5771/1000 Faces: Putting Romance in the Necromancer

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1000 Faces: Putting Romance in the Necromancer
Date of Scene: 28 March 2021
Location: Alleyways: Brooklyn
Synopsis: One dead girlfriend. One undead girlfriend. A farmer's market, 4 dozen doughnuts, and the police equal a bad romance. Oh oh oh, caught in a bad romance.
Cast of Characters: Jane Foster, Madigan Belle, Achilles, Pamela Isley, Harley Quinn




Jane Foster has posed:
Darkness erases the stains on a rougher part of Brooklyn, deep in the 73rd Precinct. Anyone bored enough to read the news probably knows the gang activity in the area took a nasty twist in the past couple months. Turf wars between this group or that group is nothing new, though the NYPD hasn't had any luck investing the resources they need to staunch the bloodshed. It makes any alleyway or park between the apartment blocks claimed by the Young Goons that much more dangerous.

Anyone else might just enjoy the balmy spring evening. People go about their lives, out for an afterwork shopping trip or meal at No. 1 Great Wall, a surprisingly good Chinese takeout smack-dab beside a 76 Gas Station and King Devil Liquor. This is New York away from the glitz and glamour, where old awnings and hand-printed signs serve the locals, caring not one bit for Manhattan towers or "Top 10" lists of any sort.

A young woman parks her little hatchback on Sutter Avenue, flashing a look past the souped-up Charger double-parked up the street. Another does slow circuits of the block, sliding like a shark past the apartments framed with security grilles over their doors and windows. Trouble to the right and left, but she has kind of an exalted status as she slips out, tossing her waist-length black and red braids. A mobile phone's in hand, her Gucci purse over her shoulder, and she's going on a mile a minute. "He better have got something fancy. I don't mean no gift certificate at Sam Nails or a reservation at Olive Garden, no way. For all this, baby, he better do /good/. I earn it, I bring the bank and this body. Ty used to..."

In a flash of expensive clothes, she's on the sidewalk, headed towards the cluster of brick apartment buildings piercing the sky. Whatever the other person on the phone says, she doesn't like. Her expression turns. "I *know*, I saw the post. You think I believe that video? He dead, girl. Ty is /gone/. That all CGIed up like the big purple guy."

Madigan Belle has posed:
Not terribly far away was a Dunkin' Donuts. Sometimes you go to the donut shop that's close, and limited in people since you scrolled through all of the who's where when stuff on google maps pretty quickly and hitched up a ride. But if you are going to get donuts, you should also stop by the local liquor store - especially when it has a great name. I mean, what are empty calories if not drowned by other empty calories? Ridiculousness, that's what.

So, it is at approximately 7pm that Madi has bagged up a few dozen donuts into her backpack, and made sure to have a bag of them readily available to allow her to make it to the next place on her list full of powdered sugar.

On the side, it's also a great time to check up on the sites and make sure that some local parties and clubs are stocked of product she makes. Not that she'd ever have any on her, but she can always call her Uncle. He'd be quicker than an Uber, and twice as likely to commit a violent crime on some unsuspecting bystanders. And he's always willing to add some Fizzy Pop to the local streets especially with the gang changes. Change is a great time to make money.

"Oh my god. Ty? Not Ty!" Madi sort of blurts out as she's swaying her legs to make her legs move in the slow walking she does. One leg moved, leg brace locks, swinging the other one, then she's taking a bite out of a sprinkled donut, "Who is this Ty? Maybe a metaphysical version of someone who is still here? I dunno. My condolences, not really though." And she will let the woman pass her by, moving much faster than her if she so chooses or will stop to talk. These are just random words of a red head who can't keep her mouth shut to save her life.

Achilles has posed:
    It's Brooklyn, and it's a Wednesday evening. Angelo has found himself a bit more... and less alone than he has been in recent months. As such, he tends to go out on his own and just enjoy being around people. It's not like believes that he is in any real danger. What? For a man who can't die, what is danger?
    Either way, he's found himself having dinner at a local greasy spoon, and just paid his check before stepping out onto the sidewalk. He has even stopped carrying his SHIELD issue ICER, what with the recent events. He does have his ARMOR badge though. That is always helpful. But either way, he's in a good mood and just out walking now, having finished his meal.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Well, at least it isn't an industrial district this time." A redhead in a leather jacket and dark green jeans walks alongside another...a blonde with a rather unique fashion sense. "I mean, Harl, no offense, but if I see another vacant warehouse, it will be too soon." Pamela lifts up her head, her green eyes peering up towards the street signs to confirm where they are. "A nice neighborhood. There are actually trees and flowers for this one."

The complexion, while slightly hued green, isn't overtly green. After all, it doesn't pay to be completely recognizable...and even if the two are in New York, they still are rather recognizable people. When they want to be. And Pam really doesn't want to be for the moment.

The outburst from the female with the leg brace gets Pamela's attention first. Nevermind that she is eating a donut...it is more the mocking nature of her cry that catches Pam's ear. The green eyes then flicker from her to her target, with those eyes giving the woman on the phone a once over. A comment is cast towards the side to her partner in crime, err, bounty hunter partner. "What was the name of the person we were looking for again?" Ty....may have a ring to it. "You know those guys in gangs always sound alike to me. I never bothered to learn the names of anyone before, unless they stood out to me."

Harley Quinn has posed:
Brooklyn. That's Harley's new Gotham. But instead of terrorizing it she is a sort of protector! She is even part of the roller derby local team! "Hey, no dissin' my hood, Pam.." She is dressed in what could be called 'colorful'. Jean shorts that do nothing to hide long legs, mismatched sneakers, a t-shirt with a Darth Vader picture, both hands up strategically positioned and below it saying 'Grip this!'

"Ya know I am livin' heah now! It can be okay. But ya right, all the damn vacant warehouses take out from the scenery!" she is carrying a baseball bat, swinging it back and forth with one hand, all very casual, the clownette's grin evident. In fact she looked quite happy to be out here again. Bounty huntin'!

"Let me check!" she brings out a scrunched-up paper, opening it. "Ty Walker! Aka Black Tyger! There's a video of the guy too. Broke parole a while back!" she announces. And is she talking loud? Maybe enough to be overheard by others. "Apparently he was dead? But then apparently not? So they want him in!" then a mischievous little grin on her lips. "And there's a biiig reward for us."

Mmmm, money.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Tahliah!" A lanky kid loitering on the sidewalk near the apartment saunters over to give the girl with the braids an alcoholic drink in pink, orange, and amber layers. "A woman like you is worth more than money and beaches. A toast to you and all the future sunrises."

"Hold up, he done somethin'. Some white girl being nasty, too." Her phone still out, Tahliah takes the drink. A healthy swallow doesn't change her resting bitch face and Madigan gets awfully close to having the contents dumped on her. But Tahliah apparently thinks better of it. "Not bad, but that ain't noth--"

Two girls sing an acapella version of a popular R&B song across the path. "I give you everything, what's mine is yours. I want you to live your life of course, but I hope you get what you dyin' for." Hidden LED candles light up in a glowing rainbow-coloured shape around the singers and a small, long wooden box on a bench that she heads to instead, leaving the redhead and her doughnut behind.

White flower petals tumble over her from an apartment window where laughing women her age -- friends, obviously -- poke their heads out and wave. "T-baby, you gotta show us! Like one of them Disney princesses." A lean guy in a Miami Heat jacket watching from the apartment door shouts, "T-baby, I love you!" and raises his hand.

She pulls a statement necklace from the box. Glossy stones form a collar as she clasps it around her neck. At the same moment, a bullet perforates her throat, the second one blossoming red at her chest.

Madigan Belle has posed:
At first Madigan seemed to be hanging back as the woman started to give her the angry bitch face, and she was giving her a big grin in return. Biting her tongue, the tip of it sticking out, like a cute mini-middle finger in response, but hey. She's a cripple. People don't tend to pour drinks on her, but then... two questionable people start talking about this 'Ty Walker'.

Yeah, it is a distance, but Madi kind of turns her head, looks right at P and HQ, quirks her mouth, and starts to shuffle off after this lady. "Hey, sorry about that... and all... but..." Thankfully the other woman takes a moment to get a drink, and grab a necklace to put on. That slows her down, and then blam-o. Bullet fired, blood erupting, Madi grimacing, mouth awkwardly quirked to the side, and the world slows down.

And the phone that was in the dead woman's hand is gone. Madigan is fiddling with something with her backpocket but then lets out a scream, "Someone help this woman! She's got ketchup or blood or something exploded all over her! Help help help!" And then is looking left to right, and slowly backing herself away, more quietly echoing, "Help help, someone help... this woman... she's... hellllllllllp."

Achilles has posed:
    Okay. Someone is shouting for help. Angelo turns his head to study the scene. But he doesn't turn and rush over on an impulse. Instead, he just observes to gather information. One should never just jump into action unless one knows what the action is going to be. So for now, he's moving generally in that direction. If only to be positioned in preparation to -get- involved.

Pamela Isley has posed:
Damn. And it was such a lovely neighborhood, too. The gunshot immediately causes Pamela to duck, faster than a person would expect of a woman looking like she does, as she pulls Harley down with her.. Be it the fact that Gotham does that to you...or the fact that Pamela was in a less-than-savory business before this. Nevertheless, there is a duck and a run for cover. Cover, in this case, is a parked car, positioned between Pamela and the poor unfortunate, if somewhat bitchy girlfriend demanding her big present.

Guess she won't be needing that gift anymore.

"Harley! Did you see where the shots came from?" Pamela didn't. But that is not going to stop her from finding out where. No one takes potshots while Ivy is around.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley gets pulled down after a yelp! People shooting! But for a change they aren't shooting at *her*! That's a good change, and a relief too. No holes in her. Very, very good. In that she and Pam are the same. Born and bred in Gotham, always having to keep an eye out for an ambush. Be it from cops or from other thugs. And there was still Quellazaire...

She runs over with Pam, looking around quickly but shaking her head. "Nope.." she looks up at that building where there was the girl waving at Tahliah, trying to see if she glimpses any shooter.

"I am just seein' wheelchair gal ovah theah. But she doesn't seem like the one that shot her!"

Jane Foster has posed:
Tahliah stumbles. Her fingers caress the blue, green, and gold necklace at her throat and she crumples to the ground. Some makeup and a hairbrush spill out of her fallen Gucci purse. Blood slides through her cropped leather coat and sparkly shirt.

Miami Heat says, "Easy, T-baby, it's gonna be okay. Just calm down, I got you."

The two girls singing falter then, but they pick up the chorus. Tahliah's friends scream and chaos breaks out in the apartment. One fumbles a phone.

Madigan screams for help well. The poor kid who had the drink runs across the street to a shabby grocery with cigarettes and ice machine boxes in the window, banging on the door. The pharmacy next door's shut, no help. Pamela and Harley hitting the grounds aren't the only ones, the few other pedestrians around taking shelter or turning right the other way.

Madigan Belle has posed:
Grumbling, Madigan blurts out, "I am -not- in a wheelchair. That is totally not PC, okay? You just assume, all non-functioning leg things result in wheels? I mean, a suped up one would be great, but still. Jeez. Nice bat though!" From this distance and Madigan still heard the conversation enough to shout back. She is working her way backwards to try and position herself between two residential buildings. It is much harder for her to go in reverse than forward, and she doesn't even do that very well. Crutch, leg, leg, crutch. She moves not unlike a sloth in a dangerous situation.

"Oh, hey, the bounty hunter chicks. How much is this reward for the Ty guy? Huh? Like, could it buy a Playstation 5 Pro, kind of amount?" She speaks more quietly and to herself, "Graphics cards are really expensive right now."

And she's got a phone in her hand, is she calling for help? No. She's got the screen open and has to keep it open else she's got to wade back out and get a fingerprint from a dead woman. Yuck. So, now she's looking for Ty, or someone similar's, contact information, and sending a message. Her eyes get wide, and she smiles, then focuses more on the screen she hrms, thinking as she quirks her mouth, composing the perfect message, <<Hey, babe. Where ya at? Heard you were still livin' it up. Hit me back wit' where ya hangin'>> Then to settings, and changing the lock to her own little swipe password. Any games? Madi is currently looking at the screen and scrolling through, but then just puts it away back into her back pocket. Then her eyes get big, and she waves her hands back and forth like she's really excited, or frightened, but that doesn't come off, "Ahhhhhh, help, people shooting from..." She looks around, squinting a little, based upon the blood splatter, carry the two, physics... "That away!" And she points off in the direction that is clearly opposite the direction the blood shot from the neck. Back to the phone, pulling it out, frustration furrowing her brow, then putting it away. Then back out again, before away. All relatively quickly but not 'super' quickly.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Keen clownette eyes take in the surroundings. The windows ... The girls don't seem the suspects. But then there's the Miami Heat guy. She points with her bat to him. "Pam, that guy's got a gun!" and he's approaching the woman in what seems like a really creepy way. For Harley. And that's saying something considering how creepy she *can* be.

So she disregards public safety norms, or just any norms really. Noone goes around shooting in her hood! She slides over the car they were dodging behind and starts at a dash towards the scene. She hopes Pam will be coming!

"Hey, thanks!" this about the bat as she runs. "And ya got ta be licensed ta receive the bounty!" just in case the not-in-a-wheelchair girl tries to take the reward from them! "Unless ya team up with one.. Hint, us!" see?

She is bounding closer and closer to Miami Heat and if he lifts that gun up to her face he is going to get a baseball bat thrown at him with all the Harlequin's might!

Jane Foster has posed:
The guy in the Miami Heat jacket isn't really memorable. Medium-dark skin, black hair, he could pass anywhere in Brooklyn or Queens without a second thought. Brown eyes focus on his unmoving girlfriend to the exclusion of most else, and he doesn't pay Harley any mind. Blood soaked braids lie in serpentine coils on the pavement. Her chest doesn't move. The gun he's forgotten about, shoving the M&P into his coat pocket as he leans closer, over.

"T-baby, gonna be okay, promise," he repeats, almost crooning it like a prayer, clenching and unclenching his hands in an obvious enough sign of agitation. Well, before some hot chick possibly barrels into him.

The text message to the aether takes a while to get a response. It will, eventually. <<Expected u 2 txt. U gon ask 4 $$$ or yo ring back again??>>

Madigan Belle has posed:
Eyes light up, Madigan feels the vibration from her back pocket and she giggles as she pulls up the phone, "Ohhhh, just don't ask me for a nether pic. Super hard to get out of these pants." She just says, aloud, but mostly to herself. Tongue out, mouth quirked, eyes squinting as she looks off to nowhere its a moment of thought for everyone else but its thousands of teen infused ideas on how to text some booty calling guy. <<You know me, look. I'm just happy your still around. Let's meet and I'll show you just how happy. Then... we can work on the deal 4 next time. Though I wouldn't say no to a nice new bag or something to sweeten the deal.>>

"What? Licensed? I don't drive... that would -not- be safe. I mean, there are hand pedals and all that, but... oh, looks like you are busy about to beat that guy up! Creepy necro dude." Eyebrows raise as she holds onto the ill-gotten phone staring. Then that wanes, back into the pocket it goes. Triple dots, people typing, sooooooo slooooooowwwwwwwly.

Letting out a huff, she looks on to see what is going on in the street. "Fifty Fifty if you do all the heavy lifting, walking, and beat-em-up, plus I do really need to stop by the liquor store and I'd appreciate a ride!" She calls out to Harley as she's charging the guy in the middle of the street, she does eye that though, focused, maybe there will be more violence soon? Another donut comes out of the bag she manages to still have the active thought processes to be keeping available, and this ones a glazed cake donut, so good.

Pamela Isley has posed:
There might have been an eye-rolling moment in there somewhere as Pam pulls herself from her shelter behind the car. Maddie better believe that Pamela didn't miss the little rifling through the dead girl's pockets, but Isley has bigger fish to fry.

Or, rather, smaller. Miami Heat doesn't seem all that much. Still, he still has a gun, supposedly. So, Pamela goes for plan A, which...is to use her reputation to her advantage.

The woman is dead. There is no crying over that. Pamela just walks right over her, being careful to sidestep the growing pool of blood as she extends a hand out towards a small flowerbed close to the apartment complex, covered with morning glories. And....the flowers respond, the vine stretching out and entwining around the offered hand, then up her arm. It is impressive, to be sure, and is part of the casual intimidation that Pam uses so well. But, it has a secondary purpose. The creeping flowers, and more importantly the vine they thrive on, is a weapon for Ivy. A weapon as easily handled by Pam as that bat is for Harley.

Then...a step up to beside Harley, those green eyes leveled upon the basketball fan. A fingertip reaches forward, casually stroking the purple bloom that flourishes on the back of the vine-entwined hand. "Do you frequently shoot your.." A glance to the ground. "...girlfriend, I assume? You have some explaining to do." The look is casual, certainly. But...Harley would know that it is anything but.

Harley Quinn has posed:
With the man not even trying to put up a fight ... Or rather, not pointing the gun at *her*, Harley seems sort of disappointed. But something is off about this whole thing. The man shot her but is .., caring for her? And they call her crazy! Pfffttt. Still, she *is* a psychologist, even if a psychotic one so she slows down and doesn't go full on bashing against the man as she was intending to in the first place. Nope, she slows down.. And good thing too since the growing flowers come out to take the guy's weapon.

"What ya mean fifty fifty? Ya gettin' less than a third! And don't forget it's me and Ivy too!" the bat vaguely pointing in Maddie's direction.

"This is some weird Romeo and Juliet crap goin' on.." She finally comments about the whole thing, approaching the man near the fallen woman. "But answah ta my friend, what the heck did ya go and do this foh?"

Jane Foster has posed:
<<U wit sumone. I ain't into that. 1 day u be happy wit who u r.>> Eventually a reply pops up on Tahliah's phone. The statements are objectively steady.

If only things were not bubbling into madness on a Brooklyn street. One of the circling Dodge Chargers rolls up on its regular rounds, driven by a chill guy behind heavily tinted windows. Finally the frantic banging on the door of Gigi's Grocery & Liquor gets a heavy-set Latino -- no Gigi -- in a wifebeater letting in the fellow banging on the door. Girls in the apartment screaming about someone being shot get through to an emergency services operator.

No help on the way though before three bounty-hunters (or two and change) are present. When Pamela starts pulling on the ground for flowers, and Harley has that bat, the guy in the Miami Heat outfit throws his hands up. Easy for the gun to be pulled forth, if it matters. "I got it under control! She asked me-- it's cool-- just wait, it's a few minutes, that's all!"

Yeah, right. And the cow jumped over the Moon.

Until Tahliah's head turns.

Madigan Belle has posed:
Whaaaaaaaaat?! Madi's eyes go super wide, her grin gets big and she almost loses donut but a hand comes up to make sure nothing falls out, she chews quickly and swallows what remains of the last donut from the bag she had set aside for the walk to the liquor store a -whole- block away. The plants grow and twist, and do all sorts of things they shouldn't for this Pamela lady and then ... frown. Disappointment, just hanging out. Back to the phone.

"Ivy? Holy moly! Harley and Ivy? Like, whoooooa. I'd totally let you two have a third, big names like you. Of course I wouldn't decline that, so nice of you both to be giving a beginning bounty hunter like myself such a great deal." Then she is tap tap tapping on the phone, with a quirked mouth.

<<I am happy! Fine. I'm comin' to collect my ring!>> Madi's face is red, as she stares at the phone, "Screw this guy. I mean, I can't even get some booty with someone else's body. Gah!" Definitely upset, she stuffs the phone in her back pocket and starts to make her way out to the road.

Then the woman's head turns, "Whoa. What? No way! Shoot her again!"

Pamela Isley has posed:
Oh, look. Recognition. It is almost enough to bring a smile to Ivy's face.

Almost.

As Heat's hands reach for the sky, a tendril of green snakes out to snag the gun and pull it free. No, Ivy was not about to touch the gun herself. Knowing her luck, they would try to pin the whole thing on her and honestly, she really does not need to give the authorities any more reason to hate her. Not that she cares much, anyways, but it does help to stay out of jail. The gun is then tossed to the side, away from the reluctant shooter.

Pamela then speaks, her voice loaded with disbelief. "She. Asked you to kill her. Really." Yeeeeaaahhh, Pammy isn't really buying that story. There is a glance backward towards Maddie, showing that yes, she did hear Maddie's surprise. There might be just the faintest glimmer of a smile, but only just. Right now, Ivy isn't concerned about the bounty dividends. That will come later.

Then, the body moved.

The shock from Pamela is real, if but slightly muted. That person was...no, is dead. The biochemist does not see the chest rising and falling, short of the ugly open wound from the bullet of the Smith and Wesson currently secured by her babies. And secondly, Pamela cannot sense any exhalation of carbon dioxide. Even if it was possible to breath shallowly enough to escape detection, Ivy is mostly plant...and she would know if the body was actually breathing just from the carbon dioxide in the air. and 'T-Baby' is definitely not contributing to the CO2 levels in the immediate vicinity.

"What the hell?" Ivy takes a defensive stance, as that vine upon her arm actually seems to bristle like a shocked cat. "That body is dead. She is not breathing." Ivy takes up a position where she can see both Miami Heat and T-No Pain, the eyes flickering between the two. "What the hell is going on?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Ivy represents scary in the subtle inhuman way to Harley's crazy and Madigan's panache. They are a trifecta of dubious forms, and in that, the guy in the Miami Heat coat shares a different quality of scary.

His is the ancient form, peering through a blase mask. No booty with someone else's body earns narrowed eyes, and he would lift a protective arm over Tahliah if that isn't likely to get him flung aside or wrapped up in briars. Worse than briars. Poison Ivy probably keeps really icky tentacle tendrils hiding up her sleeve for moments like this.

"She did. T-Baby told me to prove how much I loved her. That's how much," he says too fast, the words pouring out. The fallen woman puts her hands to her chest around the place where her shirt and cropped coat are soaked through. A groan escapes her, expelling blood and a messy breath. She coughs, then rolls her eyes back.

Tahliah makes a face, her full lips scored by gore. "The f..." A cough and she gags. "Izkkiss? You shot me! Shayyt, tha' green woman is business. The hell we doing here?" Her throat is marred in blood, the necklace shining links of lapis and gold and that curious green stone like moss suspended in rock. She might sit up. Considers it. Her skin's still a warm cocoa, her eyes hardly sunken. But that much blood.

It's not possible to get a bullet through the neck and be so unbothered.

Madigan Belle has posed:
"Daaaaaaayyyyyyyyyymn." Madi lets out as the woman coughs and starts grabbing at her chest and whatnot. Then she looks over at the gun, where Ivy threw it, so far away. She starts to hedge that direction, "Can we shoot you again? I mean, for science, I'd like to try a leg, or something similar, at first. Then kind of move along. Just to see, are you generating blood at an excessive rate? Or is it merely a force of will, regeneration type scenario, you know, could be magic." And she's going off pretty quickly with her words.

"Oh, and uh, Ty Walker, where might he be? Just in case you don't come back this time."

Innocent giggle, big grin, and a glance to Ivy then back to the born again, living woman. She's moving millions of miles per second in her head, but is only so slowly moving along. A hand goes to reach into the bag of donuts to come up... empty. She had forgotten. Furrowed brows as she pouts, "Hey, could you grow me an apple? Or, maybe some bananas? Maybe even hot peppers, like habaneros? I love those things, just a bit of a kick, ya know? You wouldn't be able to grow ice cream, would you?" A pause, "No no, that's stupid, ice cream is far far too complex a substance, what about just cane sugar? That might be fun to try raw..."

Pamela Isley has posed:
"I am not a farmer's market."

It sounds ridiculous from anyone else. But, from Ivy, it actually sounds somewhat passable. Certainly threatening. It gives off the impression that Ivy doesn't really like Maddie. Then again, Madigan shouldn't feel too bad. Ivy really doesn't like anyone, with the sole exception of Harley.

Okay. So, dead woman is speaking and acting rather much like she was prior to death. That would warrant some study. Boyfriend seemed to know it will happen. That certainly warrants questioning. The morning glories snake out from Ivy's outstretched arm, wrapping themselves around the ankles of the neighborhood Romeo, seeking to hold him still. "You. You said to wait a few minutes. You have seen this before." Pammy's mind can race, too, if not necessarily as fast as Madigan's. But..she can piece two and two together. And her mark, Ty Walker. Harley said that he was supposed to be dead, then not. The pieces fall together.

"You've seen this before. You know Ty Walker."

Jane Foster has posed:
Tahliah coughs out another gobbet of blood. Not exactly pleasant to deal with. She wipes her mouth clean, her hand saturated in red. Madigan's questions just throw the poor woman. "No! You can't shoot me!" The dead woman seems to take pretty damn high umbrage to that, and she snaps her glare over to Miami Heat. "Ooh, Damion, you..." The threat tumbles away.

Ivy is a whole lot scarier than her. In the end, she doesn't have any other words to give. Maddie is insane, babbling on about things that don't make any sense. "Ty's an ex. He gone, girl, don't even think of getting him wrapped up in your games. He dead, buried, and blessed by the Lord."

Her boyfriend - Damion - is currently being shackled by flowers. Awkward. He grimly rattles his foot just to make sure he's not going to fall on his ass. "So? He's a rapper, course we know him. Tahliah, you don't need to worry no more."

Madigan Belle has posed:
"Uh, actually..." If only Madi had her glasses on she could push them up on her nose to finish the feeling of correcting someone in the worst possible internet trollish way, "He's very much alive. And you, are a terrible flirt. And by that I mean terrible -at- flirting. But, like, where would he be? Where is he? And he totally thinks you want a ring or money or something like that." Rolling her eyes, Madigan has stopped moving closer to the gun now that people are looking at her and paying attention.

To Ivy, she grimaces a little bit, "I mean, you kind of look just a 'smidge' like a farmer's market." She kind of points at all the plants, "And they are totally organic." Big grin, showing teeth, "I can't believe I'm poking fun at THE Poison Ivy. You know, I've totally followed some, partial, amounts of your career. Well, mostly I know that you can do this, you are big in Gotham and that you likely have some suuuuuuuuper interesting DNA."

Back to the people, she points, "Now, tell me where Ty Walker is! Or else I'll have my friend here tear you apart, and then bury you in a fruit salad. Or, vegetables... maybe petals... I'm not really sure what all she can do. But, it'll be ..." She holds up her hands and wiggles her fingers as her eyes get wide, "Terrrrrrrifying." A pause, and she looks over to Ivy, "Can you do black and orange? I'm like, ninety percent positive a Halloween theme would be a lot scarier than Christmas. Though, I get it, plants and blood, right? Totally dig it but, maybe just this once?" Eyes back to the people victims of plants and gun shots, waiting on an answer.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Great. As if I didn't have a manic to deal with already." No comment about who, exactly, Pamela is talking about, or even to, but there's enough context there to determine that Ivy sure isn't talking to the boyfriend currently caught in her web of vines. And really...black and orange? It isn't like Ivy really got to pick her color scheme. It is kinda a package deal. Comes with the chlorophyll.

As it is, it is swiftly coming to the point for Ivy where she simply does not care what happens to the little fly caught in her web. With that, she turns to Damion, as those morning glories bind him good and tight. "I imagine that the apartment with the frantic women has managed to reach emergency services, which means an ambulance and the police are on their way here. I do hope you don't mind if I just leave you here, all trussed up, for safe keeping? I am sure that there are going to be questions and I rather that I do not have to be here when they are asked. Consider it my gift to you." Gift of what? Letting him live, most likely.

As for Tahliah. "I would advise that you do not move or talk too terribly much. The bullet wounds are rather pronounced and, while I am not sure why exactly you are able to function when you are essentially dead, I would imagine it is terribly bad form to keep spilling blood. Not to mention how much of a hindrance it must be to try to talk with your throat torn open like it is." A perfectly normal conversation with what appears to be a zombie, no? "When the authorities come, you may wish to press charges. That is, unless you still love him. Nevertheless, you will find the weapon that shot you lying over with those marigolds over there." A finger points to where exactly Ivy had the flowers store their ill-gotten gains. "Though, if you do not want to be too hard on him, I can understand." With that, a definite grin crosses over Pamela's features as she steps aside, leaving T-Baby with the bound Damion, covered with purple morning glories.

"After all, he did bring you a lovely bouquet of flowers."

Ivy passes by Tahliah, giving her not so much as another thought as she steps towards Madigan. "You and I and my partner...we have some unfinished business to attend to." The voice drops to a murmur, just loud enough for Maddie and Harley to hear. "I know you have her phone. You can keep it, provided you help with locating Ty Walker. Or I call over to Georgina Romero over there and have her go full-on zombie mode on you."

And, with that, Ivy indicates to Maddie the direction to start walking. "Now....you said you had to go to the liquor store?..."

Jane Foster has posed:
At 'flirting' suggested by Maddie, Damion clenches his fists. His eyes narrow. The frustrated grind of his teeth is practically audible. "You disrespecting my girlfriend there, lady. I don't stand for that."

Tahliah is perfectly able to spit tacks in anger herself but she's not quite to the point of throwing punches or sparring verbally. Sitting up is nice enough, her necklace shimmering dully in the light. She busily stares at the flowers, the green lady, and the redhead with the mouth like Deadpool except less wobbly. "Fine. Oh, you just wrecked /everything/! I wanted a plane with that fancy message on it or all my friends seeing me on the jumbotron, not ... not..."

"Yeah, but look at it this way, baby. When we patch you up a bit, you'll never die," whispers Damion when hopefully the other three are gone looking for King Devil Liquor.

And the plot thickens.