Psychotic Ex-Boyfriend (Jerome Valeska x Reader)

Chapter 25: We Must Have an Audience

"Are you okay?" Bruce turned to look at Alfred. The butler was sitting on the ground, one of Jerome's goons holding a gun to him.

"I'll be fine, Master Bruce" Alfred reassured. "I'll be fine".

"Nice place you got here". Jerome turned to the three of you. He was standing in front of the fireplace. He gestured for you to come to him. You crossed your arms as you walked toward him. He wrapped an arm around your waist. "I've been thinking of getting a place for me and my doll, here. You rent?"

"What do you want?" Bruce asked as someone broke another valuable antique he owns. Jerome was taking in your scent once again. Oh, how he loved the way you smell. He never wanted to forget it. It comforted him. Reassured him of who he was. He's the son of a snake dancer and fortune teller turned killer. He's your Jerome.

"Attitude". Jerome turned to the younger boy, glancing at Alfred. "Teenagers. Am I right?" You watched him as he wrapped his arms around himself, swaying side to side. "Oh, I remember those days. So many exciting emotions floating through you. Wanting to kill everyone you saw. Aw."

"Give me". Jerome pointed to one of his goons who was holding a glass statue of an owl. You noticed the look on Bruce and Alfred's face. They were doing their best not to react. "You know, I will never understand rich people's tastes".

"It's worthless". It's not. It's valuable to them. To their personal mission. You wondered why Bruce was lying. What's so special about it? "My father found it in a flea market. I keep it for sentimental reasons."

"Nice try". Jerome waved the object up and down. "Oh, it's got some heft to it. Expensive I'm guessing. Be such a shame if I -Oh!" He let his hand slip.

"No, don't!" Nothing happened. Bruce and Alfred let out a sigh of relief. Jerome looked disappointed.

"Huh. Tougher than I figured. '' Jerome picked up the object and threw it behind him. This time it broke. "Anyway -"

"Ah, bloody hell" Alfred glanced to the side at the sound of the owl breaking.

"I asked you what you want" Bruce turned from the broken owl to Jerome.

"Right. Sorry. The old noodle's still a little al dente post-thaw". Jerome began to walk toward the younger boy. "The reason I'm here is I'm gonna kill you"

"Why?" Bruce asked the same question you've been asking yourself since you found out.

"Well, it's the last thing I remember wanting to do". The redhead explained. "It's been nagging at me since I woke up". He clicked his tongue, taking out his knife and waving it around, pointing it at Bruce's neck. "The idea of slitting that pretty pink throat of yours. Figure that'd clear the decks. What do you think, huh?"

"I remember that night". Bruce didn't flinch at the killer's movements. "When you took over the benefit, you were quite the showman".

"Thank you". Jerome waved his knife around, about to kill the younger boy. "Always nice to be appreciated".

"And you're just going to kill me here?" Jerome froze as Bruce continued speaking. You were surprised that he hasn't flinched one bit. "That's kind of disappointing".

You noticed how Jerome was hesitating. He groaned. "What do you mean?"

"After all the build-up, you coming back to life, turning off the lights in Gotham". Bruce explained. "Killing me here just doesn't show a lot of -"

"Flair?" Jerome continued, moving to stand on top of the sofa. He kicked a ripped pillow off. "Hmm? Style?" You heard something shatter. "Panache? Hmm? Go on, boy. Spit it out. I can take it."