14900/A New Day Blossoms

A New Day Blossoms
Date of Scene:	06 April 2023
Location:	Isley Gardens, South Channel Island
Synopsis:	Pamela's preparation for Spring is interrupted by a stealthy, thieving figure in black. No, not that one. The lucky one. It's going to be the beginning of a beautiful something.
Cast of Characters:	Domino, Poison Ivy

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Domino has posed:
How many years had it been? Domino hadn't bothered keeping track. There's always something to do somewhere across the globe. Taking a break from the east coast had seemed smart at the time. Maybe she simply forgot to 'come home.'

Or, it might have been work which brought her back.

Yeah. Definitely the second one.

"Subtle" the lone wolf albino remarks while scoping out the overgrown compound from a nearby building through a nightvision rifle scope. "Looks like this neighborhood's embracing change."

More importantly, it looks like nobody's home. Or at least nobody's patrolling the grounds. No time like the present!

The rifle gets tucked aside, replaced with an aerosol can which she rattles up then sprays down her armor with. What exactly goes into the stuff she couldn't say but the -theory- is that it would help her remain undetected from the local flora. Or buy her some extra time, if nothing else.

Whatever it is it rather smells like ass. She steps back, turns to the side, and has herself a moment to cough within the not so well ventilated room. "Coulda lived without that part of the experience."

Next comes the fun stuff. It involves one zipline launcher, a couple of conveniently located smoke grenades in case of emergency, and a whole lot of luck.

*Paf!*

*Twrrrr!*

One line directly into the compound later and the gothy mercenary is silently descending into unknown territory, neatly clearing all of the outer fencing with those nasty looking thorns. Somehow she managed to find the ideal route through the treeline! A one in a million shot.

Okay, one in 58,492 to be specific.

Poison Ivy has posed:
Pamela Isley's all about subtle. The lush, verdant expanse of the Isley Gardens in the midst of the dank, dark, industrial hellscape that is Gotham city. The plants that sway and bend and _loom_ purposely towards visitors. The fact that there's no sound of birdsong or other animal life in the garden. Subtle. Oh so very subtle about her opinions on non-verdant life.

Well, that's not entirely true. Ivy has no problem with animals. Bees and birds are in fact quite important for pollination, and even squirrels and chipmunks have their purpose. As does Pamela herself, of course. And while more often than not, that purpose seems to be acts of ecoterrorism, spring is arriving, and there are more important matters to attend to.

Which is why Pamela is strolling through her garden, plants gently bending /away/ from their Mistress to make clear paths free of vines and thorns and blossoms, all so lovely and serene looking... and all rumored to be terrifyingly, painfully lethal should their Mistress be displeased with a visitor.

And while Ivy tends to her garden, clipping branches as necessary, examining leaves and stems for blight and imperfection, something intrudes upon her sanctuary. No. Not something.

Someone.

Leaves rustle as Neena lands amongst the interior of the treeline, past those sharply thorned vines that mark the perimeter of Ivy's domain, vines hang from tree branches like Ms. Thurman just launched herself into a tropical rainforest, or some third world jungle. Like there should be some invisible, clicking alien lurking in the treetops.

But there isn't. And while those leaves rustle and vines slither like snakes, none of them make a move towards the albino. The thorned vines slither /away/, tree branches and grass part for the woman doused in chemicals... not with the reverence they have for Ivy. It's a more primal retreat, wilderness recoiling from a purpose-made repellant. Like a bear recoiling from being bear maced... predators held at bay, but clearly not willingly.

And while the plants cannot approach Domino, their Mistress surely can. AS she hears her 'children' registering their distress through her connection to them, there's a crack in the distance from Domino, a sharp snap like a whip. But it's just a vine, one that Ivy has reached out to grasp that snaps into the air to propel Poison Ivy into the air, to be caught, cradled, and flung forward by another vine, with shocking speed.

The mercenary will no doubt hear Pamela before she's in sight, the sound of those vines passing the resident Goddess from one to another, trees rustling as they part branches for her to progress towards the intruder. Something is coming from the jungle to meet Ms. Thurman.

Something terrible and purposeful.

Domino has posed:
Had a tactical error been made already?! Possibly. Domino had scoped the place out and it had sure LOOKED clear but even modern optics can only see so far into what is an urban rainforest. As with all things in life she took a chance and rolled the dice. Why over-plan things when you can just freaking go for it. This is usually a winning strategy for her!

Right up until it isn't.

Albino senses are tingling. Something's changed from the instant she set foot upon this wild lawn and it isn't how the grass reacted to her presence. It seemed a total sucker bet Ivy would know literally through the grapevine that the perimeter had been breached but this merc also thought she had more time!

Screw it. If stealth is already lost then she may as well go all in. Tall boots hustle across the grounds as the first smoke grenade gets popped and dropped with no consideration given to throwing it. What good it might do she couldn't say but anything which might give her an edge is worth the trouble.

Her goal is the lab. She's counting on it not being locked given all of the organic security measures, or that its owner may have simply forgot to make sure it was fully closed. Get inside, find what she's here for, GTFO. Ivy only knows someone is here, not WHO is here. Dom can still win this.

Who cares if the odds aren't in her favor? They rarely are.

Poison Ivy has posed:
Smoke billows out to fill the already dense and dark undergrowth as Neena makes her break for the lab, the plants don't recoil any further, but they still keep their distance from Ms. Thurman as she sprints. And as whatever's rushing through the woods is growing closer. There's a thrashing, almost hissing noise of vegetation closer to the lab, a small patch of pumpkin vines off to the side of the path suddenly writhing, lashing, seeming to grow in stature in moments, winding together.

Likely lost in the chaos is hacking, shuddering coughs from behind as Ivy finds herself rushing directly into a cloud of acrid smoke.

But then, what's back in the perimeter of the garden probably seems less important to the intrepid merc and sometimes heroine, who is treated to the sight of that seemingly benign pumpkin patch... though it /is/ unusual for there to be pumpkins on it in early spring... rising up. Vines have twisted and writhed together into approximations of sinewy, muscled limbs, and a broad torso. It must be ten feet tall, a golem of plantlife, a single cyclopian eye of wicked intent in the midst of what would be its face.

Except that any intimidation from a glowering, evil eye is undone when that eye's not really glowering. Or an eye. It's a pumpkin. But it does appear to be a very /serious/ pumpkin, that golem slowly striding forward, even if the leaves that coat it shiver and tremble as it nears the onrushing Ms. Thurman.

That repellant is still working, but apparently this particular plant is made of sterner stuff than the garden itself.

Domino has posed:
Coughing from behind, danger close! Move those legs, girl! The lab entrance is like -right freaking there- and Domino's chemical sidekick is still working wonders to part the green sea but as soon as she gets closer (are those pumpkins in early April?) there's a far more unusual sight of the patch literally rising up and taking a stand. Like...vines representing a person. A person with one eye. Creepy much?

The albino skids to a stop, brandishing a matte black machete from over a shoulder, eyes up this bizarre new opponent... And hesitates.

This wasn't supposed to be a confrontational operation. Invading personal space, smelling offensive, a bit of theft, that's all one thing. But Dom isn't completely oblivious about Poison Ivy. Taking a blade to the plants in here would be like going after her children.

As bad as it is now, it could be a whole lot worse.

A hissed "Shhhhhit" comes as she reconsiders her play. The machete gets flicked aside as if she were attempting to entice a dog with a thrown stick. All in, Thurman! Her objective is only a few feet away, shoulder-first and into the door now!

Or a window? Are there windows to this here lab? Path of least resistance and all, she's not feeling terribly picky. Not when the pumpkins are menacing her.

It's nowhere near Halloween! C'mon, Ivy!

Poison Ivy has posed:
Neena's plan works like a charm. A _lucky_ charm! *guitar riff*

Or at least, it's enough for the rudimentary intellect in the Pumpkin Golem to track that sudden movement, both hulking arms lashing out. Well, stretching really, before they unwind in a violent transformation of lashing, snapping vines, groping blindly into the dense underbrush for the thrown machete.

Which is perfect for Neena to sprint forward and slide under or dive over occupied vines. The lab, being part of the greenhouse itself, has an entire wall of windows, though they seem to be papered over on the inside, but there is also a door. A door without a lock that Neena can easily burst through and into the dark lab. It's an odd mixture of high tech and low, high tech lab equipment interspersed with wooden tables one would expect in a homespun garden shop... but kept immaculately polished and cleaned.

There's a dizzying array of plants, sample vials, a refrigerator unit that no doubt contains all sorts of bounty, and a small medicine cabinet on the far wall filled with unlabeled bottles of various tablets.

It's once Neena's into the lab proper that there's a shadow in the doorway. Shorter than the golem, and with far more intellect in its eyes. Its bright green, intent, ever so slightly narrowed eyes.

Her eyes.

Poison Ivy. Quite different than Pamela Isley, who's been known to curl up on her couch in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, Poison Ivy is encased in vines and leaves, her head tilting, lips pressed in a thin, serious line, her voice purring out. "Hello there. Can I help you find something? You're a few days late for optimal seeding time. But I'm sure we can make due. Let me guess... bluebells? Roses? Tell me, dear stranger, just /what/ could have you so desperate as to tangle up with me like this?"

Domino has posed:
Success! Domino would love to claim she knew the pumpkin golem would take the bait but she had no flipping idea. Either way it's worth the cost of a lost blade.

Next challenge: Finding exactly what it is she's here to find. With poorly given instructions. In a lab full of stuff. It hadn't been a specific order so this could further work to her advantage, just Grab A Thing and go.

The fridge is ruled out. No telling how long those samples could survive outside of refrigeration or what temps they need to be held at. Room temp is best temp and there are options.

One hand is already darting toward the table when a voice calls out from the door. Failure! In an instant the outstretched hand shifts from 'gimme gimme!' to bracing against the lab table's edge like she was just making herself comfortable (albeit at a less than ideal angle,) whipping about on combat heels with the other hand tucked behind her back and an award-winning black and white smile flashing across an equally black and white face.

"Heeeey, Ivy! You're lookin' good!" Dom calls out as if this wasn't the very first time they were meeting each other and with knowing little to nothing about the another. "Very menacing, I like it. Way to rock that girl power vibe. Nice place!"

Pay no attention to her one hand stealthily reaching for a Stinky Spray gas grenade. Just look at that smile!

Poison Ivy has posed:
Ivy doesn't move from the doorframe, her arms stretching up, hands casually gripping the upper corners of the frame, her back arching, those sharp... quite /literally/ sharp... heels lifting off the floor, balancing on her tip-toes as she murmurs dryly, "Why thank you, you don't look so bad yourself...." She narrows her eyes and hisses out a slow, sharp breath. "Of course, I don't /know/ you, and it's not so often that I have mysterious women dropping in. With repellant... and..." She tilts her head like she's listening to an inaudible voice, "Oh! You flew in. I'm assuming they mean slide in on some sort of grappling hook, or you could have..." She glances up, "Just landed on my roof, no?"

Those bright green eyes roll back down, level, steady, but there's a glint in those irises as she murmurs out. "Tell me who you are. Why you're here. It's clearly not to harm me. You're not trying to steal a bioweapon are you? I don't make those. Anymore."

She sighs and shakes her head slowly, "Do a little bit of ecoterrorism and everyone thinks you just /keep/ those things laying around like a goddamn fruitcake..."

Domino has posed:
Unseen fingers start to pull at the next grenade but hesitate. AGAIN with the hesitating! If Dom's losing her edge... No. This is something else. Consider it self-preservation if you must. Compared to Ivy who is all skin, leaves and thorns, the albino is all sleek jet black, buckled belts and tactical gear. Despite having a matched set of holstered sidearms, somehow...Ivy is coming across as the more menacing of the two.

Homefield advantage, with emphasis on the 'field.'

"Roof landings are too noisy" Domino casually remarks with an airy shrug and a glance up and away. "Best to save those for the high risers."

More importantly, did Ivy just 'talk' to her yard? Like right now. 'Flew in.' Did the TREES just out the mercenary?? What a bunch of--

Ivy's putting on her serious face. "Bioweapon? You used to make bioweapons? Noooo" Dom takes on a look of disbelief, "that seems far-fetched. With a garden this nice? Actually, I was here for ..." she pauses while pale blue eyes swiftly dance across the counter as if The Thing would suddenly jump out at her while the index finger of the unseen hand slips into the ring of that concealed grenade's pin.

Exits? Not enough.
Foliage? Hostile.
Mug? Known.

Sigh.

Ivy is given a level look when the albino claims "I don't know what the hell I'm after. Something important, whatever that might have been. All kind of a moot point, isn't it. Why, do you -have- a bioweapon? Genuinely curious now."

Poison Ivy has posed:
Ivy's eyes are level, steady, except for one brief, pointed glance down to that arm hiding behind Neena's back. She knows the woman's got /something/ going on back there. But her lips quirk ever so slightly in a smirk. A 'Please don't do whatever you're thinking of doing' smirk as she sighs out softly. "Well, not... the traditional sort. Not the kind that wipe out a city, or kill indiscriminately." She shrugs helplessly, which does /all kinds/ of things to that 'leotard' of vines and leaves as she sighs out. "Really, they'd usually kill one or two people /very/ dead and very badly. As a message. I'll admit, the message of 'Being a CEO of a company illegally dumping industrial waste' may have been lost in my... overenthusiasm to make it a show?"

She clicks her tongue softly and narrows her eyes to slits, "Oh, please my mysterious visitor. You know my garden may be lovely and welcoming, but it's also quite... dangerous to the uninvited. If you didn't know that, you wouldn't have avoided the vines at the perimeter... and..." She smirks wider and hisses softly, "Come now, I know women who dress all in sleek, slick and clinging black. You are, if nothing else, a thoroughly professional sort."

Those arms lower and she steps in slowly, hips swaying, rolling, all languid, smooth motion as she murmurs out, "Oh no, no bioweapons. Not in quite some time. I'm... turning over a new leaf?" Her lips curl in an almost sneer. "On my own. Not like Harley, who..." She groans softly and shakes her head swiftly, "No, you didn't break in here to listen to my problems." She frowns and strides over to the medicine cabinet, opening it, fingertip tapping along vial after vial until she snaps one up, holding a dozen ovoid purple pills, giving it a little shake. "So you were hired to steal... 'something'? This is something."

She holds the vial out with a downright tempting smile, "Harmless, really. Something of a... performance enhancer. Used in moderation it's quite safe. Do you think your employer would consider receiving it your job well done?"

Domino has posed:
Opening dialogue does have its uses, such as learning about Ivy's preferred method of dealing with CEOs with industrial waste disposal problems. It fits in nicely with that 'don't do whatever you're thinking of doing' smirk as it happens to be a chemical option at the small of Domino's back. Maaaybe it's not the sort of response she wants to run with around here.

Though while there's a section of her brain which is literally running the numbers and considering her options on a second by second basis there's a bunch of thought process left free to consider other details of her situation. Details like the approaching green skinned redhead who is clearly enjoying her unexpected evening powertrip. Not that Dom minds any. Other than the small detail of her not being the one on the powertrip.

"A fan of a little drama, are we" she deadpans as Ivy approaches, notably leaving the doorway open save for the particularly lively pumpkin patch immediately beyond.

Oh...gosh. Ivy makes with the compliments and Domino dips her head with a grin broad enough to show some teeth. Her guard is still up of course, but it's also not ALL an act. "Flatterer. I bet you say that to all the mercenary girls."

Ivy's acting perfectly at home (which rather makes sense) but it sure seems like she's letting her own guard slip. To the medicine cabinet, flicking through vials. It gives the pale lady another chance to quick scan the counter on the sly. Surely one of those vials would be her payday...

Purple pills. They're ... Seriously?

Neena gives Pam a dead level stare. "I don't think that's the kind of happy they're after."

The portion of brain still chewing on the numbers suddenly comes back with an enticing figure. ... A -numerical-...enticing figure. Ivy's gotten herself nicely within arm's reach. The table full of lab equipment is Right Here. The exit isn't blocked. The stage is already set for 'a little drama.'

Dom makes a grab for Ivy's closest wrist. The plan is simple, except kind of not: Pin the botanical knockout, pistol ready for encouragement in compliance, open up enough of a window for the albino to swipe a targeted vial from the counter then get the blasted HELL out of here.

Game on.

Poison Ivy has posed:
Ivy rolls her eyes with a crooked little smile, "Well, ecoterrorism without a little flare never gets the message across. And I'm sure you know how cathartic it is when you try to do a... job... and have every part of it go off just as you planned, hm? That thrill? That tingling little rush of satisfaction? I know an awful lot about it."

And all the time Ivy slowly paces closer to Neena, hips swaying, her right hand cradling that little vial, offering it, palm up as she licks her lips almost absently, "Oh, nonsense. Just the dark haired infiltration specialists who slip into my private garden, Ms... hm. You /have/ to tell me your name, dear." Her eyes narrow playfully, "I mean I can't just be calling you 'Spot', can I? It's... far too... familiar. Right now."

And then things are suddenly so much /more/ personal! Ivy gasps as her wrist is grabbed, her body spinning, until she's pinned against the workbench, her mouth falling open, her eyes /burning/ as she coos, "Well! Now now, maybe I'm /not/ being too forward with a nickname, am I mysterious stranger?" Her tongue wets her lips, eyes glancing to that pistol as it no doubt lines up on her for that encouragement. "Mhhhf... you know, Gotham takes a dim view of thieves... well, perhaps not all thieves..." She glances down, eyes /slithering/ along Domino's frame. "No, in fact we're quite accepting of burglars with very similar... personal aesthetics to yours." She draws a slow breath, that vial of pills carefully placed on the bench, "I don' think we /will/ be needing these right now..." Her own gaze darts over where Neena just looked for her goal... her lips press in a thin line and she murmurs, "Tell me, do you think you can run that fast?" She tilts her head, her cheeks flushed a deeper, near emerald green as she purrs softly, "I really do hope you can... because I'm not going to give you a ten count... go on... /run/ little rabbit..."

And there's a low, groaning noise... the walls shuddering, the leaves of vines further into the greenhouse itself, of the vines that have grown up along the struts and supports of the structure rustle like wind is blowing through them... without a hint of any newly gusting breeze. It's excitement stirring the plants and their Mistress. "Run run run... I sort of hope you make it... but let us see..."

Domino has posed:
In this moment Domino is living as few have dreamed. Like, how many people would ever dream of putting a gun to Poison Ivy's head? Such a thought typically doesn't end well for the other party. Eh! For a brief moment the proverbial ball is back in the albino's court and it's her turn for a powertripping smile.

"'Spot' will do. Nothing personal, Ivy. It's just a job." Any official introductions can happen later, right now she's on the clock. Like the repellant spray, which has been losing its potency during their encounter. Those were precious seconds which she is NOT getting back.

Totally worth it though, goddamn.

Gotham is more accepting of burglars with similar aesthetics? "How fortunate for me" comes Neena's swift response along with a flicker of a lopsided grin, as if this is all a game shared between the two. A game where Neena's 'check' has come and gone and Ivy is lining up one of her own.

Domino's expression falters slightly as outside things...begin to shift... Taunting begins from the home front. The corner of a black lower lip is caught between white teeth for a brief second. She certainly noticed Ivy's slithering gaze, prompting a quick "Another time. Gotta fly."

In a flash of achromatic motion the albino is away from Ivy, vials scooped into one hand and sidearm smartly holstered with the other as she bolts for the door, now with Ivy's teasing comments of 'run rabbit run' following right behind.

Neena's fast.
Really really fast.
(Well not THAT fast.)

She'll take her chances.

Poison Ivy has posed:
Ivy smirks and sighs out, murmuring sweetly. "Oh, of course. If it was /personal/, you'd be calling me Pamela. And you wouldn't be thinking about /escaping/ my little paradise. we'll have to see how... professional.. goes before we discuss that though. I'm sure you'll enjoy the conversation."

She lets her tongue gloss her lips to a sheen, but her nose scrunches a little as she murmurs tauntingly, "And really, for personal time? I'm thinking you'll need a much better perfume. Fortunately I know several environmentally friendly brands."

She sighs out, almost forlorn as the merc pulls back, delivers her parting remark and sprints out the door. None too soon, as vines lance down from atop the roof, rigid and straightened like spears, they gouge the earth just behind Neena's heels. That pumpkin Golem is bent over nearby, in the midst of still searching for the machete when Neena erupts out and it shifts, it doesn't turn so much as that pumpkin pushes back to emerge from what /was/ the back of its head, vine fingers and legs shift in orientation and now back is front, and it rustles with malice, beginning to charge after the merc with quaking, thudding stomps. But it? It is not fast. It is not really really fast.

The pathway towards the garden's front gate is mostly open, though vines are crawling along ornate wrought iron fencing, moving towards that gate as though intending to overgrow it.

And in that doorway, Ivy steps out into view, lips still quirked in a smirk, bright green eyes following that dark form.

As the plants around shudder and writhe, they seem to almost hiss and rattle, danger all around the sprinting merc.

There are even sounds in the air, rose bushes firing thorns, not enough to be dangerous... they /might/ leave some scratches along that sleek black outfit.

And there's a whisper in the air, a voice on the breeze. "That's it... show me what you can do. Make me want this chase again, my little thief."

And Ivy continues to stand, to stare... and to admire just how damned _good_ this stranger is.

And she's been looking for a new dark stranger to admire and focus on.

And no pesky rodent theme to distract her from her admiration. How lovely.

Domino has posed:
This is fine. This is fiiine. This is FINE. It's just a walled-in living paradise full of more species than Domino knows the names of which are all actively trying to kill her. But the fleeing albino has more than thoughts of escapism and survival on her mind as Ivy's last few remarks linger in her mind, swirling about in a way which is JUST distracting enough to get her properly backed into a corner if she doesn't fucking FOCUS on what's IMPORTANT goddammit!

Vines come down from ABOVE, spearing the path she had just slipped across.

Pumpkin Golem is big and bad and can invert itself on a whim but it's -still too slow.-

The zipline cable's still there, right? Can she even GET to it in time? The line passes straight through the trees! Fudge, that requires reconsideration. There's the front gate, now alive with potential lethality. Whatever happens has to happen NOW, even the damn lawn is getting grabby!

The first volley of fired thorns (plants can DO that??) catches her by surprise, lightly impacting with her armor to no avail but nicking her clean across a cheek. It brings the oh so familiar razor's flash feeling of catching something not meant to be caught, that spike of realization that something else just drew first blood. THEN she realizes the danger, her heart skipping a beat as her feet leave the ground before she can fully process a response. A complex twirl to cartwheel to 'superhero drop' keeps any further thorns from catching her as they neatly zip by in every possible direction.

...Is...is Ivy somehow talking to her through the tr--

FOCUS, Thurman!

Trees, yes! Solid bark, not likely to move as fast just stay below the branches! A quick jump-kick off of a trunk should get her the altitude to twist about like a goddamn cat and vault clear of the fence. She's done it before! Just ignore all of the added living spikes!

It'll be fiiine.

Poison Ivy has posed:
Ivy's striding from her lab slow, steady... and with /far/ too much hip movement to really be a 'stride'. And yet somehow, Poison Ivy sashays with all the grace of a model, and all the menace of a slasher movie villain.

Bright green eyes are focused, fiery, almost /mad/ with excitement, every near-slip earns a hiss. Her body tenses as one lashing, grasping vine brushes an ankle in mid-air, only to lash and curl around that zipline cord instead.

As she passes Pete, the pumpkin golem, she reaches out to give him an almost subconscious pat of reassurance.. yes, he failed to protect her lab. But he did his best. And... well, Ivy's not so sure she wanted that particular burglar captured. Not yet. She's just too interesting.

Her lips press in a thin line as Domino arcs up over the fence, vines lashing towards that dark figure, all wicked spikes and sharpened tips, an onrushing wall of imminent, sharp impalement... one razor sharp vine just barely grazes a calf before Neena's over the fence.

And they stop. Quivering in mid-air, straining, like they'd love to drive forward and impale the albino. But she's past the fence. The fence with its rain-faded 'NO TRESPASSING' sign.

That fence is practically impenetrably coated in vines, only for them to sway and draw back, fanning apart to reveal that familiar red haired figure, her hands reaching out... only to curl fingers around the wrought iron as she narrows her eyes, staring intently, lips quirked in a broad, excited grin. "You win this round, lucky... you move well. You've got skills."

One eyebrow perks and she hisses softly, "Do you have a business card? I'm planning to... get back to business soon. I promise, nothing as... dramatic as ecoterrorism. But I need an infiltration expert. Mine's... gone and got herself some morals. I want you."

Domino has posed:
Excitement is one element this evening is not lacking! Domino's run from bullets, arrows, cars, rockets, explosions, but she's never run from a goddamn GARDEN. It's quite exhilarating! But it's also pretty mental. And it's given a much deeper feeling of malice considering the botanical mastermind behind it all, gracefully wandering across the grounds like the eye of a living green storm. There may be some immediate safety at the center but everything within fifty feet of her is living on borrowed time.

Twist, duck, pirouette, side-step, it all has to be spot-on and hands free lest something try for a grab instead of a swipe. Dom's fortunate enough to escape the former but the latter finds her on a few more occasions, certain to provide lasting memories for her to reminisce over the coming days.

It's all lethally close, a battle of a hundred sword-brandishing ninjas who don't follow any known rules of combat. One part skill. One part luck. Stir vigorously then fire through the gauntlet.

When the ground underfoot transitions back to hard, unforgiving cracked concrete the spotted albino spins around with a heavy breath, only pausing long enough to see if the garden is still giving chase.

Which it isn't. In fact, it's downright CALM in there.

And Ivy is at the bars.

Offering a goddamn JOB?!

Dom's next breath catches, another slight hesitation in a string of slight hesitations. (Hey, she still got across the line with her prize, didn't she?) A light squeeze of a hand is proof positive she got what she came here for.

But nobody ever said she couldn't leave something behind.

That piercing Arctic stare never departs from Ivy's emerald greens as a single black and white business card is slipped out of a pocket. Now with an abundance of caution she strides forward, holding the card between the very tips of two fingers with the far edge juuust starting to slip between the bars.

Yet the albino is smiling. A soft, dark, wicked little thing. She'll wait for Ivy to take the card before shifting that hand into a mockery of a phone held to the side of her head. "Call me."

Black lips greet fingertips for a blown kiss before she spins about and hustles into the darkness where a murdered out sports bike awaits.