It's unnatural...

and so basically the penguin started sending hit squads after him but he just... keeps killing the henchmen so this came to mind

So can you.

From Die Muskete, 1920.

Here’s quite a collection of vintage grim reapers.

Wonder what they are talking about 🌻🌱

“Well I suppose I should start labeling my things–lest a two year old wander in and get confused.” he snarks but without much kick to it. Honestly he doesn’t really care that there was someone in his makeshift hideout snooping through his things. Because really, no one posed much of a threat to him.

Bloom watches dully as the stack of crates topples over, it collides with the ground and bursts open, an avalanche of his insidious seeds following.

“Sure you did.” he remarks dryly, the very epitome of apathetic, he even sighs. 

Crawling from his perch and growing to a monstrous size as he went to meet the floor more easily, now at least clocking out around twelve feet tall, at least. Moving closer to reach one of the undamaged boxes among the mound of seeds. 

“If you meant to be a nuisance, than you’ve done a fabulous job.” He lifts and places the crate elsewhere with surprisingly little effort before casting what you’d assume would be a glance in her direction, hard to tell with the flower and all, “Not sure you’ll like what I do with nuisances though.”

Well, she DOES aim to please. Fiendish flinger of knives, and things most toxic she may be, but one must always do their best to satisfy those silly little expectations in the work and character they put forward… Even if the situation in question is more than a tad ‘unexpected’.

That’s what she tells herself. That, and that it’s not at all ‘uncool’ to be startled by giant man-plant…Things. It’s not as if encounters like this are listed in the assassin’s job manual, after all; and with concern steadily flaring in her chest, River takes another tentative step back for each foot he stretches. Just how big was this guy, twelve feet? Thirteen? Could he continue to grow more?

She isn’t given the luxury to ruminate much on that thought though. Poor thing, it’s so hard to afford much attention to creepy seeds strewn across the floor like marbles, when there’s a guy filling the room like some kind of Hell-tree. Her back-slip onto the floor is as unceremonious as the box she’d knocked-over.

“Ehm…” Stupid mistake. River you idiot. Fingers twitch near one of the pockets on her utility belt, “Well I certainly hope it’s that you toss them a broom to sweep-up their little accident… It definitely occurs to me that I’m at the wrong warehouse, now.”

Bloom falters briefly, almost in disbelief that she'd gone and fumbled so spectacularly again. How pitiful, how embarrassing-

--how amusing. A chuckle bubbles up from him, he shifts to raise a hand as if to smother the sound escaping from him, hovering over the lower half of his 'face'.

"You think?" There's a hint of a laugh in his voice now overflowing with mirth. He tilts his head and considers her for a moment, how her hand hovered over her belt, clearly still trying to be at the ready. A click of a tongue before he steps back, retreating into the shadows of the unlit warehouse where no light filtered in through windows from streetlamps could reach. His monstrously large form disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness and copious stacks of wooden crates that equally matched his large stature.

He moved without a sound, the entire building except for River's own breathing was deafeningly silent.

It'd be a few tense minutes before the quiet would be broken by a distant scraping sound, shortly followed by a broom and dustpan that had been sent soaring across the warehouse to clatter on the floor a few feet from her.