Sep. 12th, 2005

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Working with Scarecrow during the Plague has been delightful. She so wishes it had lasted. She hopes it killed some of those supposed heroes. At least the disease experrts are estimating that it may have removed up to 150 million piece of meat from the surface of the good green world. Ivy and her partner had removed at least 50 more in that time. His obsession with fear was interesting enough - and effective. He wasn't as stupid of a male as most of them. Toxicology research with him could prove fascinating. She even considered briefly him becoming the new host for her beloved. She rejected it. Too skinny and pale. Too useful on his own merits. Not enough justice to be had. No, the host was going to be one of those pathetic male "heroes." One of the Batman's brood or one of Titans. He deserved such a healthy specimen and it would be fun watching some costumed mind bleeding away while he grew strong and lovely on the inside.

The forces of so called law and order were returning, forcing Ivy and Scarecrow to one of those summer cabins in the woods. He had said he wanted to talk. About himself likely. Didn't most men? Well, here she was.


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