"If the latter isn't a problem, the former is easy to solve."
Hearing the God of Lies' words, Poison Ivy said, "Knock most of them out, then control the rest and make them help us find the mask. As long as no one escapes, the guards won't come in."
Barbara nodded. "That could work, but we have to take control as quickly as possible."
"With our strength, that won't be a problem."
Poison Ivy smiled. Vines grew from her hands and spread into the corners, releasing poisonous gas. Meanwhile, Barbara went to the back entrance and shut the door firmly.
Once that was done, Barbara went to the front entrance to wait for the gas to take effect. Her wild allure was mesmerizing, and quite a few aliens approached to strike up a conversation.
You're that ugly, and you still have the nerve to hit on me?
Looking at these bizarrely shaped aliens, Barbara felt deeply irritated, but for the sake of the plan, she patiently humored them.
Actually, these aliens weren't ugly—at least not on their own planets. But by human standards, they were hideous.
Poison Ivy's gas was exceptionally effective. Before long, the patrons dancing to the pounding music collapsed one after another.
Some physically robust aliens realized something was wrong and struggled to escape. Poison Ivy chuckled, sending a mass of vines out of her body to seize the fleeing aliens and toss them around like balls.
Dance clubs generally had excellent soundproofing, so there was no need to worry about the guards outside hearing the fighting.
The guards couldn't notice, but the club's security staff could. They grabbed their guns and prepared to go inside to investigate.
Just then, a figure suddenly appeared before them, her right foot lashing out repeatedly. Before the security staff could