The True Vine, Part 1

October 11, 2014: A mysterious fire leads to an unlikely team up among wary strangers.

Gotham City Robinson Park and City Sewers

Gotham City. Ew. Gross.



  • Riddler
  • Killer Croc

Mood Music:

<Insert RP Scene here.>


Robinson Park is Gotham's one link to nature. Amid the grotesque, burned out skyline, Robinson is a hive of growth and prosperity of a natural kind. Structures that were once visited by families have no been overgrown by vines, weeds, deep grasses and moss.

But tonight, there is trouble. In the old observatory, a fire has spread from the basement, up into the dilapidated structure, and out onto the grounds. The area is thick with black smoke and flames. Amongst those who need to know, such as vigilantes, members of SHIELD, or those of a more botanic persuasion, this part of Robinson Park hasn't had electricity for years. If there's a fire here, it's been set on purpose. And a rash of arson has been spreading over the city over late. Are the two connected?

  • * *

Robin - and by Robin I mean Ibn al Xu'ffasch - is behind the wheel of a very large automobile. His father has not sprung for a vehicle for himself like he has for the other one, so using some of that al Ghul ingenuity he was born with, he's simply taken to using his father's toys without permission. Better to beg for forgiveness rather than permission.

"This is Robin," he announces, much confusingly to be sure, "Are there any more in the area of Robinson Park? It is perhaps connected to the other fires. I will investigate." The big behemoth of a tank takes a left down a back alley, headed for the park.

It starts with a cough. A small cough in a field of green and the mindless drones who happened to be lucky enough to be deemed worthy in the false Mother Nature's eyes. A small cough that rattles the ill placed lilly pads in the narrows, that draws out the tiny, created spriggans to show concern for their 'maker' as she sleeps in a hammock made of vines.

And another.. followed by a slew of coughing fits that draw out a hiss of breath and sends her upright, back arching in pain, and hands drawn up to grip thick red locks to pull.

A fit of madness it was not; but the screams and cries of frightened trees and yes.. even blades of grass that were soon snuffed from life by a lick and kiss of flames. Her hands yank down to snatch locks from the core, tossing them down to the ground which were soon gathered by a sway of green and pushed beneath the ground, to hide evidence, perhaps? Or to spare the Green Queen from tears upon seeing fallen hair did by her own hand from a moment of psychosis.

"Injustice!" She hisses, a tiny nod. Awoken from her slumber, she drives herself out of the self created hammock and onto the ground below, bare feet digging into the grass as she launches herself out into the streets of the Narrows, the surviving residents glad to see her gone yet still afraid to come outside.

The direction? Nature tells her the Reservoir; pain tells her to get there quick.

There is arson, and then there's -arson-. One can easily be borne out of teen boredom with intent to be let off to go home early due to 'fire damage', but that second bit is a touch more ominious and a great deal more illegal. There have been fires cropping all over Gotham, and it's caught the All Seeing Eye of SHIELD. Of course, when an international issue reaches US borders, SHIELD agents are always on the scene.

Against the backdrop of a rather dark evening, there is the rumble of motorcycles that reverberate through the canyons of avenues, echoing for miles off the buildings as they get further away from the downtown area. Lights are blown through, dodging traffic as they go; filtering between cars down the lines at speed, even. (More than once, they've been the recipient of 'the bird', the 'state gesture'.)

Loud pipes save lives.

They also do quite well in announcing the arrival of two SHIELD agents. Beating even the Emergency Services to the scene, Hawkeye and Black Widow seem to be just in time to see the observatory well and truly engulfed in flames.

Visible to Poison Ivy, Hawkeye, and Black Widow, is a smallish figure who enters into the flames, cloaked in a long shroud that is hopefully-for his sake-flame retardant. He disappears into the building and from view.

Inside, now, Ibn al Xu'ffasch kneels to look over an opening in the floor to the basement and slips down into the under-area via a rope.

"This is Robin. I think I've found the epicenter of where it was set," he says into his comlink. "The vines of the walls are on fire, but not the middle."

"There's a box, here," he says ominously.

Emergency services are hardly the force to beat, for Romanoff, it is Barton that she is trying to beat. The expemiental bikes zoom through Gotham traffic, and a few might even mistake the Russian ex-patriot for another red head on a fast bike in all black. Natasha tracks the target beacon through the streets and competes for the lead with Clint.

When they arrive, Black Widow glares at the cycle as she slides it to a slow before righting it and locking it. "I like the old tread better for city," she tells Barton. Totally not mentioning his arrival thirty seconds ahead of her. "It is your case, you lead." That's why he was there first, obviously. And even with the offer, she is already assessing the situation for secondary targets and snipers. Arson and explosions are very often just the bait.

Green eyes spy the small figure entering into the dilipitated building, lips curl in a snarl as the feeling of burning premates her senses.

What Hawkeye and Black Widow will see? A mess of red hair and green following in close behind.

Rationale is spared for the even tempered, there were none in those bones that moved quick with the aim to destroy that which would destroy the last living in the building, the breathing and the squealing that was soon influenced by the presence of Ivy. Faux leather curls against her skin, the burnt fabric boiling, already fired locks shaken and smoked; flames that licked and lit the tresses snuffed with a swat of her hand and a shake of her head. Teeth grit and bare a hiss, dirtied feet carring her towards the middle of the untouched vines that draw her downward that same hole where the Bad Little Bat had descended.


She landed upon her feet, gaze drawn up to send the vines curling and swaying, those upon the wall burnt and dead, unabled to be saved. A writhing vine is gripped and tugged, willing it to free itself from it's tresses to join with her hand in hand. Someone. Is. Due. For. A. Whipping.


The vine-like whip soon twirled in a fast circular motion, threatening.



Hawkeye throws the kickstand down and dismounts easily, a lopsided grin playing on his face. "I'm sure it'd be better if it hadn't rained earlier. And, maybe a little less throttle?" Of course, he's one to talk. The moment he gets on one of those things, it's full throttle and the backend spins and moves sideways as it searches for purchase on the pavement.

Now, however, as he looks to the furiously burning building, he catches shapes moving towards the door and in, disappearing in the fire and smoke. "What the-"

Hawkeye looks back at his partner and sighs, "There are times when I really hate being the good guy." Which, of course, translates into, 'Looks like we're going in…'

Grabbing his bow from one of the saddlebags, he's got his 'second string' quiver; not the one with the blinky-lights. Now. Now he's ready, and begins to trot towards the door, checking the ramparts on high to be sure nothing falls on their heads. The heat of the flames already threatens to keep him from going in, but he does, calling out,

"Hey! Hey! It's not safe in here!"

The look Natasha gives Clint is filled with playful smirking, but she is not as reluctant in her approach. A hand sized gas mask is selected from her belt and cupped in her left hand as she starts to look for entry points. "I just never look at myself in terms of good and bad." She comments as she draws up the pistol, one of those new so called 'Icers' from R&D in her right hand. "I stick to best, and it always suits the situation."

Black Widow lets her eyes take in the situation, and the other red head, "Oh, great, one of the Gotham crazies. Don't ever drink the water in Gotham." she states in dead pan as she watches the other woman and her vines.

"Tt," Robin says over his shoulder without bothering to look at Ivy. "Arson. Clearly. It appears as if an accelerant was used. Not gasoline though."

He seems more interested, honestly, in the box in his hand. Crudely wrapped in brown grocery store paper bags, it has marker written all over it. Robin reads aloud: "If anyone does not abide in me, he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned."

He stops, looks back at Ivy, seemingly unperturbed by her presence. "It's from the Bible."

He tears open the box with little warning. If it's some sort of device, then clearly he is being reckless. Either way, underneath is a simple green colored box with a question mark in black on the top.

A voice comes down from atop the hole-Hawkeye who has just entered the beginning. "Ya think?" Robin says to himself in response to the Iowan's comment, but the Boy Wonder makes no move to leave the flaming room.

"Should I open it?"

The voice from above gains her attention, but she does not relax, her body remains stiff and rigid, ready to attack at any given moment. Calm yourself, Ivy. Calm, even if it is starting to hurt.

The twirl of her whip lessens, bare feet pressed against the hot ground moves just behind the Bad One, his look towards her given cue for her to approach. The twitch in her right eye draws her gaze backwards and up, and then towards the box again, her head tilting a little to the side along with a strafe to the left and a swift kneel to bring chin to rest upon the top of her knee.

It takes her a moment, to focus, eyes laying upon the question mark to blot out the sounds, the screams, the unwilling pain the green goes through.. the death. "Open it." It was spoken swift and cool, hands tightening against the vine and the need to strike any who should stop him from letting her see what was inside the box.

One of these Agents obviously isn't an enhanced human, and it's not hard to tell which one it is! "Yeah, yeah… you're just drawn that way," is called back over his shoulder. Looking up with a little concern, it's 'all in', which means, yes. Hawkeye's through the door and dropping low. Down the trap door.

"What the hell are you guys doing in here? Get out!" Don't drink the water? There isn't a chance that Clint would even considering moving across the river to Jersey. And if these idiots are typical of what Gotham breeds?

And there…

"What is wrong with you?" Stepping close, Barton makes to take the box from the caped… someone, "Let's get outta here before someone gets hurt."

Widow gives a little smile to Hawkeye as she approaches Damian and Ivy. She stops a good ten feet back though when the Junior Bats and Green Lady consider opening the box, "Why would you do that? It is likely an explosive." she states and shakes her head. When Clint rushes forward, Natasha does what a good field agent should and ducks behind something firm as she readies to cover the archer. (Or call for Med-A-Vac.)

As Clint goes for the box, Damian has no idea who this man is. A hero? A villain? The arsonist?

He deftly dodges Clint's grabby hands with an annoyed twirl and a "Tt." He steps back from the Iowan and glowers at Widow, "If it were a device, it would be heavier, strumpet. There would be evidence or residue of foreign substances. There is none."

Having deftly evaded Hawkeye, Damian opens the box in a swift motion. Inside, Hawkeye, Widow, and Ivy can see it is filled with packing peanuts. Caution to the wind, Robin slams his hand down in it and pulls out a card.

Out comes the hand with a small card.

"It's a riddle," Robin says, his head snapping back in surprise.

"Who makes it has no need of it.

Who buys it, has no use for it.

Who uses it can neither see nor feel it.

What is it?"

Clint's and Natasha's arrival annoyed her. In fact, any little thing annoyed her; hair in her eye, misplaced furniture, bad makeup..

Back to the matter at hand, as Clint approaches to try to take the box from the bad man's hand, she leaps upright to give a loud crack of her makeshift whip; it was a warning. Back up. She will use it. She had a fire to feed and even though the building was burning down around them, she'd go for the glory of whipping some ass and taking names.

"Back the fuck off."

Oo, she swore.

As the box was opened, she glances to look for the woman, aiming to head her off the same way as she did with Clint, yet once the riddle was spoken, her lips form a thin line; no need to think about this one. The answer was pretty obvious. To her at least.

"A coffin."

If she were wrong, so be it. She's been wrong before, and she humbles herself to that fact. By ways we shall not mention.

She doesn't relax having given the answer she thinks it was, however.. she was stepping away from the two men and towards the entrance in which they came. Should anything go any more tits up than it already has? She was going to be the first one out. Every man.. or woman.. for themselves.

Well, considering that Hawkeye had yelled for everyone to get -out- of a burning building rather than saying 'screw you all, die in a firey death', the chances are pretty good that he is either 'a good guy' or a 'good samaritan'.

While Damian is quick, Barton is trained, so as Damian does move, the archer swings a foot out to upend the box out of the 'caped man's hands. Of course, that may be moot with the box, and the peanuts.. and the card.

"Don't be an idiot. Any kid can make an explosive as small as a phone, and as light."

The whip, well, Clint's ready to swing around and grab the end to yank Ivy towards him. That, however, isn't going to happen either.

The card is read, the riddle solved.

"You mean to tell me you ran down here, in the middle of a fire, to open a box… that had a card in it?" Does Hawkeye sound incredulous enough? There is no little confusion here…

Natasha doesn't hear an explosion. She doesn't see one. A glance to Hawkeye and she starts towards the trio. The thing didn't blow up, so the Queen eco-terrorism actually draws more of her attention. Let Clint handle the boy. (No offense, you are all children to Natasha.)

Natasha is not really concerned over much with riddles, she would be cuffing Ivy if she had her druthers. "Professor Isley, you are not cleared from this site, yet." Her tone properly respectful. "However, in light of the fact that the building is on fire, I will accompany you to a safe distance." If she doesn't shoot the red head in the back on the way, that is. Fortunately, Black Widow rarely concerns herself with pick-ups for the locals without Fury's expressed authority and instruction.

"I've not got the market cornered on idiocy. Not in this box," Damian responds and turns to Ivy with a nod, "I think you're right—"

But just as he speaks, the opening of the door slams shut via some sort of automatic lock. Before Damian can even respond, that sick feeling of falling erupts in his stomach as the earth under the basement gives way and the entire entrapment falls 10 feet and splashes into the depths of the below.

The quartet within the box flails around as they fall. Once splashdown occurs, the box begins to fill with sewage. Good times.

Robin moves quickly, attempting to check the sides of the box to see how he can get them free.

Ivy glances towards Clint, rationality hasn't spared this one. However, he was down here too. "You must be one of them boy scout types." She flicks her hand up, whip following suit to slice lightly across her already, slightly burned back. "I hate those types."

Le sigh.

But the men lost her attention as soon as they had it, focusing now upon the woman which, gains a raise of her brow and a slight smirk. She knew that something was bound to happen with her words, and if any response crews were on the outside, they'd notice, and feel a certain unrest amongst the trees that weren't scalded due to fire. They'd groan, sway, and try to free themselves from the shackling roots that took decades to develope.

"Professor Isley?" Goddamn it. "Who?" A shrill little giggle escapes from her lips, another step taken back as arm swings down sharply with the intent to draw upright. In her mind, the vine-whip would curl around the others, providing her a route of escape. Little did she know, it would not get that far; possibly because of how skilled Natasha is.. and what was about to happen next.

"If you're even thinking about taking me into custody sis..—"

Words were cut off with the quickness, the fall and drop was enough to shake her from her feet and upon the swells of her bottom only to slide and roll a few paces from escape. She was agile, sure.. but not trained in the arts of staying on the feet once the boat gets rocked. "Dammit!" She shrieks out, and this is why she prefers to not monologue before making an escape.

"I'm not the one-"


The floor disappears out from under them all, and Hawkeye isn't quite quick enough to draw an arrow to arrest his fall. Better than nothing, however, that he at least manages to break his fall. "What the-"

At least he does have his bow, and arrows- even if some of the fletching is a little singed… and it's the effluence that makes him begin to cough. (Widow had the right idea with her gas mask!)

Banter time, Natasha starts to pull up the list of chiper comments to trade with Ivy. "You are not the target." Black Widow states as she gets ready to follow the other red head long enough to figure out what her part is. Then there is no floor, well there is, but it is down. Down!? Natasha actually tosses the pistol up as soon as the floor falls away. Her legs bend and flex when things become solid again and she reaches up to collect the pistol from the air.

A quick check of Ivy, then she searches through the darkness as she raises the gas mask. Clint becomes the priority, but he is safe, relatively, at least no worse off than she is.

"Kakogo cherta" Russian for 'What the hell,' "is it with this city?" She takes a step to Ivy, offering the hand that once held the mask to offer to assist her. "Are you alright?" she asks towards Damian though her voice is now muffled.

"I'm fine," Robin says as he illuminates the box with a light he pulls from his utility belt. The immediate danger is the vines upon the wall. Now with the top closed there is nowhere to go with the smoke.

His gas mask goes in his mouth, but he works quickly knowing that Ivy does not have the luxury. Luckily, the flames are much easier to put out this way, since there are not as many and there is less oxygen and less vines. Within a moment or two the flames are under control.

The floor seems more like a boat now than a solid structure. Clearly, from the ankle deep sewage seeping in, what is outside the box is far less than what is in the box.

Robin nods towards Widow and then looks to Hawkeye, "Is he alright?"

She wasn't the target? Oh thank god. Natasha was a little too pretty for Ivy to muss up. But still, she was on the ground and the hand was being offered, which causes her to hold out a hand and wave to reject the help. She didn't want to muss her up, which meant she is not going to touch her. A helping hand from Ivy, quite literally, would be bad for the Widow.

With this realization in mind, she quickly moves to her feet of her own violition, her hand covering her mouth to stifle coughs until the flames die down. She wheezed, but kept it in check by timing her breaths, it mattered to her if they could hear it. She didn't want to appear weak.

Hand placed upon the wall to steady herself inside the rocking box boat, her eyes glancing at all corners, attempting to figure her own way out of the mess. At least she knows, sewage or not, she could swim. "He looks fine to me." He probably doesn't, but.. hey, screw that guy. She's worried about herself.

Clint was clearly the most dazed by the fall, but then, he isn't 'built' like the other three. Once Natasha is given the wave off by Ivy she walks over and kneels by Clint. Her gas mask removed and slipped over his face to recover him from the coughing. She takes up the trapped bow of Hawkeye, being one of the few people who knows just how to grab it. An arrow selected and fired up after the wire at the back is attached to his belt. It is enough to keep him up while he gets past the stunning.

"He will be fine." Natasha reports making a face as she has to take a breath to speak without her gas mask. She looks back to the not a target, but her chosen 'responsibility' Ivy. "Are you alright Professor?" She seems set on treating the woman like a technician because she is a botanist, but there is some worry that the currupted liquids might hurt the 'Goddess of Green.' A handkerchef is retrieved to replace the gasmask, raised to her face.

Robin flips a switch upon his belt. A red light begins to flash continually as he attempts to assess the situation. "I could probably destroy one of the walls with an explosive. That'd get us out. But into what, I'm not sure." There are all sorts of stories about what lurks in the sewers of Gotham. And with a man down, Damian isn't sure that Widow would back such a move. Does he care? Not really. But a potentially well placed bullet in the back of the head convinces him he should probably check with her.

"I'm alright." For now, anyways. She was in the dark, not a light or natural air to keep her sated long enough. She was about to be drained of what made her, her. But not for a while, which would be good. She moves through the filth, with the box rocking back and forth, she struggled just enough to keep her balanced, moving towards the other wall to press an ear to it, listening to the sounds of rushing sewage, unable to determine the best course of action in escaping their coffin.

"Blow it." Ivy was all for it. Clint would be taken care of, she was sure his partner had his back. With her defenses up? She wouldn't be able to help at all. "We need to get out of here or we're dead."

Black Widow looks up at Damian's question. "There is liquid in the walls, lots of it by the look of what is coming in." She states as she tries to further assess the situation. She draws out glves and slips the pistol in her holster for the moment. "Choose wisely, or you will flood us… What do I call you?" she asks after a moment, Ivy is on the SHIELD radar as a terrorist, Natasha doesn't really follow the Gotham vigilantes very much, she has heard of a few, notably, Bats Sr, but Damian is likely far less of interest to her than his mother and grandfather on her side.

"I go by many names," Robin says as he affixes plastique upon the far wall. "Flooding us out is exactly what I intend to do. As soon as it blows, grab him and swim for the surface." Ivy is right, there really is no other way other than prolonging death.

"Get back," Damian says as he holds the firing pin in his hand. He covers himself with his cloak and even partially covers Ivy, who seems far less protected by the elements.

When it seems that everything is ready, he announces: "Three. Two. One!"


The controlled explosion blows a hole out into the sewer and immediately, a massive amount of sewage comes flooding in. Clearly swimming will be necessary for living through this—whatever is out in the abyss, however, nobody knows.

"Cute." Ivy says in response to Damian's response, which was convolluted at best. But either way, once he shields her, there was no partial at all. She was still prone to flying debris, and being stabbed to death by shrapnel and damaging her pretty face. So underneath that cloak she went, even if it means poisoning the young man with her natural toxins. Perhaps, that could be her end game all along. Getting rid of one vigilante because she could barely find, and do away with the other. A mark in her book.

Just when she was about to reach out and grip Damian.. to poison.. the sewage floods the box, causing Ivy to break away from her cover to move swiftly towards the wall near the newly made opening. Her hand latches on to the ruined metal, so that she knows where she could exit while her head turns away and deep, wheezed breaths were soon taken to prepare herself for the long haul. She was waiting for the container to be full to make her escape. No blow back, easy exit.

'Many Names' is hardly the tactical useful name Natasha had wanted. She returns to Clint though. Gloves on from her belt. Her body is hugged against the archer, and she grips the cord to secure them from the coming explosion that will open the wall, "Wake up, Clint. Take a breath and holds it." She says to him, the gasmask is hardly more than a filter to help him breath, and it was not made for him in the first place.

Then Damian's detonator goes off and the room is flooded with Gotham's raw sewage. Her last breath is used to whisper to the fellow Avenger, "Next time, we go to Switzerland." Then, eww, yuck, mouth closed, eyes closed, let the Gothamites cope together for the moment. She presses on a chemical light on her belt to provid wsomething in the coming utter darkness. Fortunately, her suit is very nearly a wetsuit anyway.

The forces of the "water" splish and splash and force the quartet in all sorts of directions as the new equilibrium takes hold.

Luckily for Damian, his rebreather allows him save passage towards the top. It's a long way-a very long way, and as he finally emerges at the surface, his gloved hands reach up, flailing for a moment, and eventually he grabs the cool, slick surface of the edge and pulls himself up upon the cement. He looks downward, hopeful the others have made it as well.

The others may have been out, but Ivy had to wait. She had no masks, sure she was physically enhanced, but extra toxins compounding an already toxin filled body could have been bad for business, and created negative reactions. One last breath out.. and a deep, inhale…

And she was a go.

Swimming towards the top was easy, but it had to be done with eyes closed, but once she felt the air, her eyes opened after being wiped away with the back of her hands. She glides towards the concrete wall, and with a little bit of a struggle, she was finally up and out of the muck.

Finally, she begins to breathe, coughing and wheezing, still suffering from the little bit of smoke that had gotten into her lungs, hand grasping her chest to massage and try -not- to vomit. That would ruin her not-so-pretty image.

Eyes water and another cough sounds, signalling something of a return to a little more sentient consciousness. Clint draws a breath, and coughs again, the stench mostly filtered, but not completely.

Now, a nod comes as he acknowledges his partner's words. As soon as the detonator goes off, blue eyes widen, and a groan escapes the man before he pulls in another breath, and this one is for the 'make ready', and more coughs sound. It's that last that Clint draws that saves him from drowning in sewage as it fills in on them in waves.

Blinded now, he's at least got a hold on 'Tash, and the line. Stil, as long as he knows which way is 'up' (things can get very disorienting), Clint will be okay.

Up… and up… and up.. and the archer can feel his lungs burning, wanting to draw that breath, but can't.

Finally, when hand breaks surface, followed by his head, Clint lets the breath go to draw in another, and is met with that sulfurous, sludgy stench. Still, it's air, even if it's not particularly -clean- air.

Another coughing fit begins even as Hawk checks for the 'Widow.

Once Clint begins to work upwards. Natasha separates from him, hoding til the rush stablizes and letting her hand rde along his body as he move to the surface until her slips away. She reaches down and draws up a stiletto from her him, then kicks upwards to let her body rise slowly till she breaks the surface andwies her face clean. Then breath, make face and start to the edge. Ivy is her second concern after Clint, then Damian. "Everyone alright?" She asks as she rises up and to what ever outcropping is closest to Ivy, palming the blade, just to be safe.

Each of the four make it up to the slick cement and the foul stench is as absolutely atrocious as you might think. Forward and backward are completely black, going on for quite some time one might assume. The only light comes from above; the blazing hole from which the block had fallen from.

Robin pulls out a contraption from his belt and murmurs quietly, "We're in an abandoned part of the sewers, used primarily as backflow. Finding an exit could be problematic."

Somewhere from the darkness, there's a shifting that lets out an echo. Then, something that sounds like a soft growl.

Somewhere, somehow.. she had lost her whip. It could have been once she tried to take cover against Bad Robin, or.. when she fell once the box they were in hit the sewers. She couldn't tell. She was dirty, and just.. overall done with the entire thing. She smelled like shit! Omigod.

Glancing towards Clint and Natasha, she frowns a little and moves to her knees, leaning forward to search through the muck for her whip.. "I'm fine." Yeah, they'd do well to worry about her.. not to mention the growl in the distance. She was ready to lash out, to complicate things so that she could get away even knowing that she -wasn't- a target.

Her rosebuds needed watering.

"We should split up." Horrible idea Ivy! As intended, she'd go her way, and they would go theirs. A slight 'whee' is given as she draws out the muck covered vine-whip from the murky waters, which was cleaned off with her bare hands. Good thing she was already covered in the shit.

Clint drags himself up and onto the concrete slab and lays there for a long moment, his head set to the side to watch for Widow. As she breaks surface, he's ready to put a hand out, but she is seeming okay for the moment. Now, slowly, he gains his footing and pulls the mask from his face so he can get a better breath. Not the best place, and the *squish*squish* in boots is less than appealing.

Checking for his equipment, Clint pulls his quiver from his back and pours out the liquid contents, keeping a hand on the arrows. Once replaced on his back, he draws an arrow and feels for the tip. That is replaced and another is drawn and tested.

Little red lights pierce the gloom as his bow 'comes online', as it were, and a red laser sight breaks the darkness.

The growl that sounds, however, brings the front of the bow around and the laser sights down the hall. An arrow is loosed, and yards and yards down the tunnel, a light flares. Hawkeye has light arrows.

Hands through her hair to brush it, moist towelette to wipe her face off. The rest, well, she is out of grooming tricks. Natasha watches Pam as she starts to go off on her own. Romanoff actually understands the idea, if it were not for Clint, she might actually back the idea. The errie glow of the chemical light though gives her some sense of sight and the eyes span over the group.

The growl is the current concern, considering Gotham, it is likely a R.O.U.S. Stiletto let slide down to a tossing position in her hand a flicked a couple of times to get the excess liquid that could foul her aim, literally. When Clint provides line of sight, the blade is raised to toss at what ever it is. "I prefer you remain with us, for your safety, Professor Isley." It is one of those tones that is not realy asking as much as warning the wilted flower woman.

Yards and yards away, a soft light illuminates over a crumpled mass of rags down in the alleyway. There's a shift and movement, and then under the light, some sort of beast rises nearly 10 feet into the air.

As it turns towards the four, it's wearing a trenchcoat and only vaguely represents a man. It is more reptile than anything else. It's green face has fangs nearly 8 inches long and its red eyes regard them warily before it snaps to attention with an echoing growl that will rattle most of their ear drums.

Whoever put them here, put them right near the next of the mysterious Croc, he who prowls the sewers and the fairytale nightmares of Gotham's children.

The Killer Croc begins to bound towards them, eager for evisceration. As Natasha's blade hits him, it bounces off harmlessly. He continues to draw down upon them.

It was clear that Ivy was willing to go the opposite way of the growl, perhaps, the way in which the box itself had traveled. If she were to go that way, maybe, just maybe, she'd hit the ruined building again and make her way out to take care of the trees and life damaged by the fire. But Natasha.. oh Natasha..

"Why." It was a simple question. Clint's arrow at least provided a little light to the situation, her brows furrowing as she catches hint of.. something back in the distance, her hand reaching up to grip an ear as the other grips around her whip, which was dragged once she heads back towards the group.

Ivy was no hero, she could give plenty reasons as to why she'd never be, her resume spoke for itself. That's why once this.. beast begins to bound towards them, she glances up and cracks the vine towards an over-head connecting steampipe with the attempts to swing across to the other side, away from the heroic trio. If she were lucky.

Okay.. so the stiletto that Widow throws doesn't seem to work. Raising the laser designator higher, like that pink maw with all those nasty teeth, Barton pulls another arrow and sets it on the nock. One draw, and it's on its way once again; a high-tensile, fiber-filiment net that is juuuust a little sticky to wrap around the beast's head, or more to the point, it's jaws.

The next heartbeat brings another arrow to the fore, nocked and ready.

Quietly, Barton whispers to Widow, "Boom." He's got one of his explosive arrows on deck.

Black Widow nods to her partner, dropping down and against the wall. The first knife was useless. But that is because Croc has a hide like a tank. However, he has a nervous system that is not so unlike other vertabrates. Natasha may not even realize who she is facing, as likely to think of the Lizard as the Croc in a sewer. No matter, two tazer mines are activated and the discs tossed to slide into the path the beast, one can hope he tazes just fine.

Then she braces for the shockwave of Hawkeyes next arrow aganst the wall. She keeps up with where Ivy went, but for now, there is a Killer Croc.

For a moment, it seems as if Barton's trick would work. The net goes around Croc's mouth and the beast lets out another mighty roar. Hopes are dashed quickly, however as its super strength easily tears the fiber filament net in half as the beast gets even closer. Not far now, he'll surely be upon them soon.

Robin is busy fiddling with some sort of control handle, much to others confusion perhaps.

Just then, Croc leaps into the air, intent to devour all of them, but Widow's electric mines reach their blue lightning to tickle his entire body and slow him down.

"He's down, but not for long," Damian mutters, eager for his backup to arrive.

There, at the back end of the blackness, comes a light.

The other wall reached, and the three heroes watched. She presses herself against it, intent on making her world much more smaller than it really was, the tunnels.. the darkness.. covered in muck.. she was going to slip away.. until the beast jumps.. and she backs off. Yet, once it was shocked and nearly down, she shakes the whip off with a mild crack and begins to walk in the direction that Croc had came from.

Every one for themselves, right?

That confident sway of her hips was slowly halted, the light at the end of the tunnel draws her arm up to shield from the light and stop. One of them, had something to do with this. "What is that?" She didn't have to yell, the sewers carried voices well.

"I have no idea."

A good archer can get 17 arrows off in 30 seconds. A great archer? Quite a bit more than that. It's only because Hawkeye stays his hand that his arrow isn't loosed. Now, however, as Widow takes her support, he draws and releases in a single fluid motion, aiming for that mouth of his.


That is echoed as the arrow strikes its target, and the incindiary within the tip detonates.

Natasha waits for it, then the explosion rocks the passage way. When the shockwave passes she lifts up. Her first attention goes to Damian this time, and she checks to make certain he is alright. Then she gets ready to leave the beast to Barton. If Damian is alright, she will try to slip past Croc to make certain Pam doesn't get away, yet.

Widow barely even glances at Clint, he is fine, trust him to do his job, one of the few people that has never really let her down.. On the battlefield. He is the boomer. If the kid continues, maybe she and Clint will pass his results along to SHIELD, so he can go legit.

The unconscious Croc is hit with Hawkeye's arrow. He's quite easy to hit given that he's been knocked out by Black Widow's mines. Unfortunately, he's so close to them now that any blast is also going to hit the three other heroes as well.

Croc's tough epidermis is able to withstand the blow, his metagene having long protected him from this sort of thing. The blast, however, literally takes Damian up off his feet and throws him back into the sewage, even as the submarine he called arrives. The blast buries itself into the side of Robin's cloak which protected most of him, but the side of his face suffers some burns from Hawkeye's shot.

Ivy was left unaware of what was to transpire. So she was ready to leave once Clint said that he had no idea what that light was. Last thing she needed was another trip up to be trapped down there with them, along with a very pretty lady calling her by her true name. She was getting annoyed by that.

The boom from the arrow planted upon the Croc did rock her, tripped her up enough to send her flying sideways against the wall, smashing against the hard surface and crumpling to the ground upon her knees, and then flat upon her face.

Meta human or no, a hard rock and knock against the head is well enough to put anyones lights out, including Ivy's. She was no robot, she was essentially still human.

Okay, all. Clint isn't stupid; he actually does have varying loads of explosive arrows. While the others may not be used to the blast, or in a bad spot for it, it's not the heaviest load he's got on him. The concussion is fully expected, and once it passes, he shakes his head to clear it.

As the creature now lies fully still, 'Down but won't be for long' doesn't seem to apply now? Clint waves his light around in order to find a way -up- and out.

Natasha had actualy been prepared and ducked and braced, so she is more or less okay. Damian's launch into the sewers though does cause her a bit of concern. "Get the boy, Hawkeye." She says as she sees him in the water next to his submesable, that he managed to call to him in the sewer. That's preparation, even Black Widow admires that. "I will get Isley, and we can release her on the surface." She states and makes sure to be careful lifting the fellow redhead gently and avoiding contact skin to skin on the way back to the sub.

She reaches for her pistol with her left hand as she passes Croc, then frowns. "I don't even know why he attacked." She mutters, could be because they blew up an innocent mutant's home. She leaves him be.

Even as Widow mentions Robin, he's already pulling himself up into the cockpit of the BatBoat (Damian hates these sorts of names, especially given that a boat implies that it cannot submerge, which this one can).

With a bloody side of the face, he looks down at Widow and Hawkeye, "I can give you a ride, or you can fend for yourselves. Choose quickly: I need a shower."

Regardless of the answer, Damian won't be there much longer-the smell is atrocious.

Ivy was pretty much left in Natasha's hands. But somewhere, if there was some sembliance of a decent God, she was hoping for a ride in that damned boat.

"Okay, kid," Hawkeye looks around at the area of the sewers. "What the—"

Looks like they can hitch a ride? A low, soft whistle rises and he heads towards the 'BatBoat'. "I'm in." It's a whole lot easier this way! The bow is reduced to the size of a small cylinder once again, and he's ready to go.

Natasha takes Ivy carefuly back to the boat, sliding her in ahead. She doesn't even bother cuffing the fellow ginger, redhead solidarity. "Who makes these?" she will manage, as well as falling back on a few old habits of trying to steal as much of the tech as she can figure out for the trip to the safety of the suface. Old habits. "Ever considered SHIELD, kid?"

"Not likely," Damian says with a weary smile as he burns away toward the exit.

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