The Clear Mind

August 06, 2015:

Ivy and Monev begin their own plans for the CC-CV1 strain.

Isley Gardens


NPCs: Archibald Monev



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

“Ivy, Ivy….” Monev mumbled from his spot upon the bed. “I don’t understand you at times. Something’s happened to you.”

There was nothing from the woman, the woman who sat facing the wall as she usually would. Her room was a lively sort. Suede green bed in the shape of a leaf, the coverings the finest Egyptian cotton that anyone could steal from. It did not have that Macy’s touch, but something gathered and grabbed from New York’s finest. Soho. But that corner was riddled and filled with drawings of her own ilk when she was the most mad. When the Green screeched and screamed within her ear about their troubles, their pains, absent of love and demands that caused her to act.. right.. now.

But the walls itself were made from fresh and rotted wood that brought on the smell of nature (the best parts), the floor of that same wood, polished and decorated with an area rug that resembled the jungle-esque scene. Vines with tiny leaves sprout and rest against the wall as if it were their own bed; the tiny leaves sprout, and occasionally move by their will alone, or whenever Pamela is near to spoil and pamper their senses.

And yet, forget about the toxins that coursed through her blood, that made her such an avatar; a force to be reckoned with. Never mind what gave her the strength and what called and pulled at her depths. There was something else added, something added that touched upon the very depths of compassion that she keeps hidden behind the guise of a hazy mind. Which now made that mind clear.

“Are you listening to me, Pamela?” The name was spoken to invoke her ire. But none of that would come.

“Yes, Archibald. I can hear you.”

Silver eyes squint and press hard at the writing, the charcoal pencil soon gripped as she leans her lithe body forward, pressing the edges of her palm against the wall as she begins to jot down a formula, an idle mind.. especially one as clear, is a terrible thing to waste.

“Is that what I think it is?” The man questions, slowly drawing himself from the bed, idle fingers snatching the blankets from the top as he crosses the path to kneel down behind Pamela, the silken garb soon draped around her shoulders to cover her, more so for himself so that he could drape his arms around her shoulders. Monev never knew affection like this, especially from the likes of Pamela Isley.

“Yes. It’s the CC-CV1 formula.” She calmly states. “With the recent changes to my mental facilities..” There was a pause, a consideration and mild thought, thoughts that stem from this being either a good thing, or a bad thing. “..I am able to focus on the formula much more clearer than before. Since Hugo Strange and Baroness dropped the ball on the last shipment, I’ve managed to keep a vial for my own personal use. But the game has changed. I do not want my children to grow up in a world as ill-fated as this one.”

“Archibald. In Mexico there is a plant, Mala Mujer, find this for me. With the additions to the formula I will create my own army. And we will extend it to the citizens of Gotham..”
“And to the tri-state areas.” Monev finishes.

“Yes. And then we will recreate the world in the image that it is meant to be. No longer will the world suffer because of man; for they will face the wrath of the green and… her compassion. And the chosen few will learn what it means to be agents of the Green.” There was an inner chill that ran deep within her soul. Her hand lifts towards the apex of her chest to rub into her skin hard, for it ticked and scratched at her own soul in a battle of wills that made her entire body an unsettling thing to be inside.

“And what of the Great Black Bat?”
“What of him? He is of no consequence. We will set Two-Face upon him to distract. And if necessary, The Joker.”
“They should kill him.”
“No. killing.”

“IVY. You’ve changed. Your eyes. Your demeanor. Whatever it was put something in you and it is not right. And I will not stand for this.. this new you. You have children, for Christ’s sake!”

A push back of the shoulders to shrug the arms away that encircles her, her feet planting against the floor as she draws herself to a stand, the small vines that wrapped around her bare arms soon bulking in size as the anger within her rises. Monev’s arms lift, shielding himself from the backlash that he so loves…

..And it doesn’t come.

“I.. I’m sorry.” Ivy finds herself saying a moment too late, her hand reaching out, hesitantly, then drawing back as she stares into her palm, that hand soon raising to rub against her chest yet again as she clears her throat. “Do as I ask. Find me a lab. The personnel. Reach into Hugo’s pot if you have to. But I want it done before the week is out. I have plans for this city, and you can either remain by my side or not at all.”

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