Rapunzel <J. Valeska>

1.8

Jerome watches her sleep for a moment, reassured by her chest rising and falling, and the easy smile on her lips. Everything I do, I do for you, princess.

With one last fond look, he turns and exits the room, grabbing the car keys from the kitchen counter. His attitude hardens and flips on the way to the car, so he's in a murderous mindset by the time he starts the engine. Somebody's gonna die tonight.

His bloodlust has him twitching, fingers itching for a weapon to drain some unsuspecting victim of their life force. Jerome longs for nothing more than the feeling of sticky blood on his hands, painting a gruesome masterpiece of death and destruction.

Dealing with Galavan's inevitable prissiness is a small price to pay to get his fix and get paid to do it. Wonder how pissed he's gonna be this time?

Surely the billionaire will be perturbed at Jerome's second exit and dalliance with Daisy, especially since this time he stole his car and spent a shit ton of his money. I honestly could not care less.

Jerome is flippant regarding his transgressions, against both the law and Galavan. Life is so short, and my time could be better spent than on worrying about such trivial things. Like killing, for instance.

Having returned to his savage nature, bloodlust renewed, Jerome grins, putting the car in gear and pulling away from his cozy cottage and any sense of compassion.

•••

Galavan is as pissed as he expected—angrier if possible—as Jerome struts through the door like nothing happened. If he had to guess, the casualness was probably what set him off. If he came through the door blubbering and apologizing, begging for forgiveness—well Galavan probably gets off on that kind of thing.

It's about power, and Jerome ignoring his rules and not caring about it is stripping that power away from him. Galavan clearly has some deep-set daddy issues of his own, and now that he's out from under daddy's thumb he wants to keep all the power he's got for himself. Surprisingly enough though, he didn't mention all the money he'd spent.

But Jerome can psychoanalyze his boss some other time, preferably not during their big first move. They weren't doing some pussy shit, they were going for big guns. By pushing about pawns, they set other events on the board in motion, terrifying the peons and forcing action from the men in power. Maybe if they had more women in power they wouldn't act like little bitches.

Breaking into the shipyard was far too easy to be honest. All those security investments for nothing as the guards are easily reamed through by a group of amateur psychopaths. Except for me, of course.

The kills he gets are enough to sate him and his screaming bloodlust, at least for now. He'll need frequent repeats to keep himself off edge. Along with regular doses of his favorite innocent princess, of course.

A combination of adrenaline and psychopathy has his blood pumping, hammering in his ears as they carry out their plan flawlessly. Watching the pieces fall into place is insanely satisfying, crafting a master plan and having it work out perfectly. The feeling is another addictive sensation, one that he prior to hadn't been familiar with, and one that he finds he wants to experience again, perhaps with his own plan.

An absolute manic grin adorns his face as they carry their captives up to the roof of the Gotham Gazette, the sun just cresting over the horizon. The peaceful environment was about to be epically shattered by their first act. Look out, Gotham. Here we come.

Despite Jerome's many protests to the contrary, Galavan had decided to wait to drop the bodies until the city was more active, most people at work for the day. Knowing him, he probably did it purely to spite Jerome, trying to punish him for breaking his rules.

The longer they stay waiting for Tabby's signal, the more Jerome's excitement wears off and gives way to anxiety. He told Daisy that he would be back when she woke up if not shortly after. Keeping that promise proves harder and harder as time goes by and he's sure that she's woken up by the time they're told to throw the men off the roof.

While trying to stay in the moment and enjoy it, Jerome is also conscious of time, trying to keep the process speedy and efficient. He prompts the other maniacs to keep moving, spray painting the bodies and generally managing everyone, acting as a handler in one breath and a fellow psychopath in another.

"Maniax," he sighs, pleased with himself. "Now that's a headline!"