Arle Chino/Ivy Script for a stand-alone issue

Okay, my friends~ here is my rough script idea for an Arle Chino/Ivy / age-gap / milf older Ivy / anarchist Arle / enemies with benefits / non-con kiss / unhealthy romance / ableist language / one-shot! ✨✨✨✨✨

THIS IS VERY ROUGH- but I wanted to at least put together a little something! (This is not according to any canon- I'm just having fun at the moment so this isn't adhering as strictly to pre-established rules of the world.)

Please enjoy~ 💕💕💕

Wayne Enterprises is holding a lavish charity event at the museum and the main exhibit is a sculpture made of one of the rarest minerals on earth- it’s priceless. Everyone at the event is big brass- even the commissioner is there. Their white gloves are clapping like a flock of gulls over a sea of black suits.

A bomb explodes in a flash and chunks of marble tumble across the floor. People scatter and scream as machine gun fire pockmarks the walls and pieces of stained glass shower down upon them. Arle Chino and her gang of orphaned clown boys rush the dais. She cuts the smoke in half with her staff and bellows out, “Buona sera, pigs!” The boys surround the guests and hold them at gunpoint, "Nobody move!” From under a table, Bruce Wayne watches warily.

From above, through a broken pane of glass, someone else watches..

Just as Arle’s gloves are about to touch the luminous sculpture, the museum director’s hurt voice slices through the air, “You cannot just blatantly steal this priceless artifa-”

“Steal?”

Arle bristles, her face contorted with anger as she slowly turns away from the sculpture. “Steal, eh? This is not yours to own, you bourgeois scum!” She stomps toward him, murderous,  “It is not I who is the thief here…” She grabs him by the mouth and his terrified eyes go white around their sockets,  “It is YOU!” She is spitting with rage- she looks like she could crush his face.

The horrified guests look on, transfixed by Arle’s incandescent fury. While the museum director begs for mercy, the shadowy figure rappels down a vine, and softly alights on the dais.

Arle glances over her shoulder just in time to see Ivy grab the sculpture and run.

There is a second of complete, blank, white hot rage on Arle’s face.

She lets loose a scream and scrambles behind a pillar to aim at Ivy with her gun. Scowling, she fires at Ivy, barely missing her. Ivy hisses, wounded by shrapnel from the gunfire, and kicks open the museum loading door to jump in the open back of her waiting getaway van. The sculpture is wrapped in a protective vine attached to Ivy like a backpack as she shouts at her men,, “Move you idiots, there’s a  psycho communist clown  after us!” The tires peel out!

Arle wheels around to her gang, growling in Italian,“I’m chasing after this bitch, all of you scatter!” At her word, the boys turn immediately to escape- firing a few warning shots at the  guests as they leave. The Commissioner shakily gets to his feet and looks around- Bruce Wayne is nowhere to be seen..

The getaway truck is speeding through lights and shaking the back occupants roughly. Ivy’s goon squad knocks around like oversized pinballs. Then suddenly, the truck is clipped by a police car, forcing it to weave onto a street barrier. Ivy bangs on the door dividing her from her moronic driver, “Hurry it up!” Just as the truck begins to accelerate , Harley uses her staff to catapult into the van’s open bay. She quips, “Ciao!” before delivering a fist into an adjacent goon’s face.

Arle wastes no time dolling out beatings to the lackeys. She tosses them out of the van to tumble along the moonlit asphalt.

Now it’s just her and Ivy, who is looking worse for wear now that she’s seen what a brute Arle is.. She presses back against the driver divider, looking cornered as the truck continues to rumble and speed along.

Arle points a gun at Ivy, her broad chest heaving, and looking half crazed. She motions toward the sculpture with her left hand. “Per favore..”

Ivy brushes back the vines to reveal the sculpture. As she unwraps it, Arle can see the mineral is iridescent and has a soft glow to it. Just as she’s about to touch it, Ivy twists a vine around the clown’s neck, choking her. Arle drops the gun and struggles, her hands clawing at the vines around her throat .. She really might break through! Gotta stop this psycho clown from following me.. Ivy smirks at her and leans in for a lip-crushing kiss, stunning Arle

As the chokehold slackens around her neck, the clown is left uncharacteristically mute.. Ivy seems amused.

Arle’s knees begin to wobble and she coughs, abruptly ill, “What did you do?” She croaks in Italian.

“Enjoy your trip, little clown girl!” Ivy sing-songs sarcastically as she kicks Arle at the waist, launching her out of the van doors. Arle falls backwards and rolls down the street before crashing into a heap of garbage.. In the trash, Arle grabs her arm and hisses in pain as Ivy’s delighted laughter is heard echoing down the Gotham South Side Highway. Shakily, Arle slinks into the cover of an abandoned factory to sweat out whatever Ivy dosed her with..

As a rusted door slams behind her, a large, bat-shaped shadow silently passes overhead..

Back at her lab, Ivy is admiring her handiwork: she’s examining a sample of the sculpture’s mineral. Pretty neat stuff.. Satisfied, she heads into her parlor to stretch out and enjoy another smug chortle, thinking back on how absurd this evening has been! She hadn’t even known that clown existed when she was plotting to take the sculpture for her research.. That fucking clown, Ivy snarls, twisting and rutting against her bed, which is actually just a big plant tongue that starts bugling against her slit.. She recalls kissing the clown and the shocked look on her face- what a naive idiot, Ivy works herself up, I could use her.

Later..

A scream of fury pierces the safehouse as the gang flees Arle’s wrath, knocking over crates of old toy store goods in their wake. Arle dunks her head into an industrial basin sink and explodes out with a gasp, whipping her wet blonde hair back. She wipes the clown paint from her face with one disgusted motion. She crushes a rotted doll under her boot as she makes her way to the enlarged mug shot photo of Ivy that is hung up in the warehouse.

“Bitch,” Arle murmurs to herself. She spits a string of Italian curses. How dare that hag kiss me!

Arle takes a small dagger from the collection sewn into her vest, spins, and throws it. It stabs Ivy right between her eyes- a seemingly popular spot for Arle to take aim.

“Cagna”, she seethes, humiliated, “I won’t forgive you.”

Thank you all so much for reading! 😖🙇💕💕💕 Thisbe helped me edit this- THANK YOU SO MUCH, MY LOVE!