Jerome Valeska Imagines

TWELVE | For Lack of a Better Word

You stroll peacefully down the streets of Gotham. Even though they weren't the prettiest sight to see, you loved the way the street glistened in the streetlights at night after a rainstorm. You were on your way to your single-person apartment after a day at work. You'd often taken the night shift because you didn't like sleeping. It reminded you of the most traumatizing event of your life. You'd arrived at your apartment complex, walked up the stairs and arrived at your door. Setting down your bag, you walked to your bedroom. You opened the door, and saw your boyfriend Jerome sleeping sound. You made your way to you bed and settled in. Your hand moved to his fiery red hair, massaging his head and playing with his ginger locks. He stirred slightly and you flinched, pulling your hand back quickly.

"Keep...keep doing what you were doing," a sleepy Jerome said in a half-conscious state.

You half-smiled, admiring his cuteness, and moved your hand back to his head. You ran your hand down his head, petting him. Wow, your hair is soft.

He turned around to face you, his tired eyes peering into yours. He pulled you into his chest, the two of you snuggling warmly.

In this position, you drifted off to sleep.

You were awaken by the absence of Jerome in the bed. You stretched and sat up, looking around for him. You got out of bed and saw a note on the square table in your dining area.

Morning, sunshine,
Sorry to leave you so early but work calls. It's crazy how you can mentally be free but still be tied down to other things, ugh. Oops, didn't mean to go on a rant there. Or maybe I did. Anyway, I'll be home around the normal time.
-J

As expected, you thought. You finished getting ready for work. You found a grey sweater, black jeans and a beanie hat to wear. After changing, you finished getting ready and exited your apartment.

•~•

There you were, working in the filing room. It was the only job at the bank that didn't require speaking.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Oh no, you thought, not an armed robbery. You hadn't been working at the bank long enough to have gone through a robbery. Screams echoed through the establishment before yelling was heard. You quickly found a place to hide behind one of the filing cabinets.

Your stomach dropped when you heard footsteps quickly move towards the filing room. A man clad in black attire and a bald head barged in with twin pistols.

There was a slight gap between the cabinet you were hiding behind and the wall so you could see him.

"Boss," the man said into what appeared to be a walkie talkie, "no signs of the target, but I'll look around."

Target? That's odd. The man began to walk around and you held your breath, careful not to make any obnoxious loud noises. He began to walk towards the filing cabinets in the back, where you were hiding. You tried to shift your weight behind the cabinet to a more comfortable standing position. You turned and began to lose balance, slipped. Your hand went to catch on to something when it was stabbed by a nail sticking out of the wall. You let out a quiet sound of pain as you pulled your hand off the nail. Why are there nails back here?

The man turned his head towards the cabinet. Guess the quiet whimper wasn't quiet enough. He put his hands on the cabinet's sides, running his hands up and down the cabinet. He threw it down with brute force. You stared at him with panicked eyes.

"Boss, I found the target," He said with his deep voice.

He grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the room, one of the pistols pointed at your head.