"Will you look at these shambles?" Alfred scoffed as he entered the library, seeing the mess Bruce had left after his long night of investigating. He was curled up on the couch, still deep in slumber. As Alfred stepped over the piles of boxes, he opened the windows, filling the darkened room with light. "What would your mother say?" Alfred mumbled. Finally, Bruce's eyes fluttered open as he slowly sat up, adjusting to the early morning sun. "You know, I have half a mind to stick all this lot straight into the bloody fire!"

"No fire..." Bruce groaned, wiping his eyes of the lingering sleep. "Come on, up you get. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a charitable luncheon tomorrow. And I took the liberty of accepting their kind invitation on your behalf, Master Bruce," Alfred informed him. "That's good," Bruce yawned as he grabbed a small stack of files, sitting them on his lap. "Is there any breakfast?" Alfred was rather surprised that Bruce hadn't put up a fight with attending the luncheon. With the young boy constantly engrossed with the files, the butler thought Bruce would brush it to the side. "Yeah, I'll make you an egg. Does that mean you'll go?" Alfred asked.

Bruce looked up from the files and over to him. "Yes. I have some questions I need to ask the members of the board," he nodded. "What kind of questions?" Alfred inquired. "About Arkham. It seems very likely those gangsters were actually given their shares in Arkham by Wayne Enterprises," Bruce explained. "Well, that's usually how business is done," Alfred commented. "Is it? My parents didn't do business that way. Did they?" Bruce stood up. Alfred shook his head, assuring him that that wasn't the case at all.

"The board might not know, of course. There's quite a bit of clever camouflage used. Shell companies, offshore accounts, and so forth," Bruce mentioned, flipping through the files and the notes he jotted down in his notebook. "Right. So, you've learned all that from all this, did you? Fantastic detective work," Alfred complimented. "I still, however, want to get the whole lot and chuck it straight in the fire, huh?" "Don't put anything in the fire, Alfred. That's an order," Bruce spoke firmly, not taking his gaze off the open folder.

Alfred took in a quiet sigh before reluctantly agreeing to Bruce's instructions. As he left the library to make Bruce's breakfast, the latest breaking news appeared on the television screen, and as it caught Bruce's attention, he turned up the volume a few notches. "We are live in downtown Gotham, where a deadly new drug has hit the streets. Nicknamed "Viper", users of this mystery drug acquire great strength and a euphoric sense of power, but only for a few brief hours. Then, without exception, they die a horrible death,"

~~~~~~~~~

To say the GCPD was running rampant with chaos would be an understatement. With the excessive amounts of Viper that were distributed over the previous night, the precinct turned into a war zone. Vipered addicts had to be dragged by at least three to four officers to holding cells, and the screams and protests of them made it hard for the other officers to focus on their work. Some officers even had to hit the holding cell bars with metal chairs to get the addicts inside to shut up. But it did little to no good.

With only a vague description of the main distributor, the man with the mangled ear. The GCPD also only had a limited amount of information on what Viper was. Luckily, Ed was there to provide Jim, Harvey, and Essen a better understanding. "It's really quite remarkable. Viper somehow activates unused DNA. The body starts to burn calcium from the skeletal system as fuel. Hence, the victims' cravings for milk and cheese. They're desperately trying to replace the missing calcium. But they can't consume enough. Essentially, their bones crumble, then they suffocate and die,"

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Jim questioned. "No, nobody has. Totally new. I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be a part of this discovery!" Ed spoke gleefully. "There haven't been any news reports for a few hours now. Maybe they're done, maybe they ran out of the stuff," Essen reasoned. "I doubt it," Jim responded. "Who would put this on the street?  They're not even selling it, they're giving it away!" Essen asked. "That's how you create demand," Harvey answered. 

"For a drug that kills you that fast?!" Essen replied. "Well, if it first makes you king of the world, there will be takers. And most of them aren't or refuse to accept the possible death sentence of drugs," Jim explained. "There'll be mayhem, that's for sure. But it's skell-on-skell mayhem. If we keep the decent citizens indoors for a couple of weeks, let the scumbags have at it voila? The end of crime," What kind of sick and twisted plan is that? Jim thought to himself, and it appeared Captain Essen was thinking the same thing.

"Yeah, that's a nice thought, but no," Essen spoke sarcastically. "This stuff seems hard to make, no?" Jim turned his attention back to Ed. "Oh, it takes a high level of technical sophistication. A state-of-the-art lab made this stuff," Ed clarified. "So, who has the biggest and best lab in the city?" Jim asked. "The best is WellZyn," But Essen denied it, saying they were a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises, a multibillion-dollar corporation. "Why would they be doing this?" "I don't know, but we might as well start at the top," Jim suggested.

Suddenly, one of the officers came crashing from one of Essen's windows. Almost instantly, the detectives pulled out their guns just in case and stepped outside, finding the same woman they questioned about where Benny was hiding, struggling against the officers. But now, Viper had its grip on her. "Let go of me! Get off me!" She protested. But then, her skin turned the same gray and white mixture that signified her demise. The sounds of her bones cracking made the two detectives finally let go of her, and they all watched as her jaw disconnected from the rest of her face, and she turned into a pile of skin and crumpled bones on the floor.

"Fascinating!" Ed chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

As hours passed, more and more vipered cases kept being brought in and placed in holding cells. And every hour, there were more and more casualties. At least two coroners had to be called in to get the broken and disfigured bodies out of the cells. Jim and Harvey had been trying to get in contact with WellZyn and ask them a few questions regarding Viper and their possible involvement. But it proved to be easier said than done. Eventually, they were able to convince one of their top associates to meet with them at the precinct. 

An older woman strolled into the building with another woman trailing right behind, as well as two tall men in black suits that could've easily passed for bodyguards. All of them wore faces of intimidation, but Jim and Harvey were not in the slightest shaken or afraid. They all gathered at the balcony above Captain Essen's office, where they would have more privacy. "I'm Taylor Reece, general counsel, public relations for WellZyn. Good morning, gentlemen," The older woman introduced herself, shaking both Jim and Harvey's hands.

"Thank you for saving us a trip," Jim replied. Taylor sat across the small table from the two detectives, while her bodyguards stood right behind her and kept looking straight ahead. The younger woman sat a little more off to the side, trying to hide the look of timidness and fear in her eyes. "We were en route as soon as we were apprised of your inquiries. WellZyn is committed to good community relations," Taylor spoke with a hint of smugness. 

"What do you know about Viper?" Jim questioned. "Only what we see on the news. WellZyn has no connection to this tragedy. We will vigorously pursue legal action against any individuals making assertions to the contrary," Taylor defended the company rather quickly. Quicker than Jim and Harvey would've liked. "Do you think we push a button, or does she just rewind automatically?" Harvey spoke to Jim, not even bothering to lower his voice or wait until after the conversation was over. Jim dismissed his partner, telling him to handle this situation. "We're looking for an employee of WellZyn's. Male with a severely damaged ear," Jim described to Taylor.

Taylor's previous defensive look changed as she had to admit that the full disclosure did raise a few flags. Taylor provided the two men with a bit of information regarding their suspect's physical appearance, and as another cop stopped by with the printed sheet of the man they were looking for, Jim passed the paper to Taylor, quick to identify the man in the photo. "That's Stan Potolsky. He worked for us for several years as a biochemist. Uh, primarily personal care products. Shampoos, toothpaste,"

"So, what happened?" Harvey asked. "Well, Stan was frustrated that he wasn't doing more important work. He grew disgruntled and unstable. We tried to get him help, but he resisted," Taylor explained before bringing up a rather gruesome detail. "Last April, there was an incident. He tried to cut off his own ear during a disagreement with his supervisor," "Guess it was harder than he thought," Harvey spoke up. Taylor nodded her head, saying after that incident they just had to let him go.

"Last known address?" Jim inquired. "Well, after he was terminated, he didn't even clear off his desk. Just disappeared, off the grid," Taylor added, avoiding answering Jim's question. "You knew, didn't you? You knew all along it was him. That's why you came to see us so fast," Taylor straightened her posture as the cold glare in Jim's eyes sent a few shivers down her spine. But she refused to admit it. "That's incorrect," She spoke. "Viper can only be produced in a state-of-the-art lab like yours,"

"Stan Potolsky is a brilliant man, perfectly capable of building his own lab," Taylor insisted. "But you are more than welcome to examine our facilities. With full and proper clearances, of course," Harvey nodded, with a fake smile. "We'll get the paperwork started," Jim added, putting on a fake smile of his own. Feeling threatened by the detectives not backing down, Taylor and her crew decided to leave. Although the detectives didn't call her out on it, they did notice her hurried walk as she walked out of the precinct. "Lawyers... Scumbags, the lot of them," Harvey muttered. "Yeah, some of them. Let's go find Stan Potolsky," Jim nodded in agreement.

Harvey looked over to his partner confused, suggesting what they should do as it seemed like a long and daunting task to drive around Gotham, hoping to find him. "I'll call dispatch and have them put out an APB," Harvey offered as he walked to his desk. "All right, I'll check with the desk, see if his name's come up," Jim said. But right as he was about to do that, he nearly collided with a man he didn't recognize. "Gordon, right?" The man inquired. "Yeah. Who the hell are you?" Jim looked him up and down. "You got to come with me now, nice and quiet like," The man spoke with seriousness.

"What are you talking about?" Jim spoke softly, to not draw the attention of his colleagues. "Relax, we've got a mutual friend," The man explained. "And who's that?" Jim queried. "Oswald Cobblepot," Jim's eyes widened to the size of saucers, but at the same time, he knew eventually, Oswald was going to get himself caught. He didn't have the best reputation for keeping secrets, after all. That was what got him into the mess in the first place. "Yeah, him. And if you don't come with me now, we're gonna put his head in a bag and send it to Falcone, which would be embarrassing for you, no?" the man threatened. "Or maybe we've been misinformed. I mean, if I'm not ringing any bells here, you can go on your merry way,"

"No, I'll come," Jim sighed. With that, he followed the man into a nearby car, and they sped off towards Maroni's side of Gotham, Jim could only hope that this meeting with the Don would go smoothly and wouldn't result in any bloodshed.