Coercion! Poison Ivy's Tears

With Deathstroke, the sharpest "scalpel," acting as commander, the remaining "recruitment" work seemed to Bruce like a simple fill-in-the-blank question. Through layered encrypted dark web channels, Alfred sent employment contracts attached with photos of huge Swiss bank cashier's checks to a crowd of "industry notables" including Deadshot, Killer Croc, and Captain Boomerang.

Facing astronomical sums that would ensure they never had to worry about money for the rest of their lives, no one would refuse. Money was the raw fuel driving ninety-nine percent of the evil in this world.

Yet for certain special "talents," Bruce believed that money alone was not enough. You needed to find their "soft spots" and use what they cared about most to shackle them in an inescapable pair of fetters called a "contract."

Robinson Park, on the outskirts of Gotham City. It was once a fine place for citizens to relax and entertain themselves, but now it had long been occupied by all sorts of mutated, highly aggressive plants, turning into a green forbidden zone where living men dared not enter. And right in the very center of that forbidden zone stood the huge glass greenhouse, the sanctuary of the "Plant Goddess" Poison Ivy—Pamela Isley.

At that moment, the greenhouse was warm as spring and filled with a strange fragrance. Pamela wore a tight suit woven from green leaves and vines, outlining her mature, voluptuous, and graceful curves. Barefoot with soles white as jade, she stepped on the soft moss, gently stroking with her fingertips a peculiar plant placed right in the center that emitted a faint fluorescent glow.

The form of the plant resembled a teardrop on the verge of falling; it was crystal-clear and emanated an intoxicating aura of life. That was the last "Tear of Eden" on Earth and in the entire universe—a legendary miraculous plant capable of purifying all toxins and curing all diseases. This was her treasure, her everything, and her only spiritual sustenance in this corrupt world.

Suddenly, the greenhouse dome, constructed of ultra-reinforced bulletproof glass, silently slid open a crack amidst a sequence of soundless mechanical gears.

A black figure, like a phantom melting into the night, landed silently before her without disturbing a single vine.

Pamela's body instantly tensed, her once-gentle gaze turning as sharp as a blade. She could sense the cold dark aura radiating from the intruder, one seemingly capable of freezing all life.

"Swish, swish, swish!"

Countless thick vines burst from the ground like angry pythons, their sharp tips aiming straight at the uninvited guest.

"Get out of my garden, monster!" she roared, her voice filled with the fury of a violated domain.

Yet Bruce remained completely indifferent to the surrounding vines capable of strangling an elephant. Slowly, he extended a finger encased in black alloy; atop his fingertip, with a pop, a small puff of orange-red, high-heat flame leaped up, burning at a temperature reaching over a thousand degrees. This was the knight armor's built-in micro plasma-cutting feature, originally meant for cutting through obstacles.

"Pamela Isley," his metal-modulated, emotionless voice echoed inside the greenhouse, "I want you and Harley Quinn to work for me."

"The mission is to 'protect' Commissioner James Gordon and, as much as possible, create large-scale, controllable chaos in Gotham to hold down the other lunatics Bane released from Arkham."

Hearing this demand, Pamela was stunned at first, and then she laughed until her full breasts heaved violently, as if she had just heard the greatest joke in the world.

"Hahahaha... Batman, are you dreaming? Why on earth would I, Pamela Isley, help a tin can like you who only knows how to destroy nature?"

Bruce's finger shifted slightly downward, aiming that fatal flame precisely at the fragile and beautiful "Tear of Eden."

"Because if you refuse," his voice remained cold yet carried an unquestionable cruelty, "this one-of-a-kind plant on Earth will be completely disassembled at the molecular level within 0.5 seconds, reduced to ashes where even DNA cannot be found."

"I assure you that Slade Wilson will monitor all black markets and private collection rooms across the globe. Even if you manage to find a second spore of it somewhere in the world, I will know the very first moment and destroy it."

Pamela's laughter stopped abruptly.

Her complexion turned pale in an instant, all color draining from her beautiful face. She stared at the flame dancing before her beloved, seeing not fire, but the fires of hell.

She could read an absolute, reckless determination from his cold electronic eyepieces. She did not doubt for a moment that if she uttered a single "no," this Batman before her would instantly and mercilessly burn her entire world to ash.

This was not a threat; this was... a death sentence.

Endless terror and rage overwhelmed her sanity like a tsunami. She felt her grip tightened ruthlessly around her heart by a cold, massive hand, making even breathing difficult.

"You..."

Crystal tears slipped uncontrollably from her emerald-green eyes. Yet these were not tears of sorrow, but rather of ultimate fury, humiliation, and powerlessness, accumulating and fermenting within her body until they finally overflowed her eye sockets.

"You... you monster!" She ground her pearly white teeth, every single word squeezed out from between them, filled with bone-deep hatred.

Seeing her reaction, Bruce knew his goal was achieved. Dealing with extreme idealists like Pamela, destroying her ideals caused her far more pain than killing her.

He withdrew his finger, and the flame quietly extinguished.

"Good. Harley will discuss the details of the contract with you. The pay will be wired to your designated environmental fund account."

"Remember, don't try any tricks. Wayne Enterprises satellites will conduct high-precision thermal scanning on this greenhouse twenty-four hours a day. If any abnormalities appear in this plant's vital signs, or if Commissioner Gordon meets with any accidents..."

He left the sentence unfinished, but the unspoken threat felt colder and more bone-chilling than any words.

With that, he activated his grapnel gun, and his entire body hoisted upward instantly, vanishing into the night.

Inside the greenhouse, only Pamela remained, kneeling weakly on the ground. She stretched out trembling hands, carefully gathering the "Tear of Eden" into her arms as if holding her only surviving child.

The muffled sobs of a wounded mother beast echoed for a long time within the quiet greenhouse.