80 Deeper into the Rabbit Hole #80

Stepping into the loft at the apex of the greenhouse, I was greeted by a symphony of chaos, the sounds of a brawl reverberating through the room. Without missing a beat, I swung the door open, only to freeze as a guy stumbled toward me like he'd just had one too many.

I grabbed the dude by the shoulder, realizing he was more out cold than ready to rumble. With a shrug, I let him flop to the floor, his landing punctuated by a solid thud.

Pushing past him, I entered the room, greeted by another scene straight out of a twisted fairy tale. The loft, much like the rest of the greenhouse, was a lush paradise of greenery. 

And there, in the midst of it all, sat Poison Ivy with all her iconic green charm and seductive figure, nursing her injured shoulder with a grimace that said, "Well, this isn't ideal."

Surrounding her, a gang of goons brandished swords coated in some funky purple goo, waging a fierce battle against dozens of tendrils and vines surrounding Poison Ivy. 

Each time their weapons made contact with Ivy's vines, the tendrils would shrivel and die, only for one more vine to pop out of the ground to replace it. 'Looks like these fellows came prepared...' 

It seemed that the two parties were at a standstill, but judging by Ivy's expression, it was clear that these people were pushing her to her absolute limits. 

"Quite the tussle you got here...." I quipped, making my presence known as I eyed the scene before me. "Need a hand, or should I just stand here and enjoy the show?" I said, turning my gaze to Poison Ivy. 

The commotion came to an abrupt halt as all eyes turned towards me, the men wearing expressions that mingled caution with a hint of dread. Poison Ivy, however, greeted me with a disarming smile that could charm the leaves of a tree.

"If you've got the heart to watch a bunch of tough guys picking on a damsel in distress..." she began, her demeanor oozing vulnerability that could've fooled anyone not in the know. "Then feel free to stick around and enjoy the show," she added, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"Damsel in distress? You?" I couldn't help but chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief. "Nice try, but I'm not buying it. Though you do seem to be struggling," I remarked, casting a sidelong glance at the thugs closing in around us.

"As a man, it's my solemn duty to prove that chivalry isn't quite dead yet," I quipped, pointing a finger at the nearest goon. With a flick of my wrist, a beam of light shot forth, piercing through his shoulder like a hot knife through butter. 

He crumpled to the ground, howling in pain.

The other four thugs exchanged nervous glances before scattering in different directions, each hoping to make a run for it. After my experience with their friends outside, I'd expected these guys to fight to the death, so their actions were a bit surprising. 

I couldn't help but wonder if their positions were higher than the ones outside, but it didn't really matter. I wasn't about to let them off the hook that easily. 

My Scoopy Doo senses were tingling and telling me there was something interesting going on, and I'd be damned if I didn't get to the bottom of it. 

"Did I say you can leave?" I demanded, calling upon my shadow-control powers. The shadows surged to life, enveloping the fleeing thugs in their inky embrace until only their noses poked out, leaving them squirming like a bunch of caterpillars.

Before they could even start struggling, vines emerged from the ground, shredding through my shadow bindings and impaling the thugs, ending their resistance before it could even begin. It didn't take a detective to figure out they were now very much deceased. 

I turned to Poison Ivy with a quizzical expression. "Well, that was rather... direct," I remarked, shaking my head in disbelief. "They could've spilled the beans on who sent them if you hadn't, you know, turned them into plant food," I added, crossing my arms in mild frustration.

"There's no need for interrogation. I already know who these people are and who sent them," Poison Ivy stated firmly, her gaze fixed on the fallen men. "They minions of the League of Assasins..." 

Poison Ivy's words caught me off guard. "League of Assassins? Are you having some kind of turf war as fellow eco-terrorists or something?" I quipped, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

Poison Ivy regarded me with a knowing look. "I've never seen eye to eye with the Demon Head, but this goes beyond our personal disagreements," she explained cryptically. "Let's just say I declined an invitation to a rather exclusive club, and the Demon Head, being a member, didn't take it lightly," she added, her tone tinged with a hint of mystery.

An exclusive club of villains? The thought made me chuckle. "Is it the secret society? Or maybe the Legion of Doom?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

It made total sense, in that twisted, comic-book villain kind of way. I mean, who in their right mind would shell out the big bucks for Deathstroke just to play glorified bodyguard? And let's be real, Deathstroke wouldn't stoop to babysitting duty even if you paid him in solid gold.

Now, this secret society of villains? It's like a recurring nightmare in the DC universe, starring all the big bads you'd rather not meet in a dark alley. We're talking Lex Luthor, Vandal Savage, and Gorilla Grodd—these guys aren't just brawlers, they're masterminds with more resources than a billionaire playboy on a bender.

But here's the kicker: they're about as united as a bag of cats in a room full of rocking chairs. They only team up when they've got some epic scheme brewing or when they're scared the Justice League might crash their party. And when it's all said and done, they scatter like roaches when you turn on the lights.

What's more, there's zero camaraderie among these villains. It's more like a game of king of the hill, where the big shots use the smaller fries as cannon fodder in their never-ending power struggles. No wonder Ivy's giving that mess a wide berth.

Poison Ivy shot me a skeptical glance as she strolled toward me, her green eyes shimmering with curiosity. "You're pretty well-informed for a guy who popped up out of the blue," she remarked, her tone a mix of suspicion and intrigue. "Harley and one other friend mentioned you once or twice... said you had a certain... charm," she added, flashing a coy smile that seemed to carry a hint of floral fragrance with it.

I instinctively raised a hand to keep her at bay. "Hold your horses, devil woman. I know all about your pheromones, and I've come prepared!" I declared, wrapping myself in a protective cloak of shadows. "Ahem, normally I'd be more than happy to be charmed by a pretty lady like you, but I'm here on business," I explained, trying to keep my cool despite the tantalizing scent in the air.

Poison Ivy arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Well, well... Harley wasn't pulling my ivy chain after all. You really are something," she said with a chuckle, the sweet fragrance fading away into the breeze. "So, spill the beans. What brings you to my humble abode, handsome?" She leaned in, her gaze piercing.

"Well, it's like this..."