Uncle Hyena (unclehyena) wrote,
Uncle Hyena

Poison Ivy

Non-humorous superhero fanfic, accomplished in less than 12 hours from conception to completion. I don't know what is going on, either.

I have always been fond of the DC comics character Pam "Poison Ivy" Isley. That is, the CONCEPT of the character, as a sort of neo-dryad, fascinates me. I have NEVER seen that concept executed in a way that I found really satisfying. This story popped into my head this morning, and here it is.

Poison Ivy

"You really shouldn't be in the park after sundown, Miss," the cop said. "Especially not dressed like that. Especially not while..."

Pam hit him with her best smile and a blast of pheromones. "I'll be fine, officer," she said sweetly. "Nothing will ever hurt me in this park." And then she disappeared into the shrubbery.

She cursed herself for her carelessness; she had been too intent looking for the Slasher, and had let herself be seen. She wanted the Slasher to see her, of course, but she also wanted to see him FIRST.

Still, she had to smile at the cop's comment on her outfit. Simplicity scored again. She was wearing an extra long tee shirt and flip flops; ONLY an extra long, slightly too small, EXTREMELY soft tee shirt and flip flops. She knew that the Slasher preferred blondes with rather more curves than she had, but she was confident he would notice her in that outfit. And that was all she needed.

This was her fourth night on the hunt; she was confident that the park would tell her if the Slasher turned up; she had his scent. But he had to enter the park, or there would be no game. Of course, as long as he stayed out of the park, there would be no more victims.

But tonight... There he was. Most of the park was between them, but she closed on him rapidly, chose her spot, and then turned a corner into his line of sight. The outfit had the desired effect; she walked toward him, and gave him a broad smile.

"Hey, Sailor," she said. "Don't you know it's not safe to be the park after sundown?"

Her friendliness caught him off guard, but he knew his lines. "I can take care of myself. How about you?"

Pam upgraded the smile. "Why, if I get into trouble, I'll just look for someone like you, who carries a knife to protect himself. You do have a knife, don't you?" She poured on the pheromones.

"Uh... Yeah."

"May I see it?" she asked. He nodded, and produced a heavy military Bowie. "Well," she said. "Isn't that pretty. I'll tell you what, let me hold your knife, and we can go to a really private little clearing that is just through here, and I'll take off my clothes, and you can take off your clothes, and then we can do whatever you like."

Pam could see that his brain was melting. She didn't LOOK like his fantasy, exactly, but her actions fit it perfectly, and he was sure that this was going to be the best one yet. It didn't hurt that his judgement was on a pheromone vacation.

They reached the clearing, and Pam turned and faced him. "All right," she said. "Time to get naked." She point at the ground. "Just pile your things right there." He pulled his shoes and clothes off quickly, and failed to fall over in the process. Pam was disappointed by that.

"Now," she said, "You just wait right there..." She held the knife out in front of her, dangling from a grip on the pommel. She released it, and it fell and stood in the earth. Pam kicked off her flip flops and quickly pulled the tee shirt over her head. She looked the Slasher in the eye, then picked up the knife and held it out to him. He reached for it, started to take a step forward, and realized that his feet were rooted to the ground.

"Oops," Pam said. "It looks while you were checking out the merchandise, those creepers trapped you." The Slasher started to sputter, but the rapidly growing creeper had covered his mouth. "I suppose you're wondering why you still have one arm that isn't tied down," she said in the sweetest voice she could conjure. "That plant has both toxins and thorns, and if I want it to, it can take two or three days for it to kill you."

Pam put her clothes back on while the Slasher made terrified, pain wracked noises through his nose, and tried fruitlessly to pry the creepers away with he free right hand. Pam stood in front of him and showed him the knife. "I told you I would give you the knife back, and you could do anything you wanted with it, and I always keep my promises." She held the knife by the tip and offered it to him; he grabbed it and started trying to cut away the vines, clutting himself several times in the process.

"They grow too fast for you to free yourself," she said happily. "And if I want them to, they will just paralyze you. So stop hurting my pet." The Slasher stopped trying to cut the vines. "The only useful thing you can do with that knife," she said, "Is kill yourself."

The Slasher wasn't the type to kill himself; it took several minutes of escalating pain for him take the fast way out. Once it was over, the creeper and the dead body quichly retreated into the earth. Pam bundled up the bloody knife with the man's clothes, and went looking for a place to leave the parcel where the police would find it quickly.

NOTHING would ever hurt HER in the park.

Paul Haynie
(Pam "Poison Ivy" Isley is a wholly owned property of DC Comics.)
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