Time For Action
“So basically, they just want me dead?” Bruce said slowly. Jerome nodded as he picked the dirt from his fingernails.
“Yeah. Kind of a letdown if you ask me, you think a club of rich furries would, I dunno, actually be entertaining.” Jerome shrugged, a bored expression resting on his face. He'd had more fun digging a hole for the guy than actually talking to him, but Jerome didn't think Wayne would relate to that.
“Are you sure that is all that was said? He just said he wanted to kill me?” Bruce asked carefully, scanning the older teens face for clues.
Jerome let out a puff of air and rolled his eyes. “Yes! He said he wanted to ‘take you out.’ So, I took him out first, like the good bodyguard I am.” Jerome grinned, flashing his teeth at Wayne.
Bruce placed his hand on his chin, stroking in thought. “Take me out. That could mean a lot of things, killing me just wouldn’t make sense…” Wayne’s words drifted off, his face contemplative. His posture straightened, focusing on Jerome. “The Court would never send a random assassin to kill me. Not in my own home, where Detective Gordon would surely investigate. Maybe they wish to arrange a meeting?” Bruce paced across the room while Jerome yawned.
“You know, I can totally tell you were a spoiled brat going up. First I knock out your assassin, torture your assassin, and throw your assassin in a nearby ditch and what do I get? Zip, nada. Not even a simple ‘thanks Jerome, without you I’d be dead or converted into becoming a furry!’” Jerome sighed in mock hurt.
“Jerome.” Wayne snapped, his hand swiping down his face as he leveled the former Maniax member a glare. He sighed, pushing down his anger and focusing on the issue at hand. “I need to gather more information. Perhaps if they see me walking around Gotham they will attempt to reach me again. If they truly aim to kill me, better it is out in the open, then at least the people of Gotham will be aware that we are being watched.” Bruce stopped pacing and put on his coat. He threw a coat to Jerome who looked at him questioningly.
“Go get changed, we can’t walk around Gotham with you covered in blood,” Bruce ordered.
“You want me to help you get murdered? Well, that’s lame, and inconsiderate especially since I already called dibs.” Bruce frowned, knowing that even though it sounded like a jest, Jerome was being completely serious.
“We are going to get their attention, Jerome. I doubt they want to murder me, if I’m dead then I’m of no use to them. We are going to force a confrontation.” Bruce explained simply. He didn't have any better ideas and doubted it would actually work, but he'd rather try then spend another minute alone in the manor with Jerome.
“You keep saying ‘we.’ What exactly makes you think that I’m gonna stick around? I do have to make my comeback sometime Wayne.” Jerome said, drumming his fingers against his temples, his eyes far away as he his thoughts took him elsewhere.
That brought the younger teen to pause. He had to keep the teen occupied, and stop him from causing even more chaos, at least until the Court of Owls was dealt with. Then, Bruce would be able to deal with Jerome by himself. “And miss out on this? Uncovering and possibly dismantling a group that runs Gotham and keeps order? I thought this would be right up your alley.” Bruce said nonchalantly, standing by the door.
Jerome stopped, his hands fell from his face, green eyes now focused and full of mirth. He grinned and let out a laugh. “Oh Bruce, buddy you got me there! Alright I’m game, lemme go get cleaned up and we can go take a lovely stroll through Gotham” He grinned, then spun on his heel, running to the bathroom with a pep in his step.
Bruce stayed still, listening for any signs of movement. He heard the water from the shower turn on and knew he didn’t have much time. He opened his desk to find a disposable phone and dialed 911.
Bruce coughed, deepening his voice. “A man was savagely beaten. His pulse is weak and in need of immediate medical services. He is in a ditch located near the Gotham State park and Wayne Manor.” Bruce hung up the phone, knowing the woman would have enough information to find the discarded assassin. Bruce felt pity for the ‘assassin’ if he even was truly that. He didn’t deserve to die alone, or die at all, for that matter.
Wayne shuddered, remembering the bloody state the cave was in. Leaving Jerome alone was a mistake, a mistake that could not be repeated.
Bruce took one last look in the mirror, hearing the water stop and Jerome whistling to the other room.
“Have I ever told you how much of a genius you are Brucie? All this walking sure has attracted the league of furies!” Jerome said arms spread wide, taking up more space of the empty sidewalk. Bruce glared at Jerome’s mocking smile. “Really kid, brilliant plan.” He winked at the brunette before him, giving him a thumbs up.
“Well, if you have any better suggestions I’d be open to hearing them.” Wayne countered, folding his hands behind his back.
“Great!” Jerome exclaimed. “Here’s my plan: Forget the Owls. They’re boring, and honestly, I’d rather die again then have to talk about them anymore.” Jerome said as he strolled down the block, making a turn into an alley.
Bruce visibly stiffened but kept his pace.
“We need to make a few of our own moves bud, stop with the whole ‘let’s get the owls mad so they try to kill me again’ thing. This whole victim schtick you got goin' on, is getting old Wayne.” Jerome said with a yawn, he tried to stop a grin from forming, his eyes alight with mischief.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wayne said lowly, gritting his teeth.
Jerome grinned at this, pivoting on his heel and laughed at the younger teen. “Course you do! This is where it all started, right?” Jerome grinned wickedly gesturing to the alleyway around them. “Poor little orphan Annie. Ma and Pa gunned down, and what did you do?" He laughed again, watching Bruce's well-guarded expression start to fall. "You probably screamed.” Jerome taunted, stepping closer to Wayne.
Wayne glared, trying to stay in control. “I won’t dignify that with a response.” He said coolly, glaring at a now cackling Jerome.
“You definitely screamed!” Jerome let out another bark of laughter. “Before or after Mommy and Daddy died? Hmm, had to be after, right? Who knows, maybe if you’d accepted your victim status early on, Momma Wayne and Papa Wayne would still be here today.” Jerome said maliciously.
Wayne started to take deep breaths, closing his eyes at one point. He balled his hands into fists.
Jerome stepped forward, peering down at the boy, staring deeply into his eyes that hinted at the fury buried deep inside. “Did you even try, Bruce? Did you even try to save your parents?" He whispered, stepping into Bruces personal space. "You just let him run away. You let him do whatever he wanted. Maybe because deep down, you wanted them dead too.” Jerome’s face was only inches from the young billionaire before him, whose eyes flashed in unbridled rage.
Wayne let out a growl and shoved away Jerome, who only laughed in response. “What, did I hit a nerve? So sorry!” Jerome made a tsk sound, shaking his head and smiled politely. “Although you have no real reason to be, you wanted them to die, right? I mean, why else would you have stood there,” Jerome dropped the polite facade, and dropped his voice. “You probably wanted that inheritance money. Did he leave any bloody footprints? Or were you too busy crying to even bother to look and see which direction he went in?” Jerome smirked, walking back up to Wayne, who stood very still.
He crouched slightly, getting eye-level with the young man. “Got something to say? Or are you gonna start crying? Please don’t cry, I don't have any tissues, and it's kinda pathetic.” Jerome said dismissively. Feeling a rush of excitement flow through him, the younger teen was barely containing his rage, just another nudge and Jerome was sure he'd crack.
“Take a Step back, Valeska,” Wayne warned, his face red. Bruce had never, ever, had someone accuse him of something so vile. He'd heard rumors, people unable to understand the billionaires' depression and trauma, thinking he should be grateful to have earned that money at such a young age.
“Nah, I don’t want to. Make Me.” Jerome grinned, cocking his head to the side, waiting for the younger teen to throw a punch. Wayne breathed deeply, closing his eyes, trying to find calm in the storm raging within him. Jerome's nostrils flared, and he shoved Wayne harshly, who surprisingly didn’t fall.
“Cmon Bruce. Can’t run away this time!” Jerome chuckled. He wanted to see how far the boy would go, everyone was corruptible, and Jerome had a feeling that a corrupted Wayne would be extremely entertaining.
“I won’t let you bait me Valeska. You’re a psychotic criminal who needs help.” Wayne said, forcing every word out of his gritted teeth.
Jerome smiled, not at all bothered. “And you’re just a coward. Honestly, if you're the best your parents could come up with, its good they’re dead! I bet your Pops knew you had no guts, he probably tried to put up a fight while you hid behind your mommy, clutching at that beautiful dress of hers.” Jerome said, his voice high and in a mocking tone. Bruce started to shake.
“Stop. Now.” Wayne threatened, his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dug forcefully into his skin, drawing blood.
“Question, did you let go of her dress before or after she got shot? Or did you let go as she fell to the ground? What were those last moments like Bruce? Did you see the life flicker out of their eyes?” Jerome asked innocently, then sighed, his tone now one of mock sympathy. “They must have been in agony. How could you do that Wayne? You just stood there as mommy and Daddy coughed on their own blood. I bet you didn't even love them-" Wayne let out a war cry as he tackled Jerome to the ground, who made a small ‘oof’ sound.
“Never.” Wayne punched a smirking Jerome square in the face. “Talk.” Another punch, quiet laughter escaping the redhead’s lips. “About.” Bruce’s fury had started to blur his vision. “My.” Another hit, connected. “Parents.” A spurt of blood and the sound of laughter enraged Bruce further. “Again!” He said with a shriek punching a bruised Jerome again for good measure.
Bruce huffed, feeling his pounding heart begin to slow down. He swallowed, still breathing heavily as he stood, shocked at the damage he’d done. The psychopath laid on the floor of the dirty alley, blood smeared across his face. Wayne looked down at his hands, which were also covered in Jerome's blood. He took one step toward the cackling maniac, his laughter low and filled with joy as if he'd won a game. His lip was torn and bleeding profusely.
Wayne frowned, and reached out a hand, wanting to at least help the maniac back up, regretting that he'd lost control of himself, even if the maniac might have deserved it. Jerome took it eagerly, he wrenched the billionaire into a kneeling position as he slowly sat up.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He smirked, tearing his lip open more, giving him a red grin. “You’re not a victim. Nope. Just scared.” Bruce let go of Jerome’s hand standing up and taking a step away from the older teen on the floor.
He brushed his hands on his pants, trying to wipe away the blood. “I didn’t want my parents to die. End of discussion.” Bruce stated a hard edge to his words. He eyed Jerome warily, anticipating a surprise attack from the redhead.
“Hmm. No, you didn’t. You’re still scared though. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it.” Jerome said cryptically, stumbling as he stood up, giggling and clapping his hands on the brunette.
Wayne opened his mouth to question Jerome what he had meant when a sound was heard from above.
“Stupid kid!” A girl shouted in annoyance, she kicked at an object unknown, until it came falling off the roof near the pair, revealed to be an empty beer can. Wayne’s eyes widened.
“Selina!” he moved out of Jerome’s grasp, heading for the fire escape. “I have to see if she’s okay, you’re coming,” Bruce demanded. Jerome cocked an eyebrow.
“What, need me to be your wingman?” Jerome grinned, following an exasperated Wayne.
“I don’t need any help in that department Jerome.” He sighed, you are too much of a danger to leave alone, he thought.
“See kid! That’s what I’m talking about!” Jerome laughed. “Confidence is all you need, sure being devastatingly good-looking also helps, but we all can’t be as fortunate as I.” He smiled smoothing out his crimson hair that looked wild and unkempt from the beating he got in the alley. He placed his green beanie back on, and surprisingly his face had already stopped swelling, leaving Bruce to wonder if Hugo actually had changed Jerome.
Bruce rubbed at his eyes, please don’t let this end in disaster.
Ivy Pepper was a street rat, a friendless nobody who was going nowhere with her life. She also didn’t exist anymore.
Ivy grinned as she sat in the pristine hall, waiting for her school interview. The clothes she wore were new and expensive, she fidgeted at her stockings, pulling at them as she glanced at the clock. She doesn’t regret it. Changing her name, it was needed to get a fresh start.
Being associated with her family had never done her any favors. She was always turned away from schools because of her family’s criminal background, no matter how good her grades were. Getting a fake ID in Gotham was about as easy as getting an ice cream cone. Getting into Gotham Academy’s program for underprivileged kids, not as easy, but that was why she was here after all.
Living with Selina had been nice, she even fooled herself into thinking she found someone she could consider family. But at the end of the day, Selina had her own back, and no one else’s. Selina lived well on the streets. Stealing had become second nature to her. Ivy never minded this, she was her friend, and her talents always helped them in times of trouble.
Until Selina decided she was better than everyone and only the illustrious Bruce Wayne was worth her time.
Ivy pursed her lips, trying to push away her thoughts. That was then, this is now. Ivy was now going to use her talents, and find her own way in the world. Selina had street smarts, but she wasn’t exactly a star student in school. Ivy, however, excelled in her studies. With a fresh start, Ivy could become anything, anyone for that matter. Ivy always wanted to make a better world. Humans were selfish, only some truly appreciated the planet. Still, Ivy would ake the world better, and hopefully, she'd meet people at the Academy who also wanted this. Not all humans are selfish, some had to be like her, surely someone would understand the value of plant life.
Which is why she sat in the grand hall, the floor polished, the walls covered in encouraging posters for students to ‘reach for the stars’ and a bunch of other meaningless phrases meant to be uplifting to students but only came off as patronizing.
“Pamela Isley?” A man said, stepping out of the office. He wore a slightly tattered lab coat, he stood tall in the hall as he peered down at her, his eyes warm and expression friendly.
Ivy smiled, feeling a small flame of hope come to light within her. “That’s me. Hi.” She smiled tentatively, extending her hand. She wanted to make a good impression on her interviewer, knowing that he had the power to completely change her life. She smiled more broadly, hoping that her confidence shined through.
He shook Pamela’s hand, his lips forming into a smile as well. “Hello Pamela, my name is Dr. Woodrue. Welcome to Gotham Academy.”