Chapter Text
"Prepare to die!" yelled Jerome, followed by the deafening sound of a chainsaw whirring to life. Greenwood chortled, imitating the saw's buzzing, and Jerome lunged. Metal against metal screeched and filled the room. The two were acting quite like idiotic children.
"That's enough!" The commotion brought Theo Galavan into the room, his usual prim and proper rich-guy self. Jerome turned the chainsaw off and stepped away from Greenwood.
"I tried to stop them," said Dobkins, rocking back and forth on the ground as he pointed at the boys accusingly.
Galavan approached the two, clasping one hand on each of their shoulders. "Boys, we're a team. We don't fight amongst ourselves."
"Yeah, we're a team, boys." Dobkins seemed half interested as he adjusted the vintage war helmet on his head.
"And I'm the captain." Greenwood smirked at Jerome, balancing the katana over his shoulders.
Jerome dropped the chainsaw, which landed with a hard thump, and glowered at Greenwood unblinkingly. It was a death glare, something a normal person would be petrified to see, let alone be the centre of attention. "Captain of my foot."
"I've murdered a dozen women, terrorized the city," boasted Greenwood, never once looking away from Jerome. He wasn't afraid of the redhead, not yet anyway. "What have you done? Chop your mommy?"
"Everyone has to start somewhere." Jerome's voice was a low, threatening whisper. Still, he sounded a little ashamed that he only killed his mother. "See, I have vision, and ambition, and brains. You're just a nutty ol' cannibal." He laughed, leaning in as much as Galavan's hand would allow. "How many people can you eat before that shtick gets old?"
"I could eat one more."
Galavan cut in, calm and collected. "I can see we're going to have to resolve this one, once and for all." He pulled out a silver revolver, emptying the spinning chamber of all its bullets but one. "You all know this game, right?"
Jerome nodded, his expression serious but holding back something. The glint in his eye was dangerous: the look of a man that sought any chance to hurt another. The look of a man that didn't fear staring death in the face. "Oh, love it."
"Who wants to be the boss?" Galavan offered the gun to them, handle first.
"I want in."
(Y/N) strode into the room, arms crossed over her chest. Her entrance snatched all their attention, as she wasn't even supposed to be anywhere near the action yet. Galavan had told her to wait with Barbara and Tabitha until 'it was their time'. Well, she was done waiting.
"(Y/N), why aren't you–" started Galavan.
"I don’t wanna sit still, lookin’ pretty, Theo. I ain’t some Barbie girl, you know. I’m never gonna be. I want to get out there, I want action, I want to wreak havoc in Gotham," said (Y/N) firmly, both her tone and words indicating she wasn't going to take no for an answer. She threw a look, rather distinctively, at Jerome and the corner of her lip ticked into a mimicry of a half-smile. "I want to be the boss."
After a pause of thinking, Galavan regained his composure and spoke. "Very well."
She joined them in a semi-circle around the revolver, standing closer to Jerome than to Greenwood. Jerome smirked, looking across to Greenwood. "Ladies first."
(Y/N) watched Greenwood carefully as he took the gun, smirking at the way his hand shook as he loaded it and brought it to his temple. Even when he pulled the trigger – an empty click and no gunshot – he flinched but managed to grit his forced teeth in a smile. That was comical to both Jerome and (Y/N). He offered it to Jerome, a leer present on his face now that it wasn't his turn. The redhead took it, a small but truly genuine smile gracing his lips.
"Hey Greenwood, what's the secret to good comedy?" Jerome held the revolver to his temple, just below his bright ginger hair, and, unflinchingly, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, only an empty click. "Timing. And what's courage?" He switched to the next slot, pressed the barrel to his cheek and fired- nothing. "Grace under pressure. And who's the boss?"
He fired an empty slot into his chin, making himself smirk wider and Greenwood flinch.
"Hold up there. We're not done yet, Valeska," said (Y/N) with a slight grin. She wriggled her fingers in his direction, gesturing for him to hand over the revolver
Without hesitation, which Jerome found just... wow, she took the gun off him and held it to carelessly to her own temple. (Y/N) knew a revolver only six shots and the boys had used up four. That's two slots left, one of which had the single bullet, but she wasn't afraid. What was the point of life if there wasn’t a bit of risk, if you didn't live on the edge a little? If anything, she was excited.
She turned her head to make firm eye contact with Jerome, (E/C) eyes holding his dark ones, as she held the revolver to her temple as if it posed no threat. As if it didn't hold the very real chance of blowing her head in. "You see, Jerome, the face of adversity reveals who you really are, kinda introduces you to yourself. In times like that, it's important to... smile."
The corners of her lips pulled easily into a mischievous, scarily sincere smile and her finger squeezed the trigger. The empty click didn't even make (Y/N) wince. That’s five.
(Y/N) still held Jerome's gaze, the smile never wavering, as she loaded the revolver again with a flick of her thumb and pressed it against her (H/C) locks. Jerome was almost gaping at the sight, completely and totally mesmerized by her. By her face, her beauty, her insanity. It was the most beautiful thing he's probably ever seen. It satisfied the dark twisted thing inside of him, his own consuming sanity, in a way he hadn't felt since he slaughtered his whore of a mother.
"Stop, that's enough," said Galavan, his hand out to interrupt her. Her finger still lingered over the trigger as her head snapped to Theo. To Jerome's disappointment, her smile dropped. "My apologies, (Y/N), Jerome will be the leader of the Maniax. But you have proven yourself to join the boys in the field."
(Y/N) huffed, her expression switching from a pout to irritation, and she shoved the gun in Jerome's direction and let go before he had the chance to grab it. The redhead still managed to catch it, fumbling with it before clutching it to his chest. "Ugh, fine. Good enough, I guess. I'm going to go find Babs." She turned on her heel and stalked out the door.
"Ooh, someone's mad," muttered Dobkins to himself between giggles.
Galavan took the revolver from Jerome, saying something to him about being the boss. It should have brought him a sensation of pride; Jerome beat Greenwood like he wanted to, proved just how far gone his sanity was. But Jerome wasn't listening to him the slightest. He couldn't keep himself from looking back at the door that (Y/N) had left through. Lucky Barbara, he thought distantly. All that occupied his mind was (Y/N)'s beautiful insane smile and her death-defying stunt. Not that Jerome wasn't already sold to his insanity, but she made lunacy look good. Like an angel with blood on her wings.
He certainly wouldn't mind getting to know her better.