Rumpled sighed as he gently closed the door to young Priscilla's room. Her parents still made him sit with her while she fell asleep, much to her disapproval. Priscilla was fifteen, old enough to get settled by herself, but her parents had been extra wary of her since that night.
That night haunted Rumpled, too.
He walked down the long, empty corridor of the manor. The Lord and Lady of the house were on the other side of their manor, that's where their chambers were - as far away from Priscilla as possible.
He pushed open his bedroom door, throwing his jacket onto his bed, his wand falling out of its pocket. He stared at it, debating whether he should put it back before rolling his eyes and stepping into his night clothes.
He took a glance at his mirror, only a quick one, but not quick enough that he didn't catch sight of her. He exhaled through his nostrils, with clear annoyance. He didn't turn around, he knew from experience that she wouldn't be there.
She was just in the mirror.
“Rumpled,” she sing-songed, her voiced echoed eerily, “Rumpled-”
“What do you want?” He turned away from the mirror, grabbing his wand and placing it on his dresser.
“I have it on good word that you're being invited to an ‘event’,” he didn't have to be facing the mirror to know that she said the words with an air of smugness, “one 200 years from now.”
This gave Rumpled pause, “what?”
“Oh yes!” he could hear her clap her hands in glee, “up in the land of the Scots!”
“In Scotland-”
“And, rumour has it, the event itself is stuck in a loop.”
Rumpled's thoughts swirled, “a loop?”
“A time loop keep up Rumpled,” he caught a glance of her, she was rolling her eyes, “however, the loop needs a catalyst-”
He didn't like where this was going, “whatever it is; no.”
She pouted, “aw, but the thing is, you don't really have a choice in the matter. You know what it takes to keep me down where I am. And just think, fourteen precious souls to keep me down here, to pull me down.”
He didn't answer.
“You wouldn't have to kill anyone for months.”
He glanced at his reflection, she was grabbing its shoulders - he knew he couldn't actually feel it, but the phantom sensation still tingled at his shoulders.
“And don't you want to visit the future?” She asked, “see what they invented..”
“I was supposed to meet up with M tomorrow,” he said, quietly.
“Ah, but the fun part about time travel is that you can come back to exactly when you left, no time would have passed at all and you can still see her tomorrow.”
He sighed knowing he didn't have a choice, “fine.”
“Oh goodie!” She smiled too wide, Rumpled had no idea how this was the woman who had brought sweet Priscilla into the world, “I should tell you this though; the host - he's a ‘superhero’,” she air-quoted, “he has these.. things lying about, they're sharp, sharp enough to kill.”
“So you want me to pin the murders on the host?”
“No, I want you to kill the host first. The time traveller will.. mess up. He will accidentally send you forward ten days before the event, you'll kill the host and then.. wait.”
“You want me to wait a week and a half?”
“Yes!”
Rumpled squeezed his eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Now, I suggest you get dressed. Your ride will be here any moment now.”
She disappeared and Rumpled was left alone. He shook his head, he had been alone this entire time - she wasn't there.
Hell, the entire thing might've been a hallucination. Though, he still got dressed (his annoyance roused, he had only gotten dressed a few moments prior).
As soon as he pulled his shirt over his head, there was a knock at his bedroom door. He opened it.
“Hello there! You're Rumpled right?” The man before him was making extravagant gestures - he was in strange attire too, his odd hat shimmered in the light of the gaslights, his white jacket flowed as he pushed his way into the room. He didn't give Rumpled a chance to answer, “perfect. Lovely bedroom, by the way, though I would change a few things, maybe you could add a TV there so you can watch my hit shows-”
“I assume you're here to take me to the ‘event’?”
“Oh! You already know! Hm,” the man eyed him up and down, before passing him a piece of card, “I'm not even going to ask how you know! But, you read that, and then I'll take you. Sound good?”
His eyes looked down to the card, the top read ‘you are cordially invited’. Rumpled skimmed the rest, the invitation had no details about the event, just that it was hosted by a Bruce Wayne - his first victim.
The man, without warning, grabbed his arm, and pressed his hat once, “good luck! Or, well, have fun- I don't know why I said luck.”
[WAYNE MANOR LOBBY - 12:56]
[ABOUT 200 YEARS LATER - 22/06/25]
Rumpled blinked, and he was suddenly in another place. The room was massive, and a giant golden chandelier hung above him. Something glinted at the corner of his sight, and he went to pick it up.
It was a piece of metal, in the shape of a bat - and it was sharp. That was the description of the metal superhero weapon she had provided, so Rumpled assumed this was it.
He weighed it in his hands, he had a host to kill. The lights in the manor started to flicker, and he used that to his advantage.
He hid behind a wall when he heard footsteps. He noted that the butler would have to go too. He also heard a child's laughter, and Rumpled hated himself for adding the source of the giggles to the list.
He made it to the office, where the host was standing at his desk. The lights flickered off one more time, and Rumpled struck.
It was what he had to do, he told himself, he had to do it to banish her down to hell where she belonged.
[WAYNE MANOR DINING ROOM - 19:37]
[TEN DAYS LATER - 02/07/25]
"You aren't too.. bothered," Rumpled says.
"Too bothered about what?" Tracey folded her arms as she leaned against the wall.
"The murders," he looked her up and down, "everyone else is losing their minds, and yet.. here you are, calm."
She shrugged, "I don't know anyone here, of course I'm not bothered. I couldn't care less."
Rumpled considered her words for a moment, "how'd you like to help?"
"I am," she rolls her eyes, "you're just blind."
Rumpled pushed up his glasses, "no," he smiled, "I mean help with the killing?"
Tracey looked at him, an ounce of surprise washed her expression before consideration overtook it.
Rumpled offered his hand out, "if you don't accept, I'd have to kill you. I was hoping to kill Tarquin, next, but I guess-"
She took his hand, and shook it, "just tell me what I need to do."
[BATCAVE - 23:43]
Rumpled didn't have much thoughts as he fell, which was a welcome change from his usual hectic mind.
The two thoughts he did have, however, was who was going to look after young Priscilla? Rumpled wasn't her parent, but he was basically the girl's primary caregiver. Her actual parents didn't really care, even after the whole thing with her.
His second thought was about her. Well, not exactly her, but about the fact that he never read anything about how killing people made somebody else stay dead. Even if they were cursed.
Beyond the grave, Annabelle had been manipulating him into doing her bidding, and he was too gullible to realise.
