It'd been several days since Butch lay stewing in Slaughter Swamp when he finally reawakened. Dragging himself out of the chemical wasteland, back into the world of the living, he found he could not remember a thing.
In the distance floated the words of a child's nursery rhyme, "Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Grew worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday. That was the end, Of Solomon Grundy." They echoed through the swamp from some old record, spinning around on a needle.
"Solo..." he said, listening to the rhyme play on repeat. "Solomon..." He stumbled through the woods towards the sound. It got louder and louder as he approached a small cottage in the woods where a little girl sat next to a record player, humming the tune as she played with her doll. Her back was towards him. "Grundy..."
He pressed his face against the glass. The shadow that it cast drew the little girl's attention. She screamed, dropped her doll and ran out of the cottage without even a second glance.
"Grundy..."
The doll lay askew on the floor, abandoned by its owner. Lost and alone, much like how Grundy felt at that very moment. He knocked on the glass, but ended up smashing through it. He did that again, and the log of the cabin crumbled beneath his fist. Putting a foot through the broken wall, he stepped into the cabin quite gingerly and picked up the doll.
Again, the nursery rhyme played all the way through. It only confirmed who he already was in his mind. "Solomon Grundy."
Ivy held the bottle in her hand, taking little sprays at the shriveled weed she'd rescued from Selina's apartment block. The plant was doing a lot better - holding up its weight and sprouting leaves even, all thanks to the formula she had mixed up, aimed at nourishing it. The other plants in her apartment gazed down at their new friend, yearning for the same nourishment that the little weed found in Ivy's hands. Ironically, Ivy found herself yearning for nourishment as well. Nursing back that weed had felt satisfying to a certain degree, but not nearly enough to eclipse the immense hurt that continued to haunt her. She knew that without Penguin's funding, her own expenses would vaporize in time. She'd thought once or twice about going out with her pheromone perfume to get more of what she needed, but the truth was that she'd almost completely retreated from man's world. Since she'd returned that day after Selina was nowhere to be found, she'd not gone out once and not planned to ever again. Ivy only wanted to be with her plants... in fact, if she had it her way, she would be one of them. Blooming, beautiful and uncomplicated. Her plants would not betray her. They wouldn't harm her. They wouldn't reject her. None of the things she'd suffered under the hands of a cruel mankind.
She held the spray bottle in front of her face and swirled the liquid around and around. Its emerald hues glittered in the fading light of day. The weed had sprouted after taking in the liquid. As she watched the liquid go around and around, she wondered if she would sprout too. Taking a hold of the lid, she wound it open and held it to her lips. "Let me be one of you..." she said softly, watching the weed enthusiastically look up at her.
And with three large gulps, she ingested the formula. She put the bottle down and stood up. She didn't feel any different. She didn't feel any better. Reaching for a larger storage bottle she'd filled with the same liquid, she wound open the lid and took it all in as well. Nothing changed about her situation. She was still 'unwanted' Ivy. Unloved, used and abused. The tears began to stream down her face as anger surged within what was left of her heart. With a sweep of her hand, she knocked glass beakers off her desk, causing them to shatter upon impact. The sound of shattering glass bid her to knock more things off her desk - books, stationery, bottles. They made a cacophony of sounds as they hit the ground... and within this symphony of chaos, came the smashing of ceramic.
It made Ivy spin around to see the little weed she'd just saved, lying broken under a heap of fallen books and stationery. "NO!" she screamed, digging through the pile to rescue what once had barely thrived, only to have its stem snapped into half. "No..." she said again, crumbling to her knees. She couldn't keep alive the one final thing that held her to this life. She'd failed, and failed miserably. Cradling the broken plant in her hands, she took a final walk across her apartment, nearly blind from sobbing, and stumbled towards a shelf in her apartment where she'd kept an assortment of hazardous liquids away from the plants.
She placed the plant gently down at the side of the shelf, and picked up a bottle of toxic weed killer. That little plant had become the final trace of who she once was. She'd unknowingly extinguished that precious little life, and in turn, had become a weed killer, much like the contents in her hands. Unscrewing the bottle of weed killer, she held it to her lips. There'd be no more reason to holding onto a pointless life. She shut her eyes. Holding her breath, she took in the entire bottle. Every single drop to the last bit.
Then she waited... waited till she was finally gone from this world.
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