Gotham: Panic Attack

Digging Straight Down

'Yes Ms Paige. This seems to be a hallucinogenic hydrocarbon compound of some kind. It's a gas at room temperature. The liquid samples that you find on the victims must be heated at their body temperature - suggesting sublimation as a feature of this chemical.' Chirps Edward Nygma, probably far too excited for his own good about this situation.

I, Violet Paige, can understand most of his science babble. Winn doesn't shut up about it at home. Gordon looks at me, and then at nightshade girl. The girl - who had since identified herself as Donna - was busy flicking through a little book of god knows what, and slavering at the little pictures.
'Can I run tests on her?' Smiles Ed innocently.
Me and Gordon look up at him with an air of 'go screw yourself'.
'Okay. I'll take that as a yes.' He grins, twiddling a little biro around in his fingers.
'It's a n-' Starts Gordon, but is cut off by the onslaught of barraging questions from E. Nygma.
'Are you over 18?' Asks Nygma.
'Yes.' Deadpans Donna, not even arsed to look at the cheerful forensic scientist.
'Are you a street kid?' Continues Eddie, taking frantic notes whilst whistling the Wombles theme song.
'Yes.' Says Donna, obviously tiring of the situation only 30 seconds in.
'Are you on your period?' Quizzes Nygma.

At this, everyone stops and stares at the skinny idiot - and he finally gets the message and scurries off to moan to Wesker about another failed examination.

'He's a weird human.' Announces Donna, as if it was a brand new headline.
'Yes. Well noticed.' Smiles Gordon, wrapping his arms around Donna and leading her slowly towards the door. He gestures to me to go on his way out, and I begin doing exactly that before I'm interrupted by practically every phone in the precinct going batshit.

I run over to one of the phones and boot some poor oaf off a swivelly chair, and then take the phone and press it to my ear. Two alibis - remember?

'We have five homicides on Ventril Street. One crushed to death, the other four poisoned.' Announces an exceptionally grumpy officer with a voice so heavy that it could crush a mountain range.
'Great.' I say to the random man at the end of the phone, and hang him back up on the petite black clutch.

I smile at the guy who's slowly crawling his way back up to his throne on the chair, and then practically waltz out of the door to the precinct and pull the white costume over my head.

Whilst realising that I have no idea where the hell my sudden spurt of glee had come from, I leap up a corrugated iron ladder on the side of a building. It's almost as if someone had wanted street vigilantes to use them!

Whatever. I'm gonna enjoy being exalted while it lasts.

However, when I'm finally on the correct rooftop to witness the crime scene - my 'glee' instantly dwindles at the sight of the human roadkill.