Authors Note: I am not a comic book reader, but as a consummate nerd and geek, I know about/heard about almost every character there is in the "major" comic world. In this story I'd like to introduce Poison Ivy ( Dr. Pamela Isley) who is a DC Batman-verse character. I am melding several of her background stories to fit the Arrow-verse. I am also stretching the bounds of science a bit to fit some fiction. I do not own any of the DC characters.

Poisoned Arrow

He memorized the book before his mother had thrown it in the fire. Those names were burned in his memory forever though the rest lay in ashes. How badly he had wanted to leap into the flames and grab the journal, not because it had the names in it, but because it was the last thing besides his life, that his father had given to him.

" Dig, I'm going on sortie." The voice behind the hood said in that low, deadly tone.

" When should I call the Missing Persons office on you? "John replied casually, not even bothering to look up from his computer screens.

" Hedera Chemicals shouldn't take too long. I'm only looking for one thing." Oliver answered; fingering his straps and buckles one last time before heading out.

" Dr. Isley?" John queried.

" Going to do some weed whacking." Arrow replied and jogged up the stairs into the night.

It was a weeknight and the Glades were quiet and deserted except for the furtive glances of prostitutes and the occasional low-level drug dealer. Arrow moved like a wraith across mostly rooftops, only coming down when he knew a roof was unsecure. He loved the chase; the power of movement gave him release and set his mind at ease. All those horrible lessons learned on the island finally came to fruition of his father's plan.

Hedera Chemicals was a large warehouse and chemical factory holding various types of agricultural chemicals. Dr. Isley had made the list when she began to let toxic herbicides, fungicides and pesticides leak into drinking water sources that mainly supplied the Glades. Stories of birth defects, cancers and increases in autoimmune diseases appeared in the back pages of the paper, but no one seemed to care. In return, Hedera was making double digit profits in farm yields and patents on genetically modified plants dovetailed to proprietary Hedera products.

The reactors were decked out with lights making the chemical refinery side twinkle like Christmas. Steam flowed from several pipes casting an almost angelic scene with the backlights. Arrow avoided those areas and instead slunk past the outer walls of the oldest warehouses. He slid through a slightly ajar door and into the building neatly stepping between hoses connecting huge vats of viscous looking liquids.

Climbing up an access ladder, he perched precariously on the edge of a tank. The fumes were almost overpowering and he grabbed the rim to steady himself. Pulling out his camera arrow, he looked for a good angle to fire it. Information is always a good thing and pulling the string he let the surveillance camera arrow fly. It scored with a sold thunk into an I-beam high above the warehouse floor. Oliver could see where a yellow, shiny looking liquid was slowly trickling its way through a rough concrete channel into a large iron grated drain, probably on it's way to the water supply. His surveillance arrow would be transmitting video of all this right to the police and local environmental officials.

Turning to leap down, he suddenly slipped on the rim, slick from chemicals. Falling, he reached out with one arm for the ladder, snagging it mid flight. Arrow's head slammed against the tank wall and stars danced before his eyes. Still holding on, he shakily climbed the rest of the way down. Once on solid ground he felt his head as a nasty bump began to rise behind his ear on the right side. Oliver noticed his vision wasn't quite right and he felt very dizzy, so much that he clutched the railing of the ladder again. Dig, I can't call him, he thought hazily trying to fight a light wave of nausea.

A silky woman's voice called out to him, almost purring, " Oh Mister Hood. What a pleasure to finally meet you!"

Oliver turned towards the place he thought the sound was coming from but couldn't locate it in his stupor. " Show yourself." He said as menacingly as he could. Fumbling for an arrow, he knocked it sloppily.

" My dear. Manners. All in good time." The voice circled around him like a tendril of ivy growing up a wall.

" Dr. Isley?" he queried hating himself for sounding so weak.

" Not exactly.", the voice was right behind him. Whirling to face her, he was no match for her strong arms. She nocked the bow from his grip and pinned her forearm across his throat. Oliver's vision swam as if he was drowning under the ocean and he gasped for breath. Roses, he smelled roses. " Mr. Hood. Looks like you have a bit of a headache. A little salicylic acid from a willow tree would help. Perhaps some yarrow for inflammation.", she whispered to him, " but I'm not here to heal you, and I don't care who you are because you are going to be a dead man soon."

Oliver was beginning to lose consciousness, " Then—get it – over with." he gasped.

" Oh I will dear. I will, ", and Poison Ivy placed a delicate kiss on his lips and suddenly let him go.

Every muscle in his body exploded and he screamed. Writhing in pain on the wet, slimy floor of the warehouse, he thought he was going to tear himself apart. Then, as fast as it happened it was over and he was alone on the cold concrete, his bow and arrow still lying where they were. Wearily, he picked himself up and his equipment and stumbled out into the night air. Moving away from the factory, he called John to pick him up a few blocks away.