Justice League And The Hounds Of Hell

Chapter 17: Withered Leaves and Death Wishes

I forced the door open and entered Ronny's dressing room.

A woman's voice choked. "You. This is your fault. You did this to me."

I kept my distance and braced for an attack of vines and spores, but she didn't move from her spot behind the desk. Poison Ivy was tied up with chains and surrounded by pots of wilted plants. I took a couple steps forward.

"What happened?"

She raised her eyes to me. She looked like she'd aged over 50 years. Her skin was thin, wrinkled and yellow. There were brown spots under her eyes, and her hair was stringy and matted, having lost the voluminous curl she boasted. When she tried to speak at a normal volume, her voice scratched and strained as if being grinded by nails when it passed through her throat. She coughed and resorted to whispering. "You happened... After that disgusting chemical concoction you used... I went to my colleague for help... and he put me here..." she looked around. Tears seemed to border the edge of her broken eyes. "I haven't seen the sun in weeks."

"What is your relationship to Ronny Boxer?"

She turned away from me. "Fuck off, Batbrat."

"Fancy way to talk when you're dying." I snapped. I sat on the edge of the desk directly in front of her. She hardly had any strength, I could see her arms quivering just so she could sit up.

"This... is your fault."

"As if you weren't about to kill me yourself." She glanced up at me and then back down. I sighed. "I can help you. I just need some information first."

"And... if I won't...?"

I frowned. From her perspective it probably looked like some evil glare that would leave her to rot in this underground prison. But, it was actually a frown stemmed from sadness, because I actually did feel bad for her. I wasn't lying when I said I'd hit her with those pesticides again if I had to, but then again we probably wouldn't have been in that situation if it hadn't been for me charging in without thinking first.

"I'll still get you out of here."

She wouldn't look at me or open her mouth. I mean, I guess I wouldn't either if I was in her position. How do you let the person who incited your position help get you out of it? I wandered to the other side of Ronny's room where a mini fridge was humming loudly. When I opened it, there were vials of Ivy's toxins labeled and lined up. I looked back to her. She shivered and stared at a spot on the floor with a deep frown on her jaundiced face.

That's what Ronny was using her for. I hated him so much I wished I could end him right there.

But, we don't kill. My father's been very clear about our roles, responsibilities and burdens. Executing was not one of them.

Besides if anyone should get to kill a scoundrel like Ronny, it was Ivy. The only issue is that as soon as she's done with him I am most definitely next. And it may not be ethically right to knowingly let her kill him, too. Would it? I know there's a line somewhere that I'm not supposed to cross, but things here were getting pretty gray.

I took a water bottle from the fridge and handed it to her after I'd opened it.

She swallowed the cool water down to the very last drop. It helped her faster than I thought it would. The violent quivering that had been torturing her muscles stopped, and a bit of life returned to her eyes. "Don't you dare think all is forgiven if you get me out of this hell." Her voice was back to normal. "I intend to have both you and Ronny's rotting corpses to feed my plants."

"That's a fight for another day." I tapped my fingers against the desk and kept my eyes locked on hers, maintaining a persona of chilled indifference. I saw a window that I could use to get her on my side, just enough. "Tell me, how badly do you want Ronny to pay?"