Bleeding its horror, creating my structure. Now I shall reign in blood.

May 13, 2009 17:22

It's very strange, how these things start.

Pamela was shopping. Shopping isn't uncommon; shopping means getting things you need, things you want. Shopping in public markets and the like means striking up conversations about this, that and the other.

Conversations about mold, about sick building syndrome, about a local pizza chain and it's ridiculously high employee turnover. About it's missing, presumed dead delivery drivers.

Well. Well.

Research was done. A block or two of businesses in Cape Carmine shut down, remodeled. Some moved back in. Some didn't.

Two never closed to begin with.

One was the pizza chain.

Health inspections were in the public records. All building inspections for this one company was done by three employees. Two of whom worked closely with the third. The third of whom was inspecting only subsidiaries of a particular business.

Now, if Pamela was able to connect the dots, she had no reason to believe that his higher-ups didn't either. They just didn't care.

Single men who make more through corporate bribes than through the city position they've held for over a decade are oddly lonely. Willing to talk to attractive young women at dinner parties who seem interested in what they do, what they like about their jobs, what they don't.

He didn't see her again, but 9 days later Tom Garza died of pulmonary hemorrhage.

Two days after that, customers from Pizza Planet all over Gotham began exhibiting some of the symptoms from exposure to Saratoxin-H. Odd how things like that can spread into the water pipes of a business.

cmmrjamesgordon, paintfromlife, [open], apathynotenvy

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