Chapter Text
Maybe it was bad luck, or maybe it was fate. But whichever one it was, you happened to be at the GCPD calling in a break-in and robbery when the Maniax struck. You didn’t know what was happening at first; there was a gunshot, and you thought it was an accident. Your head cocked in curiosity and surprise towards the direction of the noise, but the red-head in the cop uniform looked far too young to be an officer. Maybe he was a trainee, you thought. But then the signature laugh of insanity, one you heard far too many times from your life on the street, rang through the room, and you knew exactly what was happening. As the officer who was helping you went down, you screamed. Blood splattered on your face and, by instinct, you dropped down to the floor. You were frozen in fear for a second, but then something you’d read online came back to you and you got to work. Being as still as possible, while the red-head was distracted with picking off the remaining police officers, you scooped up some blood in your hand from the dead officer next to you and smeared it on your face and chest. You felt ready to vomit, but tried to remain focused on the task at hand. Your blouse stained, and your face bloodied, you put his body over you and laid as still as possible. If you could just pretend you were dead until they left, maybe you could survive this. Your heart was beating out of your chest and it took all of your concentration to keep your breath slow and unnoticeable.
‘Just be calm,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Distract yourself. Just sing the alphabet. Yeah, sing the alphabet and as soon as you know it this will all be over.’
So, with your focus still on keeping your body still and your breathing light, you began to sing the alphabet in your head, anything to keep your mind occupied.
‘A, B, C, D, E, F, G…’
You could hear the sound of maniacal laughter from above you, and a gravelly voice talking to the commissioner about something you couldn’t quite hear. Your heart jumped in your throat and you almost screamed as you heard another gunshot. It took every bit of concentration you had not to flinch.
‘H, I, J, K, L-M-N-O-P…”
As your mind wandered and the song played in your head, you began to notice that the voice of the person who did this – somehow gravelly yet boyish, that terrifying voice – wasn’t above you anymore. It was at your same level. And then it was getting closer. Footsteps clacked slowly on the tile floor; they were casual, almost playful. Whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t in a hurry. As the voice got closer, you could begin to make out the words. He was talking about insanity, the state of the world, or something like that. The way he talked about being crazy, as if it was something near and dear to his heart, scared you. And he still didn’t stop. He was coming closer, closer still…
And then, the voice was right above you, far away and then uncomfortably close.
“Now, what do we have here?”
Fingers darted out from above and tangled themselves in the mess of your hair, gripping and then pulling upwards so your body was somewhat upright. In spite of yourself, you yelped in pain and reached up to fight back. He was too quick, however, and his other hand caught your wrists and pinned them above you. All you could do was wriggle slightly and try to keep some semblance of dignity about you. You refused to open your eyes. You were afraid of what you’d see.
“You’re no good at hiding, you know that?” he said in a sickly sarcastic tone. “You were panting like a fat man running a marathon, darling. Sneaky, though. Very sneaky. I like it.” You tried to turn your head to the side, away from him, but his fingers kept you firmly in place as he stroked your jaw with the barrel of his gun to keep you still. “Aw, don’t be shy sweetheart. The shy ones are no fun. And you’ll learn very, very quickly that I like to be kept entertained.”
He rotated your head away from him and in spite of yourself you opened your eyes. He gestured with his pistol to the field of bodies littering the GCPD. You could feel yourself about to be sick, but you tried to calm yourself. You’d never seen so many bodies in your life before, not even once. The smell of blood was almost overpowering, and you couldn’t tell if it was because your face was covered in it or because blood was pooling thick around you in almost every direction.
“Now that’s more like it. Lemmie see those pretty eyes of yours.” He turned your head back, forcing you to look him directly in the eye. The first thing that struck you was that he was young, younger than you expected him to be. He couldn’t be more than about your age, or maybe a little less. The second thing was that, despite how much you resented the fact, he was decently attractive for a murderer. In fact, you might’ve blushed at the scant distance between you two if there wasn’t something dangerous and sharp in his eyes. Instead you flinched under his gaze and looked down, away, anywhere but there. At that he chuckled – actually chuckled, as if you’d done something ridiculous and a little cute – and pushed the barrel of his gun into your jaw to raise your gaze again.
“Tell me – what’s your favorite color, sweetheart?”
You stared up at him reproachfully, and then gestured as best you could down to your ruined blouse. You’d tried to dress up somewhat nicely today, and that included your favorite shirt in your favorite color – and now, it was completely ruined. You felt his gaze at your chest and shuddered. His eyes worked slowly up your body, from the bloody stains on your chest to the spatter and smears across your face. He grinned. Something about his smile seemed hungry to you. Like you were a meal and he was absolutely starving.
“Mine’s red,” he murmured, getting closer and closer to you, so close you could smell the blood sprayed on his uniform. “Red like roses. Red like blood.”
You could feel his hot breath on your ear and you squirmed, to which he laughed breathily.
“Do you know why I haven’t sprayed your pretty little brains out the back of your pretty little head yet?
You shook your head as best you could. He laughed again.
“It’s because you’re fun to tease. You look too damn good like this, all scared and shaky. Maybe if I let you go, we can do this again. I’d very much enjoy that.”
“Jerome, we have to go,” said another male voice, one you didn’t recognize as having spoken before.
“Well, that’s my cue darlin’.” He shrugged and then broke out into laughter. He stood, aimed his gun, and fired a shot in the direction of the commissioner. Then, he looked back down at you and grinned.
“Now, no snitching. Let’s keep this between just you and me. And - let’s do this again sometime. Maybe then I can catch your name.”
“Jerome!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming! Hold your goddamn horses!” He looked down at you once more and rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Grunts. You know how they are.”
And then, with a wink and a tip of his hat, he was gone.