The laughter downstairs continued.
Batman carried Chen Mo past the stairwell. Below, folding beds banged against the floor tiles as several officers held their edges down. A nurse took a nebulizer out of a medical kit and stepped around a stretcher blocking the way.
Every time the side entrance to the square opened, a few more grinning mouths appeared in the lobby.
The curly-haired woman near the stairs wore a pale gray blouse, its collar torn open, her work ID hanging upside down against her chest. Peggy. In the photo, her smile was proper and her hair neatly combed.
Now Peggy laughed until the corners of her mouth split. Blood ran down her chin into her collar, and her hands, strapped to the sides of the bed, clawed wildly at anyone passing. Her eyes bulged, tracking the white uniforms. When a nurse leaned down to check the restraints, Peggy's teeth struck her goggles.
The nurse, who had weathered plenty in Gotham, straightened her goggles and connected the prepared medication to the nebulizer.
The doctor supported the back of Peggy's neck while another nurse pressed down on her shoulders, and the mask was fitted over her open mouth.
Peggy twisted her face aside and struggled. The straps dug into her wrists, her heels kept kicking the foot of the bed, and the mist condensed into fine droplets inside the mask.
"Don't let go. Keep the mask steady first."
The doctor's cuff had been torn. He moved his hand to the side of Peggy's forehead, leaving room for her chest to rise and fall. The nurse watched the medication supply, studying Peggy's eyes through her goggles.
After several minutes of inhaling the mist, the laughter grew shorter. Peggy coughed twice, and the sound straining out of her throat slowly turned into heavy