Gotham: Panic Attack

Rides Again

2 Months Ago

'Are we sure that the subject is ready to go?' Inquired Ms Peabody to Professor Strange.
'Yes. He's a successful case, right now that is.' Smiles Strange warmly: going slightly darker in tone at the end of the sentence, presumably having at least a suspicion that he really wasn't going to be successful.

Jack Ryder stared around the room in deep, aching confusion. He had no idea where he was - he only knew that what had just happened to him shouldn't have. His jaundiced form clutched the bars at the edge of the hospital bed that he was confined to by cables and other wiry constructs - all still pumping various chemicals into his not-dead body.
Realising that he wasn't dead, and that he'd survived the worst kiss of his life; he started to laugh: whilst licking the blood that drizzled from his gums as he did so.

Peabody looked at Strange with a sassy air of 'told you so'; but Hugo skilfully ignored her: and ordered his men to extract Jack from his holding cell.
'He looks like some kind of creeper. Is this a good idea?' Continues Peabody, obviously worried about all of the hideous practices that Hugo had been indulging in in the corridors of Pinewood Farms.

Jack cackled and giggled, as two nice young men in clean white suits frogmarched him up to the surface of a desolate medical facility. Ryder still had not the foggiest where he was; but it was better to laugh than cry.
The morning light of the forests outside the facility stung his eyes like bees, and he ran his clawed fingers through his dyed green hair.
Poison fizzed and bit his nerves, and he felt like he'd spend a decade in the sun. 'Oh well'; he thought. 'These men were going to free him from that awful place'.
Except they didn't seem to want to just yet, and so he would make them. Why? Well he was a psychopath now, and so why not?!

With a cackle, Jack twirled backwards on the men that were restraining him - and snatches his hands around on of their necks. He then smashed his foot into that person's knees and brings them to the ground.
One blow after another - he pounds the man into a bloody pulp whilst laughing hysterically.
The other guard's eyes light up with horror, and he points his gun straight at the Creeper's green-haired face.
Jack didn't really know what the man thought that that tiny little piece of stainless steel was going to do against his monstrously badass physique: though he decided to let him try.

A single bullet launched itself into his forehead, and his head was thrown backwards as his neck snapped under the force of the bullet's impact.

The guard breathed out in relieved panic, and then scurried over to stare at the mashed corpse of his fallen comrade...
Jack plucked the bullet out of his forehead with an innocent little smile, and then descended upon the young man in a swirl of animal fury.

Now.

Jack had since had several lovely little baths, and had come to appreciate his newly-realised existence much more than he had done on the night when he made his first two kills. Whilst bathing one of these days, he had suddenly felt the awful poison leave his body. It all went up into his head and now he felt amazing. Wasn't it amazing what a little hygiene could do to a person?

Anyhow - Jack had wrapped a rag of red cloth around his bare shoulders, and pulled a little green loincloth over his midriff. He stared from the window of his hotel room (a lovely little place that he had had to kill only a few people to get), and surveyed his city hunting ground.
Whilst just leaping down from nowhere and murdering the first person available was fun: there was one person in particular that he remembered as a total bitch from his past life.

That vigilante girl was going to get her comeuppance, for the Creeper rides again.