing her muscles.

“Look at me,” Jason whispered.

Her vibrant green eyes opened and her lips parted. Pleasure played them both, surging around them. It gripped their souls. He should have known they didn’t have long together, and he saw the large reflection in her eyes.

“There you are!” The Knight bellowed.

Jason felt his body leave the ground and away from Ivy. He was thrown into the air. His body hurtled through cement and glass, his body skidded against the floor and he looked up, he was back at the main entrance of the asylum, near the admin offices.

“Not so fast,” Tortured Jason said, walking down the corridor towards him.

“What the fuck is this?” Jason growled. “How did I get back here?!”

Behind Tortured Jason, The Knight walked with Ivy, holding her arm. The frightening thing was, she had a playful smile on her face, as if she’d enjoyed being caught. The Knight turned to her, pushing her up against the wall, and began to grope her body. He squeezed her breasts, sliding his fingers between her legs. She moved against his hands, panting against him.

“This one isn’t yours,” said Tortured Jason.

Jason pushed past and pulled Ivy from The Knight. He grabbed her head, forcing her to focus. “Come with me, Pamela. I don’t want you in this place.”

She smiled deliriously, stroking her mouth against his. “I like it here.” She pushed her hand into his crotch, stroking his zipper. “It’s fun.”

The Knight laughed darkly underneath his helmet. He grabbed her again and hauled her over his shoulder, smacking her behind. He walked past Jason and down the opposing corridor which led to the other parts of the asylum. The Knight kicked open the doors. Ivy waved over his shoulder.

Tortured Jason smirked at him. “Have you learnt anything yet?” They heard Ivy and The Knight’s pleasure from behind the doors. Tortured Jason walked towards the door. “We’ve got plenty of places to see and anoint. This is my area, go and find your own playground.”

Jason…

He turned to the main doors, incredibly confused and defeated. Jason pushed at the doors and stepped outside. Fresh air and rainwater instantly filled his lungs, he coughed abruptly as if he’d been suffocated.

“Jason?” Ivy asked, stepping off his motorcycle that was parked up in the car park. The front lights were still on.

She stood tall and beautiful as always, her head was concealed in a cloak of brown, green and yellow leaves, and her red hair draped from it. “You said you wanted to show me something.”

Jason stared at her, noticing the outsides of the asylum were now covered in vines, and foliage. “How did we get here?”

Chapter Text

A family of bats flickered through the Batcave, momentarily distracting Bruce Wayne from his work. His gaze raced back to the screen. Bruce’s large hands tapped on the keyboard, the coordinates and collaborations for the Batmobile fizzed onto the screen.

A tickle brushed the back of his throat and he coughed, trying hard not to think about what Joker had injected into him. The vile clown’s final farewell before he took his life - a loving hug wrapped in barbed wire.

Alfred worked on the station next to him, he was the only one who knew about his begrudging ailment. But his sickness had to wait, his city was in trouble and he didn’t want Gotham choking on that fear toxin Scarecrow was waving around.

Bruce was distracted again when his butler’s spine suddenly stiffened and his face turned ashen, and he was already a pale guy anyway.

“Alfred?” Bruce asked with concern.

Alfred was a pretty unshockable person. He was brilliant at keeping his professional mask on when the whole world was. Bruce had been sent back purple and bruised, on the verge of breaking down, almost in pieces and he still managed to hold it together. Yet, whatever he'd watched, had disturbed him.

"Alfred?" said Bruce more forcefully.

“My apologies, Sir. I've just witnessed some surveillance in regards to Miss Ivy and... The Arkham Knight."

His heart could have done a leap. He hadn't found anything on that character since their face-to-face encounter. The Knight had shown remarkable knowledge about Bruce's suit. The armour and the weakness points. He had training, and some sort of grudge. Bruce's intital thoughts was that it had to be one of the many criminals. Oracle and Alfred checked every single convict, but nothing was coming up on their radars.

"It's rather intimate in nature, Sir."

Bruce looked at him incredously. "Show me."

"This intimacy takes place on top of your Batmobile. Oracle managed to hack into one of the CCTV cameras whilst you were out on one of your patrols."

If Bruce was an actual bat, his sonar would be ringing and rattling.

Alfred clicked a button on the station and removed himself from the space, heading back up to the manor.

Bruce turned back to his work station. The video was ready on his desktop. He opened it up, noticing the grainy exterior of his car. He clicked the play button, widening the video so it filled the screen.

There was no sound. The rain lashed down. He'd made sure to keep his girl out of the ever-changing elements.

Out from the left hand side of the screen, The Knight dragged Poison Ivy into the middle of the camera shot. She was wearing a long cloak made from leaves. Her red hair spilled out of the sides. Always a seductive beauty, but this time she seemed different. Something had changed.

They were arguing. The Knight pointed to the bonnet of the Batmobile. Ivy shook her head and was about to walk off when The Knight grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. His helmet opened up and he pulled her into a kiss.

Bruce's eyebrows rose in quiet shock. "Alfred wasn't wrong about intimacy."

He tried to zoom in to The Knight's face but with the struggling from their kiss, he couldn't get a proper look.

The Knight pushed Ivy onto the batmobile, winding her legs around him.

"Jesus..."

Lucius Fox had installed an outer layer of protection so if anyone tried to tamper with her. Plenty of drunken revellers had tried to take selfies with his batmobile. One touch of his car and they got zapped. A silly woman with the hots for the Bats tried to do a semi-naked strip tease on his car and she got the biggest shock of her lap.

The Knight and Ivy were now having rough sex on top of the batmobile, seemingly bypassing Fox's electric tricks. Bruce zoomed in to Ivy's face. Her skin was flushed. Her lips swollen. Her eyes... drunk.

Mist gleamed on The Knight's bizarre computerised helmet as he thrusted in and out of her. Then his hand slid up her chest, grabbing her throat.

Why wasn't she fighting back? Why on earth was The Knight still alive?

He'd kissed her bare lips and hadn't grown green with poison, succumbing to her power.

The Knight's hip thrusted quickened and tightened. Ivy's face became more animated as she orgasmed against him.

The Knight rested against her as his body shook with the aftermath. He released the grip on her throat before turning to the CCTV.

Bruce frowned as The Knight flicked his middle finger up at the camera up, right at him. Ivy panted heavily, her head falling to the side. The Knight grabbed his handgun from his holster. The screen fizzled from the shot, ending the bizarre transmission.

Bruce sat back for a moment, absorbing what he'd just seen. Oracle’s picture flashed on the screen and he clicked the video icon.

“Did you watch it?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she said, curling a lock behind her ear. "Not the type of video I'd ever think I'd be discussing with you."

"Likewise. This isn't like Ivy at all," Bruce said.

Oracle nodded. "Exactly. Something's deeply wrong with her. She's been a hermit eversince the asylum went down. She doesn't have the best relationship with Scarecrow. Their hatred of one another goes way back. Why would she cozy up with an associate of his?"

"The Knight didn't die after their kiss, maybe he knows her weakness," Bruce replied. "Perhaps he cracked her secret..."

"So instead of blackmail for money, it's blackmail for sex?"

"Potentially."

Oracle shook her head, adjusting her onyx glasses. "There's something more going on. She was enjoying the act. I could tell. Ivy normally has no interest in sex or intimacy of any kind. Not even of the mind. Men and women don't excite her. She uses both for her gain, to preserve and protect her family of plants. But that's it. We're fleshbags to her, nothing more."

Bruce nodded, listening to her.

"This seems all too coincidental. Harley found dead and now this. I don't like it, Bruce. We could be dealing with way more than what we know. You need to find Ivy, and you need to find her fast."

"I'm heading out to the Botanical Gardens. There was a reported fire near there a few nights ago."

"Good." Oracle smiled, but it was only brief.

"Barbara, are you alright?" Bruce asked.

Oracle glanced over her shoulder, looking momentarily anxious. "I'm getting a weird vibe that I'm being watched. Don't know. Maybe it's just me. You know, anniversary of you-know-what."

"Stay strong. We'll figure this out."

She smiled again but it was still only brief. "I will. Going to sign off. Call me if you make contact with Ivy."

"I will."

Her video was cut off and Bruce closed it down. He locked his work station, rising from his desk. Barbara didn't know about his sickness or how it come to pass. It wasn't the right time.

Bruce got to his feet and raced to the section of the Batcave to retrieve his suit.

Chapter Text

Since Ivy had taken that Titan injection and dealing with her defeat against Batman, she knew she hadn’t recovered. Not properly. Ivy stared at the pale, resurrected face of Jason Todd who should have been lying under the ground. She walked behind him as he searched through the admin offices, noticing how erratic he’d become since showing up at her domain, covered in blood. Outside in the rain, he claimed he couldn’t remember how they got to the rundown asylum, or the ride on his motorcycle, and even the rampant sex on top of Batman’s car. This glorious maimed young man truly was damaged, in every way possible.

“I’ve been having some pretty fucked up dreams lately, all of them involving you,” said Jason. He was watching Ivy, as she turned her back, not looking at him. He pulled an object out from one of the drawers and slid it into one of deep pockets of his commando pants, zipping it up.

“What are we doing here, Jason?” Ivy asked tiredly.

“I know what Dr Woodrue did to you,” said Jason.

That name made her stop walking and she turned slowly, facing him again. “Everyone knows about my history, darling. Gotham press wrote enough.”

“I did proper work. The type investigative journalists frown upon, especially if it meant breaking a few fingers to obtain it. Young Dr Pamela Isley, all straight As in academics. No detentions recorded. Always with an apple and orange in her pretty ivy green lunchbox. I saw your highschool pictures. You were cute, love those thick wedged glasses, you had a slight overbite too. I really do have a thing for redheads. Geek clique … I would’ve fucked you.”

“And what else do you think you know about my old self?” Ivy asked, rather bitterly.

“You hate Scarecrow because he knew Woodrue was poisoning you, and he didn’t report him.”

Silence and tension spiralled between them as they stared at each other.

Jason swallowed, as if he was delivering terrible news. The Arkham Knight’s helmet swung off his hip. “And adding injury to insult as the Brits say, Woodrue told him to use you to test his fear toxin. You never said a bad word to anyone, never got a trouble, you were the best test subject.”

For the first time in Ivy’s new life, which had been going on for a very long time, her heart palpitated, in shock.

“The reason I know this is because I found the logs. Woodrue documented your rashes, you just thought you were having an allergic reaction to one of your lab plants, then you were feeling paranoid, having terrible nightmares, feeling unstable. Crane’s serum in its early stages. You thought he was a friend. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Somebody should’ve been around to protect you.”

Ivy smirked, not enjoying the pity in her eyes. “Fly away, you damaged little thing, before it’s too late.”

Jason growled and slammed her up against the wall. Off in the distance, Ivy heard her children hiss. Using one arm, Jason pinned her, whilst the other slammed very close by her head, just missing her cheekbone. Ivy knew he’d done it to scare her, and to make a point.

“Don’t you fucking patronise me,” Jason hissed.

“Temper, temper. I can smell the adrenaline in your blood.”

“I may be fucked up, but so are you.” Jason released his arm that was by her head, his palm dripping to the inside of her thighs. Ivy sighed. “I’m the only one who can get you off, and you know it. You’re just too much of a bitch to admit it.” Jason slid his fingers inside Ivy and his gaze darkened as she moaned from his touch. “See? You’re wet,” said Jason, smiling with satisfaction. “Your eyes get greener when you lose yourself. Did you know that?”

Ivy struggled against him as his gloved fingers swirled against her clit. Jason pumped his hand, watching her. She jolted with pleasure, squirming against the wall, not realising that she was gyrating against his fingers.

“You’re going to follow me, and listen to my story.” Jason crushed his forehead against hers, pulling out his fingers. Ivy whined, wanting him to continue. She struggled and he pulled her into a frantic kiss. Ivy panted as the hood of her cloak fell away from her luscious red curls. Their tongues swirled and their breaths rasped against one another. Jason bunched his hands into her hair, then he yanked his mouth away from her hungry lips. “Only when I’m finished, then you can come.”

“You don’t control me, Robin,” said Ivy.

Jason smiled, showing all of teeth. “I know I don’t, but you certainly like letting me.”

“What do you think this is?” Ivy gasped for breath. “That you’ll move into my home, slide a gold ring on my finger, wear my surname and we’ll have a litter of little green babies?”

His eyes darkened and he seized her by the throat. Ivy seized his fingers from around her neck. Something in his gaze screamed,and he slammed her back onto the opposing table. Jason glared at her, grinding his pelvis against her crotch. Ivy panted underneath him as he released the grip on her neck. Jason rocked against her, giving her space to breathe and pant, wanting her body to become animated.

“I’m sorry,” Jason sighed, releasing her neck, his face contorting in desperation. For a moment, Ivy thought the tortured young man was going to cry. “I need you, Ivy, and you need me. You’re the only person who understands what it’s like to be reborn and play the cards that you hadn’t dealt.”

~

Not trusting himself or his rocky desires, Jason pulled Ivy away from the admin offices and back to the main floor. They stood outside the main lift of the asylum. Jason pressed a button and it whirled to life. He smirked, noticing her vexed expression. “Relax, Scarecrow isn’t here. He packed his things and moved else where, keeps travelling around, so The Bat doesn’t drop in unannounced.”

The doors opened and they stepped inside. The lift shuddered as the doors closed and it started to lower quietly. Arkham Asylum had long been neglected so the gears were shoddy and awkward. They didn’t speak for several rickety minutes, Jason allowed the time to observe his companion, slipping out something from his commando pockets.

“You really are beautiful…”

Before Ivy could respond, a burst of white light snapped from the object in his hand.

Her green eyes found his, and they pierced his core. “Funny, I thought I was a bitch.” She indicated to the disposable camera in his hand. “What’s that for? Is your murky memory not enough?”

Jason wound up the the dial. “It’s my insurance policy. I’m about to tell you my story, and I don’t want you gossiping to the Gotham City Gazette.“

“And why on earth would why I even remotely want to do that, sweetheart? Why would I be interested in telling anyone your story?”

Sweetheart. She was playing with him. “Oh, come on, Ivy. Playboy tried to get you at one point, agreed to pay for a big reservation for your children, only if you posed nude for them. I heard you went through with the deal.”

“I nearly did. They wanted my body, I wanted a safe haven, then a chubby man choking on a cigar came to my gardens and lied straight to my face, just to lure me in. So I fed him to my Venus flytraps. Playboy didn’t get in contact after that.”

“Clever girl.” The lift rocked, and the dry, rusty gears made Jason’s ears ache. “I wasn’t Batman’s first sidekick you know,” he started.

Ivy nodded tentatively. “I remember the energetic Dick Grayson well.”

“He decided to take a hike. Go and nurture another city. I was raised in the slums of Gotham, forced to be violent so I could survive. My mom was a drug addict, snorted away her short life on crack and my dad was a petty criminal, ended up in prison, fucker probably died in there.”

“How sad…”

Jason watched her, a nerve twitched in his jaw. “As a filthy kid on the streets fishing for scraps, I started to realise that stealing parts from cars made money, so whist he was on patrol, I tried to steal the Batman’s tyres. Must have felt pity for me seeing this skinny washed up kid. He must have seen me as a good eye for what it was like on the other side. I was the living embodiment of the term: street-smarts.”

The lift’s gears whirred loudly and the carriage trembled, finishing its dark descent.

Suddenly gripped by longing, Jason walked over to Ivy, kissing her deeply against the wall. She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck, responding with just as much passion. Jason groped her thigh, his mouth ravaged her neck as they swung in the dark. From his hand, Jason positioned the camera and snapped a picture. The light momentarily filled the carriage as Ivy panted, watching his mouth work on her green mottled skin. Jason unbuttoned her red blouse, letting her full green breasts ease out. His mouth devoured her nipples. She whimpered as the carriage swayed.

Jason seized her hips, twirling her around, pushing her up against the wall. He leaned into Ivy, fondling her body, grinding his crotch against the curves of her buttocks. The glowing pleasure was blooming between her legs as her vagina was tightening from the stimulation, longing for a release. Jason’s erection was already aching, but he was going to give it to her, not yet.

“We better go,” Jason rasped against her ear.

The lift had stopped halfway through the floors so they had to slide their way onto the floor below. On his shoulder, Jason clicked on the flashlight. Not very strong, but at least they could see a couple of feet in front of them. Skeletons of staff and patients still remained, smothered by Ivy’s vines and weeds. Jason coughed due to the lack of fresh air in the place.

Ivy was examining the ripped beams of the elevator shaft, which was why the lift had stopped abruptly. “I heard Killer Croc caused so much damage.” She looked at him, buttoning up her red blouse, repositioning her cloak of autumn leaves.

They walked through the Intensive Treatment wing. Jason’s boots whistled through the grass. He had to cover his mouth from the musty, damp stench.

“Did Batman have a soft spot for you? See you as an adopted child?” Ivy asked.

Jason didn’t like the question. “He wasn’t my father.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“He needed a replacement for the original Robin. So he trained me the best way he could. I hated his ‘no killing’ code. That was always a problem, and it became a thorn in our relationship.”

With Ivy’s children making their nest, the wing had been the root cause for so many of the seriously deranged inmates did not feel as long or as big, but it certainly felt less daunting. During Jason’s stay here, being shipped around by the demented clown and his henchmen, all he heard was screams and horror dripping from the harnessed chairs. It was called Intense Treatment for a reason, these mother fuckers weren’t even scared to hide how they felt about the criminally insane and the mentally unstable.

They reached the other side of the wing and moved out onto the corridor which faced another empty elevator shaft, the metal beams were also damaged. The lift above them hung from one snagged rope, it didn’t look very sturdy, and it probably didn’t have long before it would plummet to the dark, dank depths of the asylum.

Jason observed Ivy’s long gorgeous green legs, taking in the meticulous detail of her skin and her hour glass figure. She had a glorious arch to her neck and that pink flower nestled behind her ear. Overcome by the radiance of her beauty, he retrieved the disposal camera from his pocket and snapped another picture.

Ivy seemed unfazed by the camera and faced him. “What made you snap?”

He walked towards her. “I remember it very well. The Clown murdered a bunch of kindergarden kids. He’d sewed their body parts together. Little arms, little legs. Corpses acting as puzzle pieces. I was sick with fury, and decided enough was enough. At the crime scene, I saw a mother trying to piece her child back together again.” Jason stared into her green eyes. “What if Joker had torched your children?”

Ivy glanced at the vines on the walls who bristled from the question. “I found when it came to that crazy mime, I stayed away. He kept out of my path, probably because he didn’t want to be a meal for one of my plants.”

“Don’t lie, Ivy. You would’ve done the exactly the same as me. I turned off my tracker and came to Arkham, determined to end The Clown. Fuck the code. Looking back I should’ve known he was waiting for me. I used to love the Humpty Dumpty song as a kid, now I hate it. I can still hear that whacky manic laughter, singing it as he beat me with that fucking crowbar. Then he got his whore to break me down psychologically, emotionally, physically, and… sexually.”

“Harley would never do such a thing!” Ivy said with utter disgust. “Yes, she was insane, but she would’ve never lowered herself to that.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but she did, and her naive stupidity got her fucking killed.” Jason was a nose breath away from Ivy. “I know you two were close, there’s speculation that it was more than that. So, when did you two start muff diving?”

Slash!

Ivy’s hand whipped aggressively across Jason ‘s face and the pain quivered in his heart. He wasn’t expecting her to react so…. humanely. It was such an emotional response.

The pain throbbed in Jason’s cheek. “I get it, she’s a tender subject. But she was still fucking evil.”

“I told Harley to leave that demented mime, but she never listened to me. Every couple of months she’d show up at my gardens, with a bruised face, or a broken limb because she’d gotten on his nerves. She was pregnant once, over the moon about it, told him straight away. He threatened to kill her, to get it aborted. She refused, so he beat her up, and she had miscarriage, because he kicked her in the stomach. She slept with my hyacinths that night and cried for days, before running straight back to him.”

Jason didn’t know why but he suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and his heartbeat jigged out of sequence.

Ivy searched his expression. “That bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, boo-fucking-who.” He glared at Ivy, seizing her hips, twirling her around, just like he’d done in the lift, pushing her up against the railings, leaning her over the descending abyss of the broken elevator shaft. Kicking her feet apart, Jason unbuckled his utility belt, throwing it over his shoulder like a towel. “Just because she was your friend, doesn’t mean you truly knew her. I have the highest authority on that.” He glared at the back of her head. He had to control everything in his power not to fuck her on table back in the admin offices.

Nudging her cloak with one hand on her shoulder, the other on her hip, Jason violently thrusted into her. Ivy sounded so fucking beautiful when she gasped out, her voice echoing and bouncing off the walls, falling down into the shadows. He’d planned to take her gently but he was still pretty angry with her slapping him. He gyrated his pelvis in frantic, circular, rhythmic movements. He groaned as her vaginal muscles clamped down on the head of his cock. The wet sounds were incredibly sexy to hear. Her legs wobbled as he bucked against her, jerking her body onto his manhood.

Their panting filled the space of the disused asylum. Ivy rutted against him, pushing against his thrusts, her palms twisting on the handle bars. Jason glanced to the wall as he heard the distant drums of the thunder way above them. Positioning the disposal camera so it was facing up at Ivy from below, he snapped another picture. Couldn’t wait to see that one in particular.

After several minutes of fucking in the darkness against the rails, Jason knew Ivy was going to fall apart, and so was he. He gritted his teeth, taking all of his might to pull out. Zipping up his erection, he clipped on his utility belt, taking out his grapple gun, shooting it one of the rusty elevator

“Where are we going?” Ivy asked, trying to compose herself.

“Down into Hell,” he replied.

Jason grabbed her around the waist and they soared through the air. For several minutes, the swung from beam to beam. Jason looked at her and something in her gaze softened.

“What?” he asked.

“You move like the Bat.”

“The bastard trained me well.”

Jason hadn’t calculated with all of the movements and the beams without any maintenance weren’t going to hold up for very long. The cable holding the elevator finally gave out hurtling towards them. Many vines had weaved around the metal pillars and panels shot past Ivy and Jason, grabbing onto the plummeting lift. Jason aimed his gun again and they shot off course.

He took the fall, landing in the thick grass. His back screamed and he knew he’d be paying for it the next day, but he didn’t care. They both heard it crashed on the lower floors and it made the surroundings shake. He looked up to find the green goddess on top of him, her leafy cloak had shredded from the fall, their mouths breaths apart, staring at each other. The broken elevator had given freedom to elements and the rainfall trickled through the empty space, followed by the moonlight. A small smile playful smile gleamed on his face as he listened to the rain hitting off the cement. He leaned up, removing the pink flower from her hair.

“Stop it,” Ivy uttered, nudging her head.

“What’s the problem now?” Jason sneered. “You really are an enigma. You like having sex with me, but you can’t handle a little bit of human fucking intimacy, and you become cold.” He braced his body, rolling Ivy onto her back, staring down at her. He glanced to her legs, noticing she’d clamped her knees together. Jason forced them apart, nearly losing oxygen with desire. “My God. You’re dripping, Ivy.” Straightening her legs, Jason dipped his head to her navel where her breathing heightened. He ran his tongue over the lower half of her abdomen, pulling the hem of her blouse, staring at her dampening pubic hair. Clear fluid messed up her legs. Ivy gasped loudly and he smiled against her belly.

Slipping into the missionary position, Jason unclipped his belt, unzipping his commandos, sliding into her again. They both cried out at the same time. Pleasure bloomed from his cock, trickling into his loins. Just for a minute, Jason thought, heaving to tease the monster in his heart, and his pants. He anchored one of Ivy’s legs so it was over his hip and it pushed him deeper into her vagina. She whimpered, her breath broke in her throat as he fucked her slowly, moving in and out, up and around. Jason engulfed her in a kiss and she panted against his open mouth, her eyes delirious and wanting.

“I meant what I said before, you are beautiful,” Jason uttered, rocking against her, wanting to die inside her, but he knew he couldn’t, not yet.

He wanted Ivy to come so badly. Giving one last thrust, Jason slipped out and rose to his feet, buckling his erection away. He helped her up to her feet, secretly pleased with how flushed she was, there was actual colour in her green cheeks.

Jason switched on the light that was attached to his armoured shoulder and continued through the penitentiary, making sure Ivy was following him, and she was. This time she was walking purposefully seductive, swaying those hips, the corner of her lips turned up in a seductive smirk. She’s teasing you now, he thought.

“The generator is on,” Ivy said. “I can feel it. This place is more alive than you think.”

“It’s more alive when you’re in it, sweetheart.”

“How old are you?”

Jason glared at her. “Twenty five. Old enough to know who I am, what I want, what I crave, and detecting bullshit.”

They walked through the many small narrow cells, until they came to one in particular. Ivy’s vines and foliage hadn’t reached this cell and Jason wondered why. Too many horrible things had happened in there. Had they sensed it?

“Some of the inmates used to piss on me for fun after The Clown finished his punishments for the day. Crazy bastard said it was my daily shower. He thought it was highly amusing.”

Jason caught a glimpse of genuine disgust on Ivy’s face. She walked into the cell, inspecting the walls. She’d noticed the drawings, of a weak stick man being beaten by a group of others.

“Get on the bed,” Jason ordered.

She watched him slowly. “Why?”

“Do it, or I’ll fucking shoot you.”

With slow reluctance, Ivy laid on the bed, the same place he used to whimper from, where he used to pray that the vigilante with the pointed ears would come and save him. Extracting the camera from his pocket, Jason partially unbuttoned her blouse, he smoothed out her arms, and pulled up her blouse, where he could see the red nest of her pubis. He grinned at her, snapping a picture, and then they stared at each for a while.

“Have you ever played with yourself, Ivy?”

There was a crash of alarm in her eyes and the crude fucker in Jason rejoiced.

Gently, Jason took her hand and pressed it up against the faded drawings on the wall. “You have to find your clit.” Then he removed her hand, placing it firmly between her legs. “Rub it… slowly.” He motioned with his hand, pushing her palm against her private parts. “Just like that.” He watched her eyes glide between shock, confusion and then astonishment. Her full lips parted and an incredible sexy sigh escaped her throat. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Go on. Enjoy your body.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Jason breathed out with disappointment and stroked the gun sleeping in the holster lashed around his leg.

Ivy stared at him, her breasts swelling under her blouse. Jason’s hand slid away, letting her be in charge, for a little while. Crouching by the bed, Jason feasted on the sight of the green woman who’d consumed his fantasies since his teenage years. It was like someone swimming for the first time, unaware that their bodies were capable of doing something they couldn’t.

Jason unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, revealing her breasts and her flat stomach. Wonderful sodden sounds wept from between her legs as her fingers probed her vagina. Her abdominal muscles clenched with her exertion. Jason’s erection hardened, screaming for her tongue, her moist fingers, to be buried in the dark cave between her legs.

“Now you know what to do when you’re home alone and missing me,” Jason uttered.

Picking up speed, using both hands, Ivy fucked herself against the bed where he used to curl up into a ball, with the same hand that had touched his scrawled illustrations during those dark, horrible times. As much as Jason loved seeing her like this, she was near enough to coming and he didn’t want that, not yet.

Jason grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away. Ivy’s eyes snapped open. She shoved him off, resuming her self pleasure, curling herself against the wall, grinding her body desperately against her hand. Shit. What had he awakened in her?

“No,” Jason growled, pulling her panting from the wall. “Not yet!”

She darted past him, disappearing down one of the corridors. Fuck, he should’ve seen this coming. Fine, if she wanted a game of cat and mouse, he was down for that too. Better fun anyway. Glass and old debris crunched under Jason’s boots and he ran to one of the corridors. Fuck, she was a fast, those runting vines must have helped her. No matter, he had help. He slid on his Arkham Knight helmet, it closed over his face and he clicked ok the x-ray vision.

There in light blue, several floors down was her skeleton. Ivy was looking for somewhere to hide. Jason’s blood electrified, shuddering down the tip of his erection. He marched back to the broken elevator and made his way down, keeping an eye on the frantic blue skeleton. Jason grappled and jumped onto the floor, she was near the medical facility, just above it.

The blue skeleton crawled on her knees and climbed up somewhere, laying on her back. One hand hovered over her pelvis and the other floated over chest. Jason listened in, the eerie wind blew around the dark, dank asylum, and then he heard her panting, and the sounds of her wetness. Jason sighed under his breath, his arousal spiking. Realising what she was doing, Jason squeezed his crotch, teasing the fabric for a couple of seconds. A sigh escaped his lips, crackling in his helmet. She was stealing the control - not if he could help it.

“Don’t you dare,” grunted Jason. “Don’t you fucking come.”

Jason ran towards the blue skeleton, his raging erection tingling against the zipper of his commando trousers. He rushed to where she was, opening the safety hatch in the floor. He had the best view. How many men and women would’ve killed to see what he was experiencing?

“Don’t you fucking do it, Ivy.”

She stared up at him, lying on the heat grating above the facility. Her fingers dipped in and out of her vagina, rutting like a rabbit, as she groped one of her breasts that was sticking out of her red blouse. Jason was pissed off, yet he’d been the most turned on he’d ever been in his life, more than in those creepy, erotic dreams, and they’d been fucking intense. His hands were shaking and he didn’t know whether to join in, or scream and scold her. Quickly, before he could change his mind and overcome by lust, he pulled out the camera, capturing a picture. He removed his helmet, reattaching it to his utility belt.

“Ivy, I mean it…”

But she didn’t care, she was in the thick of it. Her eyes were lost in the rhythm. She removed her hand from her breast, cupping it between her legs, rubbing herself, staring at Jason the whole time. She was so fucking gorgeous, and she was about to come, her neck muscles clenched and her eyes shimmered.

Jason leapt through the hatch, yanking at her hands, prying them from her vagina which were practically dripping. Ivy whimpered, moaning, panting from the exertion. “I fucking said not to.” Pinning her wrists above her head, Jason took the thin cable from one of the many pockets in his armoured suit and lashed them around her wrists. “Didn’t want to do this, but you left me no damn choice.” He leaned over her as she panted, regaining her breath, her lower half a complete mess, stamping a greedy kiss on her mouth. Unable to stop himself or even caring to, he licked her exposed nipple, tasting her sweat, and sucked down hard.

~

Ivy had been alive for many, many years but she’d never felt sensations quite like this, until this damaged young man had walked back into her life. She knew humans lost themselves in the most depraved of ways, but she didn’t understand why it was only him that ignited this type of passion in her. Maybe it was the Titan drug, and it had weakened her inhibitions. Her inner thighs ached and a throbbing pain budded inside her most intimate area. What was this new complexity?

They walked into the large medical facility, Jason tugging on Ivy’s bound wrists, leading her to where Jason had first showed her who he really was. His jaw was tight and he’d seemed to have memorised where he was taking in this bizarre lustful tour. Darting up and down many steps, Jason brought her to a little side room that had a grubby hospital curtain attached from the ceiling. There was a big dark red smudge on the wall, her plants hadn’t grown around it, not wanting to.

“The Clown ended my life here. Put a bullet right though my heart,” said Jason.

“How did you-“

“I don’t know why I came back,” said Jason with irritation. “Get on the gurney.”

In front of them was a rusty metal bed, she didn’t need a story to know that the crazy clown dehumanised him in this room. Jason helped her up, her legs wobbled as she took his hand, shaking from all of these new sensations. Ivy laid on her back.

“Open your legs.”

Trembling, she did so, her vagina yearning for release.

“Get rid of the shirt.”

With free hands, she wriggled out of the blouse and chucked it to the floor, her body trembling in the moist air. She stretched out on the gurney, her nipples hardening. Jason took out the camera and crouched between her legs. She gasped slightly as the light momentarily filled the room. Stuffing the camera back into his pockets, Ivy felt his hot breath trailing up her thigh. A cloud of his black hair dipped between her legs. She gasped loudly, sitting up slightly. Jason ran his tongue along her folds, probing her. Ivy’s breath trembled and then his wet tongue curled inside her. Ivy’s head lolled back and she moaned as she rolled her hips against his tongue, wanting to grasp his head. What type of power was this?

Jason reached up and clutched one of her breasts as he ate her out on the gurney. Noises she’d never made before exploded from her mouth. Jason looked up from between her legs, panting like a dog, his hair damp from sweat. He studied the massive blood stain on the wall and crawled along the gurney, positioning himself between her legs. Unzipping again, Jason groaned hungrily into the crook of Ivy’s neck, fucking her again.

She panted underneath him, holding on for dear life. Ivy wrapped her legs around him, as he slid deeper into her. Jason whimpered, bucking against her. They watched one another. The gurney squeaked and as Jason thrusted more ferociously. Ivy moaned again, she didn’t have that long left. He stared at the wall again, glaring at the old blood stains but it seemed to inspire his animalistic spirit. Jason looked down at her and seized the back of her head, kissing her ferociously.

“I’m coming,” Ivy whimpered against his mouth, frightened that she’d said those words. Only depraved disgusting humans said this.

Jason stared down at her, still bucking his hips, and the anger jolted through him. He pulled out of her immediately as her pleasure escalated. About to burst, Ivy’s sensations plummeted and Jason leapt off the gurney.

Crouched by the wall, Jason’s face screwed up, tears falling, and he came on the floor. Ivy sat up, alarmed by it because it sounded so painful, so haunted. She lurched off the gurney, watching him. Disturbed by what had happened, Jason seized the gurney and hurled it at the red stain on the wall. It slammed loudly and Jason started to kick it over and over again, screaming from the base in his throat.

Ivy retreated and ran from the medical facility. She heard him bellowing from afar, she practically skidded, launching herself across the rainy courtyard. She saw the patrol cabins high above where the guards used to Her sweaty breasts heaved and her vagina ached, longing for release.

She zoomed across the wooden bridges, ducking into one of the cabins, skimming her hands over her thighs. She knew he’d find her eventually, but at least she was high above the ground. Crawling on her hands and knees, Ivy yanked a cloth from the desk, breathing heavily as she dabbed it between her legs, hoping it would clean the mess from below.

A thought came to mind as Ivy finger circled her nipple. She sighed deeply, and backed up against the wall of the patrol cabin. Mashing the cloth between her legs, Ivy rocked against it, curling her fingers into her cunt. Pleasure rippled inside her body and she clutched at her breasts. Ivy gasped, groaning out loud, loving the sensations, feeling the muscles loosen between her legs. She was so close before. Lightning exploded in her heart and outside. She arched her spine, riding the cloth, hearing his boots crunching along the rickety bridge. Gasping for breath, she rubbed her vagina with both hands through the cloth, applying pressure, bucking her hips, her heart jumping as The Arkham Knight now stood in the doorway of cabin.

“Seriously? You need to come that badly?” Jason asked, taking off his helmet. “Wish I had a video camera. Could sell it anonymously to the Gazette and become a millionaire overnight.”

With the pleasurable flutter of her eyes, Jason sat down next to her, his suit damp from the rain, his eyes now moody and morose. “Fine, get on with it.”

Ivy went from bewitched and wanting, to confused and unsure. She stroked herself, moving faster against her fingers. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on the heat in her body and in the room, and the sound of the rain. But when she opened them, a cold shudder dripped from head to toe, because Jason seemed so disinterested. What had happened back at the medical facility? Why was he so upset about the red stain on the wall? What was going on his mind?

“You near?” Jason asked with boredom.

Ivy frowned, still rubbing herself, unsure of what to say, and her hand slipped away. “What’s haunting you?”

Jason’s pupils dilated, desire darkened his irises and a smile slid across his lips. “The last pin on my map.” Jason lifted her off the ground, throwing her over his shoulder. Ivy wriggled, still trying to chase the pleasure. He carried her out into the rain and used his grapple hook to get them back down to the courtyard.

~

It was eerie inside Arkham Mansion. Jason’s hand tightened on Ivy’s as they crept around the corners. Wind blew around the building and rain hailed against the roof. Jason pushed the door leading down to the two cells, and in the centre was the old decrepit wooden chair. That fucking chair. Ivy’s children had worked their magic, covering most of the walls, but not the chair. Jason wondered if they could sense what happened here. They didn’t want to be poisoned by its ghosts.

“I murdered Robin in this room,” said Jason, observing the chair. He noticed his blood was still stained on it and so were the rusty nails, sticking in, so he couldn’t sit comfortably. “Then I became the Red Hood.”

Ivy stood by his side, seemingly unaware that she was naked. “Why didn’t you just run away and start again?”

Jason stared at her, and he unclipped and unzipped the many compartments of his Arkham Knight suit. He slipped the material down his legs and stepped out of it, staring back at Ivy. Her eyes feasted on his pale, muscular, and scarred body. This was the first time she’d seen him fully unclothed. Her gaze found his probing erection. Jason’s fingers touched her chin and brought her gaze back to his face. “Sit in the chair.”

“I’m not going to fuck you,” said Jason, wrenching the nails from the chair. He threw them to the floor and sat down, stroking slowly along the length of his cock. His gaze was fixed on hers. “You’re going to fuck me.”

Ivy blinked several times, her hesitancy was adorable, in a gross, loving way. “I don’t know how.”

Jason smiled breathlessly, sighing under his breath. “Sure you do. You’re acting more human since I started showing you what you’re missing out on. Just start off slow, and sit on me. You’ll find your rhythm. Give it time.”

She walked towards him, swinging her hips. For the first time, Jason could see a glaze of Pamela Isley, the sweet timid woman she once was. She was still there, Jason always thought so. Ivy leaned over Jason, staring down at him. He continued to stroke himself, feeling the precum leak from the head of his cock. He felt the weight of her hovering over him. Jason’s mouth dipped, kissing at her breasts that were just eye level. Ivy braced herself, hovering over Jason’s cock. She lowered herself onto his length, Ivy gasped from the sensation. Jason’s eyes fluttered and he held her hips, guiding her down onto him.

He groaned against her chest as his cock buried deep inside. Grasping her hips, he held her firm. “Does it hurt?” Jason whispered, staring up at her.

Ivy whimpered, nodding her head.

“You’re panicking. Don’t overthink it” Jason pulled her head so it was buried against his neck, and he whispered to her, giving her a little incentive and bucked his hips.

Ivy shrieked against his neck, pushing down on him even more. Lightning crashed over the mansion, blazing them in a flash of blue light. Jason whispered to her about his eerie, erotic dreams. Told her how he felt watching Tortured Jason and The Arkham Knight fucking her, how he desperate he was for her touch. As he detailed the violence and the sex, her vaginal muscles loosened and he felt her wetness suffocating his cock. Jason thrusted up into her and she looked at him. “Remember what I said, start slow.”

Ivy grabbed the back of his head, kissing him desperately. Jason thrusted up into her again. She broke the kiss, gasping from the sensation. They stared at one another. Ivy held onto the chair and began to respond, rotating her pelvis, squeezing herself around Jason.

“That’s it,” he said with satisfaction. “Keep doing that.”

For many minutes, Ivy grappled with riding Jason. The pleasure webbed from his navel, gliding along his body, balling up in his groin. “Did you ever fuck Bruce?” Jason panted.

Ivy watched him, her body trembled, moving up and down his length. “Bruce Wayne?” Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip, hastening her thrusts. “The millionaire orphan. He’s Batman?”

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you,” Jason hissed, holding onto her hips.

A pleasurable smile gleamed across her lips and she leaned back, concentrating. “Secret’s safe with me.”

Jason held onto her, gasping from the delight running between his legs. He was fighting a war in his murky mind. The last time he’d been sitting on this chair, Jason was violated, tortured, cut away from every sense of his identity. Now, he was receiving the most amazing pleasure he’d ever felt in his life. It was a wild, sinister contradiction.

“Fuck,” Jason whispered. “It feels like I’m meeting God when I’m inside of you.”

Ivy’s thrusts not only heightened in pleasure, but they increased in speed. She rolled her hips, leaning back, grinding against Jason. Whimpers escaped Jason’s mouth and his body hardened. Ivy’s mouth opened and she shrieked again. Her eyes shined, growing greener. Jason’s orgasm exploded out of him, shooting up into her and she threw her head back, an operatic power spiralling from her throat.

Jason crushed his body against hers, panting like he’d ran a marathon. He opened his eyes, noticing that Ivy was lolling right back, her eyes closed to the world.

“Ivy?” Jason said with concern.

His green lover did not respond. Jason shook her and her body wobbled like a rag doll. He pulled her against him, pulling out of her. “Shit. I pushed you too far.” Carrying her, Jason got up from the chair, noticing the pulsing dark green veins under her skin. Her head hung off his arm. She’d passed out, she’d never done this before.

Hobbling out of the Arkham mansion, naked as a newborn babe, Jason raced to the Botanical Gardens where the large mutated vines still hung. The vines swooped down like snakes, inspecting their unconscious mother.

“I think I broke your mom,” said Jason. “Sorry.”

The vines snatched Ivy out of his arms. Jason watched her body glide, realising he was completely naked. Several more circled him, hissing venom. “Look, she was fucking enjoying it okay!” More surrounded him and he raised his arms. “Woah, easy. I was just trying to comfort her, that’s all.”

Jason heard Ivy’s voice drift from off in the distance. The vines stared at one another, their body language showed confusion. The bushes in front opened up, revealing a set of steps. Jason lowered his arms tentatively and walked with added caution, the vine snakes followed him.

He looked out at the large gallery, and down at the bottom was a very blue lagoon. Hanging above in some of green and brown nest was Ivy, covered in a blanket of autumn leaves. Jason walked around to the edge, worried that if he stepped onto it, they’d plunge into the lagoon below.

“Ivy?”

She opened her eyes, focusing on Jason. “It’s safe.”

Jason stepped across, heading towards her. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t know,” Ivy replied tiredly.

Jason slinked his body under the blanket of leaves, curling his arm around her waist. “You’re trembling.”

Ivy’s voice was barely audible and he realised she’d fallen asleep. Jason’s heartbeat jumped. He nestled against her, feeling the nest swing. Tears wanted to pour from his eyes. Jason buried his face in the crook of Ivy’s neck, submerged in those deep waves of red hair, and he listened to the comforting sound of the rain outside.

Chapter Text

Jason didn't know what had happened, or how he managed to return here again. One minute he was canoodling with Ivy in her bizarre nest, now he was wrestling with the wind and the rain staggering across the courtyard. The rain lashed down, soaking through his shirt and denim jeans. His bare feet were freezing. Shielding from the torrential wave with his arms, Jason dipped into a nearby doorway. The wind whistled around violently. He slammed the door shut, barricading and locking it.

There was a flash of blue lightning and a deep rumble of thunder from outside, making him jump. The rain hammered down, hitting off the windows. Why was it always raining here? Did it mean something?

Jason rested against the door, taking his time to recapture his breath. He closed his eyes, focusing on lowering his erratic heart rate. Drowning the sound of the storm outside, his hearing nestled into the quietness of his surroundings. His whole body tingled. That energy was still here, lingering, haunting him. Jason's nipples hardened under his damp shirt as shivers quivered up his legs.

He reached into the air, clicking his fingers. The crisp, crystal clear sound echoed, reveberating off the walls. Keeping his eyes closed, he unbuttoned his shirt, so the white marble of muscles peaked out. Wind rushed down the corridor. Jason bowed his head, placing his burning fingers on his belt. The elements whistled around, fondling his chest. Leaves, dust and debris breezed past his feet, and he stood still as a statue, until the mini hurricane subsided.

Raising his head, Jason opened his eyes, counting in his head. He punched out several times hitting an invisible punch bag. His whole body hardened and he mimicked dodging another person before twirling on the spot, delivering a mad kick to the air. He held the position, for as long as he could. Something moved inside Jason's body, something carnal. It floated from his chest and into his belly, trickling into his navel.

Splitting his legs apart, guided by the sensations, Jason's hands dipped downwards, splaying softly across his thighs. His mouth trembled. Suddenly, Jason tapped his forehead, then the centre of his chest, going with his instincts. He tapped his right shoulder, then his left, in a bizzare ritual before stamping his right hand down onto his crotch. Heat bloomed from the area, where everything made sense. Thunder and lightning exploded outside, filling the doorway in blue light as Jason stood there in the dark, his hand nestled between his legs.

Jason breathed in roughly. He knew what he was about to do was wrong, but he couldn't ignore the arousing energy any longer. He squeezed his crotch, a flutter of a moan escaped his lips and he started to rotate his hips, bucking into his palm. Pleasure crowned in his body. Jason grunted, breathing heavily, and he rubbed his stiff erection. Ecstasy dribbled from his throat. His left hand clutched greedily at his bare chest muscles, swaying his hips, strutting his feet, not caring if someone heard, or caught him during his sick, perverse dance. Fuck them, they didn't know how hard his life had been, or the horrifying nightmares he'd endured. Nobody would understand, maybe one. A little bit of sensual touching in the shadows wouldn't hurt. All of the crazies did this at Arkham, they were just good at hiding their disturbed tastes.

A door slammed ahead of him. It was so loud, it startled Jason and his hands fell away from his body. He stomped down the dark dank corridor, kicking a dusty glass bottle along the way.

Jason...

Her voice tickled his throat. Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and he did not fancy heading out into monsoon outside. Moving forward, Jason shivered. It was fucking freezing. He dipped into an empty hospital ward, but it was covered in grime. Hospital beds separate by filthy curtains. Jason walked on, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to stay warm. As he passed, he noticed hospital equipment covered in muck and on several of the curtains, were terrifying bloody handprints. In front of him was an old broken mirror, his reflection was fractured.

Addicted to the seductive feeling stalking him, longing to continue his dance. Jason's fingers ached against his belt, itching at the buckle. The ceiling lights flickered. He knew it wouldn't be right to do it here, but the inappropriate nature made him want to do it all the more. Erotic touching in such a terrible place, the sin made his cock harden beneath his pants. He was fucked up for a reason, and fucked up people did weird shit others found uncomfortable.

Feeling free enough, eyes closed, Jason split his legs apart again. Greedy fingers slid past his belt and he palmed his groin, applying pressure to his pelvis. Jason let out a sudden delicate hiss.

The lights flickered again. Gentle pleasure stirred slowly through his body, that deep hunger rising in his blood. Light breaths escaped his lips. His thumb burned against the buckle of his belt, wanting to unravel, to desperately delve underneath.

Jason...

His eyes snapped open. Three wooden green mannequins with long red woolly braids stood in the middle of the ward. Where the fuck did they come from?

Jason circled them, immediately picking up on their gorgeous breasts and pert shapely behinds. Moulded on Ivy's body. Only one woman with a fuckable hour glass like that.

"What the hell?" Jason blurted outloud. "Ivy?"

Behind you.

Fear spiralled within him. Jason should have realised he wasn't alone in this strange place. Turning on his heel, his heart rate elevated, shot with adrenaline. As tall and wide as the doorway, slunking down to get through, was a monster. Jason sprinted, hiding behind one of the hospital curtains, concealed in the darkness.

The monster plodded along. It must have been over seven foot tall. It suddenly stared at itself in the long broken mirror. Jason reckoned this was the first time it had seen itself in the flesh, because it was startled.

Jason was able to get a closer look at the creature. Its skin was grey as death. Black matted hair sat on the top of its head. The bones of the spine jutted out of its back. The creature pulled at the massive rusty nails embedded in its shoulders. Then Jason's heart waltzed in his chest. The monster was wearing a suit. A ripped one, but the yellow emblem of an R was still there. It couldn't be. No, surely not.

Mutant Jason.

What had happened to him? Why the fuck did he look like that?

The creature ripped out one of the nails and it dropped to the floor. Its massive hands were stained with blood and it examined itself in the mirror. A large disfigured face stared back. Empty vacant eyes floated. Callused hands framed its deformed skull, smearing red paint across its lips and chin. Husky jagged breaths escaped its throat, roaming down its chest.

Heat bloomed from Jason's groin again and he tried to ignore that tidal wave in his heart. Jason heard the zipper of the creatures's torn suit being slowly pulled down and a deep rumbling moan emerged from its throat.

Jason looked away, disgusted, his own hand resting on the inside of his thigh. He stared over in the corner, almost screaming when he saw another green creepy Ivy mannequin standing in the corner. His heart missed a jig and he peered between the hosptial curtains, telling himself that it was just a pathetic, cheap doll. It didn't mean anything.

Resuming his watch of the creature, Jason leant against the hospital bed behind him, running his hands underneath his shirt. He clutched at his chest muscles, stroking his nipples, sliding his fingers down his abdomen, almost moaning as they brushed over his belt. Jason panted quietly, feeling the arousal simmering in his blood. He parted his legs, touching his forehead, the centre of his chest, his right shoulder, his left shoulder, then he touched his crotch, resting for several seconds, before rocking against his perspiriing hand.

Jason moaned timidly from the pleasant pressure in his pelvis. An animalistic hiss spewed from his lips. He massaged his crotch, adding more pressure, pivoting his hips, dancing with himself. The hospital bed tremored slightly with each thrust. Jason's eyes fluttered from the pleasure. Haggard breaths escaped him, hoping he wouldn't make too much noise.

The lights flickered unhealthily. The mannequins still stood, but they seemed to have changed position. The creature turned, grunting at one of the mannequins. It went up to one of them, smearing the blood across the mouth area.Trembling behind the curtain, Jason squeezed his cock through his jeans, shuddering from the blissful sensation. His fingers dawdled with his belt, playing with an idea.

Mutant Jason grasped the mannequin by the shoulders, lowering the head towards its pelvis. The creature moaned lowly, pushing the mannequin head onto its cock, pumping its large hand. Jason glanced around. Nobody was watching. Quietly, he unbuckled his belt. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he pulled down the zipper, sliding his hand into his jeans. He was making such a mess down there. There was only one way to sort it out. Squeezing and stroking along the shaft, he focused on the creature, a chill trickling along his spine.

For several minutes, the creature rocked its hips, breathing huskily, and Jason jerked his cock, hissing from the pleasurable impact. There was a squeak of metal. Jason glanced over his shoulder, softly quietly. The mannequin that had been staring at him over in the corner was closer. A mere foot away. How the fuck did that happen?

There was a loud crack and the mannequin shattered on the floor. Mutant Jason grunted with displeasure, moving to the next mannequin. It lifted it up, opening the legs. Mutant Jason touched his dripping back, smearing blood between the mannequin's legs.

Keeping his focus on the creature, Jason watched on, now very aware that there was movement in his purview. Gripping his cock in his hand, the fear overwhelmed his yearning and then he saw a pair of green wooden fingers moving on their own, without any type of help.

Mutant Jason smacked the items from the bloodied table and sprawled the wooden mannequin on top. Positioning its body, the creature jerked itself into the mannequin, panting loudly.

The real Jason shuddered from the sight and his own touch, when he sensed his jeans were being awkwardly pulled down. He stopped stroking his cock and leaned back on the edge of the dirty hospital bed. Squinting through the rip in the curtain, the creature moaned painfully as it thrusted into the mannequin. Another blissful sigh escaped Jason's mouth, feeling his erection being pulled free into the open air. Real warm lips smothered the end of his cock. Her lips.

In fear and arousal, Jason looked down, realising the bizzare wooden Ivy mannequin was now on her knees, her mouth wrapped around his length. Jason spluttered, trying to keep his voice down. He didn't want that monstrous thing knowing he was watching. The mannequin sucked down really hard. Jason arched his neck, as quiet moans escaped his throat. Did the real thing actually feel like this? Or was it just pain and humiliation?

The creature bucked its hips into the mannequin on the table, occasionally glancing at itself in the mirror. Jason spluttered as his whole length slid into the wooden mouth. Warm. Wet, and writhing. Moaning loudly, the creature's back stiffened. With instinct, Jason placed his hands on the back of the mannequin's head, thrusting into it. "F-Fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Mutant Jason withdrew from its mannequin, taken by passion. Then he took it from behind. Jason bucked into the mannequins mouth, tipping his pelvis, shuddering from his core. God, the tongue felt so real. Just like hers. There was no barbed wire, just comfort and delight.

The legs of the mannequin that was being angrily pounded by Mutant Jason rattled loudly. Pleasure stiffened in Jason's navel and his cock inside the mannequin's mouth. He really bucked his hips. Mutant Jason came rather hideously inside the mannequin, almost crushing it. Noise burst out of Jason's chest, his orgasm spilled out in white jets from the mannequin's mouth. That was when the monster growled, craning his head.

Jason pulled out of the mouth. Mutant Jason threw the mannequin down on the floor where it shattered, stalking towards the curtain. Jason dashed underneath the bed sheet, trying to keep his heartrate low.

The curtain was swiped away. Mutant Jason observed the wooden mannequin, he sniffed the air like a bloodhound. It breathed hoarsely, moving away from the bed, disappearing out of the ward.

Scrambling out of the filthy bed, Jason buckled up his pants, hearing the soft rainfall in the background. He didn't feel real. None of this did, and whatever he just witnessed and participated in, then, he felt...dirty. That self loathing returned. His heartbeat ramped up in his chest and his stomach reacted, vomiting all over the floor.

"I don't want to be here," uttered Jason fearfully, wiping his mouth. He wanted his green lover back in his arms, he wanted to be between her legs, panting into her mouth as she quivered beneath him.

Gathering his energy, Jason exited the ward, the same way Mutant Jason had left. Jason crawled though the narrow space confused by the geography of the asylum, trying to rid himself of the sight of those Ivy shaped mannequins and what he did back there. It was all deeply disturbing, but it was that sensuality running in his blood. He couldn't shake it off and he couldn't stop thinking about her mouth, and that tongue.

Jason heard faint painful whimpers ahead and pulled himself out, swarmed by the bushes. Concealed and quiet, Jason stared at the source of the noise.

Below on the ground, Ivy was encased in a square metal cage and on the outside was barbed wire all around it. She wouldn't be able to escape without seriously injuring herself. Not his Ivy. It was the other one, the one riddled with the Titan virus. Her eyes glowed a fiery red. She curled up against the bars, her body twisted form in agony. Titan Ivy. He'd seen her before, but in a different type of cell.

Titan Ivy caressed the back of her own neck, skimming her fingers down her chest. She cupped her breasts, delicately squeezing them, whimpering again. Her hands stroked over her slim belly, plumetting to her navel. Opening her legs, her fingers dawdled between her thighs and she stroked herself, momentarily closing her eyes, breathing heavily.

Find your clit, Jason thought, tightness erupting in his chest. Just like I taught you.

Titan Ivy did as his thoughts instructed. Her fingers slid inside of herself and she hissed loudly, rocking her hips, back and forth, up and around. Her thighs wobbled as she played with herself, occasionally biting bottom lip which was sending Jason mad than he already was.

Titan Ivy's body suddenly jolted. Her eyes clamped shut in concerntration. Her hand hastened in rhythm. She pushed up against the bars of her bizzare cage, moaning lightly. Her mouth hung open and she panted. Penetrating herself, she opened her eyes, staring at the delicate spot between her legs, watching her fingers work overtime. Her stomach and leg muscles jerked. As a newbie to sex and self-pleasure, she wasn't going to last very long.

Titan Ivy quivered, a chill whistled around her and the lightning burst overhead. She came hard against the bars, her body shuddering as her eyes closed in pure bliss. Jason pressed his forehead against the wall, feeling like a pervert for watching her. But if it wasn't for him, then she wouldn't know how to blow off steam. Titan Ivy stretched out inside her bizzare cage, slipping down the bars, out of breath. She moved onto her stomach, panting, gathering her energy. For a minute or two, she laid on the cement, a cloud of red hair hiding her face.

The room reeked of her passion and the sound of the rain made this whole thing feel extremely intimate. Ivy groaned lightly with frustration and her hand travelled, slipping below her hips again. Jason heard the wonderful wet sounds and her light pleasurable groans. Just think, he'd tasted her down there, as exquisite as nectar.

Titan Ivy began to masturbate again, this time on her front. Rotating her hips, she panted against the cement as her breath hitched in her throat, grinding against her hand. Jason watched on, biting his knuckles. She hid her face in the crook of her other arm, rocking her pelvis against the cement, as if some sort of invisible lover was quivering beneath her. How many people would have given up their life savings to be that invisible body? How many people would have gone hungry just to watch her do this?

"How many fingers are you using?" Jason asked loudly, a smirk slashing across his face.

Titan Ivy looked up, finally noticing that she had an audience. She didn't seem scared, or angry. Finding Jason in the darkness above, she arched her back, taking her hand out from between her legs. Three glistening fingers hovered, answering his question.

"Use two, or you'll injure yourself down there," said Jason.

Titan Ivy laughed with exhaustion and her hand slid back between her legs. She laid down on the cement again, resuming her position, breathing tentatively, pressing her breasts against the floor, resuming to riding her two fingers.

Jason was encapsulated by lust, adoration and... a bit of shock. The rain shuddered down the windows, washing her body in blue and grey shadows as she pleasured herself. Her buttocks rocked and rotated. Her hips shunted against the cement. Fastening her movements, Jason saw the stones of her spinal column clench as she bucked against herself, faster and faster. She was really going for it, moaning with longful desperation.

Pulling her head from the floor, Titan Ivy's neck tightened and she hissed from the exertion. Her hips twitched and her body shuddered. She stared to the ceiling, her green eyes glowed a violent crimson. Groaning loudly, showered in carnal beauty, she came again, shuddering against the cement. Titan Ivy slunked down, swivelling on to her back, her nipples erect. She stretched out again, pointing her arms and legs, focusing on Jason, a tired smile swept across her mouth. He walked out of the darkness. They stared at one another, her hands skimmed over her stomach and hips. Her eyes fluttered as she squeezed her breasts and she stroked her pussy. But only briefly.

"Does it still hurt?" Jason asked.

She nodded. Small beads of perspiration formed in groups along her body.

"Well, you know what to do."

Stroking her hand lightly over herself, her fingers trailed over her belly and thighs. Titan Ivy pinched her nipples, moaning again and then she pressed both of her hands between her legs, strumming her pussy. She closed her luminous green eyes, moving her hips, rubbing gently as she stared at the ceiling, forgetting that Jason was even there. She whimpered loudly, rubbing with more precision and Jason swore her moans bounced around the room.

Mutant Jason loomed in the doorway. The real Jason hid in the shadows above, wishing his Red Hood suit would just pop out of thin air. Titan Ivy opened her eyes, noticing the creature. She kept touching herself slowly. No fear or intimidation eluded her.

Mutant Jason padded into the room, rain water dripped from his long arms and broad shoulders, washing away all of the blood from before. He kept his glassy eyes on Titan Ivy who watched him back, still breathing hard. He inspected what was circling her cage, and he touched the barbed wire. Unfazed by the pain and with a mighty rip, he clawed the barbed wire away.

Titan Ivy stared at him with increased gratitude, a little smile itching at the corner of her mouth. She repositioned her body, so Mutant Jason could have a better view. She pressed her feet up against the bars, widening her legs, spread eagled.

Jason was shaking. Holy cow.

Titan Ivy laughed, knocking her head back, masturbating furiously, the bars rattled. Her voice cracked into a wanting moan. What on earth had that virus done to her?

Overcome by desire, the creature suddenly grabbed Titan Ivy's leg, pulling her to the bars. Twisting his large hand, he slid one large callused finger inside her. Titan Ivy threw her head back, almost orgasming from the sensation. She leaned away, anchoring her hips, bucking against the creature's hand. She wouldn't last very long. Her orgasm screamed through her and she leaned back, staring up into Mutant Jason's cold eyes.

The real Jason observed them as they looked at one another, talking without speaking. A pair of strange, kindred spirits. Titan Ivy got up on her knees, and stroked her fingers through the bars, caressing his face. Mutant Jason loved her touch. She grasped his shoulders and pulled out one of the nails. Blood leaked. Relieved from the pain, Mutant Jason touched her face, smearing blood delicately on her mouth. He touched her breasts, painting her belly, rubbing softly between her legs.

Titan Ivy whimpered and squatted in front of him, holding onto the bars with one hand, as she slid her fingers inside herself, riding them again. Jason was quietly impressed by the amount of stamina she had. Titan Ivy gasped against the bars, glancing at Mutant Jason who watched her longfully. After a while, he took her hand that was plunged inside her pussy and sucked on her two fingers. The real Jason felt a painful stab of jealousy.

Mutant Jason seized her body, pulling down the remnants of his sheared trousers, freeing his erection. Titan Ivy's legs were already open and she leaned up, lowering herself onto him. They shrieked in unison. Jealousy now turned into liquid rage inside Jason's heart. This isn't fair.

Titan Ivy's cry was so high pitched, several of the windows shattered, causing the rain and wind to hail into the room. Mutant Jason's buttocks clenched and rocked, not caring about the glass around them. Titan Ivy, as menacing as she appeared, looked so small between his legs. Her neck rolled back and she arched her spine, trying to find pleasure with every thrust. Mutant Jason held onto the bars for more leverage. His scarred face twitched and he stared down, focusing on the sex. Titan Ivy met every thrust.

The real Jason noticed the bends in the bars and the nails squeaked as they were being worked out from the cement. Mutant Jason and Titan Ivy were completely unaware of that was going on. Cracks appeared in the floor around them, spreading like a plague. There was a loud bang and the cage slanted, the ground collapsed around them and they plummeted.

"Shit!" The real Jason jumped down to the ground floor, hearing the crash of the cage from below. He stared over at the hole, expecting the worst.

Titan Ivy laid in the deep, dark trench surrounded by soil, free from her cage which was now in shards, and on top of her, Mutant Jason's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his pelvis thrusting between her legs. She held onto him, her body flexing. Frankenstein's monster and his bride already on their honeymoon.

Jason couldn't look anymore. Heartbroken with longing, he headed outside, back into the storm. He stepped on something hard, noticing that a crowbar slept on the ground. Jason picked it up. He walked towards a crashed car in the middle of the court yard, he could still hear the blinker lights. There was griffiti on the windows.

LITTLE PIECES

His blood ran cold. Rage curled in Jason's chest. Gripping the crowbar in his hands, he took a step back and smashed the window. Jason stalked around the car, reading the letters.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Jason rushed at the windows, smashing the crowbar. The glass showered the ground. He growled, leaping onto the hood. He hurled the weapon down, over and over again. Jumping to the roof of the car, utterly confused and exhausted, Jason destroyed the front and back screens. He screamed and bellowed, hearing the echo of his own voice.

The wind suddenly picked up, whipping around him, stroking his skin. He chucked the crowbar to the ground, observing the emptiness of the asylum courtyard. He hated how all of this mirrored how he felt.

Smoky cascades from the sewer vent underneath the car submerged him in a white greyish cloud. Whispers kissed the tendons of his neck, awakening his desires. Jason caressed his chest slowly moving his fingers down over his belt, tilting his hips, where his cock hardened once again. Jason slipped out a louder and hungrier sigh, letting his open palm sit over his groin. He was going to peform the sensual ritual for the final time, on the roof of the broken car. There was something dangerous and exciting about doing it here, because it was out in the open.

Jason looked around and started the sequence. Splitting his legs apart, his hands scattered over his thighs, readying himself. Forehead tap. Centre chest. His breathing heightened. Right shoulder. Left shoulder. He gripped his groin, taking a breath, looking around again and gyrated into his palm, shuffling his feet, trying to extinguish the remaining itches in his blood. Wind roared around him as he danced, rain hailed, his left arm stayed up for balance, keeping him steady like a ballerina on a bar. Pleasure swarmed around his body. He moaned, grinding his hand onto his manhood. His back stiffened, he rubbed harder, jerking his thighs. As Jason panted into the night sky, a perverted thought swept past. His left hand slid down his chest, unbuckling his belt. He chucked it onto the ground, quickly unzipping his jeans. He squatted down on the roof of the car, sliding his right hand into his damp pants, grabbing his stiff cock, lying flat on his front.

Jason looked around, clutching the side of the car, grinding his pelvis against the sodden solid surface, wanting to experience how Titan Ivy felt. He grunted and panted with each hardened thrust, pounding his hips, imagining his hand was Ivy's pussy. The broken car jerked with every movement. It felt so good like this. A different type of noise exploded from his throat. His rhythm heightened and his thrusts became rougher. It was coming, he was close. Jason's hand burned from the pressure, he was almost there. That release was in sight, an escape from all of this bullshit was in his sights. Just a few more thrusts, just a few more gyrations and it would be over. He shut his eyes, the muscles in his throat tightened. After the final hip thrust, and squeeze of his cock, Jason came, long, hard and loudly, just like she had.

The rain and wind dashed against him, whistling around, waking him up from his pleasurable daze. Aftershocks tremored through his body, and his hips jerked against the roof. Sighing against the metal, he shifted onto his back, riding out the last waves of his orgasm, his hand still inside his jeans, giving his cock small soft tugs and careeses with the comedown. That was really something else.

That sickly feeling seeped back into Jason's stomach. He slid off the car sluggishly, resting against it as he was still out of breath. He kicked the tyre of the car violently, hating himself for being so fucked up and sick in the head.

What he hadn't observed before was that someone was watching him, a quiet, shy soul. Jason's heart lurched in his chest, noticing the figure shaking behind one of the guard cabins. "Hey! This isn't a fucking strip club!" He scooped up the crowbar from the ground. "Step out, or I'll rip your scalp off!"

Red hair shivered in a long flat ponytail. Watery green eyes gleamed behind thick wedge glasses. A tweed dress peaked from her white lab jacket and she stood awkwardly in black leather flats.

"Fuck..." Jason said breathlessly.

Geeky Pamela Isley looked terrified, and she legged it in the opposite direction. Jason threw the crowbar to the ground and ran after her, excitement and anger crashing within him. "Have a good watch did you?!" Pamela shrieked, not a fast runner. Jason had already caught up to her, grabbing her arm, he lifted her off the ground. "Why the fuck were you watching me, huh?"

Pamela squealed against him. "You're disgusting!"

"And you enjoyed watching me, didn't you?!"

"No, I didn't! You're sick. You're a-"

Jason grabbed her head, crushing his mouth over hers. He pressed her against the cabin wall. His fingers slid up her legs, dipping under her tweed dress, hunting for her underwear. Jason groaned against her, drinking her in, kissing her so roughly anyone would think it was last night on earth.

Pamela was so light in his arms. He picked her up, carrying her inside the cabin, continuing to kiss her.

Pamela stared at him, trembling. Jason stepped towards her, she stepped back, predator and prey. Her hips smacked the guard station, and she looked around startled. "You're very unwell, Jason," she uttered. "I hope-I hope you find someone or something to help you. You can't keep going on like this."

"I think I already have." Jason walked up to her, noting their height difference. He leaned down, cupping Pamela's face in her hands. They kissed again, this time she was more receptive, kissing him back. Jason unhooked her lab jacket from her shoulders. They walked the room. He unbuttoned her tweed dress and she stood before him, shivering, in her bra and underwear. Little daisy flowers speckled the material. Why did he find her lingerie so cute for someone like her?

"You're gorgeous," said Jason.

Pamela's confidence dissolved, and she looked at the floor. "No, I'm not."

Jason touched her chin, pushing it up so she looked at him. "Yes, you are. Stop doubting yourself. One day you're going to be the hottest creature on the planet. You just don't know it yet."

Pushing her onto the wooden table, Jason crawled on top, prowling along her quivering body. He pressed kisses to her throat, sloping along her shaking limbs. Jason ripped off his clothing, letting Pamela inspect his body. She stared at his faded scars, and his full erection, clearly intimidated. Parting her legs, Jason nuzzled his face, kissing her clit. Pamela jolted underneath him.

For the next couple of minutes, Jason spent his time drinking from her in every way the human imagination could muster. When he came up for her, Pamela's pale face was pink with warmth, and a smidgen of embarrassment. Jason carressed her legs, running his fingers over her belly. "Nobody's ever touched you like that, have they?"

She shook her head. They stared at each other, the storm was still harrowing outside. Pamela suddenly frowned up at him.

"What's the matter?"

"The sequence, what was it's purpose?"

"I'm not sure. It just happened." Jason removed her glasses and took her hand and gently tapped her forehead with her fingers. "When I went to find The Clown after the elementary school massacre, he was waiting for me, and he closhed me on the head to disorientate me." Then he tapped the middle of her chest. "So I couldn't fight back, he broke my ribcage." Jason tapped both of her shoulders. "Fractured my shoulders, so my reflexes would be slower and I couldn't defend myself... and then the psycho mime had to steal the last remaining thing I had left."

Pamela gasped out loud as he pressed her hand between her legs. Gently, Jason massaged her hand and she let him guide him. After a minute of guided caressing, Pamela began to stroke herself without his help. She panted lightly, her thighs trembling against the table. Jason carefully slid her underwear off, throwing it to the floor, enjoying just watching her. Jason curled his naked body around her, leaning up one arm, observing her self-pleasure. He could watch her all day.

Pamela turned her head, staring at Jason as she masturbated.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Are you disgusted with me?"

"No, why would I be?"

She didn't say anything.

"Pam?"

She turned back to staring at the ceiling, her hand picking up the pace. Jason caressed her breasts, kissing and licking her shoulders. The wet sounds from between her legs were louder and more delicious in their texture.

"Don't be too rough," Jason whispered against her ear. "You don't want to hurt yourself down there"

Pamela nodded, slowing down her rhythm. Jason wrapped his arms around her until she came right next to him. "How'd you feel now?"

"Tingly."

"Good." Jason took her hand from between her legs, moving on top of her. "I just want to be inside you." He moved to her hips, anchoring one leg, before penetrating her.

Pamela gasped loudly again. Jason curled against her neck. He didn't want to fuck, he wanted to make love, the old fashioned way. Jason gently thrusted into her, listening to the sound of the rain, hearing her delicate sighs.

Jason kissed her deeply, continuing to thrust. He smiled against her mouth. The words drifted from his lips, too quick to halt: "I love you, Ivy."

When he opened his eyes, Pamela was no longer there, shuddering underneath him. His damp sodden body was intertwined with Poison Ivy's glorious green beautiful legs, as the surroundings of the Botanical Gardens seeped back into focus.