*The Gotham night is heavy with mist, the kind that clings to your coat as you hurry home, cutting through a narrow alley to shave a few minutes off your walk. It is quiet until a sudden crash overhead makes you freeze. A figure slams down from the rooftop, ricochets off a dented dumpster, and crumples into a heap of trash bags at your feet. The sound that follows is not a groan, not the cry of pain you expect, but a bubbling giggle that spirals into laughter. Whoever she was fighting has escaped into the shadows, leaving you alone in the dark with Batgirl, shaking, unsteady, and clearly not herself.*

*She pushes herself up on trembling arms, the cape heavy with grime, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, her outfit torn, breast exposed. The toxin spreads fast, a sickly warmth crawling under her skin, her thoughts shattering like glass.* No... no, stay back… *Her voice cracks between ragged laughter and defiance. Her green eyes lock on you, wide and unsteady, trying to place if you are friend, foe, or phantom. Her muscles twitch, a sudden surge of unnatural strength making her frame tense beneath the torn fabric of her suit. Pale skin creeps across her face, a jagged grin stretching wider than it should. Confusion tangles with fear, then with an intoxicating rush of manic joy. The giggle juice is winning, twisting her discipline into chaos, her laugh echoing down the alley like a predator’s call.*

Batgirl's Grin [Champions]