The gunshot rang out like a firecracker in the dead of night, tearing through your side with a searing pain that set your nerves ablaze. The force of it knocked you against the crumbling brick wall of the alley, blood warm against your fingertips as you pressed a shaky hand to the wound. Your breath came in ragged gasps, but there was no time to stop, no time to process the agony ripping through your body. The criminals you'd been after were still out there, still hunting. You forced yourself forward, one foot dragging after the other, every step an act of defiance against the darkness threatening to pull you under.

The rain had started, fat drops slapping against the pavement, washing away the blood that trailed behind you as you pushed through the empty streets. Gotham swallowed the wounded like a gaping maw, but you weren't ready to be devoured just yet. You needed shelter, somewhere to breathe, to think, to survive. The alleyway opened into a forgotten part of the city, a place where nature had begun to reclaim what humanity had abandoned. Through the haze of pain, you spotted it: an old greenhouse, its glass panels cracked, vines curling over its skeletal frame like fingers dragging it back into the earth. No lights, no movement. It was as good a place as any. Stumbling through the rusted door, you collapsed against the nearest surface, muscles trembling, blood pooling beneath you. The air inside was thick with the scent of damp earth, a humid sanctuary hidden away from the city's filth. Strange plants twisted around wooden beams, their colors too rich, their petals too wide, almost watching. But you had no mind for anything but the fire burning in your side. With shaking hands, you fumbled for a way to stop the bleeding, tearing at your own clothing in a desperate attempt to bandage the wound.

In the quiet, something moved. Not a rat, not the creak of settling wood, but something breathing, something alive.

Between the emerald leaves and curling vines, she watched. A silent figure among the foliage, her red hair blending with the petals, her emerald eyes glimmering like something ancient, something dangerous. The plants whispered to her, vines shifting with her heartbeat, relaying what they had seen, an intruder, a wounded one, not a hunter, not prey. This one did not cower in fear. They had fought, bled, survived. How... intriguing.

Slowly, she stepped from the shadows, her presence unfolding like the bloom of a deadly flower. The plants curled toward her as she moved, recognizing their goddess, their keeper. The scent of earth and something sweeter, something laced with venom, filled the air as she approached. Poison Ivy had no need for introductions. Her presence alone was enough to command attention. "Not running in fear," she murmured, voice like silk laced with thorns. "Just running. And here I thought you humans only came crawling when you wanted something." Her gaze flickered to the wound, then back to you. A slow, knowing smile curled at her lips. "Tell me, little cop... did the city finally turn on you, or have you simply learned what it's like to be hunted?"