Being born doesn't issue you the right to live to a righteous age. I know this because I always assumed I'd make it to the ripe old age of ninety-two years, thriving off the royalties of my sold writings and spending the end of my days playing ball with the great-grand kids on my private baseball field. But being born doesn't allow you to choose your own path in life, either. In fact, being born really offers you no promises at all.
So how was I supposed to know I'd die on a Thursday night just like any other? How was I to know that on the morning I awoke, I would be lying cold and dead on a cement floor by midnight? No one truly knows such things, after all. No one knows when their last breath will be let out.
The name is Paul Reynolds. Or, was. When you're dead names don't really matter too awfully much. Only the living feel the need to label everything; including themselves. I was a pretty smart guy during my time on earth. Nothing of Einstein proportion, mind you, but smart enough in my own regards. I wasn't even that old really-- twenty-four-- and my interests dealt mainly with the real world: fun and girls and cars and college; the living and the breathing. Still, like everyone else, I would end up in a dark box in the damp ground, not moving, not knowing. A forgotten form, kept alive only in painful memories. Sadly, but perhaps fittingly, the love of my life would put me in the grave.
I call her that only because at the time, in my premature youth, I looked at her as if she were a goddess come to life. I had only known her a for a few minutes, so perhaps it is silly of me to assume she was my one true love, but when you're dead-- most everything in your past life seems silly.
Her name was Pamela Ivy, though she could have lied about that. Truth be told, she really was quite the looker. A petite height of about 5'4 with a full figure, concealed wonderfully in a tight opaque blazer that accentuated her skinny figure and flaming red hair something fierce. She had piercing green eyes that sparkled, but, as I later learned, only on cue. A few years older than myself, and tanned just slightly enough to give her a glow. She had lips that, though thin and small, were turned upwards into a brilliant smile.
Unlike working at the mall or at the gym, working as a night guard for Wayne Laboratories was a sure bet that you wouldn't run into any gorgeous women during your shift. Not at a quarter 'til midnight. And especially since no one was allowed through the front desk without a pass and clearance check from Mr. Wayne himself-- something that rarely happened due to his mysterious private life.
As soon as she started walking my way I quickly wiped off the remaining residue of my late night energy food-- consisting of powered doughnuts and a large coffee; snack of champions for men in blue uniforms everywhere--- and stood up. I offered her a hand, which she clasped into her delicate one and shook lightly, and was just about to begin spewing out memorized questions when she opened her mouth first.
"Hello… Paul," She said after leaning across the counter some to get a better look at the identification tag clipped to my light blue shirt. Her new form of standing did wonders on my male anatomy when I received an eyeful of chest that I didn't give credit enough for during my first inspection. "I'm Pamela Ivy."
"Hi," I managed, unable to think of anything but the way her hands moved circles on the smooth marble countertop, and imagining them moving those same circles on something else completely. Someone else. Namely, myself. However, in the deepest crevices of my mind, I remembered that I had a job to do first.
"Ma'am, do you have a pass?"
"No," she hesitated a moment. "Why would I need one of those?"
"Security reasons and such. We don't want dangerous people getting behind these doors." Some of the smartest scientists in the world worked behind those doors, I thought to myself. Building and inventing only god knows what. It's not like I was given the inside scoop of what went on or anything. I was just there to offer protection.
She smiled then and echoed my words. "Dangerous?" She leaned in even closer, her nose almost touching mine as she spoke. I immediately noticed her breath, the smell of peppermint, and all the promise that just the smile of a pretty girl could bring to a lonely boy like me. I actually felt her breath on my cheek and wondered if she was interested in me. The thought, or something else, made me shiver. "Do I look dangerous to you, Paul?"
"I don't like to judge a book by its cover," I shrugged. "But it doesn't matter, really," I felt the fear of losing her with my next words but knew they had to be said nevertheless. "Without clearance you are not allowed in here. I'm afraid you'll have to leave." God, if she only knew how sincere I was in that last declaration. Perhaps she did.
"I don't know," she said. "I kind of like it right here. Maybe I don't want to go." There was a flirty glint in her green eyes that would take a blind man not to see. And even then, one would still be able to hear it in her voice.
"I'm instructed to arrest all who disregard these commands," I said with my own little smile. An innocent entrance into tragedy. I wasn't so much trying to get away from her as I was trying to show her that I was somebody.
"Is that so? Hmm…" she lifted herself so that she was now lying atop the counter of my desk. Bringing her wrists together, she moved them toward my face with her bottom lip poking out in a sexy pout. "Then by all means, officer. Arrest away." A wink from her and I knew things were getting out of hand very fast.
"You don't have any clearance. You should leave, now." I gently pushed her hands away from my head.
For a moment I thought that the look on her face meant she was about to get unreasonably angry. In fact, I even flinched a bit as she slid her body fluidly off the counter. I waited for a blow that never came. As quickly as her face had contorted into anger it had just as suddenly melted back into innocence.
"Very well," she conceded. As I watched her walk away I tried to understand the pain I felt in my chest. I was happy, but it was as if a new portion of sorrow grew within my chest as well. I didn't mind though. I wanted to share many things with her. The good and the bad; in sickness and in health. She was only a few feet away when she stopped and craned her neck to face me.
"Actually," she began, then shifted the rest of her body to align towards mine. "There is one thing I would like to do before I leave."
Thinking back on it, I should have been more on guard than I was. The way her eyes shown coolly then should have set me off. But cool is not cold, after all. And here, I was still alone in a room with a girl who made me feel more than anyone else had ever done before, and in only the matter of a few short minutes.
She walked closer, and again, I could smell the scent of peppermints in the air. "What?" I asked. Thinking to myself, that if she only felt an iota of what I did at that moment in time then she would lean in the last hairs breath of an inch or so and kiss me. Or offer up her phone number, at least.
Green eyes sparkled once as she whispered in my ear. "This."
I can't recall every detail that happened after I felt the swift and unexpected kick to my jugular that let me coughing and gagging for air that wouldn't enter my lungs no matter how hard I tried. What I do remember seems rushed and surreal.
Through my final stages of consciousness, I managed to get a look at the security screens that displayed all of the rooms beyond my quarters. I watched as the lithe figure broke through one of the back labs. Smoke poured out from inside of the room, and a minute after that, she emerged triumphantly with a square object in her hands that she slipped into her pocket as she raced back to the front exit.
My lungs were burning now, still violently wheezing to inhale more of life's oxygen. Unaccustomed to the pain, I tried to access the situation at hand. There wasn't much that I could do in the state of mind that I was in, but I did use my last amount of energy to reach under the counter with a trembling hand and hit the red alarm button. Help. Help would come and then all would become alright again.
It wasn't long after that I noticed Pamela had returned to stand by my side. Bending down, she kissed the space of skin next to my ear. "Thanks for the going away present, love," before spreading on her pasty violet lip gloss and kissing my now bluing lips.
There was another odd sensation coursing through my body at this embrace. A warmth that spread through my abdomen and into my chest. It was as if hot, thick liquid were being poured into my blood stream by some mysterious source. My skin began to itch like crazy, but I had no time to react as I felt my life fade away. Slowly, very slowly, I formed the last thoughts that I would ever make again.
Her kiss was poison to me.
Just like her name implied.
She truly was Ivy.
Poison Ivy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He watched silently as the woman side stepped into a phone booth off the corner of Cambridge and Fourth. Tuning his miniature binoculars to focus in on her lips, he read the words that she mouthed out to the other end of the phone line.
“Mystique? This is Ivy. I’ve got what I came after… yeah… naturally. This isn’t my first time, you know…. Right….. Of course….then, I’ll meet you in Westchester in two days…. Exactly. Xavier won’t know what hit him until it’s too late. They never do.”
Satisfied with his information, he folded the binoculars back into a compartment on his belt. The dark figure then merged back into the shadows of the night, already calculating ideas of his own regarding his newly planned trip to Westchester, New York.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
I actually started this story many, many years ago. So long in fact that I'm embarassed to give an exact date that it was first posted to other forum. But life got in the way and I forgot all about it and it's been collecting dust ever since. But I finally rediscovered this piece and thought I'd give it another go. A few words have been changed around but otherwise it is still in it's (mostly) original posted format.
This is a crossover between Xmen and Batman. I know there's been crossovers before but with the exception of one ficlet from Dark Ferret, I don't think anyone has done a crossover with this cast before. You won't have to know much about Batman or his storylines to follow along. This is meant to be X-Men concentrated, not the other way around.
This is a crossover between Xmen and Batman. I know there's been crossovers before but with the exception of one ficlet from Dark Ferret, I don't think anyone has done a crossover with this cast before. You won't have to know much about Batman or his storylines to follow along. This is meant to be X-Men concentrated, not the other way around.
Author's Chapter Notes:
An intro to our other playing cast members in this story.
I do not own Batman, Poison Ivy, or any of the Xmen. The only character I do take credit for is Paul. But he's dead. So he really doesn't count for much, does he?
I do not own Batman, Poison Ivy, or any of the Xmen. The only character I do take credit for is Paul. But he's dead. So he really doesn't count for much, does he?