6644/Happy Birthday Pamela!

Happy Birthday Pamela!
Date of Scene:	20 June 2021
Location:	ArcTerra Biodome Cafe
Synopsis:	Harley surprises Ivy with a sort of birthday party but they get interrupted by Quellazaire's minions who do an attack on ArcTerra. With Brunnhilde's help who was drinking a storm they fend off the attack. It was time to go on the attack against their archenemy! Oh, and Pamela gets a tree seed for her birthday.
Cast of Characters:	Harley Quinn, Pamela Isley, Brunnhilde

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Harley Quinn has posed:
And so it was that the fabled day in which one Pamela Isley was but a small, wee plant. Or at least the day in which she had been one 27 years ago during her birthday! A day of avoiding people for some but for others ..., oh yes, it was time for a PAAARTTTYYYYYY!

And of course that with Harley being the cunning little clownette that she was she also knew Ivy would be doing everything to avoid being captured in the jaws of a full-out birthday party. That's why Harley was planning to get Ivy in her comfort zone. The ArcTerra. What better place for it?!

And as such a rather non-sus message was sent.

> I am bored and goin' to ArcTerra. Are you there? I hope so! I will be at the bar!

Totally non-sus. Because would a crazy girl like Harley be paying attention to such mundane things like birthdays? Who knows!

Pamela Isley has posed:
Well...Boredom was something that Harley was known for. As well as going to the bar. So, there were two things that did not seem suspect. And...the ArcTerra was Pamela's home away from home. Well, in all actuality, it was Pamela's home. Specifically the rain forest biome, which was lovely, delightful, and colourful. Not at all like Gotham's usual greyness. So...it was highly likely that Pam was there.

Which, of course, Harley knew.

> I am here. I will see you shortly.

A perfectly generic message. And yes, completely non suspect. Just as Harley intended.

Pamela does make her way from her little cozy corner in the rain forest to make her way to the cafe. She has been rather quiet as of late. When one is trying to turn over a new leaf, so to speak, it pays to not make any waves.

Harley Quinn has posed:
The response comes swiftly.

> Exceeellleeent. :Mr._Burns_Steepling_fingers_emoji:

Maybe Harley was getting ready for mischief with her bestie! Which was a possibility, specially if she was talking about being bored. Who knows, maybe she'd be inviting her over for n-th time to the Karaoke bar she loves to go to. For getting those duets going! One day ... One day..

Entering the ArcTerra it looks just like another day. Some people sitting by, drinking their coffee, enjoying the clean air at the dome. Others talking even if quietly. It's always been a quiet place, not given to big groups of people, or rowdy ones. Which is most likely one of the reasons it was a chosen as a perch for a certain plant lady.

By the bar though is Harley, dressed in what can be called a punk chic aesthetic. Leather pants and cropped top, black makeup accentuating the paleness of her face, hair up in a bun and crossed with chopsticks to keep it in place. All in all a rather more well-dressed version of the clownette than the usual bright colors or overalls. Sus? Maybe!

Specially as she is leaned over towards the bartender and talking quietly with the man, eyes squinted and sometimes looking about as if she was in the middle of some conspiracy.

Pamela Isley has posed:
When Pam approaches, it is dressed in her usual casual attire. Which is to be black jeans, a green top, and little to no makeup, her hair, for once, braided rather than left to its own devices. It would seem that the 'plant lady' was not expecting much of anything, and so just walked over as is. Though, with Harley dressed as she was in leather and punk, it might have been an indication that something is up.

Or, perhaps not. Harley wasn't exactly known for her practical sensibilities, after all.

Though, with the leaning over and whispering to the bartender...well...that might be something. Nevertheless, Pamela walks up, her footfalls nearly silent as she taps Harley on the shoulder. "Hello Harl. Awfully nice looking outfit for being bored." Oh...does Pamela suspects? Probably not. But, Harley is better dressed than normal. It deserves a mention

Harley Quinn has posed:
Like a deer in headlights!

Harley jumps up visibly when Pamela taps on her shoulder. Hadn't she just sent a message a while ago calling her in? She probably should had expected Pam to be arriving anytime soon! "Ah! Thought you still had to get dressed oh somethin...!" a glance over her shoulder to take a look of her outfit, head canting from side to side before she nods approval. "Ok, not bad not bad. It will do..." she tells her friend.

Will do for what?

Arms open wide to the side, "I am glad ya could join me tonight!" a look to the bartender, "Was just chattin' a little with Bob heah..." "I am called Jack.." "Yea, yea. Jack. Ya know, it's Gotham. I know everyone and all that... So, how ya doin'? What should we drink? Lets go foh one of your favorites."

Big wide grin on her lips and she jumping to her feet before trying to wrap her arms about Pam in a greeting hug!

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Awfully jumpy tonight, aren't we, Harl?"

There was a chuckle in there. Most definitely a chuckle. Harley always did seem to have a way with Pamela. It does help to loosen Pamela's guard, which allows Harley to lay that hug on her. Yes...the dreaded Poison Ivy can enjoy herself, once in a while.

With a pause, because Harley's hugs take a while, Pam casts a sideglance towards Jack. "I'll take an Ivy, Jack." And....Jack nods, knowing what Pam means. It must mean that he at least has seen her around. And...off he turns, picking up some gin, St. Germain, lime juice, basil and mint.

"So. bored, hmm?" Pam turns those green eyes upon Harley. "And you happen to be in Gotham. What, no roller derby tonight?" Another soft chuckle, as Jack comes back with a cocktail glass with the greenish concoction for Pamela. "One Poison Ivy, as requested." The cocktail glass slides effortlessly between fingers, as Pam keeps speaking. "I would have thought for sure you have ulterior motives, my dear."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Me? Jumpy? What gave ya *that* idea?" But no time to continue through that line of thought. Because yes, Harley Hugs(Tm) do take their time to get done with. As if she was compensating all that time Pammy stays without any kind of human contact! Someone has to be there to deliver it, and remind her she is still one of them! Besides being her bestie!

"You know what, Jack? Get me an Ivy too. I do like my cosmos and martinis but tonight I may just go with this girl's special, mmm?" a wink, a tap on the counter.

So it's two Ivys being prepared!

"No roller derby tonight. But let me tell ya that you weah a success! All the gals want you back! And so do I! We gonna kick ass with you on the team." damn right! "And next time maybe I can even get April ta play with us! She misses you too ya know?" *sip *sip* "Ulterior motives?" *more sip sip*

Harley could had played coy but then she leans in, bit of a glint on her eye. "Now ..., what ulterior motives could I have, mmm? Weah ya tryin' ta hide somethin' from me?" she questions. "Or do ya think I wouldn't know...?"

Pamela Isley has posed:
There might have been a rolling of the eyes. Or maybe a blush. Or maybe both, when Harley mentions that the derby team wants Pam back. But, there isn't any mention of that from Pamela herself. Except... "You know, for being tricked into wearing a skimpy uniform and roller blades, it wasn't half bad."

Yeah. That word. 'Tricked'. That sparks a thought from Pamela. Just as Harley shifts to the third degree on Pamela.

"Me, hide something? Why, whatever do you mean?" The comment is casual enough. Nothing worth noting in Pammy's voice. "I would not begin to know what you are hinting to." Could it be that Pamela forgot what day it was? Most likely not...but she didn't consider it anything special. Which is why she sounds so nonchalant about things now. Perhaps she really doesn't know what Harley is talking about.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"I knew you loved it!" Harley exclaims with a self-satisfied grin. Of course she is all smug at being right. "I am gonna make a propah playah outta you. Down to the skimpy outfit..." She wiggling a little for good measure before taking up her own Ivy for a sip. A loud sip too.

"Whatevah do I mean, mmm?" A twirl, Harley doing a spin around her friend with that known agility and grace of hers, saying to the woman's back, "... what could I know o' ya that you weah tryin' ta keep a secret, mmm?" oh no!

"Or maybe ya just didn't think it ta be a special occasion. Well, you weah wrong!" again her arms opening to the sides.... And miraculously her drink remains inside the glass.

"So, without further ado... Hit me, Jack." and by hitting it seems like she meant being tossed a .., microphone? Well, that's different.. She jumps up to a table. A music starts playing ... Happy birthday? But with a twist.., apparently she went for the Marilyn Monroe version.

And so Harley starts to sing. "Happpppyyyy Birthhdaaayyyy, dear Paaaaammmmyy..." not a bad voice either! All those hours in Karaoke.

Pamela Isley has posed:
Oh....oh dear. Oh no...

The expression on Pamela's face shifts from bemusement to confusion...then to outright horror. "Oh no. No, no, no. Not this....not here...." The slightly green pallor on Ivy's face flushes to a bright and cheery red, as the most embarrassing of situations not only is coming true, but it is more frightening than Pamela could have imagined.

"My God, Harleen. did you have to? Please....please stop?"

Nope, no stopping from the clown princess. And now all that Pam can do is shrink on that stool she is sitting on and try really hard to hide in plain sight.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Oh yes. Here! Harley is dancing on that table as if noone else was watching. Or maybe just Pammy, a wide grin on her expression as she moves and pirouettes all over the place. She does look so free too! As if she hadn't a single worry in the world. Or maybe she just doesn't now because she is here with her friend and singing to her.

"You gonna like my giiifftt..." she singsongs between beats in the song before continuing on.

"Come up heah and dance!" she offers Pam.

It's an offer that Ivy (luckily?) doesn't have to answer right ahead because she may just spot from the corner of her eye a few people coming in, dressed in dark clothing. Clearly not the usual patrons inside this bar. But worst of it all is the noticeable stench of smoke in the air. A stench that may go unnoticed to less sensitive noses, but Ivy will recognize it.

Quellazaire isn't far.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Really, Harleen, you cannot expect me to just jump on on that table and..."

The words die off as it isn't the sight of people filtering in that mean to do the two harm...but the smell. It is a very distinctive aroma. Even if she wasn't part plant, she would recognize that scent. Considering the last time she was around it, she was in the act of preventing untimely deaths.

Namely, hers and Harley's.

The mood flips on Pamela. That embarrassed aura dissipates quickly, as she shifts. Harley might recognize it as Pamela's ready stance, as those green eyes shift to take in the room. Oh, look there. Tall, dark, and creepy people walking in. All hints of pleading with Harl disappears from Pamela's voice as she turns her back to the table, and the dancing harlequin upon it.

"You didn't invite anyone else to this, did you." It isn't a question, but more a statement of fact.

Brunnhilde has posed:
Sometimes one just needs to escape their scene.  The hub drub.  The lovely barflies of Hells Kitchen.  The unpaid bar tabs.  Perhaps that one angry bouncer or two.  Sometimes one just needs to stretch their legs.  Sometimes things draw one to other places, especially one with prior...duties.

Or it could just be that this place is way fucking cooler than her usual spots, but Brunnhilde has been enjoying herself quite a few drinks at the bar.  Sullen.  Quiet.  The sudden antics do get a dark twinkle and a smirk before she throws back her double of whiskey.

The sudden shift of the mood, perhaps not hitting everyone at once, seems as if it hits Brunnhilde like she was expecting it.  She simply orders, "Bottle," and counts out the bills to splash onto the bar.

Harley Quinn has posed:
That shift on Ivy's posture is telling. And besides, Harley has fought alongside Pam enough to know on the proper meanings of it. Trouble is afoot! The 'Happy Birthday' music is still going out on the bar but Harley has stopped dancing, and singing, pivoting on a foot to look around.

"Well, you little bitches...." she mutters, eyes narrowing. Dangerously! Because no one gets in the way of her Happy Birthday song to Ivy. NO ONE!

"It was just supposed ta be us! The rest might be at the karaoke... Certainly not these!" She jumps down to the floor, tossing the microphone back to Jack and cracking her knuckles.

Not that the men entering are the chivalrous types. Say hello or even shout out a challenge? No, they know what Ivy and Harley are capable of. In fact Quellazaire saw first-hand what they did to her men! So some small devices are produced, along with gas masks, and tossed over. Smoke bombs? Something more in them? There is a vile scent out of them, specially for an half-plant... Maybe Quellazaire devised some kind of smoke for her bombs to try and disable Ivy? They reek of pollution...

Harley starts coughing.

Pamela Isley has posed:
Not that Ivy tells others, but simple smoke itself is not all that detrimental to her. With a plant physiology, she actually takes in carbon dioxide to breath. But...when one starts adding particular compounds in with said smoke, specifically designed to combat plant life? Yes...that's where Ivy becomes vulnerable, along with every other living, breathing entity at the cafe bar. Because, if it is deadly for plants, it cannot be all that healthy for others. Regardless of toxic immunities.

And, the first sign that the smoke bombs are doing their job is the jean-clad Ivy faltering, dropping to one knee. The coughing from her is harsh, rasping. This was not expected, certainly not here. Definitely not in public.

It seems that the Cruella de Ville wannabe really still does have that unhealthy obsession with Harley and Ivy.

Still....there isn't a cry from Pam to get the regulars out of the cafe. Not that she could talk if she wanted to. But....a mistake was made. One that the goon squad has not realized, yet. For they attacked at what Ivy considers home.

And...Ivy is very, very protective of her home.

Brunnhilde has posed:
Miraculously, Brunnhilde is served a bottle before all hell breaks out, or rather, all smoke invades.  As the hiss of smoke swirls forward, Brunnhilde casually assesses the situation, tired eyes shifting to the assailants for a split second before she continues on as if just going about her business.  She opens the new bottle and takes a hearty swig which might equal a few gulps for anyone else.

"I finally find a place that is relaxing and doesn't smell like piss or blood and now someone wants to change that," she grumbles between 'swigs.'  She sets down her bottle to rolls her head back and forth with an audible crack.  She takes a final breath of solid air before she's engulfed.

Then she starts walking toward what will be the fight in all of one moment.  She picks up one of the smokes without a flinch and pegs one of the goons way...way too hard.  Unnaturally so.

Harley Quinn has posed:
For Harley it's mostly smoke. It stings her eyes, burns her throat. But the rest of it? She appears to endure it. All due to a certain gift from a certain plant lady! No poison or toxins shall touch the clownette! Just as good for Joker's laughing gas bombs and also for this...., Smokey-Bitch. She is down on one knee too, eyes squinted before her eyes go to Pamela with that driven look that seems to tell it's time to go do some ass-kicking..

"On your mark.." She tells Ivy, terribly focused, tone angry. The punk chic Harley is ready to rumble!

Some of the patrons on the bar are starting to stumble and fall unconscious on the ground. Including poor Jack! The bartender was still looking at pouring a glass for Brunnhilde when that assault started... And soon enough he is out too...

As for the men with the masks? There's that sound of machine guns being drawn out, safeties turned off. They would start firing soon. The smoke *does* give them some cover but they aren't here to just pinpoint shoot at the infamous duo. They may just be getting ready to start shooting indiscriminately.

As Brunnhilde goes and pegs one of the goons they point. "Shoot, shoot!" hell is just about to get loose.

Pamela Isley has posed:
A shake of the head. There is no mark here. No plan that Ivy has in mind. At least...not at the moment. No. Now is not the time for such level-headedness. Now, Pamela is mad. And when Pammy gets mad, there isn't a whole lot of thinking involved.

No, when Pam gets angry, then it becomes chaotic. Unpredictable. Just like nature.

Ivy's voice grates as she struggles for words. As such, she only says two. Just two words to Harley.

"Get them..."

Then, hand to the ground. For this, Ivy needs no words. Her consciousness reached out, through the ground, to the myriad of roots beneath. To the plants throughout. To where she considers her domain. The cry is there. The anguish as the smoke burns them, the pain palatable. And that...that only spurs the avatar of nature onward. Something must be done.

Something *will* be done.

As Ivy remains knealing, her hand to the ground, the earth beneath them starts to rumble. The tables shiver, the glasses upon them falling. Those still standing may wonder what it is that comes. But Ivy, she knows exactly...for she is calling for it.

They had dared to attack nature. And therefore....nature is coming for them.

Brunnhilde has posed:
Brunnhilde steps in between her bottle and the goons when she hears that they are packing guns.  She finally looks around when the ground shakes beneath her feet, steadying her dense frame nimbly as her eyes settle on the only other people not down for some kind of count.

"Yeah because I have so many of these where they came from," Brunnhilde actually does waltz right into another already spent smoke, kicks it up and bats it into the head of another goon.  It's not efficient, and she's just kind of getting lucky with the aim given how much visibility there is.

She leeeans to see if she hears a resounding thump of a body.

Harley Quinn has posed:
The first one was a test try. No hit! But as Brunnhilde kicks that second bomb there is the sound of a *thud* along with a man falling back. They level their weapons, shooting a few times towards the group but Harley is already moving. She started doing so just as Pam spoke ... And Brunnie does give her an idea. Kick those smokeys? She can do so! Or even throw them...

So she rolls under a table, shots plinking close to her and she picks up one of the smokes, throwing it through a window. It flies true, out of sight, and as she continues to work along with Brunnhilde the smoke starts to clear some from the place, visibility beginning to return.

Shots wheeze past the rest of them, close, yet as those roots start to form, the earth rumbling they look around. "This is not working.." one says. "She said she wouldn't be able to affect us!" "Well, she was wrong!"

As those roots sprout out of the ground and start going for the men they let out a strangled scream. More shots start wheezing about but not as focused. Just trying to hit *something* in their panic. One of them runs out of the place.

Brunnhilde has posed:
If any of the bullets hit Brunnhilde, she doesn't let on, but she does duck, more light dip as she picks up a chair and launches that next.  It's kind of like some lazy drunk guy who can't hit the golf ball in his underwear and a robe so he eventually picks it up and chucks it...only she's fully clothed among other obvious differences.

"That's right.  Screw off!" Brunnhilde shouts when she sees one of them retreat.  Her eyes rifle toward the soon to be rooted men and back to Pamela.  Then she simply ignores the goons to start pushing over the tables for any downed civilians with gentle little business-like kicks of her boots as she mumbles, "Plants got it all under control.  Naturally."  She grabs her bottle along the way, which miraculously, has not been broken yet!

"Either of you need a drink while you're...getting this done?" she offers with a little cough.

Pamela Isley has posed:
There is another benefit to the clearing out of the smoke bombs, by both Harley and Brunnhilde. It clears the air, as it were, of the plant killing chemicals mixed up in that smoke...and allows Ivy a chance to breathe deeply, with only a little pain. Bullets are not a problem, as a wall of roots springs up to offer the mother of ArcTerra protection. It buys Pamela a few moments more, as the rest of her darlings spring up through the ground, seeking to entangle those they can, or at least disarm. Not that Pamela cares at this particular moment if innocents would be hurt...but merely because it makes sense to her. No guns means none of her children will be hurt.

Then, slowly, the redhead stands. Her once braided hair is now a tangle, the order given away to randomness. The hair cascades down her back, and the complexion, which once was just a slight green, now has a more distinct emerald hue. And those eyes, sharp and cold. Ivy steps up, leaving her wall of roots as they retract into the ground. Brunnhilde's comment is heard...as is the question...and the voice that replies is almost as cold as those eyes, with only a hint of the hoarseness from that little present.

"No. This shall not take long."

There isn't...any real sense of mercy in that tone. Ivy walks through the fray, as more of her children come to the rescue. Vines threatening to entangle those that remain. The few that have been ensnared are given a moment, before Ivy speaks again.

"Your mistress was told to leave well enough alone. She decided it was intelligent to challenge nature. However, you all forgot one important fact." Ivy pauses, that expression on her features shifting, a slight smile curling the corners of her lips. A smile that does not touch her eyes in the slightest...those cold emerald orbs.

"Nature always wins."

Then, with a wave of her hand, the plants start to constrict...slowly, before they loosen. "Go. Tell the one that holds your leash that nature will not be denied. And, when nature calls, she will not be so gentle."

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley isn't the type to refuse a drink. Nooope! So she reaches up to snatch the bottle from Brunnhilde, taking in a long swig. Ow, that's some strong stuff! And does she give the bottle back? Nope! She is running already, jumping over that wall of roots Pamela created to protect them from the bullets in quite the acrobatic, ballet-like jump. Such gymnastics! One hand helps in supporting her crossing and she backflips to land right atop one of the men that was reloading his weapon..

She works in tandem with those constricting vines, moving along with them, jumping over as they constrict one of the men. Sucker-punching another on her way. She *is* pretty angry...

And eventually they *do* they take the hint as Poison Ivy unleashes fully and threatens them in a way that cannot be ignored. To return and face Quellazaire's wrath or to die here... They decide on the former. So they start running!

Harley shakes the bottle of precious liquid in their direction. "Tell her we are comin' foh her!"

A hmph, she moving to gather the rest of the smokes to toss them out. Most of the people are still out though. When she returns she hands the bottle back to Brunnhilde. "Ya seem a bit strongah than meets the eye. Thanks foh the help.." she tells the Asgardian before her focus goes to Pamela. "Are ya okay?" she asks her friend.

Brunnhilde has posed:
"Oi," Brunnhilde exclaims when her bottle is snatched from her grip.  "Oi!" she exclaims more loudly when Harley runs off with the bottle.  "That's not what I meant!"  She hops over the rooty barrier just stepping in Harley's wake in much less spectacular fashion only to watch the show of Harley's takedown and notice the vines constricting more before finally releasing.

Brunnhilde keeps her eye on the bottle every once in awhile, but it's less worry for whether it will get broken after seeing how Harley moves and more for whether it will come back her way with liquid left in it.  "Yeah.  A little.  No problem.  I didn't do most of the work though."  Her attention also shifts at Harley's question.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Yes."

It is a singular word given. But, for Harley, it is more than enough. Pamela remains standing, long enough for the goon squad to choose practicality over valor and run off. At least, those that are still conscious. As soon as they are gone, though, Pamela just relaxes, which involves stumbling into a chair and slumping down. Apparently, calling that big of a response might have taken a bit out of her.

Then, sitting in that chair, Pam shakes her head. "That's it, Harl. Bitch needs to go down. Tired of playing defense." A sigh, then a weak smile. "I sincerely hope your present...is as good as you say. Because...this is one hell of a birthday so far."

Then...a laugh. "See why I don't bother?" A beat. "Next year, just get a card, okay?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Shit, I just know they gonna blame this on us ..." Because of course the press would have a field day with them. As for the bitch needing to go down? Harley appears to wholeheartedly agree. "Yes, she does. We gonna get her..." she smacking one hand on an open palm.

Another look at Brunnhilde. "I am Hah'lee. This is Pam." she pointing to Ivy. "Ya seem ta like yoh booze. Good!"

But at the talk about a gift her brows shoot up. "The gift!" she runs to where Jack the bartender has fallen, reaching behind the counter. When she returns there is a small box. "Well, I saw these supah cool boxes and thought of you! Theah's some seeds inside, o' a strawberry tree! But the catch is ya gonna have ta grow them normally without yoh powahs. I will look forward ta eating those strawberries when the tree grows up!" a beaming grin.

Yes, give it to Harley to offer tree seeds to an actual plant-lady.