Gotham: Panic Attack

Don't Come Cheap

Now.

I sat on the end of my bed, breathing in the cold air emanating out from my open window; just letting a tiny piece of Gotham into my bedroom. Yes, I am fully aware that I'm brooding - no, I am not going to stop. When I think about it, how could that Ragdoll man have done what he did to that woman?

Her chest was in an extremely unnatural state - almost leading me to believe that her lungs had actually exploded somehow. Three photos of the crime-scene sat on my lap like my equivalent of a nice little cat.

Her hair was green. Upon looking closer at the images, the hair wasn't dyed. It had been forcibly bleached. This coloration had come from an external source, as there was more of the green material around her lips.
Maybe some kind of an ingested poison or drug. If it was a drug then I'd be better off going to the GCPD right now.

That sort of stabbing feeling that I assume everyone gets down the back of their neck when they're suddenly shocked ricocheted down my body, and I struck out with my arms to clobber an alarm clock, that was triumphantly screeching that it was only 03:00 in the morning.

No matter what the time was, there was someone outside my room. I creep silently over to the door and thrust it open to reveal none other than Winslow Schott, my sorta-brother.
In his hand, he clutches what is quite obviously a grenade, and the rest of his body is doing the Highland Jig from the scare of my screams.

I yank the grenade out of his hand and stare at it in astonished horror.
'Where did you get this Winn?' I practically yell, not wanting to wake our Mother - who probably didn't want us to wake her.
'I. I. I. Mmmmmade it?' He stated, looking up at me with eyes like a puppy on morphine.
I throw my hands onto his shoulders, and direct him into my room as if I were a forklift. I plop him down onto the edge of the bed, that I would never be using for actually sleeping, rather than brooding.

'How did you make this, Winn?' I ask, wrapping my arm around his shoulder to keep him from trembling.
'Itttt was easy-y-y-y really.' He said innocently, not realising that he'd just made a shrapnel weapon at 03:00.
'How did you do it exactly? Where did you get the material?' I continue, desperate to stop him from doing it again.
'I'd collected the ssssstuff from the bin - o-o-o-o-utside. It'ssss surprising what people throoow away these days.' He stammered, attempting to laugh.
'This is an illegal weapon, Winn.' I say, looking at him to stop him from trying to laugh again.
'How legal are you? In your white cape and cowl-l-l?' He stuttered, managing to smile knowingly amongst the mangled words.

Panic twinges painfully across my forehead, I snatch the grenade, and sent Winn back to bed.
'I made it for you, Mother Panic!' He laughs while going back into his darkened room.

I had, of course, never heard anyone call me that before - and it would always be a mystery to me how Winn had thought it up. He wasn't even conscious when I was in costume! How could he know?