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poison-shark · 1 year

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Gotham Bound

Description: Cece Waldron is moving in with her supervillain aunts after being granted a scholarship to a private high school. Slice of Life kinda stuff ensues. But then she receives more than a couple of surprises. Watch out, Gotham City. (Gods, I suck at descriptions)

Characters: Cece Waldron (OC), Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Delia and Lucy Quinzel (Mentioned), The Quinzel Brothers (Mentioned), Nick and Phyllis Quinzel (Mentioned), Special Guest OC

CW: ADHD/Autistic Character gets mildly overestimated, Needles (On like a flu shot level), Blood (a few drops), Shady Adults are still kinda shady, Two people disagree for like a second, New Jersey, Brooklyn (Mentioned), Florida (Also Mentioned I think)

Word Count: 4299

(A/N: Dunno whether or not to make this a full fix. Comment and lemme know pls and thx <3)

Minors DNI -> Nothing is Explicit I'm just covering my bases for the future

Cece’s head was spinning as she peeled her forehead off of the seat in front of her. She had known it was a bad idea to read on the train, but she just couldn't help herself. The trip was excruciatingly dull when the only thing to do was stare out the window at New Jersey’s landfill-ridden countryside for four hours. She had updated herself on all of her favorite YouTube channels while waiting for the train to arrive, so the way Cece saw it she had no choice but to indulge in some Agatha Christie. The motion sickness must have gotten the better of her and put her to sleep judging by the dribble on her chin.

Affixing her glasses that had fallen into her open palm, she lifted her head to check her trip status on the Amtrak app. The plastic of her phone charm clacked against her charm bracelet as she unplugged it from the charger. Only ten minutes left. Had she really spent two hours taking a nap? As she shook her head back into reality once more, blue eyes glanced down at something nudging her feet. The novel she had been reading had not been as fortunate as her eyewear and landed pages down on her cherry-shaped duffle bag, the paperclip she'd been using as a bookmark had been cast to the floor. She cursed to herself and let out a sigh as she leaned down to grab her things and pop them back in her backpack on the seat next to her.

The remainder of the ride into the city was spent gazing out nervously at the Gotham skyline. Gloom and fog hung thick in the air as the rain beat against the windows of the car. What little light there was seemed to be emanating from the city itself despite the fact that it was nearing six o'clock. Cece didn't know if the AC was cranked up or if it was just the fact that they were above the bay, but the compartment was far too cold for early September. She slipped on her red hoodie and shook off the unnatural chill, hoping it wasn't some infamous ice villain deciding to wreak havoc on the train. Somehow, she figured her aunties wouldn't be too pleased knowing some hooligan with superpowers caused her trouble. As the bright lights and neo-gothic architecture loomed ever nearer in the distance, she hoped her future in Gotham City was more exhilarating than the journey there.

Once her feet hit the platform of Gotham Train Station she immediately stumbled back a little. The smells got to her first; pretzels, sandwiches, cigarettes, and human waste. The fluorescent lights cast everything in an eerie green glow that did nothing but worsen Cece's headache. Not to mention the noise of hundreds of people and the screeching of trains. Eager to exit the platform she beelined it up the concrete stairs, bolted through the main dais (completely ignoring the massive, gorgeous, marble hub), and busted out of the revolving door and onto the granite steps outside the station with her luggage in tow.

Hastily, she threw her hood over her head, hiding her low strawberry-blonde pigtail braids, in an attempt to shield herself from the downpour. She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and scanned the crowd for one of her aunts, eventually coming up empty, so she shot one of them a text.

Within seconds her aunt replied with a, ‘Be there in a sec,’ and sure enough, a fluorescent, pink helmeted blonde came barreling over the hill on roller skates. In front of her was a shopping cart with a soaked sheet of paper plastered to the front, but as she got closer Cece could begin to read the letters that bled through the disintegrating paper. ‘Welcome Home, Nugget!” it read in bright blue, undoubtedly once scented, marker. Smiley-face stickers flew off in a trail behind her as she dodged pedestrians, hurtling toward her niece at an uncontrollable pace.

The grin on Cece’s face as her aunt pulled over at the bottom of the steps practically split her face in half. The tall woman gazed up the stairs with an equally deranged smile and outstretched her arms toward the child, making a quick flexing motion with her fingers. Excitement buzzed through the small girl’s body, now faced with the reality of being reunited with her aunt. From the top of the steps, she launched her luggage into the cart before backing up and taking a running start, leaping off of the wet stone. Her aunt caught her effortlessly, spinning her around with glee as the two embraced.

“Auntie Harley!”

“Welcome home, Nugget! How was the trip?” her voice cut through the rain like a stray sunbeam, warm and mildly disruptive. She placed her niece back on the ground and nodded to the cart’s main basket. Getting the hint, Cece climbed in.

“It was okay, mostly boring. My head hurts.” the girl complained, adjusting herself against the metal. Her aunt unhooked a neon orange helmet from inside the shopping cart and tossed it to her with a knowing smirk.

“Which book was it?”

“Murder On the Orient Express,”

“Classic! Got to love good old Aggie!” her aunt leaned down and ruffled her hair, “Alright, Nugget, helmet on! This thing doesn't have breaks!”

The pair rocketed uptown to a red-bricked apartment building across the street from the reservoir. Cece knew it was theirs instantly. It looked nearly identical to every other building on the block save for the fact that climbing plants had completely overtaken the sides and roof. They had even surrounded the door, blooming as the Quinzel women approached. The staircases were lined with potted plants that tilted their foliage upwards as the blondes made their way up to the apartment. It almost seemed like they were whispering. The apartment door opened with a slam and out popped her Aunt Ivy. Her red hair was braided to the side draping over an apron that read “What the Fucculent”.

“Hurry up and get inside, you two. Your steaks are gonna get cold.”

The air inside the apartment was a drastic change from the pea soup of the city. It was still humid, but warm, clean, and breathable. The kitchen was especially hot even with the vent fan blasting. On the counter, surrounded by overflowing planters of herbs, was a large plate piled high with steaks. Halfway climbing onto the counter were two massive hyenas, frozen in place as they were caught very obviously trying to snatch up the savory meal. All Auntie Harley did was raise her arms and the giant beasts launched over the counter, scrambled over the tile (knocking into each other rather comically), and tackled the tall blonde woman to the floor. The licking and sniffing didn't let up until Cece shifted the duffel on her shoulder. She was immediately given the same treatment. Bud and Lou hadn't seen her since she was ten so her mother wasn't sure if they would recognize her, but the way the carnivores knocked off her glasses to lick her face more effectively proved otherwise. Soon all four of them were a squirming, giggling mess. Aunt Ivy managed to steal away their attention however by placing the steaks in two dog bowls next to the front door.

Auntie Harley jumped to her feet and hauled the teen up with her and dragged her to the couch. Her aunt patted her head and tossed her the remote before rolling over to the cabinets and producing two plates. The blonde wheeled her way over toward her niece, spinning the plates on her fingertips and humming circus music as she glided. Ivy chuckled in amusement as she set the meat on the coffee table. The redhead removed the apron from her person and hung it on a nearby vine while another root fetched the silverware. Both women plopped down beside the fourteen-year-old and began eating.

“Peanut, skates.” Ivy reminded.

“Oh, right! Thanks, Buttercup!” She started to unlace her roller skates.

“You too, Peaches.”

“Yeah, Nugget! Take a load off!” the blonde demanded. Immediately, the teen kicked off her sneakers. Another root quickly snatched them away down the hall. Whilst her aunts distributed the food, she took it upon herself to flip through the channels on the tv.

“So, Peaches, are you excited about high school?” Aunt Ivy asked, taking a rather late bite of her steak.

“Yeah, it's pretty daunting though. I'm just glad mom thought it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

“You should come with us to orientation, Ives! Go on, Trouble, tell her about your class!” Cece put down the bite of steak she was about to take.

“It’s called ‘Art, Science, and Nature’. It's like environmental science mixed with art class. It looked cool so I thought I’d take it next semester to give myself a break from playwriting class.” Ivy’s expression barely shifted, but the room filled with a subtle floral scent, and spindly blue flowers sprouted from her hair.

“That sounds wonderful, Peaches. Let me know if you’ll be needing any help.” Her earnestness took physical form as more flora bloomed throughout the apartment. Cece smiled as she flipped the channel over to the news in her search.

“Will do, Aunt I-”

“- The old Nestler Textile plant is set to be demolished tomorrow morning to make way for the new Wayne Pet Rescue Shelter,” informed the news anchor, “This is immediately following the buyout of Nestler Textiles by Wayne Enterprises after the former’s pollution fiasco last week. We were unable to get a quote from former C.E.O. Richard Nestl-” Cece flipped the channel once more and settled on the classic cartoon reruns. The green woman simply crossed her arms and leaned back with a sneer.

“Of course, that nasty meat suit has nothing to say for himself. Pumping all those pollutants into the bay, poisoning the water, destroying The Green. He’s just lucky the bat was there to keep me from strangling him with my babies.”

“Would you believe it, Munchkin? He poisoned nearly half the city and they're gonna let him off with a slap on the wrist!” Harley exclaimed, “That reminds me, Nugget, don't drink the tap water. At least not until the city filters all that crud out.” She wagged a finger at her niece. “Or until you're up to date on your shots.” The teen cocked her head to the side.

“My shots? I'm up to date. Went to the clinic last week for physicals.” The blonde doctor glanced at the chipped varnish on the floorboards.

“Well, Kiddo, as you know Gotham’s a pretty dangerous place,” her tone was laced with a cautiousness that her aunt hadn't used in years, “and sometimes your Aunt Ivy and I can instigate danger, so while you're staying with us we wanted to make sure you're prepared.”

“We asked your mother and she permitted us to give you an immunity vaccine.” Doctor Pamela Isley was never one to beat around the bush.

“Basically, it'll just keep you from croaking if you bump into Ivy while living here.”

“You'll be insusceptible to most toxins, but it comes with side effects.”

“Like what?” Cece questioned, popping more steak in her mouth.

“Heightened strength and speed, but only slightly. You'll still be mostly normal.”

“Well, as normal as a Quinzel gets, y’know? But we're not gonna force you to take the shot if you don't want t-”

“-If you say it's safe and you think it'll help then I'm sold.”

“Really?” Both of her aunts eyed her with varying degrees of skepticism.

“Of course!” the bespectacled girl reassured them, “If you two think it's necessary and Mom said it was fine then sure. Have at my arteries!” She shrugged and finished off her steak. Swiftly, she snatched up her and Aunt Ivy’s plates and slid on her socks over to the sink, and started washing.

“Remember-” Ivy barely had to remind her.

“Turn the water off while soaping them up. I got it.” Harley grinned at her niece, brimming with pride.

After the clown queenpin finished dinner, Ivy retreated to the bathroom to grab her equipment. Minutes later she emerged with a syringe, some gloves, ethanol, a cotton pad, and a glass medicine vial containing a swirling purple liquid. She handed the materials off to her wife who quickly slapped on the gloves before she grabbed the pad and placed it at the mouth of the alcohol bottle. She tipped it over, sure to saturate cotton enough, and took the pad to her niece's arm, rubbing small circular motions into the flesh. The psychiatrist then removed the plastic cap on the needle and stabbed it into the metal cap of the vial, measuring slightly over the amount. She squeezed the syringe a bit to remove any air and adjust the amount, which caused some of the liquid to squirt out. When the purple liquid was exposed to the air it transmuted into a green vapor.

“Cool,” Cece remarked, eyebrows raised and clearly fascinated. Ivy chuckled at the girl’s wonder. Meanwhile, her other aunt had jabbed her arm with the needle already and was pushing the stopper down evenly. The teen twinged in pain as the solution settled into her bloodstream. “That does not feel great.”

“Tastes worse, trust me,” warned Harley.

“Wait, you mean I could have just drunk it?”

“Believe me, Nugget, this was the least painful option.” Her aunt discarded the used materials in the trash can by the door.

“Bullshit! You just wanted to play doctor,” she smirked. The taller blonde turned dramatically and scoffed.

“Honey,” she mockingly flipped her hair, “I don't gotta play doctor. I am a doctor!” With each word her Brooklyn accent thickened.

“Of course, you are, Peanut.” chimed Ivy, earning a laugh from their younger relative.

“Red!” Harley whined.

The green woman placed a quick peck on her wife’s cheek as she moved back to the couch. She snatched up a book from under the coffee table, flitted through it, identified where she left off and tuned out the world. Harley sauntered over to her niece, swinging an arm around the girl’s shoulders and hugging her close, she walked them both past the breakfast bar. “Wanna see your room?”

“Duh!” the teen responded fervently.

The former supervillain led her niece to a dark wood door beside the kitchen. Moss and lichen sprawled across the paneled surface, coating the door in a glittering green carpet while the orange of the lichens spelled out her name. As the teenager reached for the shoddy doorknob to reveal her home for the next four years, her aunt paused her.

“Before we go in there, I wanna make sure you know that if you don't like it we can always change it. Y’know, move some stuff, repaint, and such? So don't feel like you have to like it just because we set it up and you don't want to hurt our feelings.” Cece’s arms wrapped around her aunt in an instant and Harley patted her hair comfortingly as she squeezed back. “Alrighty! You ready?” Cece nodded her head vigorously. “Okay, okay, okay! Close your eyes, Nugget! Pammy, get the camera!”

Hands quickly shrouded the fourteen-year-old’s vision as she stumbled for the knob. Pushing inwards, she released her grip as she was coaxed forward a few paces into the room. “Okay, Trouble! Open those peepers!”

The first thing Cece noticed was that the quilting on the bed matched the patchwork curtains framing the window it was pushed against. As her fuzzy socks padded across the beige carpet, she took in the wallpaper, obviously new, on her way to the bed. It was cream and bright, unlike the rest of the apartment’s faded and stained yellow, and printed on it were strands of lovely orange flowers. The fresh coat of sage green was smooth atop the frame that encased the mattress. When she drifted her fingers over the iron there was no trace of her great-grandmother's old headboard, save for the shape of the welded metal.

“Is this actually Gee-Bee’s bed?”

“Well, it's a new mattress, but yeah. Your Uncle Barry and Uncle Frankie fixed it up for you before they brought everything up.”

“Everything?” Her aunt motioned to the end table directly beside the girl’s new bed. Cece could hear the roaring of her blood and the beating of her heart.

“This was Zayde’s,” She placed a hand gingerly on the nightstand, the walnut cold against her skin.

“Yep! Now, it's yours!”

“And Buh-Beeps just let you have it?”

“Nope!” popped Harley, “Hell no! She let you have it. Ma doesn't even remotely trust me with this stuff, but, and I quote, ‘Gotham’s a scary place, Harleen! She needs to feel as comfortable as possible! Better just give her the full set.’” The teen’s eyes morphed into dinner plates as she scanned the room for more of her grandfather’s things.

There, adjacent to the door, blocked by the comfiest-looking orange leather armchair, drowning in cardboard boxes, was the matching writing desk. The one she'd adored as a child, sitting in Zayde’s lap as he taught her how to play poker or watch him write his memoirs. On said desk, now in her new room, was her most recent Quinzel family photo, framed in a novelty Harley Quinn picture frame, illuminated by her grandfather's stained glass desk lamp.

Across from the window, on the opposite side of the room, stood the holy grail of Zayde’s possessions. The bookcase. She strode the width of the small room and at once skimmed her fingers along the side, between the wood and the plaster that made up her closet. Her fingers finally brushed a clear piece of tape and began intently pressing her digits into the same area of walnut. Soon she felt it; the divet where two different seams of lumber met. Cece made quick work of the tape and pushed up at the fissure, revealing a small velvet compartment that housed the tiny brass key. Removing the key from its cubby, the teen unlocked the glass-paneled doors of the antique shelving. It was as if the cabinet had let forth a fierce gust of wind, knocking the air out of her lungs. “We wanted you to put the books in yourself. Lucy thinks you're particular and your mom said you didn't like it when people touch your stuff without permission.”

“They're both right,” she confirmed, still gaping at the impressive piece of furniture.

“Same goes for your clothes. They're all in those boxes on the desk. Your hamper and Gee-Bee’s dresser are in the closet too, just to give you some extra storage.”

The teen paused as she went to slide open the closet door, noting the odd texture of the charcoal-colored paint. “Do you like it? It's chalkboard paint! It was your Uncle Ezzie’s idea! He thought that if you're gonna go to fancy art high school, you should have somewhere fancy to put all the big creative brainstorms you're gonna have! Pretty cool, right?” At that, the young blonde started tearing up, grateful to her hood for hiding her expression from her aunt.

“Yeah,” she agreed, sliding the door open, “it's way cool.” Once the wooden panel landed flush behind the other, Cece spotted them. A squeal left her throat before she could stop it.

“Oh, did you finally notice the-”

“The knobs!” Aunt Ivy’s laughter could be heard from the living room. Set into the fragrant chest of drawers were new handles. Green and orange glass flowers had been fitted into the cedar drawers, replacing the outdated cloth-coated wooden ones. “Wait, what do you mean ‘finally’?” She scoped the room once more, this time actively attempting to focus, and realized everything openable had the new glass daisies. “My life is complete!” Her fists pumped into the sky.

“You can thank your baby sister for those. She sent them to Red on Instagram and you know how your aunt is.”

“Lucy can have anything she wants for the rest of forever! These are so sweet!”

“Careful, Peaches, she'll take you up on that.” Ivy cautioned, now standing beside her wife, “and now that we're on the topic of sweetness there's one more surprise.”

“There is?” Harley raised her brow at her spouse. The vines and leaves that covered the ceilings throughout the entire apartment (and had been recording her reaction with Ivy’s phone), began to shutter and shift something they had entangled in their tendrils. Slowly, they extended the rather large item downward, depositing whatever it was in the corner of her room. The foliage soon retreated and revealed… more foliage. Now, enclosed between her bed and desk, there was a sapling in a terracotta pot.

“A tree… thanks.” Ivy simply rolled her green eyes at the teen’s sass, the vibrancy of which increased tenfold as the plant wedged in the corner started to shimmy. A creaking noise emitted from its bark as its branches stretched upwards and outwards, curling around the windows and swallowing the ceiling in twigs and leaves. Rapidly, flowers sprouted and blossomed with reckless abandon, and as quickly as they arrived, they were replaced with plump, fuzzy peaches. “Whoa… Sick!”

Ivy sidled up to her niece with an outstretched palm. Without a second thought, Cece held her aunt’s hand like she'd done a million times before. Snappier than the girl could register, a thorn jutted out of the May Queen’s palm, pricking the blonde. The minuscule droplets of blood beaded along the seam of the nick once the teenager withdrew her palm.

“What the hell, Pammy?” contested Harley, rushing to dress the child’s wound. She was stopped, however, by her spouse. Seeing her aunts about to have a domestic dispute, Cece speedily intervened.

“Auntie Harley, it's ok. Aunt Ivy never does anything without a reason.” At the soothing tone of the fourteen-year-old's voice, the older Quinzel’s shoulders unclenched. Ivy smiled sweetly at her niece, gratitude dripping with every crimson pearl.

“Put your palm to the roots.” Unlike her usual commanding tone, this seemed to be something of a request. Cece obeyed as Harley pouted apprehensively, muttering something about infections. She soon ate her words, however, when the rough bark vibrated and Green ripped through the tree. Suddenly, the peaches ripened, the bark strengthened, and the leaves were more vibrant. “It will respond to you now. Protect you if need be.”

“Cool…” claimed the Quinzels in unison. The younger one plucked a stone fruit from a branch. Sweet juice dribbled out her mouth as she chomped down, the fuzzy skin tickling her nose. She hummed in delight and thanked her aunt once more, this time genuinely.

All it took was one yawn from the child and Harley was ushering herself and Ivy out to let her rest after her long day. Despite that, Cece ignored her drowsiness and decided to organize her clothes. She only brought a few boxes a couple of months prior, and she knew her aunts were taking her back-to-school shopping later in the week, so she decided to put away what she could to avoid the hassle.

Halfway through folding her sweaters something hit her window with a thunk. She paused for a moment before she decided to return to her closet and placed her knitwear in a dresser drawer. Her braids smacked her in the face when she whipped her head around at the second thunk. She waited again. Silence.

‘It was probably a pigeon,’ she justified. The teen then continued to arrange her clothing. Five minutes later, the clanging of metal on the other side of the glass startled her out of flattening the cardboard. Grateful for the cover the thick, patchwork curtains provided, she tiptoed back over to her desk. Sifting through the package heap, she slid out a faded blue duffel with her name on it. From her softball bag, the blonde produced her trusty bat, rubber grip familiar in her grasp. She ducked behind the metal footboard and raised her weapon. Seconds passed as she sat crouching with her bat primed.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

She waited with bated breath. For what? She didn’t know. For someone to break into her room. A random Scarecrow gas attack. A very dedicated Jehovah's Witness. A fiber optic salesman gunning for a promotion. Whatever it was, she was ready. What she hadn’t considered was that the mystery thunker would just leave. Surely enough, the clanging of metal returned, decreasing in volume as the perpetrator climbed down the fire escape. Ten more minutes passed before she hopped to her feet, bat in hand, and quickly whipped the curtain away.

At least it wasn’t a ruse. The metal landing was bare, but as she hopped on her bed to look closer she spotted someone retreating from the pulled down ladder. She couldn’t maneuver herself into a better position to see the thunker, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a canary yellow sewing pin sticking a small piece of cream fabric to her window sill. In shiny, navy blue embroidery were the words, ‘Nestler Textiles Plant #9 451 Smelter Place’ in a gorgeous almost handwritten cursive. However, sewn haphazardly over the lovely script was a fraying carmine thread that taunted in sloppy print, ‘COME AND PLAY’.

Never one to turn down an invitation, she laced up her limited-edition Poison Ivy sneakers, slid up her window, and leaped onto the fire escape. As she cautiously closed her window, she snapped up the tag and pin. Then the blonde climbed onto the metal railing and front-flipped, landing gracefully on the asphalt below. Smirking, Cece Waldron strolled out of the alley, head low, red hood up.

Tags: @a-god-in-crime-alley @saturniidz @gegeru @oathofoaks @insideoflit

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