Robinson Park at sunset is a wonder to behold, and rarely seen since Robinson Park at night is something sensible Gothamites tend to avoid. Imagine Central Park, but more so.
I head in through the ornate wrought-iron gate and take an immediate left onto the path sort of skirting the edge of the park, headed for the best place to see the whole area. Well, most of it.
In American parks there's two broad theories of design. The savanna model makes wide open fields with clear sightlines, a border of trees at the edges, and the more natural sort with hills and trees all about. Robinson is more of a compromise, maybe a third thickly forested with most of the park, especially in the lead-up to the reservoir, exposed. At least normally. I cast an eye about. Was it my imagination, or was the path looking a little more overgrown than usual?
Could be paranoia, but I'll not bet on it.
Anyways, almost there, there's a reason I picked this gate. Atop the highest hill on the park is the Forum of Twelve Caesars, where Eliphas Cobblepot built a wide stone square with statues commemorating ol' Julius and the eleven most famous Roman Emperors. Yes, that includes Caligula, Nero, Commodus, Caracella and Elagabalus. There used to be such conspiracy theories, and people just shaking their heads, at the inclusion of the worst Emperors and historical villains. My favorite was the cult of crime that would supposedly gather on moonless nights to perform secret rituals there, well, at least until Intergang started circulating an actual Crime Bible. Way to ruin the joke, guys.
I mostly know it for the farmer's market that used to come up here before the quake. And the hidden auxiliary Batcave I've been pretending not to know about.
When I have more time, I should really swing by and loot the place before Bruce returns. I've little doubt it's full of useful nonlethal weapons, if nothing else, and likely all sorts of useful parts. Also the ones on Arkham and under the Wayne Foundation building.
Well, I finally reach it. More than half the statues are fallen, including Augustus, whose plinth- empty, save the feet- I climb for a better view. Heh. Two trunkless legs of stone stand in the park... sic transit gloria mundi, pal.
I look around and... Huh. This is all new. It certainly is, but organized and not displeasing to the eye.
Before the park has been remade into neat fields and especially orchards bearing fruit that normally doesn't grow this far north. And there's something going on by the reservoir I can't quite make out. Because, I realize, it's too bright. Either catching a lot of the setting sun or glowing somehow.
There's a sudden metaphorical itch on my neck. Not a sound, an absence of sound behind me, a vague knowledge of something large. I spin around, hand whipping to my pocket before fumbling somewhat awkwardly with my phaser as I stare down a deer.
No, not just a deer. It's eyes are glassy and not tracking, it's fur covered in some sort of mossy growth. Zombie deer! Images of cordyceps flashed through my brain. Horrifying images, and I step back, fumbling with the phaser settings to destroy the abombination before it could spread it's--
DESIST!
For a moment, I stumble, caught between my reaction and instincts and my trust for James. Then trust wins out, and I take a better look.
Skin is covered with moss and... bark? Thorny bits sticking out all over the hindquarters, glass eyes and antlers like branches. And it's not breathing, which brings me back to zombie... no. Not a zombie. A plant. A mobile plant shaped like a stag.
That's new. And just... why!? I'm pretty sure Ivy's position on random herbivores hasn't improved much in the three months or so since I last saw her. Wait, does it eat?
The fake deer looks very unimpressed, and then turns and bounds off. After a moment, I follow.
And why are we chasing the fake animal?
Either it's a scout and going back to report to Ivy, a guide sent for us, or... it's movements are totally random or independent, in which case I've got no better idea besides checking out why the reservoir shore is glowing all of a sudden.
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Humans are endurance hunters. It's our ancient history and our legacy. There are lots of creatures on this Earth that can beat us in a sprinting contest, but damn few (wolves, dogs, horses) that can compete for distance running. A relatively fit adult human may not be able to just charge up to a deer and knife it, but he can damn well keep it in sight until it collapses from exhaustion, then jog up to administer the coup de grace.
At least, that's the theory. I don't know how applicable it is to this situation where the deer is a plant, clear sightlines are a bit lacking, and despite semi-regular jogging when not in Arkham I tend to stretch the definition of 'relatively fit' some.
Which is to say after an indefinable, but short, time, my quarry left me in the dust, gasping as I slowed to a quick walk and trying to ignore the voice in my head that said Batman could have kept going at this pace at least half an hour. Some comparisons are simply unfair, alright?
Particularly those which show one in a negative light?
Precisely. I'm a supervillain and the legit government of this rock, why would I ever have that power if not to reframe everything in a more positive light for myself?
Well, I guess the plan is to keep going in this direction for now.
Which doesn't last long, as the deer is standing frozen still pretty much just out of sight. It takes a look and bounds off into some bushes, but I don't hear any further rustling. Check and, yep, it just freezes up the moment I can't see it anymore. Alrighty then.
With a brisk walk and a stutter-stopping guide, we proceed in a wide circle, right back where we began, where the deer-thing starts grazing at the base of Caligula's statue. Well, that was a letdown, I guess- Wait. This is the entrance. James is right, as usual, the backup Batcave is accessed via the plinth in some way. I don't know how he opens the door, so I just blast my way in. I guess if nobody's home we're looting the place starting right now.
Assuming the magical mobile weed is, in fact, acting to Ivy's volition and not just some plant-animal.
There's a a short ladder down to a wrought-iron style spiral staircase, and it's quite dark. Sometime, I should really try and find contacts that give perfect night-vision or something. I mean, decent NV goggles are never more than a Tom Clancy paperback away, and flashlights are a lot easier, but both have issues more sophisticated magic shouldn't, in making you visible, being vulnerable to someone flicking on the light switch or just cumbersome to put on and take off. Though, really, better technology must exist already, I know for an absolute certainty Batman has nightvision in his cowl and it never seems to hinder him any, hey maybe I'll finally get a chance to take a look at some of his sensory gear--
Don't get distracted.
Right. I just magic up a flashlight by the light of the entrance hole. Onwards and downwards.
At the bottom I find a cozy little cave, no room for a Batmobile, but otherwise, all sorts of computer and lab space. Oh, and Dr. Pamela Isley and several children all stuck together in giant wads of hardened earth. The red-hair in the central and biggest mound, does it still count if it's affixed to the wall, ceilign and floor? looks up blearily and blinks slowly a few times before her eyes widen.
"Bookworm!"
"Doctor Isley." I mime tipping a hat.
With any number of people, using Ivy's real name would be some sort of power-play. The staff at Arkham, in particular, are fastidious about using real names whenever possible to distance us from our adopted personas. I have no interest in such games and normally address my peers in whatever manner they prefer. However, Arkham's people are on to something, there are some people whose identity you just don't want to reinforce even a little, and if you're a male of the species, Poison Ivy ranks high on the list.
Of course, she might just assume it's a power-play and get offended anyways. Curse my tendency to overthink social situations, curse it I say!
"This isn't what it looks like."
"Oh, I'm really glad, because it looks like you and a bunch of people are being held prisoner in one of Batman's old boltholes."
".... It may be a little what it looks like."
"I see. No doubt you were about to escape, just as well I caught you when I did. So the question is, who did this and why?"
"It was Clayface!" one of the kids in another lump called out.
"Oh?" I turned back to Ivy. "Which one?"
"Karlo."
I groaned internally.
So, a brief history of the Clayfaces. The original, Basil Karlo, was a couple years before my time. Famous movie star turned serial killer with a "master of disguise" shtick and a fright mask. Hey, it was around the time Deadshot dressed like a cowboy and tried to upstage and outhero Batman by hiring crooks to pull jobs he'd then foil. Stuff was weird before I made the scene. Then Matt Hagen took the up the mantle after falling into a pool of muck in a hidden cave that turned him into a shapeshifting mud monster for 48 hours. The cave was eventually destroyed by Batman, but he taught himself chemistry in prison and learned to duplicate the effects. At some point, you'd think Blackgate and Arkham would seek accredidation as universities, given the number of world-changing illuminaries created there, with all that free time to study up. Anyways, Clayface III, STAR Labs researcher named Preston Payne, tried to cure a fatal pituitary condition by injecting himself with a sample of Hagen's clay flesh, because what oculd go wrong? The answer, by the way, is everything, as Payne discovered when he melted and had to build a containment exoskeleton to stand upright, and incinerated flesh with a touch. Worse, he was in agony except when burning people alive.
There's also a Lady Clay, I'm a lot vaguer on her details. Some kind of Kobra cultist given the basic shapeshifting mud monster powers via magic ritual and brutally beaten down by one of the kid hero outfits that crops up every now and then. But she apparently fell in love with Clayface III and they had a boy, Kid Clay.
This brings us all to last year, while I was cooling my heels in Arkham after a series of spectacular heists clouded by one small error in judgement, Basil Karlo emerges from whatever hole he was in for my entire supervillain career and calls an all-Clay villain team-up to kill Batman, which he names the Mudpack. Didn't work of course, and it may or may not have all been a scheme to let Karlo obtain samples of and copy the powers of the others, becoming- and I still can't say this with a straight face- "Ultimate Clayface."
Which means this is, in theory, the biggest and most powerful of the Clays, in theory, the most intelligent, and most damning of all, the only one (well, also Lady Clay and the kid) I don't have a preexisting relationship or handle on. Hagen is relatively pleasant and easy to deal with, considering the circles we both run in. Payne can be managed, with some difficulty, or negotiated with if you're careful about his prickly pride.
"How on Earth did he get you in such a state?"
She shrugged, in so far as she could. "He threatened the children, some orphans I've been caring for."
"What does he want?"
"Fruit, vegetables. Things people can't get at your soup kitchens. Vitamin C, at immense markup."
"Ah." We could certainly use those. Hmmm...
My normal inclination would be to free the other prisoners/hostages and leave, maybe see what Ivy makes of new/old Clayface with his leverage gone. Generally, I find, the only constructive thing one can bring to a supervillain grudge match is popcorn. But now we cannot.
Ivy looks pretty wasted, leaving her restrained is probably only going to lead to an easy Clay win, free her and she may well attack me. The children I must remove from danger are her major reason for not fighting back. So in essence, anything I do is picking a side, even walking away will decide the outcome. Two, this is a battle over something I find I very much desire, a few fruits, adequately preserved, can be multiplied and spread throughout the city and we'll all sleep easier without fear of scurvy and malnutrition on top of everything else.
So if we must choose, do so decisively and have done.
Poison Ivy is innately hostile to humankind and men in particular, her sudden interest in orphan children notwithstanding, she has a long history and numerous statements to this effect. She's clever enough to get around any restraint I might reasonably place upon her, save a degree of mind-control that would most definitely alienate most of my key supporters. She may be grateful if I free and aid her, but that will only carry so far. She cannot be trusted.
Karlo is a complete unknown. If he's primarily profit-motivated, as suggested by this scheme, we can come to an arrangement. But that would depend on his ability to keep the status quo, keep Ivy in check. I'm certainly not leaving the children to be his leverage. I might be able to provide the means to mind-control Ivy, use him as a cutout. But that would involve a certain degree of trust I'm reluctant to extend to the architect of this plan.
I don't sell drugs. I don't hurt children. I never indulge in the skeevier aspects of easy mind-control. Basil Karlo certainly doesn't respect the middle rule, and I don't want to reward him for it. Can I be sure he won't abuse the last? How responsible am I if-- I'm not even going to finish that.
What to do. What to do.
Then I recall a line from the time I read the Tao te Ching in college, and I understand what to do.
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When "Ultimate" Clayface returns to Robinson Park, his steps shake the ground. He's a big one, twelve feet tall if he's an inch, a giant mud monster with some crystalline growths in his back.
Where is the famed subtlety? I had thought he was supposed to be a master of nuance.
I let him pass my hiding spot before stepping out beneath the halo of a streetlight and clearing my throat. A little theatric, but how often do I get to play across a master thespian? Must have made a sight with my pearly white suit, hat and my new crystal-topped cane.
He turns and his face is unreadable. Probably because it's a slab of muck with only a mouth and eyes.
"Good evening, Clayface."
Something in his chest rumbled.
"The mayor."
"At your service sir. I couldn't help but discover your operation, and I must admit I'm impressed somewhat in spite of myself. Positioning yourself to provide a vital service to the city, and reap the rewards is remarkably forward-thinking and constructive, pretty much exactly the kind of lateral approach we need rebuilding the city. Of course, there is the small matter of the children."
I paused, and when he said nothing, I continued.
"Threatening children, locking them up in a basement, does tend to reflect poorly on one's character." Women too, but Ivy's a big girl and I don't want to get sidetracked. "So I must ask, what would you like for the fruits, and can you maintain control of her without them?"
"No." he rumbled.
"Well that's a problem, but not an insurmountable one. Have you tried giving her flowers? Ivy loves flowers." Just not when people pick or cut them. "The kids will have to leave, it's not good for them to be cooped up. Ivy I'm willing to negotiate for. If you could keep her under control, what would you want?"
"Money. Complete control over the park. No interference, no sniffing around."
"I'd have to be able to trust you. Trust is easier to build up if I can visit sometimes."
"Not interested." He turns and starts ambling away.
"Well then you can do what you like, but I'm still taking the children."
He stopped. "Not an option."
"Even so."
He turned. "Hope your successor is more reasonable." He took a step forward, his upper body already starting to collapse and flow forwards. Guess negotiations have broken down then.
I pointed my cane at him. It came from the Magikkers, one of several "I can't believe it's not Harry Potter" knockoffs common to the late 90s-early oughts, the gem is a Herkimer Diamond (technically a quartz) with a flaw, a single drop of water suspended in it which massively weakens the crystal... and can serve as a portal to a plane of infinite water. In the books, any magikker could do the same with any volume of water, but as the cane featured prominently in several close escapes, well, fanon is a hell of a drug.
Clayface's torso comes further apart under a pressure-hose spray. I let up after a moment and as bits of clay start visibly flowing together, I leg it back towards the Forum.
As mentioned before, I'm in decent but not exceptional shape. But prep time for a wizard conquers all, and with a pair of seven-league boots, courtesy of Ptolemy's Gate, well, I actually have to be careful not to outpace the big galoot too much.
So we ran for a little, me with the stuttering step of someone who sometimes crosses fifty feet in an instant, and him crashing through the foliage like a B-movie monster.
Sheesh.
I angle a little and head to stand and wait by the steepest slope. Then duck as an arm forming a blade swipes at neck level, and roll away as another arm comes down like an ax. Good reach on this one, but you'd think he'd use shapeshifting to help with his mobility more, unless he has limitations I'm not aware of.
I reward him with another shot from the cane.
"Any time now."
Clayface reforms just as a series of thorny vines burst from the ground. He immediately starts to heat himself, and I and the cane help him cool off.
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A few careful phaser blasts freed the kids, and then I was working on Ivy.
"What do you need to beat Clayface?" No time to beat around the bush.
"What does any plant need? Water, sunlight, air. And if you could distract him, it would be a help."
"Water and air we've got. Sunlight isn't going to be a thing for several hours, but maybe..." I'm sure I can replicate sunlight, in fact, there's an enchanted floodlight and a lantern to do just that in RIFTS Vampire Kingdoms.
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While it's hard to say anything for sure with a Clayface, I'm pretty sure a couple of phaser blasts would have at least done for Clayface II. But I wanted a two-on-one, needed to give Ivy every chance to betray me while I was actually armed and on guard for it. If she doesn't, great, of such small gestures is trust made. If she does, well, I can minimize the damage and honestly? Plan D here is to mind control Ivy for the greater good, have her sit in the park and grow plants without causing trouble, and lying my ass off to everyone that it's her idea. The less witnesses around for that, the better.
I learned a long time ago that in villain team-ups, you can't control when the sudden but inevitable backstabbings happen, you can just plan for every contingency you can, and be ready to survive and backstab them harder. All follows the Tao, so the true master acts without acting, and has no bias towards any particular outcome. Or something like that. I was perfectly happy to offer both supervillains a seat at the table, mediate their differences, or to work with either, or none, or either or both quite against their will.
Truly, the worst development for your moral character was discovering a cause you were willing to compromise for.
I suppose I can't properly argue with that. But it's no worse than the time with the Injustice Gang, or Kryptonite Man, or... well, a lot of really bad decisions I've made.
Ivy emerges as Karlo is reforming, a process made more difficult by fresh plants spearing into or blocking the progress of his individual components.
"How about that kiss now?" She leaned in over his lumpy head--
I heard a subtle, but incredibly memorable whoo-whoo noise and ducked reflexively as a batarang thunked into the ground in front of Ivy. No wait, it hisses, a gasarang! I throw an army up over my lower face and frantically dig in my pockets for the Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, and with a little fumbling open a dog-eared page and summon forth the very essence of a blustery day.
As the cloud of gas disperses, it seems Ivy has managed to lunge forward and kiss Karlo anyways, who is rapidly sprouting shrubbery from his... everywhere. And looming over her is an all-too-familiar six-foot-six dark figure in a cowl.
Guess I'm not getting to raid the backup Batcaves after all.
He shifts, preparing what I think is a left cross at Ivy's head. He's hard to predict, but the last thing we need is a battle once things have settled into a semi-ideal outcome.
"Stop!" I throw out my arms. "Just- stop. Please. You don't know everything that's going on here. Please. Let me handle this."
The chiseled jaw, the only visible feature of Batman's face, works and clenches.
Ivy laughs. Not. Helping.
"So our bargain stands?"
"Yes, Doctor Isley. I'll make it official the moment I get back to the office." It was pretty much the same as I offered Karlo, she grows food for us and we treat the park as her fief. The kids can stay if they want, but there will be welfare checkups and some homeschooling materials delivered. Also, people who want to walk in the park and experience the joys of nature can, but are subject to Ivy's rules and she has right of refusal to any specific guests. We'll probably want to put up warning signs, since Ivy pretty much works to the old Llanowar Elves rules for people who commit accidental herbicide.
And I can't believe I'm thinking about park signage while facing down Batman. I really need to bring my A game, or at least let James handle the speaking role.
"We need to talk."
I nodded, reluctantly. "We certainly do."
In the background, Ivy laughs even harder.