Arkham City Poison Ivy Mga Nobela at Kwento

Ivy's POV I made my way to my room as soon as possible. I hadn't wanted to leave Harper alone in a time such as this but checking that journal seemed important now given what I had witnessed. After noticing the way Fred's body had reacted to the venom, my mind had instantly flashed to the journal my father had left for me. I remembered reading something similar in it. I hadn't really read all of it then. And later, I hadn't bothered reading the rest of it, thinking it was his research on some topic or another which wasn't really something important to me. But now I was realising that maybe he had been trying to find a cure to the venom. That was what he had been studying- the response of a p

"The Randle family has become the latest victim of poison ivy. How would you explain Randle Bottlers Inc's poisoning incident? They have been attacked twice already." While wearing unremarkable expressions, all Petrov men and Lia sigh internally at the misinformation. "Poison Ivy do not exist. All poisoning incidents around the country are the result of common poison that may be found in any laboratory. It has nothing exceptional about it" Lia stepped forward and stand beside Samuel.

I asked as I shifted to her slightly, narrowing my brows. She scoffed. "Mind your business.” “What was that?” I ask again, trailing my gaze to her clutched hand. “It’s none of your—" I lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. Prying her fingers open as she struggled. A tiny glass bottle slipped out of her hands and clinked against the cave floor. I bent and picked it up and gasped. “Poison ivy,” I peered at her. "This is poison ivy.” Morgana blinked, stunned. “That’s impossible. Poison Ivy was destroyed a thousand years ago.”

Narrator POV The air in the alley grew heavy, saturated with a stench that made Ivy’s stomach churn. She knew it; it was the unmistakable scent of rogues—a rancid mixture of sour sweat, dried blood, and a rotting ferocity that no expensive cologne could ever camouflage. Ivy stepped back, keeping her eyes fixed on the marks that crisscrossed the bodies of the four men. One of them had a scar running from his right eyebrow down to his lip, while the other three bore scars circling their arms and necks. However, there was something beneath that layer of filth and violence—something that didn't quite fit their appearances.

“On that account, I have reached the decision that I won’t give you those portions again. You are of no use to me, so I won’t be wasting my resources on you.” Many years ago, while Ivy lived in Silas’s mansion as a maid, she had been poisoned. The poison didn’t kill immediately. It made her weak and left her skin itchy… and she had to use an expensive and rare potion monthly—one only Silas had access to. That was how he controlled her. Since the poison was added to her food, Ivy developed Cibophobia—a phobia for food due to past trauma . The only food she could bring herself to eat was packaged food from the convenience store.

"Don't touch it" My hand falls at my sides, a little stunned at the brunt of his tone against me. "It's poisoned" "Poisoned?!" "Yes" He finally explains as he stands a above me and I hop backwards at once. Grayson moves to sniff it before regarding the small instrument keenly. "It's laced with poision ivy and something else that I'm not sure of yet" Mother trucker. I didn't even hear the damn thing coming and hadn't Grayon pulled me out of the way, if I had been on my own, by the time I'd realise what was happening it wouldn have been too late.

His hands turned me to face the mirror again, "Miss Ivy, Poison looks amazing on you." The deep emerald green showcased the redness of my hair. My pale skin didn't look transparent and veiny but cool and light. The satin was soft and delicate as it lightly fit my body, almost like an extension. The slits from my shoulders to my wrists allowed my arms to move freely. Even though the slits on the sides were nearly at my waist, it was tastefully revealing. The backless part of the gown matched the plunging neckline in the front. Wow. "Come on out!" Howard exclaimed and pulled back the curtain with haste.

Serena asked, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “The claws weren’t ordinary. They were coated with poison ivy.” “Poison ivy?” I repeated, feeling a lump in my throat. “This isn’t just any poison ivy,” the doctor explained, his voice steady but urgent. “It’s a variant designed to weaken an Alpha’s immune system. His body’s natural healing is compromised. If we don’t act fast, the poison will spread, and he’ll lose more blood.” “What can you do?” I asked quickly, stepping closer.

I added a new line: "Attempted poisoning—success." Of course, I hadn’t really been poisoned. That would be too dangerous, even for me. What I drank was a mixture of herbs the healer didn’t know about—ingredients I stole from the apothecary long ago. Enough to mimic the symptoms. Enough to fool anyone. And it worked. Now Ivy looked even worse in the eyes of the pack. Even Kiernan couldn’t protect her forever. Eventually, he’d see her for what she really was. Broken. Weak. Dangerous.

CASSANDRA That night, as I studied the map Helene had given me, I put together all of the information I’d been presented with and made several speculations. First, the name of the poison that had infected Asher was likely Inferno, not Black Marks. Asher had received it far too long ago, and if the infected in Wild Crawler were any indication, he would have deteriorated already if Raven’s recreation was in his veins. Of course, if it was in fact Inferno, why hadn’t it taken effect right away?