Poison Ivy

An opener. Poison and Sophie meet for the first time, by the reservoir in Robinson Park, Gotham City.

Flowers, plants. How charmingly a young gentleman can speak to a young lady, and with what eloquent silence in this delightful language. How delicately she can respond, the beautiful buds telling her tale in fragrant words! What a delicate story the myrtle or the rose tells! How unhappy that which basil, or yellow rose reveals, while ivy, ivy is the most faithful of all. But here by the reservoir, while plants are not scarce, diversity is hard to find. No Artemisia speaking of dignity, no yew hailing of sorrow; no rose leafs sending sweet encouragement ("You may hope"), no Arbutus making frantic vows ("Thee only do I love!"). Fern. Sincerity. And something almost like goldenrods. The flowers may speak in quiet eloquence, but if the young blonde doesn't listen, the redhead at the far end of the reservoir will, another early jogger, perchance, coming to the park before the crowd, before the heat burns down.

Another opener. Poison arrives at the Amusement Mile for some investigations near the Joker's Ha-Ha-cienda.

Gotham (North). The Amusement Mile, sandwiched between Crime Alley and terra firma, between the water of the river and that of yacht basin. Panem et circenses for those who can't afford a home on the far side, only a glimpse at what could have been, so near, so far... When the shroud of the night hides the fading paint, the rusty girders, the yellow grass, this is almost a place of excitement, cheap thrills, rides that shine in the night, their intensity stabbing through the drudgery of the day, piercing the boredom, a laser to the eternal concrete grey of the soul, muggings and hot kisses in dark corners and vows of eternal love that will last almost to sunrise... by broad daylight however, most of the mile is just pathetic. A reminder of a time long gone, small time amusement for those who cannot afford the personalized experience of bungee, parachutes, white water kayaking, stock cars. But also a reminder of how Gotham can only be slowed down, but never stopped, never killed. It starts on the fringes, it always does. Only this time, "it" is actually something good: restauration. A lick of paint here and there. A new ride or two. And a long way to go. And at the far end of all this, a taxi stops, a woman gets out...

Will add more shortly.