Gotham: Panic Attack

Exposure

Her shoes clip-clopped along the cold floor. Sunglasses covered her red, dilated eyes. Her yellow-white hair drifted along behind her like a shroud made of ghosts. This was her day. This was the day that Arkham came back to life.

You see, Linda had been tracking down all of the ex-patients - and then proving that they should still be in the asylum under her tender wings. Nobody recovered from insanity. She wouldn't let them. The news of the upcoming development of her home had struck a deep needle into her voodoo-doll heart - but now she was going to stab the people responsible straight back.

This world had been cruel to little Linda. Now it would burn on the spit of cowardice and treachery. Where were they when the asylum was shut down? When she lost the job that enabled her to survive in the belly of the hospital?

It was then that a man in a long yellow coat thundered out of a pounding nightclub onto the orange-lit street in her path. His breath furrowed out into the night air, visible in the biting cold.
There was something particularly interesting about this man - a black eye and cuts adorned his face like butterflies on a sundial.

'Hello, mister...' She cooed as she slunk up to him and ran her finger down his sweating forehead. Jack Ryder's eyes widened, but then softened instantly when he realised that he'd just got lucky. Street romance was the best kind according to him.

Linda pushed him backwards into an alley, and pressed her hands against Jack's bulky chest. Jack practically slavered, and was rewarded with a lingering kiss on his lips. The two faces remained interlocked for just a second - and then Linda pulled away when Jack started choking.

'Breeders.' She snarked on the way out of the alley, leaving Jack to suffocate on his own pulverised lungs. He barely had time to see the red-eyed woman turn the corner to leave the darkness before he lost consciousness.

'Thank you!' She cackled into the face of another man, staring at her from the window of club. She pulled a long, black coat over her white shirt, and skipped down the street - towards a massive, gothic building dripping with lights and signs.
'Arkham Charity Fundraiser' Declared the posters, all of which were plastered with the mayor's face. All of which would probably be in some police crime-scene box in about an hour and a half.