Chapter Text
Febuwhump 2023 | Alternative Prompt #4 | Experimentation
(This is a continuation of "drink in the jasmine and rain", plus it's companion fic, "just be there". You don't need to read them to understand this story, but it is recommended, thanks!)
The first time Poison Ivy had given Robin a face full of her new experimental spores, the plucky little sidekick had somehow managed to hold it together enough to take her down. Then, she had charitably been escorted over to the authorities by Batman and the Boy Wonder in the Batmobile. She watched the specimen struggle the whole ride there, twitching and tensing until she thought he might just pop.
It was extraordinary, really.
Every other victim who had been exposed to this pollen had become almost feral with the need for human connection, physical bodily contact.
Of course, that hadn't exactly been her original intentions. She grew tired of perfumes and lipsticks. If Joker and Scarecrow could create chemical weapons that altered their victims' mental states, then she could certainly craft a way to bend their wills. Instead of relying on a sniff or a kiss, one perfectly placed spore bomb could have entire crowds following her commands.
The new plant was potent, sure, but those exposed didn't crave her.
"Cuddle Pollen", the media dubbed it.
It is a fitting title, but it still infuriated her.
The only thing that can draw her ire more is Robin. The person responsible for stopping Ivy from completing her work and getting her locked up in Arkham - again.
Not that she was going to be staying long.
Between the rage and the curiosity, she couldn't stop thinking about the boy.
After she escaped, she wasn't even out a full week before luring the baby bird into her nest.
It had almost been too easy.
A simple equation of waiting until the sidekick was separated from his Big Bad Bat, plus pretending to be a damsel in distress, equalled getting the drop on Robin and tasing the little bird within an inch of his life.
Simple.
Oh, that, and the fact that she framed it to look like it was a new group of human traffickers who had snatched up the hatchling. Let Batman beat down their doors for awhile.
For now, she has the boy all to herself.
Tim startles awake, trying to roll to a fighting stance before his legs tangle in the chains. He tumbles back onto his butt, still keeping his fists up. The blindfold wrapped around his face is soft, some sort of satin. Easy enough to rip apart, you know, if his hands weren't bound in front of him with something decidedly stronger.
The weight of his utility belt is missing, along with his cape and armor. His tight pants and tank top won't be helping him laser cut chains or pick the locks. He's not sure how they got all of it off of him without electrocuting themselves.
He twists and his body protests in pain, but there is no time to pay attention to it. He can catalogue his own injuries later.
The room - cell - is so very small. He can barely shuffle a few feet in any direction before finding hard concrete.
Except for the one wall. The one with the window.
And isn't that comforting.
He doesn't know exactly how long he has been unconscious, but there are no night noises coming from the other side of the glass. No warmth of the sun.
It's a window to look out at him, not outside.
He can hardly reach it but he thinks he could smash it if he maybe dislocated his arm or leg. Maybe. But then what? He is still chained and can't exactly escape. He can use the broken glass to fight, though, if it comes to it.
He does a few more laps around the room, running careful and curious fingers along every inch of the walls and floor he can reach.
There is a door on the wall with the window, but no handle. His fingers fumble over something hard and square at about chest height. His nails can just scrape it as he stretches as far as he can with a groan.
A keypad.
Tim can work with this.
"Uh uh, bad birdie."
Tim tenses, lifting his head toward the sound of the familiar voice.
Great, the room has speakers. All the better for his captors to mock and question him with.
Belatedly, he hopes there aren't cameras.
Villains love to capture their time together with one the capes, usually sending off the footage to the rest of them for ransom. Or fun.
That isn't exactly Poison Ivy's style.
Of course, neither is whatever this is.
"What do you want, Ivy?" Tim calls out to the darkness.
"Clever bird," she coos, "too bad you didn't figure out it was me in the alley before you wound up stolen away from your nest and in mine instead."
"Drop the bird puns," Tim rolls his eyes behind the fabric, "that's more Joker or Riddler's style. So is the kidnapping. Why are you doing this?"
"I just complimented you on being clever," she sounds like she is pouting, "don't make me have to take that back."
She hums and Tim sighs.
"This is because I stopped you."
"Warmer."
Tim swallows. He remembers his last run-in with Ivy well, too well. The pollen. The pain.
The way she looked at him with those fascinated and greedy eyes, like he was some specimen to -
"No."
"Hot."
Her voice is sultry. Robin can picture her devious smirk.
"Which is a good thing," she continues, a little lilt to her voice, "because you're going to be very cold soon."
Tim still wakes up sometimes, an icy ache in his chest and he doesn't always know if it's an echo of his childhood or the pollen, or both.
"Last time, I was foolish to run my experiments out in the open where you and the Bat could catch me." She sighs, wistful. "But, you live and you learn. I have very special plans for you, Robin. You should be honored."
"So honored."
"And, instead of two birds with one stone, I get one bird, two stones." She laughs. "You showed impressive restraint and control the last time you were exposed to my new pollen. I want to see just how much you can take."
Tim remembers the empty, dark pit in his stomach. Screaming into his pillow.
"And that's just experiment number one, darling. Because, as much as this 'cuddle pollen', as the people have taken to calling it, is intriguing, I'm still not satisfied. I want my victims to want me. To obey me. And with your self-control, your strength of will, well," her laugh is low and dangerous, "if I can break you. I can break anyone."
"Don't do this."
He isn't pleading.
He hates that a part of him knows that soon - he will be.
(The first cuddle pollen incident is from "drink in the jasmine and rain", plus it's companion fic, "just be there".)