“This could be a trap,” Shego said.
“Wade checked it out,” Kim replied. “The email came from a legitimate source. The Worshipful Society of Apothecaries of London is a perfectly normal medical organization.”
“This could still be a trap,” Shego argued. “What the hell is all this cloak-and-dagger shit doing coming from a bunch of pharmacists? Meeting away from headquarters? At night? And they're offering to pay us? We stopped charging people months ago!”
“Well, they can be big on secrecy,” Kim pointed out. “Apparently they have some kind of special garden in London, and they kept it locked away from the public until twenty years ago. Maybe it's a health emergency.”
“This stinks, Kimmie, it stinks. Either they're going to kill us, or they're going to want us to do something dirty,” Shego retorted.
“If it's something illegal, we just say no, and then we notify the police,” Kim said calmly. “And if they mean to kill us - well, who could pull it off, huh? Name someone.” She smiled at Shego, who reluctantly nodded. “Besides, we own this building. Swept it for explosives and listening devices. No guns are going to spring out of these innocuous conference room walls.”
Shego eyed those walls thoughtfully. “Maybe we should do something about that. Just for an occasion like this, Pumpkin.”
“I like your choice of nicknames, Shego.”
Kim's eyes were drawn to the open door. Standing there was a devastatingly beautiful woman. Her profusion of gorgeous red locks curled below her shoulders, and her expensive business suit jacket looked to be about one inch away from popping its buttons and letting her generous bosom breathe, while the skirt was just tight enough to accentuate curving hips and long legs. Her aristocratic facial features went well with an immediate air of arrogance that instinctively raised Kim's hackles. She looked like money, and she smelled like the jungle.
Shego looked less than impressed, as her lips took a sour turn downward. “Pammy,” she growled. “Suddenly it starts to make sense.”
“Shego?” Kim asked. “You know her?”
“Hello, Shego. You're looking green today,” “Pammy” said.
“You're not.”
“Well, it IS nighttime, as I specified.”
“Shego, some info here? What's the sitch?” Kim wanted to know.
Shego grunted. “Kimmie, this is Pamela Isley, or Poison Ivy. Pammy, I guess you know -”
“Pumpkin?” Ivy asked. “By reputation, yes, of course.”
Kim stood slowly. Shego wasn't in a fighting stance yet, but Kim wanted to be ready to defend herself. She'd never been sent to deal with Poison Ivy's insane crimes, but she knew of the fanatical ecoterrorist just the same. “Poison Ivy, only one person calls me ‘Pumpkin’, and you're not her,” she said coldly.
“You should be flattered,” Ivy sneered. “You're just another human, another meatbag. I'm paying a compliment when I deign to give you a floral name rather than a faunal one.”
“Stuff it, Pammy. Why are you here?” Shego snapped, folding her arms. “You said you had business.”
Poison Ivy chuckled. “You don't look worried.”
“There's no plants in the room - and whatever you choose to believe, that DOES include you - you're unarmed, the sun's down, and your pheromones don't work on women,” Shego said. She uncrossed her arms and let plasma play across her fingers. “Whereas MINE are gender-neutral.”
“True. I should think that would convince you of my sincerity,” Ivy said, sauntering towards a leather chair and sitting.
“You sincerely want humans to die for what they do to plants. That I believe,” Shego shot back.
“Humans have NO right to -”
“All right, enough!” Kim shouted. “If you have business, then spit it out. I'm not wasting our time listening to you banter back and forth.”
Shego and Ivy both looked momentarily surprised, and then a smile slowly bloomed again on Ivy's face. “I guess we know who cracks the whip in YOUR relationship, don't we?” she asked Shego.
“Just keep pissing me off, Pammy,” Shego snarled as she sat next to Kim. “Give me more reasons to go to the park later and express my anger.”
Ivy glared at her.
“Ivy,” Kim said. “Remember why we're here.”
“Fine,” Ivy sighed. “I heard about your little sexcapade in Gotham last month.”
Kim and Shego both stiffened. “How?” Kim asked, remembering the museum encounter with Catwoman. That rumor-spreading, catty…
“Harl told me. Jonathan Crane told her. Nygma told him. I don't know who told him before that, I was never much for daisy chains, as you can imagine,” Ivy said indifferently. “I know all about you staging crimes in order to get some sort of nostalgic high.”
Kim squirmed in her seat. “So? Is this some kind of blackmail?”
“Possible, every crook in Gotham knows. It's probably on the In-Terror-Net. You don't have a secret to keep.”
“You're turning red, Kimmie. Don't let her get to you,” Shego said.
“Fine,” Kim said through gritted teeth. “Then why ARE you here?”
For the first time, Poison Ivy looked uncomfortable. “Yes. Well, you see, I want to hire Team Possible. For… another staged crime. Only this time, with you two as the heroes, and Harley and I as the criminals.”
The two heroines blinked their eyes. “What?” Kim asked.
“Must I spell it out?” Pam burst out, both exasperated and embarrassed. “I don't know if you keep an ear to the grapevine any more, Shego, but I've been retired for over a year now. Both Harley and I.”
“Harley Quinn, you mean?” Kim said.
Poison Ivy looked at her like she was stupid. “Silly thing, of course her.”
“Pammmmie,” Shego said dangerously.
“Harley has certain… problems regarding an ex-boyfriend, and her going back into the mental hospital is simply too dangerous for us to risk continuing to commit crimes,” Ivy explained. “And we're happy, but - well, obviously you know.”
Kim was finally understanding. And yes, she did know. Ivy was chasing the old thrill, but she didn't want to get in trouble doing it. Or rather, she didn't want Quinn getting in trouble. Kim had heard all about Harley's fixation on the psychopath the Joker, and she guessed the “bloom was off the rose” now.
Shego didn't rely on any guessing, though. “You finally got her away from him?” she asked with a degree of civility.
Ivy nodded slightly. “Yes,” she breathed, “and he can't have her back. Ever!” Her hand trembled.
“Why us?” Kim asked. “Why not the Batman? He's your local hero.”
“The Bat?” Ivy snorted. “He's heartless. He doesn't do play-acting. I need a REAL hero - or a heroine, even better - who will understand that no crime is actually being committed.”
“I suppose you expect us to let you win, too.”
“Absolutely not,” Ivy said angrily. “Oh, I expect to win - don't worry, girl, no killing or maiming is in the cards. And if we lose, well, then there's the thrill of the chase. But I want as close to real as possible.” She glanced away. “I love her so, and she loves me, but we need one last fling before we fade back into my forests and gardens,” Ivy added softly.
Kim looked at Shego.
“This could still be a trap,” Shego reminded her.
She sighed. “Yeah, well, I expect to win too. We'll arrange the crime, Ivy. You reimburse our expenses, nothing more.”
Ivy looked gratified. “I'd appreciate something with a botanical theme. I would never resort to a common bank, you know.”
“We'll see what we can do.”
“I'll be in touch then,” Ivy said, standing. She turned to leave, but then she paused. “Oh, and Shego?”
“What?” Shego snapped.
“Just because there are no plants here, it doesn't mean I'm without friends.”
There was a tapping sound, and Kim turned around.
The window view behind her was blocked with a dense layer of creeper vines and honeysuckle.
“Ivy, you - Shego, she's gone.”
Shego looked out a nearby window and saw the greenery had climbed up the length of the building's surface in mere minutes. “Yeah, those Gotham types are good at that,” she muttered. “Are we still doing this?”
Kim nodded. “At the very least, Poison Ivy will understand I'm not without powers myself.”
To be concluded…
A/N - Any confusion regarding Poison Ivy and her powers will be clarified.