Rotten Innocence pt. 2 JeromeXreader
So now here I am, my body aching all over. I feel as if some maniac had strapped me to a bed of nails, attached to a sports car and then zooms over a road littered with speed bumps.
The person dragging me along comes to an abrupt halt and I finally begin to asses me surroundings instead of recollecting the past events of my night.
A hauntingly whimsy circus music fills my ears, combined with an abundance of insane laughter attacking me from every direction.
The black bag closeting my view is then whipped off my head and my eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden burst of light. My sight focuses and now the bizarre noise is accompanied by even stranger sights.
Bundles of people dressed in maniac paraphernalia. I couldn’t look anywhere without seeing a straight jacket or terribly applied make up. The only regularly dressed people seem to be hostages cowering in fear, I wonder if my fate might be same, or worse.
The whole area is littered with outlandish, lary carnival rides and stools. Colours clashing and forming a conflicting atmosphere. My eyes flash to each of the terrible scenes playing before me. There’s no point in trying to run because as I turn my head to the left a man, suitably dressed like the other crazies surrounding us, aims a large, intimidating gun straight at me.
All I can do is stand there and await my fate, while witnessing the torture of so many innocent citizens.
“Beautiful isn’t it” a croaky voice speaks above the laughter and music.
Shivers crawl up my spine and the person the voice belongs to saunters into my view.
He adorns a bright ringmaster’s outfit. His bright traffic light orange hair sticks out every which way, clashing with the red of his suit. His face is wretched, stapled together and decorated with a wicked smile.
Top hat in hand, he stretches his arms out wide, throws his head back and shuts his emerald eyes. Humming along to the circus tune, he lets the madness surrounding him consume him, absorbing it with every fibre in his being.
He exhales deeply, a sigh of pleasure at his creation. The man clears his throat, rolling his neck as he does so.
“Music to my ears” he announces, I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or to me. Either way, I don’t want to respond.
His eyes flicker open once more, landing straight on me. The green gaze that I had the displeasure of seeing only once before. A year ago at a charity gala.
I know exactly who he is.
The boy who slaughtered his mother, taunted and teased Gotham for a few months before being punctured in the neck and promptly dying.
He’s back.Rising from the flames of a brainwashed cult like a satanic, maniacal phoenix.
“What do you want with me?” I grit through my teeth. Disgust filling my veins at his presence.
“Wow” he rolls his eyes, walking further towards me “nice to see you too Y/N”
One of his hands slithers up and grabs my face, squeezing my cheeks roughly. I try to avoid eye contact but his face swivels like a snake every time I try to pull mine away.
“It’s been a while hasn’t it, sweetheart” he croaks.
Listening to his voice now, it seems different. Deeper and more breathy. Darker and more menacing.
He plants an unwanted kiss on my cheek, his lips smudging against my skin. He pulls his lips and hand away, smiling broadly and licking his lips at my pure detestation. With a cheeky flair, he flicks on his top hat, concealing his orange locks.
“I said, what do you want with me?” I ask once more, spitting each word out as my anger rises.
“Y/N Gordon, feisty as ever” he grins.
He spots the disgust on my face and his smile drops “fine, what I want from you is a little thing called friendship”
Jerome’s arm slithers around my shoulders and goosebumps cascade across my body.
“A companion, a partner in crime” he explains, stretching out his second arm. Then, I feel the second hand rest against the side of my face, turning my head towards his gaze.
“Maybe even more” he winks.
“In your dreams” I spit in retaliation. He frowns for a second and then his startling smiles forms once again.
“I thought we’d have a few issues but, over time, they’ll be fixed” Jerome smirks
“Why me?” I question, narrowing my eyes as he removes his arm from my shoulder and stands in front of my view.
“Oh c'mon, I thought you were smart. Who better to be my hostage than detective Gordon’s innocent little angel, it’s not a toughie” he explains, his eyes never leaving mine, yet his body seems to flounce around the place.
A stubby looking man, dressed like a deranged clown, nervously taps Jerome on the shoulder.
“What.” Jerome turns to the man with a disapproving expression.
The clown whispers something in Jerome’s ear and by the way Jerome’s smile grows even more darker and menacing I can tell it’s not good news for me or any other innocents.