Erasing Ivy

Summary:
September 9, 2014: Eraser 'walks' Poison Ivy out of Arkham Asylum. Promises of Michael Kors imminent.

Arkham Asylum

Past Charon's haunted and desolate cemetery grounds lies the towering Gothic
style gates of Arkham Asylum. Beyond these security gates and are a series of
watchtowers with spotlights that can pierce through the foliage lacking
skeletal trees that dot the perpetually fog covered courtyard around the
Asylum.

That singular lonesome road leads to the monolithic vault like gated doors in
to the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum itself. High security is the theme here, some
of the most insane individuals Gotham has ever been witness to reside within
these vaulted walls.

There is checkpoint after checkpoint each section of Arkham has it's own
dedicated staff and armed contigency of gaurdsmen. These men and women are
highly trained and expected to be coming face to face with some of the most
warped, vile and diabolical criminals one could imagine. Despite an infamous
and illreputed revolving door policy the Asylum is a fortress that is
intended to keep threats inside of it and out. No one without proper
clearance moves inside these dark halls. Even the cooks, janitors,
maintenance crews are required to have proper clearing identification. So
once inside expect to be a while. Even if it's just a visit. Enjoy.


Characters

NPCs

  • Two Unnamed Guards

*


Mood Music:
[*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]


It's a quiet night, well quiet for Arkham standards, the morning hours only a short while away. The clear sky overhead creates a rather defusing calm to the black night, the moon in full view as it lowers for it's rest. It's nearing the end of the shift for many of the night shift guards, the morning shift still roughly a half hour away, a sleepy mood covering the place.

Through the halls strides an odd site, a man dressed in a bright yellow suit, flanked on either side by guards. He doesn't look at a glance like he's being transferred here, most likely just another visitor, but there's something off about him, an odd confidence. Finally he comes to a stop before a rather nice looking cell door, a small briefcase held in his off hand, several telltale scares on this Frenchman's face.

The days droned on in Arkham; it was hard to tell if night was day and day was night. This particular cell that was approached remained walled off, some part in the deeper depths that kept the sunlight out. Light period, save for a lamp or two to be a guiding light for reading. Even then, that too was often taken away, for if they let this particular person have their way, she would have somehow made it work to her advantage.

This night was one of those nights. Books and papers strewn across the ground, scratches decorated the walls through brief fits of insanity. Pictures that men that she's managed to enchant littered the floor, a few drops of dried blood and.. her.

The first thing to notice about this particular beast was the red hair. The red hair that looked matted and greased, hung low in thick curls that covered her face as she remained in the corner. Skin pale and unhealthy, orange pant suit torn. The only thing that looked particularly new and fresh about her was the straight jacket that hugged her volopuous form like a lovers embrace.

She was tucked away in the corner, the darkness of the cell concealing her completely. There was a light switch right outside of her door that controlled when the lamp came on and when it didn't. Being under that control, or any control itself, drove her more insane than the crying of her 'babies.'

A small hand wave from the man in the rather frighteningly yellow pinstripe suit, and the door to Ivy's cell is opened. Without the normal safety procedures, or the regular bells and whistles, just a quiet opening of her cell. This whole greeting is out of the norm for any sort of normal visitation. As the door swings open a calm and confident voice calls out, "Bonjour," the light flowing into the room.

Green eyes lift at the sound of the French lilt, her lips forming a thin line as eyes narrow through the darkness. Who was this man in the odd suit? She was hoping it wasn't one of 'them', who wanted to teach her a lesson in politeness and the politics that came with. "What." A gravel-riddled voice sung out, gone the femininity of this creature, only the guise of a woman gone mad. Arkham would do that to a girl. "What. Now. What. Fucking. Now."

A quick look to his watch first, as one of the 'guards' beside the yellow man pops open the briefcase pulling out a rather exquisite looking green dress. "A present, and a much needed bout of fresh air," The Eraser speaks in a rather businesslike tone of voice, with a thick french accent. The guard with the dress moves slightly into the room in order to hand over the dress, and help her out of the straightjacket "I beleive the words you're looking for are 'thank you' miss Ivy, unless that is you don't want to get out of here,"

There was a breath of a moment where she considered lunging at the man. But she thought better of it, and she was good for doing so. As the guard entered and helped her up, she did not fight, only sighed at the release of the binds that held her arms wrapped about her form. Once the straight jacket was off, the dress was taken from the guard with a healthy snatch, a slight hiss dripping from her lips as she tossed the dress itself aside upon the bed which.. surprisingly enough, laid out as if she were to change. "My words are going to be turn around." Because she was already moving. The pants were slipped from dirtied legs with a quick shove downward, top soon taken off with a grip of fingers as she steps out in a single go. She was all too eager to leave that place, to dress in something befitting a Queen, and ruin whomever dropped her into Arkham for those long months and forced her into solitude. "The time?"

"Oh Two thirty-four," Eraser explains rather calmly having been kind enough to turn around despite the inherent risk of doing so around a madwoman. "There's a car waiting out front," He explains rather calmly, now a bit more obvious that he's in fact walking with a rather nice looking cane, despite not looking old enough to really need one. There's an odd silence in the halls, as everything for the most part has been cleared for this silent breakout.

"Two thirty-four and you would leave me barefoot." Ivy idly complains, a hint of sarcasm dripping from her tone. But no matter, she was in something that felt like love against her skin, she was out of the dirty orange and off whites, into something she could move in, be free in. The dress fits her perfectly, there was no need for her to sinch and pull and tug, it smoothed on her body like butter and she sighed with delight. It was then that she finally look a look at her supposed savior, suspicious he, yet savior none the less. "Let us not keep the driver waiting." She certainly was not going to stall, but this was curious. Who was this man and what did he want of her?

"Couldn't find a pair that went with the dress," Eraser admits rather earnestly already starting to lead the way, as he closes back up the briefcase, with a loud click. "There are a few pairs out in the car that I decided against if you must have shoes," His voice making it sound almost like it's better to go without then with improper color coordination, despite the monstrosity of fashion he's wearing that makes him look sort of like a giant number two pencil. Leading the way through the halls past various locked cells, he flips open the lid of his watch. "Three to midnight," A rather odd statement for one's own watch, and it doesn't look like anyone else is really around to hear it.

"Fair enough." She was considerably more calm than she was when he approached, though her body shook with anticipation at reaching the door to the free world. She didn't question the fact that he said a different time upon his watch, but she does question all of this. "What do you want. No one comes into Arkham for anyone unless you're damn crazy yourself." She had further words, the need to deduce strong, but she remained silent on her thoughts and only asked what was truly necessary.

Out front waits a rather plain looking black limousine, with pitch black tinted windows, and a rather featureless design to blend in with just about any other limo on the market. "Isn't everyone just a little crazy?" The question is quite earnest if not rhetorical the two guards staying behind to head back inside, as he opens the door for Ivy. "There will be time for that, first we have to get you taken well care of," A small smile on his face, as the guards finally disappear back into the building.

Ivy jumps just a touch as the door slams behind her, breathing in all of the fresh air brought life to dead lungs that inhaled nothing but psychosis. Her eyes close to savor the moment, hands shaking as she drowns out the sounds and songs of the earth for just a touch to enjoy the silence and breeze of the soft wind against silk clad skin. "Yes." She casually admits after the fact, forcefully pushing herself forward with a gentle sway of hips and arms that follow. "Honey, you are going to regret ever insisting that you are going to take care of me. I will drain. You. Dry." Because, first things first. Mama needs a bubble bath.

A flick of long, red, yet knotted locks are given as she dips her head into the limo, crawling slowly into the leathered seats to rest and relax, old joins slowly creaking as she glances around for the typical flute and bottle of champagne. The sun was not out yet, she was not 100%, so until then…

"I need a bath. Nourishment. Gotham's finest hair dresser. A manicurist. Saks catalogue." A pair of black pumps were picked up from the floor of the limo, frowned at, and tossed aside. "Correction, Michael Kors. And a bed with memory foam. But before all of that. All of this." She glances around, she enjoys luxury, that was no secret. However. "You need to tell me what gained me my release." Or she will most definitely kill him.

Taking a seat inside of his limousine first, Eraser turns to face the woman with a bit of calm respect in his voice as he speaks, "I was… placed into a similar situation as yours at a time, and see in you a kindred spirit" The door is closed for him by a chauffeur in a black suit. "If you wish to leave I won't stop you from walking off into the night soon as we've left Arkham grounds" His words are each carefully chosen as he speaks, moving with his hands to try and get across a rather hard point. "But if you wish to stay I can supply you with the means to enjoy the sweet taste of revenge,"

Ivy may be insane, but she was no fool. She watched the man as carefully as one would watch a disobedient child; full of scrutiny anticipation for the first sign of fucking up. But he doesn't, she still held him in that gaze, a little bit wary but.. her head tilts because there was interest there. "Revenge." The word was sweet on the tongue. "Revenge against who? And tell me, would I be doing this for myself or for you."

"That is a question I hope I may help you answer for yourself" A rather soothing voice coming from the man in yellow, as the car begins to pull away down the winding path from Arkham "And if your own revenge should overlap with mine then so be it," He looks over towards Ivy still trying to choose his words carefully to try and hopefully avoid being stabbed to death by the woman he just broke out of prison. "Though for the moment all I'm offering is a chance no one has given me,"
Ivy leaned back into her chair with thought, her fingers lightly striking down to toy with the leather seat beneath. Her gaze turns towards the window, green eyes feasting upon the moon high in the sky. "I need sleep first." A good nights rest without the screaming wails of prisoners next to her, random babbling from her own mouth and.. a place filled with light that she herself could control.

It was the little things.

"Take me somewhere nice. And once I rest I will give you the proper thank you. A thank you in the form of having your wish for your own revenge filled before mine." That would possibly be the only gift she'd ever give a man.. he did break her out of Arkham, after all.

"Belle Monico" Eraser calls out to the driver, as the limousine finally pulls out of the gates of Arkham, and onto the rode to freedom, for now at least. There's a lot going through his mind right now as there always is at any given time, but for once in his never ending quest Fiasco feels like he's made some headway. Rent her a nice room for the night, maybe the week, and see what kind of mess she can cook up come daybreak, his hopes are high, but who knows what could rest in the future.


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