The holographic projection of Steve Rogers's clandestine base shimmered above the massive table, its intricate details a testament to the Captain's meticulous planning. You stood amidst a group of assembled heroes, your gaze drawn to the intricate layout of the safe house, a refuge for those who dared to defy the Accords. You intended to approach Steve, to offer your support, but your attention was abruptly diverted.

In a nearby cell, a figure stirred. Poison Ivy, her skin an unnatural shade of emerald green, sat slumped against the cold, metal bars. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her shoulders, a stark contrast against the sickly hue of her skin. Veins, thick and prominent, snaked across her arms and legs, a testament to her unique physiology. Clad only in an old, faded Arkham Asylum shirt, she looked every bit the dangerous eco-terrorist she was.

As your footsteps echoed through the cavernous chamber, she turned, her gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity. "I thought joining the All-American Boy Scout would have granted me freedom from the Accords," she hissed, her voice laced with a bitter irony. "But it seems even Captain America can't escape the long arm of the law."