You’re all prisoners. What you call sanity, it’s just a prison in your minds that stops you from seeing that you’re just tiny little cogs in a giant absurd machine. Wake up! Why be a cog? Be free like us. Just remember, smile.
summary: jeremiah has given jerome a little job to do, with a little mouse. but sofia won’t go down without a fight. not this time.
trigger warnings: blood, violence, knives, gore, vaguely nsfw content if u squint, death, etc
featuring: @sofiastranges
JEROME: Jeremiah had given him a job to do. A fun job, obviously, or Jerome would've told him to stuff it. But finding the little mouse, and, in his brother's own words 'have fun with her,' well – how could he resist?
It didn't take him long to track her down. He could've sent the culties out to look for her, but he didn't need to. He knew her. He knew what she was like, and where she would be. All he had to do was wait outside the hex shop, like he had so many times before. Wait and wait and wait, until she finally came out. He chuckled to himself as she locked the door. Like that ever helped her. He crept up behind her, and pulled out a fun little rag he'd gotten just for the occasion.
"Miss me?" he asked, giggling wild and manic as he slapped the cloth over her mouth. It would knock her out in seconds, and then once he dragged her back to the warehouse – then the real fun would start.
SOFIA: The conversation she had with Jenna and the promises that Oswald had made put Sofia in a state of comfort. No one was going to touch her – magic or not. Jeremiah or not. Aside from what had happened to Dinah and the power struggle that was happening in Brooklyn because of Fish Mooney’s unexpected death, Sofia’s life was suddenly quiet. Normal. Losing her magic when she had felt like the lowest moment in her life, but now that was behind her. And... life without magic wasn’t as bad as she had thought. Sofia finally had a chance to be a normal girl.
At least that was what she thought. Sofia believed that until she was putting her key in the door of the hex shop, she thought that even with the encroaching darkness of the night that she was safe. Even hearing footsteps behind her – she felt like she was fine. It was just someone walking home – someone heading to one of the cafes at the other end of the block. Sofia didn’t bother looking, didn’t realize what was happening until she heard Jerome behind her – Miss me? Why now? He had said that he was going to leave her alone – that this was her great punishment from him. So why? Why was he here? No this was wrong, he couldn’t – he wouldn’t.
She didn’t get a chance to speak before his hand was over her mouth, covering her mouth and nose with a cloth. Sofia screamed but the sound was muffled by the cloth – she didn’t have much time if this was what she thought it was. Sofia brought her hands up and pushed his hand harder against her mouth and bit down on his palm as hard as she could.
JEROME: Oh, it had been so long. He could barely remember the last time they'd seen each other – that ant venom in his veins had made the memories nice and blurry. They didn't matter anyway. None of it mattered except this moment right here, right now.
The way she struggled in his hands, her desperate attempts to fight back. He could smell the fear on her, feel it in her quickening pulse. One hand kept the cloth pressed to her face, the other grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back against him, holding her tight. Her hands were free, but she didn't try to push him away. She pressed his hand closer to her mouth, and bit him.
Jerome howled, the scream of pain becoming hysterical laughter. "Yes!" he breathed, lips at her ear again. "Keep fighting. Keep struggling. That'll make this so much more fun." He didn't even try to pull his hand free, just let her bite him while his free hand moved up to her neck now and began to apply pressure. They could do this the quick way or the hard way, but either way – he was going to enjoy himself.
SOFIA: Ignore it. Sofia could feel his arm around her waist, pushing her back towards him. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. It didn’t matter. That feeling of nausea in her stomach that only grew as her back pressed against his chest – ignore it. She kept her hands on his, keeping his hand against her mouth as she tried to grind her teeth into him. Whatever it took to get away.
But it wasn’t enough. Sofia was hoping that the sting of pain would have forced Jerome’s hand away, but he was laughing – always laughing. The last time she had bitten him he had slapped her, and compared to this? She would have welcomed that.
Her hands shifted in a panic when the hand she hadn’t been biting was suddenly wrapped around her throat, instead of trying to bite him, she was now twisting her head to try and get her face away from the cloth – but as her nails dug into the hand that was around her throat – she took in a deep breath in the struggle. She was choking on the smell. What would Natasha do? She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get away or if she’d be able to find help before she collapsed since her eyelids were already starting to feel heavy. But she couldn’t let him win. Not again. Sofia outstretched her right arm and then threw her elbow back towards Jerome.
JEROME: "Do you remember the last time you bit me?" he asked her. He didn't really expect an answer, considering his hand was around her throat, squeezing tight. He toyed with the pressure – squeezing and then releasing and squeezing again harder. "That was... the first time we ever met. The first time you ever tried to lie to me," he hissed, pressing his cheek against hers. Her skin was so soft against his. He hoped the scars left an impression against her delicate cheek.
Her elbow came flying back, hit him in the nose. He felt something crack and the steady trickle of blood start to flow. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and his grip almost slipped. So, in one fluid motion, he turned and slammed her against the wall, tossing the cloth aside. He wasn't interested in the easy way anymore.
"I was going to be nice," he said, leaning forward, towering over her so the blood from his face dripped down onto her. "Ease you into our next little game – but you always have to make things so difficult, don't you?" he breathed. "That's always been your problem, little mouse."
SOFIA: She remembered – it was impossible to forget that moment. To forget the way the blood on his hands was still warm when he ran his fingers across her cheek and she remembered trying to scrub off the feeling of the blood and his hands. But there was no amount of soap that could clean those feelings from her mind, no amount of hot water that could burn away the memory. Sofia couldn’t reply but she doubted that it mattered. Doubted that he wanted an answer, doubted that he really cared. No, he was trying to bring her back to that place, to that moment when she was terrified of him. The feeling of his scars against her cheek, his breath in her ear, that was enough.
Exhaling, Sofia couldn't find her breath again. Her mouth was open but no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t inhale. Unsteadily reaching out her hands to grab Jerome’s collar, to beg him with the pounding of her hands on his chest to let her go – she was too weak. Her dark eyes met his, the blood coming from his nose dripping onto her own and sliding down the side of her face like the way it had when they first met – like tears that he was painting on her face. I thought the problem was that I always lied? But the words didn’t come out, she didn’t have the voice or the air or the strength. Sofia’s hand was balled into a fist but by the time she brought it to his chest, it was loose and barely tapped him.
It was slipping away. Everything. Her eyes slowly drifted closed, no matter how much she fought against it, no matter how much she wanted to stay awake. She couldn’t. She had lost the fight. Was this how she was going to die? Was this going to be the last thing she felt – his hands around her neck and his blood on her face? Was he the last person she’d see? She stopped fighting and her eyes finally shut – her mind scrambling to rewrite this, to give her a better ending. But there wasn’t enough time. It felt like everything shut off at once, all her thoughts were gone – and her body went limp.
JEROME: His hands were around her throat. It was such a fun game, strangulation. Squeeze too much, and it was over too quickly. Too little, and your prey could squirm away. Luckily, he had plenty of experience, knew just the right balance.
It only took a few minutes for her eyelids to flutter shut, for her body to sag forward. Jerome heaved her over his shoulder, whistling while he lugged her along. Her hands, limp and lifeless, slapped his back while they walked, just as pitiful as her little punch before she passed out.
The warehouse was set. He had sent all the culties away for the night, because this was a private show. (Plus, they would probably want to kill the little mouse, and Jeremiah would be oh-so disappointed.) But there was a ring of candles circling a chair, just as he instructed them to set up. Jerome placed Sofia's body in it, tying her down with simple ropes. He didn't need anything stronger than that, obviously. He'd thought about gagging her, but the sound of her screams was just too sweet. Next to the chair, just outside all the candles, was a table, old and rickety, but sturdy enough to hold a variety of toys he'd collected over the years. He touched each of them, wondering which ones he would use first, which would pull the most screams out of the little mouse. When she awoke, the games would really begin.
SOFIA: Even before her eyes opened, she could feel the pain – the pulsing sensation from where Jerome had his hands around her neck. But pain meant she was alive. Pain meant this wasn’t over yet. Her eyes flickered open, caught a dull light around her in a circle, but it was out of focus.
Tipping her head back, the room slowly came into focus and she quickly realized where she was. The warehouse. But there was no echoing laughter, no jeering from the cultists... just the sound of a single set of footsteps. Sofia turned her head just enough to see Jerome hovering over some tools on the table – she twisted her hands in the rope as she watched him. “Where – ” Sofia’s voice was hoarse and it hurt to talk. “Where’s your audience?”
JEROME: It felt like an eternity, but finally he heard her behind him. Her voice raw and ragged, positively soaked in fear. He laughed, low and deep at her question, the sound rumbling through the warehouse like thunder as he turned to her.
"Ya know, you taught me something, little mouse," he said, hands still hovering over his array of tools. He finally settled on something small, something so innocuous it hardly seemed dangerous. But in his hands, even the tiny scalpel was a weapon that would leave lasting effects. He strode over to her, and took her chin in his hand. "I don't need an audience. Not always – not for this anyway. This... is just between you and me. A private show, you could say," he giggled.
Where, oh where to do it? He wanted it to be someplace she could hide it – but not from his brother. Oh, Jeremiah thought he was so clever, with his little rules about not killing her. Keeping her in one piece. Jerome would keep her whole – he was just going to add a little something.
Finally, he reached down, pushed her dress up, revealing the skin of her thigh. His fingers brushed against her pale skin, a perfect blank canvas. Well – not for long. He lowered the scapel to her flesh and carved the first letter slowly as he could bear. A shining, crimson J. And they were only just getting started.
SOFIA: Sofia fell quiet as she often did around Jerome. Speaking to him – engaging him, it had never done her any favors. But right now? She was desperately trying to find an opening, a distraction, something that could help her get out of this. But the mix of his words and the laughter that filled the still warehouse, Sofia’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t that she wanted an audience, but, if he had cultists to pander to, she might have been able to get creative. But no. She was little mouse again and they were alone. Her chin in one of his hands and a blade in the other.
Was he going to kill her? Or would that be too easy for him? But then his hand brought up her skirt and Sofia gritted her teeth, trying to put on a brave face for whatever was to come. The blade touched her skin and as Jerome started – Sofia tried to hold in a scream. She needed to distract herself so that she didn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Are you still going to try and tell me that I don’t matter? That nothing matters? Or did you really learn something from me?” Sofia spoke through her teeth, her leg struggling against the restraints as she tried to pull away from the blade. Her jaw was already starting to hurt with how tightly she was gritting her teeth, tears in the corner of her eyes – but she hadn’t given up, not yet. He’d have to work harder if he wanted to hear her scream.
He was taking his time, like this was an art project. There was a small whimper that escaped her, one that she couldn’t stop – but the sounds were finally coming. Pulling at her wrists, Sofia kept her eyes on him and the blade. He wasn’t going to give her an opportunity to get out – so she had to make one for herself. Lifting her head up, she pretended that she needed to look away, that she couldn’t stomach to see what he was doing to her, but then she brought her head down on the top of his as hard as she could. If nothing else – maybe it would daze him.
JEROME: God, her fear was palpable. He could taste it, and it was sweet as honey. Sweet enough to drown out the inane babbling she always resorted to. "We go round and round with this little dance of ours, mousey," he crooned, admiring the J he'd drawn. He carved the second letter – a jagged, vicious E shining in the dim light.
"Of course nothing matters," he said. "Of course, you'll insist it does, that this means something. But you have no idea what's really going on little mouse," he sang, giggling under his breath. "No idea at all."
He started on the R. She couldn't even bear to watch and it just made him laugh more. He focused on his art, on this private show. Jeremiah would see it later, and that was the true audience. This was just a warm-up. His brother would see what he'd done, and he'd understand that even when Jerome followed his rules to the letter – he could never be controlled.
He bore down harder, finishing the R with a jagged, violent stroke – and then her head came down hard. It knocked the blade into her lap, and his teeth jammed together, catching his tongue in his mouth. "You bitch," he hissed, stumbling backwards. He spat blood onto the floor, and lunged at the chair, sending them both toppling to the ground.
He didn't realize was how the violent motion loosened the bindings on her wrist. He didn't realize that the scalpel had fallen within her reach. He didn't realize anything except the way everything had turned red in his vision, red and jagged and blurry all at once. True, unbridled chaos. His hands were wrapped around her throat, squeezing tight. It was time for this dance – this game – to finally come to an end.
SOFIA: Gritting her teeth, this was one of the few moments that Sofia actually agreed with Jerome. Their conversations, they were always circular. He claimed that nothing mattered and – from Sofia’s view – things clearly mattered to him, even if he didn’t believe it himself. They both were set in their own views, and Sofia might have thought it was poetic or some cosmic force that brought them together to challenge their views, but he wasn’t here for a conversation. No. Whatever this was, it had to be to prove a point. Probably something along the lines that she might have meant nothing but he would always mean something to her.
It was funny how that had happened. They both had such an intimate view of each other. An understanding that Sofia didn’t have with anyone else – and Sofia would always see him as more of a person than any of his cultists. As he started the letter ‘R,’ Sofia finally let out a strangled sob. She was fighting against it even now. She couldn’t hold it all in – Sofia wasn’t sure anyone could. It was just… it was too much for anyone.
The next part – it all happened so quickly. Sofia’s desperate attempt to disrupt him – it had worked. Against all odds, it had worked. Sofia would have smirked, thrown an insult in his direction, play a little closer to the fire… but apparently, she had jumped into it without realizing. Jerome’s hands were around her throat and she was on the ground. Her mouth opened, moving desperately to gasp air while his fingers kept tightening. He had been furious with her before, but not like this. Never like this.
Somewhere in the chaos, Sofia’s hands had gotten free. Was it a blessing? A curse? One last taught before she died? A blessing. She grabbed desperately at the space around them, her fingers finding the cold metal of the same blade that he had used to mark her flesh – she grabbed it. Looking into Jerome’s eyes, she wondered if he could see her, if he had ever seen her. Her hand came up in a quick motion and she thrust the scalpel into his neck.
JEROME: He hadn't meant for it to happen like this. But he never met a plan he didn't like to throw away, either. Jeremiah thought he could control him? With what? Little promises, sweet nothings, pretending like they could ever truly live in harmony? His brother was crazier than he was – especially if he had ever truly believed that Sofia would get out of this alive.
This was it. He could practically taste Death. An old friend, and Jerome had such a gift for him. He would prove once and for all that nothing mattered. Not her. Not Jeremiah. Not this endless cycle, this game they played. He made up the rules and broke them, and he always, always won.
"Do you feel it, little mouse?" he breathed, tightening his grip. He watched her eyes, rolling around desperately, but there was no bird to save her this time, no magic coming from her fingertips. "Do you finally understand?" he said, laughing maniacally, the sound growing louder and louder and louder and –
The pain was sudden, sharp, white-hot. And familiar. Jerome's hands released her on instinct, and he fell backwards, gasping for air. Instead of oxygen, he only tasted blood. Thick and gooey and warm in his throat. He let out a strangled laugh, eyes lolling back in his head for a moment. Death was here all right. His old friend. Galavan was beside him, smirking down at Jerome.
His eyes finally found hers again. "You did it," he choked out, spitting blood as he talked. His fingers closed around the blade, but he didn't pull it out yet. "Y–you.... you did it," he said, and that strange, eerie smile crossed his lips. "Don't forget to smile little mouse," he breathed. He coughed, sptting out more blood, but his eyes stayed transfixed on hers. "'S jus – just like the first time," he whispered. And then he yanked the blade out and everything went deliciously dark.
SOFIA: There was a pause, a moment where Sofia processed what she had just done before she pulled her hand away from the knife, leaving it in there – telling herself there was a chance he wouldn’t bleed out as long as the knife stayed put. There had to be a chance right? There had to be. But, a brief moment passed, and Sofia was looking Jerome in the eyes as the blood from his wound started to drip onto her face, it rolled down her cheeks like tears, but she wasn’t sad. The tears she had shed from the pain of the wound he had given her – those mixed with the blood on her face, but sadness? Regret?
She looked into Jerome’s eyes and felt nothing.
Maybe she should have felt sad – or like she had lost. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about this. Killing Jerome after everything he had done? Sofia thought about what Jeremiah might think – about how he had wanted his brother to see his accomplishments before he killed him. But Sofia couldn’t find it in herself to even feel bad that Jeremiah wouldn’t be the one to do it – this was his twin brother, his childhood tormentor, Sofia would tell him herself what happened. But if asked if she regretted it? The answer was a harrowing no. And somewhere in her soul she knew that was a wrong feeling – that she should feel something for taking a life, for doing this to Jerome… but as she smiled at her and told her not to forget him?
It was like he was saying goodbye. The negative feelings that usually came when she hurt someone, intentionally or not, they didn’t roll over her like they normally did. Instead, she kept looking him in the eyes, maybe because she didn’t want to forget. He pulled out the knife and his body fell limply on top of Sofia and then the tears started. But the tears weren’t for Jerome. At least Sofia didn’t think they were. It felt like… something had changed. Something inside of her… it broke. She laid there, feeling the weight of Jerome’s body for a few minutes, crying over – a crack, a fracture in her soul. Wondering how much of herself she had lost along the way. But the tears dried. Almost too quickly. And Sofia rolled Jerome’s body towards the side and then forced herself up from the ground. Blood from the letters Jerome had carved into her leg rolled down her leg. Sofia felt dirt. Felt wrong.
There were footsteps at the entrance of the warehouse, and that feeling she had – it was gone. It was Jenna’s associates, the ones that were supposed to be protecting her. How long had it taken them to arrive? Would she have been dead already? Sofia didn’t dwell on it. She had survived. She needed to keep moving forward. But Jerome’s request of her? To not forget him? Sofia wasn’t sure she ever could. He was the first one she had killed that she didn’t feel guilty about. He was the first one she added to her count that had been her choice.
Sofia took a few steps away from Jerome, her eyes still on his body, before she turned around and walked out of the warehouse. Whatever Jenna’s people did with his body – she didn’t care. Jerome wasn’t her problem – wasn’t anyone’s problem anymore.
This guy was insane. She didn’t know how Barbara had put up with some of these crazies from Gotham, but it was unlike Metallo or half of the other bad guys that Kara had dealt with in National City or even here in New York. His voice was unnerving, but he was so ordinarily human. So human in a way that was frightening, because Kara didn’t know what might set him off.
Kara could jump. She could jump right now and swoop back in as Supergirl and hope that no one noticed the lack of a dead body at the bottom of the drop. But would she be fast enough to stop the bullet if she wasted that kind of time. She grit her teeth and stepped in front of the madman, placing her hand over the barrel of the gun. Only he could see her face now. “You aren’t going to do this,” she growled, letting her eyes show the faintest glow of the threat of her heat vision. Once it faded, she added softly. “I’m not going to let you.” Even if that meant she had to expose her alien identity to save everyone here.
“Seven!” Jerome shouted, the word barely intelligible through his cackle of glee. “Six!” They were all still just standing there. “Five,” he said, lowering the gun and pointing it towards the brunette woman. The one the blonde was so eager to protect. He was ready to fire it. He’d make a joke after -- something about losing count, but better than losing your life!
And then Blondie stepped forward, placed her hand right over the barrel. “Four,” he said, grinning at her. He stared back into her, giggling at what he saw there. Was it a trick of the light? Something more? “Three,” he breathed, running his tongue along his teeth. “Two...” It didn’t matter. Whatever she was, whatever she thought she could do -- even if she could, it wouldn’t matter. These people, all these people, were going to die. “One,” he said.
The ground shook beneath their feet. “Did I forget to mention the little bomb?” he said. “Size doesn’t matter, ya know -- it still packs a big punch!” He cackled as the entire building started to shake, collapsing in on itself. “Do you get it yet, Blondie?” he demanded. “I do... whatever I want.” And with that, he fired the gun, straight into her hand.
Until that day, he never thought that he would meet someone as insane as the other, he met some pretty crazy in the head villains before, but this one? He seemed to be the first one on the list, Lex was mental too, but this one? He seemed to top that. “You’re fucking insane,” he let the other go on the floor of the rooftop roughly. “I have principals, morals, I’m not like you, I was taught well, had good influence,” he wouldn’t understand, of course, that he wouldn’t, despite the fact his urges were big to just let the other go, and let him fell off the building, Clark’s voice kept on popping up on his head. It was exactly why he let him go on the rooftop not off it. “Don’t think that just because I am letting you go alive that you will get away with this.” he was considering taking him to jail, but what’s the point if he probably would get out on the next day? Maybe the only thing to do was to talk to one of the agents of the S.H.I.E.L.D
He giggled, cackling maniacally as the other threw him down onto the rooftop. “Now you’re starting to get the picture!” he screamed with glee. He didn’t even bother getting up, just rolled onto his side and looked up at the super. “Oh, well, now you’ve really made me feel bad! Talking about all the things you had that I missed out on! Too bad they all sound so boring,” he saaid, rolling his eyes. He fiddled with something in his pocket. “That’s not why I think I’ll get away with it,” he said simply, pulling out something round and yellow with a smiley face painted on it. “This is why I think I’m getting away with it!” He threw it on the ground and a puff of smoke erupted, covering the whole roof in a thick green gas. By the time it cleared, Jerome would be gone. Just like magic.
.｡.:*☆ “My costume is actually none of your business, I would say,” carol mused while putting the poor man back onto safe ground again. This here would take way longer than she would have expected first, as it seemed.
Then the ground grumbled, because, no, she had not been any attention to the remote. “What the f….?” Thankfully her powers made her being able to fly, and Carol was in full battle mode now, fists glwoing as she was howering over the ground. “You know you are going to regret this, right?”
Jerome snickered to himself, pretending to hide it behind his hand. “Did I offend the little superhero? Poor wittle hero,” he crooned, reaching behind him slowly for that remote control. All it took was one little press and the real show began.
The ground shook beneath his feet, and Jerome’s laughter sang out over the screams and rumbling. He backed up slowly towards the edge, his eyes never leaving hers. “That’s the thing, dollface,” he called. “I don’t regret anything.” With that, he hopped up onto the shaking ledge. The bomb was down in the basement, so the building was starting to collapse inward -- he’d always had a knack for things that went boom. And he might not have been his brother, but he usually had some kind of plan. “Can you say the same?” he asked her, spreading his arms wide. “No regrets. You should try it sometime!” he called, falling backwards, arms outstretched.
Down below, a second group of cutlies was waiting with the trampoline to catch him. Even if they weren’t, Jerome wouldn’t have been scared. What was so terrifying about dying anyway?
“Why some of you are so freaking annoying?” he rolled his eyes, he didn’t even wait the other to finish his last sentence, before using his super speed to save all the civilians, and took them to a safe place, where the other and his little friends wouldn’t find them. Then he just knocked them all out, leaving only Jerome awake. “Easy,” he grabbed the other by his shirt, and leaned him on the edge, holding his body, not to let him fall down. “You’re lucky I don’t kill, otherwise I would let you fall, and let your body turn into a soup in the sidewalk,” Clark influenced him, so he learned not to kill, killing the other would be against his principals.
It happened in the blink of an eye. Jerome didn’t even try to stop it -- why would he? It didn’t mean anything. This was all just a game. He laughed as the hero whizzed around, rescuing people, knocking out culties left and right. Some of them scrambled for the door, retreating, but Jerome held his ground. He only cackled harder when the boy grabbed his shirt, yanking him forward, leaning him over the edge. “Oh, I’m lucky all right,” he breathed, letting his arms dangle behind him, head falling backwards. “I’m lucky I’m not like you. So serious,” he drawled. He dangled his head so far back he was looking down at the ground. “Why not just do it then?” he asked. Death had never scared him. “I fell once before,” he remembered, running his tongue over his teeth, along the scars by his lips. “Felt like flying. Not sure how I woke up from that one, but boy when I did I had a hell of a headache!”
The villain’s voice was unnaturally creepy. For a second, Kara even doubted that he was human, but as far as she could tell… he was 100% human and 100% insane. His whisper in her ear sent a shiver down the Girl of Steel’s spine. She’d been spotted, and now there would be no way to escape from this without revealing her identity. Not if she wanted to save all of these people. Kara clenched her jaw as he ran a hand down her cheek. This Gotham crazy had picked the wrong woman to mess with.
But then they were dragging forward Sarah and Kara couldn’t let that happen. She pulled away from the man with his patched-together face. “Stop!” Kara shouted, standing between those dragging Sarah and the edge of the roof. “You don’t have to do this. No one else needs to get hurt!”
Jerome was having a blast! Pengy was right, he really did need to get out more. Waiting around for Jeremiah to make his move was boring. For the first time in -- well, he didn’t know (or care) how long, he really felt alive again. The culties were having a grand ol’ time too, and their audience? Their audience was scared stiff.
Except for Blondie. Jerome stopped at her words, turning around slowly on his heel. “Have to?” he echoed. “No, no, this isn’t about what I have to do. That’s the problem with you people!” he shouted, turning away from her, facing the rest of the crowd. “You’re all so concerned with what you have to do. What you’re supposed to do. Do you ever stop and wonder -- what would happen if you let it all go?” Jerome chuckled, the sound low and rumbling and throaty. Like the roll of thunder right before lightning struck. “I’m going to teach you all how to live,” he declared. “Right before you die.” He waved to the culties, signalling them to let go of the people they were holding. “Tell you what,” Jerome said, pulling a gun from his waistband. “I’ll give you a choice. You can jump, or...”He fired a round off into the air, making the crowd of office workers shriek and scream. “You have ten seconds to decide! Ten! Nine! Eight!”
.｡.:*☆ Of curse, Carol first rushed to rescue the man, her flaming fists kicking any cultiest out of her way, if needed. “Wow, you guys are really insane… you know that is not exactly healthy, right?” Her voice was slightly sarcastic, and Carol was actually sure the other would notice that, as well.
“See, thing is this - we can do this quickly, and I collect you all together and put you in a nice, comfy cell. Or we do it the slow way, and I will get my workout for today. Wouldn’t complain about any of those options, really.”
The two culties who dropped the man burst into flames from her punches, and Jerome cackled wildly. Even louder than their screams as they flailed around. “You’ve got moves,” he called to her, as she rescued the man, kept him from tumbling over the edge. “Real star potential, I gotta say. It’s too bad your taste in costumes is so tacky,” he said, making a face. Even he wasn’t crazy enough to wear that.
He nodded as she spoke, hands behind his back like a dutiful pupil. “Sounds like an interesting choice,” he agreed, grinning at her. “But I think I’ll take what’s behind door number three,” he said, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a tiny remote. “Kaboom!” he whispered, and pressed the button. The ground shook beneath their feet, as the building started to collapse inward.
It was true that Carol felt sort of useless lately, mostly because, well, she was not used to just sit around like this. Her life as a Kree had always been busy, and, also before that, from the few things she could recall from her former human life.
However, Carol was also always watching, so the events on the rooftop did not went by unseen. “I would suggest you let the man go, alright?” She had no idea who the man was, but he meant trouble, and seemed like the type of person that should be better locked up somewhere. “And that better quickly, before I will have to make you do it…”
“Come on, come on, hurry up!” Jerome snapped, swinging his feet as the culties dragged the next victim forward. “We haven’t got all – well, actually, we do!” He laughed maniacally, much louder than the protests of the man as the culties prepared to toss him overboard.
And then the super arrived. Jerome wasn’t too surprised, the city was crawling with supers. If only they weren’t so boring. The other culties stopped in their tracks, including the ones holding the man over the edge of the roof. “Well,” Jerome drawled, looking over at them. “You heard the lady! She wants you to let him go.” So they did. They let go and the man tumbled forward over the edge.
Kara was working on a small little side column on the working class in the ever-changing city. She’d spent the day interviewing people at a building that housed several different offices when there were sudden shouts and the sound of gunfire. The young woman that she was with looked terrified as a group of madmen dragged them to the rooftop. With such tight quarters in the building, she was bound to be noticed if she tried to change into Supergirl and the girl – Sarah – had a death grip on her jacket. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay,” she muttered her reassurances as the let the armed men lead them up to the roof.
It was once they were at the top of the building that she realized that this was more than just a work place robbery or an attempt to send a message to the building’s owner. This was one of the Gotham villains that Kara had only heard about in the news and Kara closed her eyes, clenching her jaw as she heard the sound of bones snapping upon impacting a car in the parking lot below. She didn’t have to listen closely to know that she wouldn’t find a heartbeat, not with a fall from this height. Kara stepped protectively in front of Sarah, preparing to use her superspeed at the first moment that presented itself so Supergirl could save the day… before there were less people to save.
Jerome hopped to his feet and wheeled around to inspect the crop. “Let’s see, let’s see...” He sang as he walked in front of them. “Which one of you wants to smash a BMW with your skull?” he asked, giggling. None of them would look him in the eyes, they clung to each other, whimpering, the girls crying (and some of the boys too). “C’mon. Somebody’s gotta hate the total blowhard who drives it!” Jerome insisted, enjoying the way they recoiled whenever he came close. Like he was a fire, and they were scared of being burned.
He rounded on a pair of girls holding each other tightly. One of them was standing in front of the other, like she could stop them somehow. “Oh,” Jerome said, tilting his head, grinning at the blonde. “You’re fun. You’re so fun, aren’t you?” He motioned behind his back for the culties to circle around behind the pair of girls, while he leaned in to whisper to Blondie. “Are you gonna stop me?” he asked, chuckling low and dark, his breath in her ear. “Are you a big tough girl who’s gonna stop the bad bad man?” He ran a hand down her cheek. “Or are you just gonna watch as we kill your friend?” At that, he snapped his fingers, and the culties shot forward from behind, grabbing not the blonde, but her friend. “Come on, bring Blondie too!” Jerome yelled, twirling on his heel. “She can go next!”
“It may not be nice brother, but it is true. Besides… I don’t actually think you know me too well. As connected as we are, Jerome. You must admit, everything you know about me stems from our childhood. People change, and you can’t be nice to everyone that works for you. Otherwise they’d slack off. We whipped the animals back at Haley’s for a reason, you know.” He hummed, glancing over Jerome. “One of a kind, and yet… you’re part of a pair.”
“I never did like breaking things. Not when they still had use.” He commented. “Keep her alive, and keep her in one piece. I know you’re not fond of limits, but I do ask for a bit of restraint. She may have betrayed me but that doesn’t mean I want her to lose any limbs. Not from you, anyway.” He knew what he was doing. He knew that he was unleashing a chaotic force against Sofia, but it was the last idea he had to get her back to him. He couldn’t think of any other way to prove to her that he wasn’t his brother. Other then reminding her what it’s like to deal with him. “You do this for me, and I’ll make sure to repay you in any way you ask. Whatever you like, Jerome, I’ll do it.”
“Oh, I didn’t say you were wrong. You’re right. Robots are totally boring,” Jerome drawled. He titled his head, considering that for a moment. “You think you’ve changed that much brother?” he asked, a bemused grin on his face. His eyes gleaming as they met Jeremiah’s. Even they didn’t match anymore, Jeremiah’s color tainted by the acid, and the shape of Jerome’s twisted by the scars. “I think you’ve just embraced who you’ve always been, the person you’ve tried to deny since we were kids. But you’re right!” he agreed readily. “Just the other day, I threw one culty off a building. He just wasn’t funny anymore,” Jerome explained, sighing theatrically. His eyes flicked back to meet Jeremiah’s. “Just like you, brother,” he said slowly. They might not have looked alike anymore, but they were still connected, just like Jeri said. A thousand ties binding them together, destinies interwoven.
Not that he cared about destiny.
But Jeremiah did.
“Fine, fine,” Jerome said, waving a hand in the air. “I don’t know why you care so much about her limbs, but I’ll make sure she’s got two hands and two legs and ten toes and all that,” he said, grinning easily. There was so much he could do without removing a limb. There really was a whole world of pain out there, and so much of it underappreciated. Maybe he’d get Jess to help – or maybe he’d keep this all to himself. “Oh, brother,” he said, running his tongue along his teeth. He stood up, spreading his arms wide as he walked over towards his twin. “Aren’t ‘cha scared of what I’ll ask for? I could ask you to cut off a hand. Or rip out your eye and let me wear it around my neck – very dashing. Maybe I’ll ask for your little robot friend, just so I can smash her to pieces. But ya know…” He circled around back of Jeremiah’s chair and leaned over his shoulder. “There’s just one thing I really want from you, brother,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “I want you to admit it,” he breathed. “Admit that you and I are the same. That you’re just as crazy as I am. That you understand, that you’ve always understood, all along, you’ve felt what I feel, you’ve known what I know. Even when we were kids, I knew, I knew, and you – You had to know, too, brother. Whatever you said, however you lied, you had to know, and I want you to admit it.”
“Or you will put the worker down safely back on the ground,” he was flying in front of the edge of the building where the other was sitting. “Or else I’m gonna have to end you,” there was a smile on his face, not really a genuine one, a more sarcastic one and cocky one, because he thought would be just so easy to defeat the other. One punch and they would be done, especially after starting to train with Bruce, it actually helped a lot. He was better at fighting, even if without his powers, all thanks to Bruce. “We could do this the easy or the hard way, up to you, the hard way, will have to do with you being knocked out,” he had his arms crossed, waiting to see what the other would say. He was giving him a chance to pick between the two, either way, he would talk to someone of S.H.I.E.L.D to keep a closer look at him, as apparently he was still one of the villains that were still their evil self.
Jerome rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if shooing away a very annoying fly. “Well, I can’t do that,” he said, arching a brow. “That would ruin the game. Tell you what,” he said, standing up. “Every body grab a friend!” he shouted to the culties, and each of his minions grabbed someone roughly by the arm. He turned back to the big-mouthed hero and grinned. “Knock me out all you want, buddy,” he said, as the culties each dragged their victims towards the edge. “But that won’t help them! So here’s the new game,” he said. “How many can you catch if we throw them all at once?”
Jerome grinned, ear to ear, face twisted and scarsstretched. “Sure is!” he said brightly, shoving the lumpy, poorly-wrappedpackage towards her. (Did it count as wrapping if all he’d done was roll acouple newspapers around it?) “What can I say? Your little show the other day inspired me,” he explained. “Open it, goon!” His eyes were glued to hers. He wanted to see the look on her face when sherealized she was holding the tongue of the cultie who had thrown himself ontothe spike. That and a tea bag, to go along with their joke. She was going tofind it hilarious.
❝ you don’t have to talk, we can just sit together. ❞
“Well ain’t you a friendly one?” Jerome laughed, turning hishead towards the masked man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Butsee, I like talking. Always got something to say – even if doesn’t mean anything.” He giggled at thenonsensical nature of it, tilting his head at the stranger. “You here to be acultie?” he asked. “Got the look of one, for sure.”
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