Becoming Nightshade

As the torn fabric of the dreamscape gave way, the chaotic carnival dissolved into darkness. For a brief moment, there was nothing but a suffocating void. Then, slowly, a new scene materialized—a familiar one but warped by the dreamscape's manipulative touch.

The group found themselves standing on a Gotham City rooftop, the air heavy with the distinct tang of rain-soaked asphalt and the distant hum of city lights. Dark clouds churned above, and the flicker of a neon sign from a nearby building cast an eerie glow over the scene.

In the center of the rooftop stood Poison Ivy, her vibrant green dress fluttering in the cold Gotham breeze. Her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her expression was serene yet laced with an uncharacteristic somberness. In her arms, she cradled a tiny, swaddled bundle—a newborn, its faint cries muffled by the soft folds of fabric. Bruce froze, his entire body tensing. His sharp eyes locked onto Ivy, but it wasn't her that held his focus—it was the baby. Something about the scene struck deep, pulling at a memory he had tried to bury, something too raw and painful to confront. Ivy's emerald eyes lifted to meet his, her voice soft but resolute.

"Bruce," she said, stepping forward and holding out the baby toward him. "This is your responsibility now."

Jason, standing just behind Bruce, glanced around at the unfamiliar scene, his breath still ragged from their earlier encounter.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, his gaze darting between Ivy and Bruce.

The rooftop shimmered as the dreamscape twisted slightly. Poison Ivy took another step closer; her movements deliberate and unthreatening, the baby's cries growing softer as if sensing her calm.

"I couldn't do it," Ivy said, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. "She deserves a chance—something I can't give her. But you can." She hesitated, her gaze flickering with something almost vulnerable. "She'll be safer with you."

Harley's voice broke through the memory, echoing faintly, like a recording skipping on a loop. "Call her… Call her…"

Before the name could be spoken, the dreamscape rippled violently, like a stone thrown into still water. The rooftop dissolved into a swirling void, the fractured scene breaking apart as if it could no longer sustain itself. The group braced as the world around them twisted, the oppressive whispers of Lillyanna's voice silenced momentarily.

"What's happening?" Dick asked his voice cutting through the chaos as the ground beneath them seemed to vanish.

Constantine's sharp gaze darted to Bruce, who stood tall and steady despite the collapsing scene.

"Bloody hell," Constantine muttered.

The void reformed, but instead of Maggie's memories or fears, they found themselves standing in a far darker place. A dark alley stretched before them, the walls slick with rain and grime. Garbage bins lined the edges, and the faint hum of Gotham's nightlife buzzed distantly in the background. Overhead, a flickering neon sign cast an eerie red glow onto the wet pavement.

Bruce's jaw tightened as recognition struck.

"This isn't her doing," he said, his voice low and cold. "It's mine."

The group turned to Bruce; confusion etched on their faces. Dick spoke first, his tone hesitant.

"Bruce…is this?"

Before Bruce could answer, the sound of hurried footsteps and muffled voices echoed through the alley. Two shadowy figures emerged at the far end, a man and a woman dressed in fine evening wear, their faces obscured by the dim light. Between them, a small boy walked, his hand clutching his mother's. Jason's expression darkened, realization dawning.

"No way," he muttered. "This is—"

"Crime Alley," Bruce finished, his voice hard.

His eyes locked onto the scene ahead, the familiar dread creeping into his chest.

Constantine's eyes narrowed, his sharp mind piecing it together.

"You've dragged her into your bloody fortress, haven't you?" He almost sounded impressed. "She tried to twist your memories, but your mental training turned the tables."

Lillyanna's voice broke through the heavy silence, venomous and laced with frustration.

"This isn't how it's supposed to go!"

Her figure flickered into view, her glowing eyes burning with rage as she emerged from the shadows of the alley. The dark tendrils of her presence snaked along the brick walls like smoke, and her form loomed unnaturally large.

"This isn't your stage, Bruce!" she spat, her voice cracking with fury. "You think you can turn this against me? You think you can win?"

Bruce stood firm, his sharp gaze locking onto her. His expression was calm, unreadable, but the faintest hint of a smirk touched his lips. He shook his head slowly, his voice low and measured. "No. I'm just lining up the pitch."

As if on cue, the air behind Lillyanna shimmered. The faint sound of footsteps echoed, light and deliberate, followed by a sudden shout.

"Lillyanna!" Maggie's voice cut through the heavy air like a blade.

Lillyanna barely had time to turn before Maggie launched herself from the shadows. Her small form moved with a mixture of desperation and precision, fueled by the strength she had rediscovered. She tackled Lillyanna, her momentum sending them both sprawling onto the cracked pavement of the alley. The impact sent shockwaves through the dreamscape, the twisted edges of the memory rippling violently. Maggie scrambled to her feet, her fists clenched, her breathing ragged but steady. Her eyes burned with defiance as she stood over Lillyanna, who snarled and pushed herself up, her glowing gaze narrowing.

"You," Lillyanna hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "You think you can fight me? You're nothing without me!"

"I'm more without you," Maggie shot back, her voice trembling but gaining strength. "You're not my strength. You're my weakness. And I'm done letting you control me."

Lillyanna lunged, her form flickering like a broken shadow, but Maggie didn't flinch. Instead, she met Lillyanna's attack head-on, her movements sharp and deliberate as if drawing from the strength of those standing behind her. Jason moved as if to intervene, but Constantine's hand shot out, grabbing his arm.

"Not your fight, mate," Constantine said firmly. "This is hers."

Jason hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides, but he stayed back, his sharp eyes locked on Maggie.

"She better win," he muttered.

"She will," Dick said quietly, his tone filled with confidence. "She's got this."

Maggie and Lillyanna clashed, their figures illuminated by the flickering glow of the dreamscape as it continued to ripple and distort. Maggie's strikes were fueled by fear and frustration, each one aimed not at Lillyanna's form but at the doubts and pain she had seeded in Maggie's soul.

"You don't own me!" Maggie shouted, her voice echoing like a thunderclap through the unstable dreamscape. "You never did!"

With a sudden burst of determination, she lunged at Lillyanna, catching her off guard. Her hands locked around Lillyanna's arm, twisting it into an arm lock and forcing her to the ground. Lillyanna snarled, struggling against the hold, but Maggie held firm, her strength unwavering.

"Wanna see real terror?" Maggie hissed; her voice steady but laced with cold fury.

She tightened her grip, her eyes glowing with an intensity that matched the cracking light around her.