A single flickering streetlight illuminates the beaten alley entrance as a hooded man strolls through it, fisted hands shoved in his jacket pockets. The thin claw of moonlight hanging high in the sky fails to penetrate the thick cloud layer that seems to perpetually hover over gloomy Gotham City.
The hooded man hums an unrecognizable tune as he walks along, the cheerful song sounding hollow and more than a little terrifying coming from the dark man at such a dark hour.
The muted lighting is sufficient to make visible the struggling woman under attack in the far back corner of the alley, her cries seeming faint and distant through the dense fog. Her attacker wears a coat similar in color to the jacketed man's, his beanie riding low on his brows and his bandana pulled up over his mouth, muffling the orders he gives the woman to shut up and quit struggling as he tries to subdue her and rob her of all she's worth.
Having seen enough, the hooded man scoffs and whips out the pistol that was bulging his jacket pocket, swiftly pulling the trigger and sending a bullet spiraling through the cloudy air and into the upper thigh of the aggressor. Blood spurts as the bullet pierces skin and the man releases a throaty cry, which starts masculine but quickly becomes significantly more effeminate.
"Amateur," the shooter snorts, rolling his eyes as he swaggers up to the man that is now down on the ground, the woman he'd released shuddering against the wall.
"T-Thank you, thank you so much," she stutters, taking a few shaky steps forward.
"I wouldn't thank me just yet, gorgeous," the man chuckles, directing his gun to the man's temple and firing again, splattering brain matter onto the concrete. "I didn't save you from him so much as save you for myself, doll face."
His hood falls down as he turns back to face the woman, revealing a head full of red hair visible even in the darkness. Immediately the woman's fear heightens as she realizes just who she's dealing with.
"You're... you're J-Jerome Valeska," she whispers.
"Right you are, doll," the escapee laughs, raising the pistol again.
The woman shrieks as the gun fires again, this time at her. It takes half a second for the bullet to bury itself in her chest, blood blossoming to the surface and seeping into her blouse. She chokes at the feeling and at the sound of her killer's hysterical laughter.
"Aw, why so down, doll face? Smile!" Jerome shouts, raising his arms up to the sky.
The woman sobs as she feels her life ebbing, the entire night a terrible nightmare from which she knows she won't awake.
"Laugh, gorgeous," Jerome encourages. His voice becomes fifty shades darker when he speaks again. "It'll be the last thing you ever do."
The woman sighs, her last inhalation of oxygen freezing in her chest as her heart finally ceases beating, a last puff of air releasing itself through her chapped pink lips.
Jerome's laughs fade into obscene wheezing as he stabilizes himself and stands fully upright once more. "Man, it's great to be out of that hellhole! But everyone's senses of humor don't seem to be any better out here. Guess they just need a little persuasion."
The teenage psycho abandons the crime scene entirely, leaving two cooling bodies leaking blood onto the pavement. His sneakers scuff into one of the pools of blood, causing him to leave gruesome bloody footprints in his wake.
"Shame about her outfit," the killer mumbles to himself as he continues along. "Bloodstains are such a pain to get out."
The thought prompts another terrifying giggle, which crescendos again into cackles as the man weaves his way through Gotham's back alleys. The night shrouds his surroundings in mystery, hiding the misery that likely exists behind it. This is Gotham, after all.
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Rapunzel <J. Valeska>
Fanfiction"What's the matter gorgeous? Cat got your tongue?" So, after the breakout, Jerome found a mysterious blond girl on the street and decided he wanted to keep her. He's got issues, but she's got some too, though maybe not the same kind. Jerome must ha...
